So I wouldn’t have had to rely on the cocky quarterback soon-to-be famous bull rider to keep me going.
Who … is currently leaning against my car, holding a bouquet of flowers.
What the hell?
He’s thrown on a plaid blue flannel and somehow pulled some jeans over his cast, which is only visible out the bottom of one of the legs. A faded brown cowboy hat sits atop the roof of my car behind him, where he rests so casually, as if it’s not the strangest thing to find him here.
I wondered why there were so many kids in the parking lot on a Monday afternoon. Students smile and wave at Sawyer as they pass. A few groups of teenage girls hover around, whispering and batting their lashes at him, then shying away and giggling when he waves at them. It has me involuntarily rolling my eyes—of course he’s still a heartbreaker after all these years.
My steps slow as I approach my car, stopping altogether when his eyes finally catch me. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t good to see him up and about, as opposed to the last time when he was battered and bruised in a hospital bed. Despite the way we left things—how he pressed into that old wound with the comment about Noah’s dad.
I knew I shouldn’t have gone to see him—it’s been nineyears for God’s sake, it was silly of me even to think he might’ve wanted me there. So why is he here now?
‘Hey, Blue,’ Sawyer drawls, letting that smirk of his fully play out, dimples popping up to say hello too.
And despite everything, my heart still races.
No, no, no. Do not let that name and smile affect you. You’re a grown woman now, you know better than that.
‘Sawyer.’ I try to keep my expression calm. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I wanted to apologise.’ He holds up the flowers, now wielding a softer smile, and runs his other hand through his dark golden hair.
He bought me roses.Blueroses.
I’m sure he buys women flowers all the time, but I let myself believe for a second that he chose blue roses for the same reason the sight of them tugs on my heart.
‘Woah, Miss Goldman, are you friends with Sawyer Nash?’ Jesse—a freshman at Willow Ridge High who often ends up in the library when he’s had a rough day—asks, appearing by my side suddenly.
‘Bestfriends, actually,’ Sawyer corrects him, pumping his brows at me afterward. His smirk doubles in size.
‘That’s so cool,’ Jesse replies, nodding enthusiastically.
I try to protest, ‘Um—’
‘Are you going on a date? Is that why he has flowers?’ Another boy interrogates us on my other side who I’ve never met.
If there’s one thing I’ve taken from my career in high school, it’s that teenagers, as sweet as they can be, are also insufferable.
‘No, we—’
‘Oh yeah,’ Sawyer interrupts me, grin damn right mischievous now. I bite my tongue as I eye him narrowly. ‘Gonna wine and dine her, and everything.’
‘Andeverything! Ooh!’ A group of students squeal behind me, jumping about as if it’s the most scandalous thing they’ve heard. God, if gossip spreads around the high school like it did when I went then everyone will think I’m sleeping with local bull-riding star, Sawyer Nash, by tomorrow afternoon.
‘Okay, okay!’ I throw my hands in the air, getting this to stop once and for all. ‘We arenotgoing on a date.’
‘But we are friends?’ Sawyer’s chestnut eyes twinkle, eager and pleading. The corners of his mouth twitch, anticipating my acceptance. He shakes the flowers to bring my attention to them again, and I’m certain this time he knew they would send my mind instantly back to prom night. Smart guy.
‘Maybe,’ is all I give him, along with a levelled look. Then I turn to the kids and wave them off. ‘Now, go on home. Y’all have got better things to be doing than standing around ogling Mr Nash here.’
The teenagers scatter, though not without a few of the girls shouting, ‘Bye, Sawyer!’ and running off in a fit of high-pitched squeaks and giggles. Boy, he got enough attention being the quarterback in high school, I don’t even want to think what it would’ve been like if he’d been a world champion bull rider back then too. We certainly wouldn’t have spoken, that’s for sure.
Once we’re alone, my words dry up. A beat of silence passes.
‘Here.’ Sawyer hands me the flowers suddenly.
Taking them carefully, I bring them to my nose to give them a smell, my shoulders easing at their sweet scent. ‘Thank you.’