I shrug. “They were just practice for Finn. What does it matter?”
He’s shaking his head before I’m even finished speaking. “This idea you have of being with my brother, it’s never happening. He’s not right for you, you must know that.”
“Why not? Why is it such a bad idea? Finn’s a great guy. He’s my brother’s best friend. My parents already love him. And he’s hot.” I know it’s a bitchy move to throw that in but Sawyer just nods in response.
“No chemistry.”
“We have chemistry.”
“You know that you don’t.”
“Well—” I pause. “It’s only because he won’t give it a chance.” I know this is a weak argument, but I don’t want to give in.
“You overwhelm him, Everly. You’re a whirlwind, and Finn, he’s not an aggressive guy. You’d steamroll his life and end up disappointed by his lack of intensity.”
“You know this from spending three hours with me?”
“I do,” he says, looking me in the eye. “How can you not?”
I break his gaze and look out the window. I’m a lot to handle, I know that. But I never thought of it like that before.
“When’s the last time someone asked you on a date, Boots?”
Wow. The hits just keep on coming with this guy. “I do okay.” Does he think I’m chasing Finn because nobody else is interested?
“No. When’s the last time a man pursued you? Instead of the other way around?”
“It doesn’t work that way any more, Sawyer. My generation is different than yours.” Ha.
He ignores the dig. “Any man worthy of you would work for it, Everly. Not sit by passively while you did all the work.”
I don’t have a single smart retort for that.
We arrive in front of my dorm and I pop the door open the second the car stops moving. I can’t get my feet on the pavement fast enough. Sawyer puts the car in park and retrieves my bag from the trunk, walking around the car to hand it to me. I sling the bag over my shoulder and look up at him expectantly, hand out. He’s standing so close I have to tilt my head back a little to meet his eyes.
“Phone?” I demand.
“Keys?” he replies.
Grrr. I dig into my bag and pull out the remaining two keys to Finn’s apartment and drop them in his hand, then go back to looking at him expectantly, hand out.
“Don’t you want to thank me for the ride, Everly?”
Right. Of course. I drop my outstretched hand and take a deep breath. It’s better than a sigh. Not much, but I’m trying. “Thank you for driving me back to school, Sawyer. I appreciate it.” I add on a smile. “May I have my phone now?”
Sawyer just continues to stand there and look at me, his eyes doing that thing again, that thing that makes me think he’s picturing me naked. I do sigh now, and reach into his breast pocket and grab the phone myself.
“Is this you passively giving me my phone back? To prove how annoying it—”
I’m cut off mid-sentence because Sawyer’s lips are on mine. One hand is behind my neck, warm on my skin and holding me still. The other is low on my hip, dangerously close to my ass, pulling me closer. My heart stops for a second, and then it’s racing, blood flowing at warp speed throughout my body. I’m clutching my phone, my arm trapped between our bodies and across his chest. His tongue dips into my mouth and he groans. My traitorous ears are quick to acknowledge it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard, that this kiss, God, this kiss…
“That’s chemistry,” he says when he lets me go. I’m a few seconds behind hearing him, my eyes still closed, my lips still tilted in his direction.
Then his words register. I blink and take a step back. I just, I just don’t have anything to say to that. I need to think. I whirl around and make a getaway for the dorm entrance, intent on getting out of there without giving him another look.
“Boots!” he shouts at me as I dash up the steps, door in sight.
“What?” I snap, stopping at the top of the steps and turning to look at him again.
“So I’ll call you?” he asks, smiling. “We can Netflix and chill?” He laughs as he says it, leaning against the car with his hands in his pockets.
“You’re an asshole, Sawyer! And you’re at least a decade too old to be using that phrase!”
He must find rejection funny because he’s still laughing as I yank open the building door and disappear inside.
Chloe is dunking a tea bag into a mug of hot water from the small microwave in our room when I get upstairs. I drop my bag on the floor and flop face first onto my bed, burying my face in a pillow.
“Pfft!”
“What’s that?” Chloe asks.
Her bed creaks and the covers rustle as she sits, so I roll over and suck in a breath. “He’s impossible,” I tell her, waving my hands in the general direction of the ceiling. “Impossible!”