7. Leah

CHAPTER 7

LEAH

What the fuck is happening?

No, like seriously. What the hell was that?

Sawyer snatches me into some corn stalks, and I suddenly start to forget every reason I have hated him for the last ten years?

His stupid muscular arms.

And stupid swimmable blue eyes.

And the way he smells like a man in all the best ways.

It took me years to be able to smell anything cedarwood scented and not spend the rest of the day missing him.

Stupid Sawyer Clark and the way he makes me feel things I have no business feeling for him.

The worst part about all of this is that I can't even run to tell my best friends about any of it because they have absolutely no clue what happened between us all those years ago. Nor do they know that I've liked Sawyer for far longer than that.

Liked Sawyer. Past tense. I don't still like him. I can't still like him because I've spent too much of my time hating him.

"There you are." The sigh of relief as the words come out of his mouth make me snap out of my Sawyer-filled haze and smile. "I was about to start retracing my steps to try and find you." Jackson walks over to me and wraps his arms around me.

"You worried about me Mr. Morris?" I bat my eyelashes at him, making a huge smile spread across his face.

"You bet I was. I was mostly worried you had disappeared on me before I got the chance to do this." He leans in and within seconds I can feel my heart beating through my temples. His lips land on mine, and in the middle of chainsaws roaring to life and horrified screaming, Jackson and I are having our first kiss.

He shifts slightly to take my face in both of his hands as his lips glide across mine, making me melt into his touch. He pulls away and I'm left a little speechless because I had not expected that even a little.

"I'm keeping you close the rest of the night, because I plan to do that again." He winks at me causing my cheeks to flush instantly before taking my hand in his and leading the way towards the exit. I hear someone squealing behind me and as soon as I turn to see the teenage rag doll running past us, something else catches my eye.

Sawyer is standing about ten feet away from us looking downright lethal.

He just got a front row ticket to Jackson kissing me, and some dark part of me is a little happy that he did.

If he thinks he can just cruise back into town, hand me a ticket to his game and whisk me away into some corn stalks to remind me of the good ole days and all will be hunky dory, then he's got another thing coming.

You don't get to break someone's heart—unknowingly or otherwise—and expect time to do the dirty work of apologizing for you. He may want to apologize now, but I want him to know how it feels to hurt the way I did when he let all my calls and texts go unread. So, if it's my attention he's wanting, then he's gonna have to work a hell of a lot harder than this to get it. But one thing is certain when I see his hands balled into fists and his jaw so tight it looks painful—I definitely have his.

"You okay Sweetheart?" I feel my mom's hand wrap around mine, snapping me out of the state of shock I am in over the text that I just received.

I had picked up my phone to respond to a text Jackson had sent me when I was on my way over here a little while ago—since I had forgotten to before coming inside—but as soon as I hit send another one popped up and all but knocked the air out of my lungs.

I have dinner with my parents every Sunday so we can fill each other in on what's happening in our lives. Usually, the conversation flows from the moment I walk in the door until I'm walking back to my car, but right now I couldn't form a coherent sentence if I wanted to—and Mom notices.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" I shake my head as if that will somehow make all the thoughts swimming around my brain disappear like an Etch A Sketch. She gives my dad a knowing look before glancing back at me with a raised brow. For some reason my stomach drops, and I feel like I've been caught with my hand in the cookie jar or sneaking back in the window past curfew—neither of which have I ever done.

"Everything okay? You seem awfully distracted tonight." She takes another bite of her food and I realize I've been twirling my fork on the tablecloth for God only knows how long. I quickly drop it onto my napkin and reach for my water, trying to think of a valid, albeit fake, reason I could give her for why I suddenly got so silent.

"Yeah, just a busy week ahead at work. You know how the kids get before fall break." I lie.

"Sweetheart, you are a terrible liar." My eyes grow wide at my dad's comment and my mom snickers. "Does this happen to have anything to do with a certain Clark boy moving back home?" My head swings back in her direction and my mouth pops open. I hold her stare as she raises a brow at me, and I clamp my mouth shut again before letting out a sigh.

Mom has always been able to see right through me.

Dad may know when I'm lying, but Mom always knows why .

She's the only one who ever truly knew how I felt about Sawyer, but she never gave me a hard time about it. I assume she mentioned it to my dad of course, because they were both there for me when he basically disappeared from my life. Mom and I had deeper conversations about my feelings while watching 10 Things I Hate About You— which was my favorite movie long before it felt so relevant in my own life—more times than I can count, while Dad would just tell me to get my shoes on and take me for ice cream or iced coffee before driving around in a comfortable silence with me. Windows down, music up, and spirits lifted—that was Dad's expertise. When I'd reached a point of thickening my skin and told Mom I didn't want to talk about it anymore—that I was done crying over a friendship that was likely one sided anyways—we never spoke of him again.

Until now, apparently.

"No," I snap, a little embarrassed that that's exactly what's wrong with me. "Besides, I'm seeing Jackson and things are going well with him. So, I'm just focusing on that right now." When I lift my head again her eyes are full of concern, but she nods, and we drop it.

"So, tell me about Jackson. I want to hear all about him." She folds her hands together and smiles at me, causing me to blush as I think about the kiss we shared this past weekend. When my dad notices he simply grumbles and reaches across the table.

"That's my cue to leave." He reaches for a cookie but my mom swats his hand away.

"Allen Gates, you know you can't have that until you check your insulin." Dad rubs his hand like he's shocked by my mother's actions—as if it's not the same one she gives him every time he tries grabbing a treat before checking his blood sugar levels.

"Yes, Dear, I know." My parents are grossly in love, and I can't help but laugh when they get on each other's nerves like this.

The rest of the evening is spent talking while Sweet Magnolias plays in the background. We've both binged every season, but who doesn't love a comfort show as background noise while you chat?

When I finally get back in my car to leave and grab my phone to start my playlist for the drive home, the breath is sucked from my lungs all over again when it opens straight to the text I was reading at the dinner table.

Moose

That kiss should have been mine.

"Ms. Gates, my pumpkin didn't turn out right." Liliana's head falls back dramatically as she groans.

"What's the matter with it?" When I reach her side of the table and see her orange construction paper cut into an unidentifiable shape, I have to place my fingers over my lips to stifle my laughter. "Oh…" I tilt my head, trying to find a way to make it work. "It looks like a?—"

"It looks like troll hair," she interrupts, glaring up at me like I am somehow at fault for this mishap. "I might as well call it Poppy the deformed pumpkin." This time, I can't hold back my laughter no matter how hard I try. This girl is the most dramatic six-year-old I have ever taught and I love her all the more for it.

"I was going to say it looks like a gourd, which is close enough." I do my best to encourage her, but she is not having it. "Just finish the project sweetie, I'm sure your mom will love it." I pat her shoulder and walk over to the next table to see how the other students are doing with their projects before checking my watch.

Five minutes until dismissal .

"Okay, everyone finish your projects it's almost time to go!" When I clap my hands together the kids begin scrambling to gather their backpacks and are lined up at the door within two minutes.

"Okay, why don't you guys move that quickly any other day?" I tease them, making them all giggle and bounce up and down in place. After wishing everyone a good fall break and finishing cleaning up my classroom, I grab my bag and head home.

I have big plans for a self-care evening and I'm not going to think about anything school related while I soak in a bubble bath and drink some wine. I blast my music the whole way home to get myself out of work mode—leaving my phone on do not disturb so I don't have to worry about notifications ruining my vibe. About the time I turn off do not disturb mode, kick off my shoes and drop my bag in the entryway, I hear my phone go off several times.

Jackson

Hey, you must have left on two wheels, I looked for you after dismissal but couldn't find you. laughing emoji

GIRL GANG GROUP CHAT

Tay

Sawyer is coming to Thanksgiving this year! Everyone cool with that?

Shane

The more the merrier. It's not like I'm making the turkey.

Lauren

True that. I'll bring an extra pie.

Moose

You can't ignore me forever, Dove. Please just talk to me.

The fucking audacity of this guy.

" Ughhhhh !" I toss my phone onto the couch, grab the bottle of wine from the fridge—not bothering with a glass—and head straight to run my bath.

How is it possible that in the fifteen minutes it takes me to get home from work I receive enough texts to make me reconsider a Xanax prescription. I soak in the tub until my bottle is empty, the water is cold, and my fingers look like raisins. Once I'm wrapped in my favorite plush robe, with my eye masks in place and I'm snuggled into my couch, I finally pick my phone back up. Thankfully there aren't any new notifications, so I click into the group thread and text back a thumbs up emoji, apologize to Jackson and then stare at my message from Sawyer for at least half an episode of Gilmore Girls before I finally type out a response.

Me

You underestimate my ability to pretend you don't exist. You should be familiar with the act. You are an expert after all. middle finger emoji

I roll my eyes and scoff as I press send and within seconds another text comes through.

Moose

Do I need to prove to you just how real I am, Leah?

Heat rushes to my face and for some reason my thighs start sweating, causing me to toss my phone to the other end of the couch. As if being far enough away from it will make my heart stop racing and cause the text that's currently on my screen to not be real. I close my eyes in an effort to clear my mind of Sawyer, but instead images from Halloween flood my mind.

His hands on my waist, in my hair and around my neck.

His lips against my ear.

The mention of me screaming his name.

My eyes fly open and I burrow deeper into my fleece cocoon, wishing I'd never responded to his text in the first place.

I haven't been able to get the text he sent me while I was sitting at dinner with my parents out of my head, no matter how hard I've tried. Now he goes and says shit like this?

I'm still pissed at him.

I still want him to know how it feels to be so blatantly ignored you wished you actually were invisible.

So why does everything he says lately make me feel like he can't see anything but me.

Freaking. Sawyer.