responded. “I don’t feel that kind of thing until the next day. You have about eight hours left to use me.”
“Oh, really . Use you how?” Harper’s tone was knowing and provocative—like Tia’s was all the time. I’d never heard Harper speak this way before. I recalled what she’d hinted to me in the van about Brody and her exploring each other.
I’d lost my virginity with Aidan not long after Tia had lost hers with Sawyer. Harper hadn’t had sex even now. But suddenly I felt like the naive one, because Harper and Brody were in love, and my time with Aidan hadn’t meant what I thought.
Their voices faded as they wisely walked away from the house, where Harper’s mother wouldn’t overhear. I was left with only the TV wedding preparations and Sawyer’s warmth in my lap.
He rolled farther forward and slipped his hand between my legs, propping himself in that position, like my thigh wasa pillow. I suspected at first he was awake after all—but he never snickered, and if he’d meant to take liberties with me, his hand would have been six inches higher.
I put my hand in his hair, lightly so as not to rouse him, and fingered those baby-fine strands all over again, while I watched all my past goals play out on television like the most mindless reality show.
* * *
I lay stretched out on the sofa, with an actual pillow underneath my head, and covered in Harper’s psychedelic first attempt at quilting. The TV was off and the room was black, but I knew where I was because of the big window on one side of the chimney, glowing faintly. My arm hung down, touching something warm—and when I peered in that direction, it took me a few moments to recognize Sawyer on the floor right next to the sofa, with his back against it, in a sleeping bag that Harper had owned since at least third grade. My hand was on his shoulder.
Harper and Tia must have bedded us down when they came back inside. They sure hadn’t woken me up when they moved me. But they must have woken Sawyer, or he would have landed pretty hard on the floor. And after he’d given me his place on the sofa, he’d stayed as close to me as possible.
I took a satisfied breath, for once wholeheartedly enjoying the tingles in my fingers and the feeling of doing something slightly wrong, and went back to sleep.
* * *
The window was pink with sunrise. A tinny alarm sounded quietly.
“It’s mine,” Sawyer whispered, fumbling with his watch. “Lie back down.”
I was bone tired and sore from my night of cheering. I never complained because I would sound silly compared with football players like Brody getting sacked, and because my mother might use my whining as an excuse to suggest I quit. This morning Sawyer’s order to sleep more was almost as delicious as my light touch on him had been the night before. Gratefully I collapsed on the sofa again and curled into a ball, warming myself in the chilly air conditioning.
Covers rustled. A cozy weight fell across me as he draped the sleeping bag over my quilt.
“Thanks,” I muttered, snuggling lower.
A shadow descended over me. I felt his lips brush my forehead.
I listened as he crossed the room, opened the front door, locked it from the inside, and quietly shut it behind him.
* * *
“Breakfast!” Harper’s mom sang. “If you don’t get it while Sawyer’s cooking it, you don’t get it.” Before I even saw her, she’d walked out the front door, headed for the B and B.
I sat straight up into bright morning sunlight with a horrible realization, which must have been growing in my subconscious while I slept: I’d lost my back-and-forth note with Tia.
I jumped up and shook out the quilt, then the sleeping bag, then my pillow, then Sawyer’s pillow, which he’d tossed into a chair. No note. I looked under the furniture and behind the sofa. Next I scanned the tables. My note could have gotten stuffed into any one of these art books.
“Morning!” Harper said brightly, coming around the
“Oh, really . Use you how?” Harper’s tone was knowing and provocative—like Tia’s was all the time. I’d never heard Harper speak this way before. I recalled what she’d hinted to me in the van about Brody and her exploring each other.
I’d lost my virginity with Aidan not long after Tia had lost hers with Sawyer. Harper hadn’t had sex even now. But suddenly I felt like the naive one, because Harper and Brody were in love, and my time with Aidan hadn’t meant what I thought.
Their voices faded as they wisely walked away from the house, where Harper’s mother wouldn’t overhear. I was left with only the TV wedding preparations and Sawyer’s warmth in my lap.
He rolled farther forward and slipped his hand between my legs, propping himself in that position, like my thigh wasa pillow. I suspected at first he was awake after all—but he never snickered, and if he’d meant to take liberties with me, his hand would have been six inches higher.
I put my hand in his hair, lightly so as not to rouse him, and fingered those baby-fine strands all over again, while I watched all my past goals play out on television like the most mindless reality show.
* * *
I lay stretched out on the sofa, with an actual pillow underneath my head, and covered in Harper’s psychedelic first attempt at quilting. The TV was off and the room was black, but I knew where I was because of the big window on one side of the chimney, glowing faintly. My arm hung down, touching something warm—and when I peered in that direction, it took me a few moments to recognize Sawyer on the floor right next to the sofa, with his back against it, in a sleeping bag that Harper had owned since at least third grade. My hand was on his shoulder.
Harper and Tia must have bedded us down when they came back inside. They sure hadn’t woken me up when they moved me. But they must have woken Sawyer, or he would have landed pretty hard on the floor. And after he’d given me his place on the sofa, he’d stayed as close to me as possible.
I took a satisfied breath, for once wholeheartedly enjoying the tingles in my fingers and the feeling of doing something slightly wrong, and went back to sleep.
* * *
The window was pink with sunrise. A tinny alarm sounded quietly.
“It’s mine,” Sawyer whispered, fumbling with his watch. “Lie back down.”
I was bone tired and sore from my night of cheering. I never complained because I would sound silly compared with football players like Brody getting sacked, and because my mother might use my whining as an excuse to suggest I quit. This morning Sawyer’s order to sleep more was almost as delicious as my light touch on him had been the night before. Gratefully I collapsed on the sofa again and curled into a ball, warming myself in the chilly air conditioning.
Covers rustled. A cozy weight fell across me as he draped the sleeping bag over my quilt.
“Thanks,” I muttered, snuggling lower.
A shadow descended over me. I felt his lips brush my forehead.
I listened as he crossed the room, opened the front door, locked it from the inside, and quietly shut it behind him.
* * *
“Breakfast!” Harper’s mom sang. “If you don’t get it while Sawyer’s cooking it, you don’t get it.” Before I even saw her, she’d walked out the front door, headed for the B and B.
I sat straight up into bright morning sunlight with a horrible realization, which must have been growing in my subconscious while I slept: I’d lost my back-and-forth note with Tia.
I jumped up and shook out the quilt, then the sleeping bag, then my pillow, then Sawyer’s pillow, which he’d tossed into a chair. No note. I looked under the furniture and behind the sofa. Next I scanned the tables. My note could have gotten stuffed into any one of these art books.
“Morning!” Harper said brightly, coming around the
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