"I don't drink," I say quickly.
"Okay. If you're sure."
"I am so sure."
That makes him smile. He is really gorgeous. In a confined room, his gorgeousness is making me want to hide in a corner and try to disappear.
That was high school Claire. New Claire, with a makeover, should-
A crazy thought hits me.
If I could find out how to turn Sawyer on, maybe I could have one last chance with Trey.
In the statics course that both Sawyer and I attend, we write regular tests-one every two weeks. We just wrote one a few days ago. Afterward, as people filed out of the classroom, I overheard Sawyer talking to other guys from the class. He admitted he didn't study.
"I've heard stuff about you," I say quickly.
He stops with his beer bottle touching his lower lip. "What kind of stuff?"
I'm being crazy, but I don't want to stop. "I thought-well, I wondered if we could work out a deal."
He looks confused. "A deal?" When he moves, his biceps bunch up under the short sleeves of his T-shirt. And … god, are those triceps? Are they supposed to bulge like that?
"I-uh-wanted to ask you for a favor," I say. "I thought in return, I could help you. You know, with statics. Give you some tutoring."
"You did-what was your name again?"
"Claire."
He sets his beer down. "I got a 98 on the last test. But you're right-I do have room for improvement."
Ninety-eight percent? Oh God, I never dreamed he was smart. Given the gossip he was an outlaw bike racer and given I heard him say he didn't study, I never once entertained that conclusion.
"Yeah, it's a tough course," he continues. "I couldn't fit it in my schedule last year and had to take it this year."
He didn't fail it. And apparently he doesn't study because he doesn't need to. My face goes bright red-I know it does.
"I-uh." I have no idea what to say. Then it occurs to me that maybe I can get what I need without making a trade. I mean, he's supposed to be notorious. Why not try it? Why not just tell him what I want to do? Maybe he would be willing.
Do it! Do it! an inner voice shouts.
"I actually kind of wanted to go to bed with you."
There, I did it.
Sawyer's brow goes up again. He doesn't say anything. Then he lifts his beer bottle to his mouth and takes a long swallow. He rubs his jaw. He doesn't look me over or anything.
My heart is wedged so tight in my throat I think I'm going to choke on it. What was I thinking? He is not going to want boring, plain old me.
Now he's going to make fun of me.
I've started the cycle all over again. The teasing, the posts, the bullying-all the stuff I suffered through in my senior year of high school. I'm certain he is going to mock me, so I take a step back, intending to turn and get out.
But he sets down his beer and smiles at me. It's not a mean smile. It's a soft one. "Why don't we start with a date first, Claire?"
Chapter Two
I assume Sawyer is joking or he thinks he should deflect this crazy girl who just propositioned him. He bends to the door of the dryer and I move out of the way so he can take out a shirt, which he folds neatly. "Do you want to go out Friday?" he asks.
I don't know if I'm arranging to have sex on Friday night. Or if he is just avoiding the awkwardness that would follow rejecting me. At this point, I'm too embarrassed to ask. I pull out my phone and he takes my number, types it into his phone, which he slips into the back pocket of his jeans. My mouth goes dry as I watch his hand go into his pocket, following the tight curve of his butt.
I don't believe he's going to call.
It wasn't that all the teasing in high school has made me doubt myself-well, maybe a bit. Mainly it's because I am certain an invitation to a one night stand should have been done with more finesse. What was I thinking?
"Uh, do you want to go upstairs and dance?" I ask clumsily.
"Sorry. I have to study for a test."
"Oh, yeah." I step aside to let him out of the laundry room. I asked both Trey and Sawyer to dance and struck out both times. My cheeks feel like they are brilliant red.
Sawyer balances the basket on his hip, opens the door, and steps aside to let me leave first. Hmmm, I guess it would look strange if I stay in the laundry room after he's gone. "I have to go home," I say. "I should study too."
"Would you like me to call you a cab?"
Great. Maybe he thinks I'm drunk because I propositioned him. "Thanks," I say graciously. "That's very nice of you."
That makes him grin. And I feel something catch fire deep inside me. Smoke smoulders through me. Oh. Oh. Oh. The flash of white teeth and dimples, the sight of the sexy lines that bracket his mouth, the hint of stubble-
The only smile that ever had me almost whimpering and sobbing at its sheer gorgeousness was Trey's. But against Sawyer's grin, that is like a sparkler compared to a fireworks display. Well, maybe the difference isn't so extreme, but right now I am transfixed on the spot, gazing at the sheer sexual beauty of Sawyer's smile. I'm melting. I'm going to turn into a puddle on the floor of the basement.
He puts his phone to his ear and orders a cab for me. Then he nods toward a door. "That's my room."
Right now, if I were Shanelle or one of the other girls, I might be able to say or do something seductive and end up in his room with him. But I'm not ready for that yet. I know that now, standing in the hallway with the most gorgeous guy I've ever seen.
He grins again. "Goodnight, Claire. See you Friday."
Then he disappears into his room and shuts the door. A few seconds later I hear music-I think it's a blues tune, a stark contrast to what they're playing upstairs. A seductive feminine voice starts to sing about her guy, about how she's not going to let him stray.
I picture Sawyer putting his clothing away to the song-socks folded in the sock drawer, underwear in its drawer, shirts on hangers. It's crazy but I have never been so turned on in my life and it's from thinking about Sawyer dealing with his laundry.
As I leave the lecture room after calculus class, my phone buzzes in my purse. I take it out, and a deep, gorgeous male voice says, "Hi. Claire?"
In a squeak, I say, "This is Claire." I sound like a fourteen-year-old boy whose voice is changing.
"This is Sawyer. Are you still available for tonight? Want to go to a movie at the Westingham theatre? We could have dinner first."
I can't believe he is really asking. Having reached Friday with no phone call, I assumed he was just trying to avoid my request.
I hesitate. I'm afraid to say anything in case this is just a set up for a huge joke at my expense. Instinctively I think: maybe this still isn't real.
You are not in high school anymore. "I'd love to," I say.
I hold my breath after that and wait for some girl's snotty laugh on an extension as she screams with malicious delight at how easily I was duped.
But the next voice I hear is still Sawyer's. It's rich and soft and he has a smooth, easy way of speaking that makes my knees tremble. "I'll pick you up at 7:00 from your dorm, Claire."
"Sure. I'll be there. Uh, I'm in Laker dorm. I'll meet you by the front entrance."
"Great. I gotta go. See you then." He hangs up.
For a full five minutes, I stand with my phone against my ear and no one there.
The truth is I've never dated.
In high school, I did get asked out a couple of times. But it was by guys who I looked on as friends. I didn't feel that spark of desire. So I said no because I didn't want to ruin everything. I wanted to stay friends. I knew it was just a date. But I didn't believe a guy dated unless he hoped, even infinitesimally, for sex. And if I had zero interest in sex, there was no point.
Also, my brother has colitis. We found out because he ended up in hospital with a dangerous blockage. Charley had flare ups and felt crappy for a lot of the time I was in high school. While he was being tested and his doctors were figuring out treatments and medicine doses, Mom worked several cleaning jobs. I never had time to date.
I have two more classes this afternoon. Whatever the professors teach makes no impression on me; I don't hear a word. After my last class, which ends at four-thirty, I race back to my empty dorm room and jump in the shower. When I get out, wet hair tangled around me, I suddenly panic.
I want to look good. As good as I did when I met Sawyer, after the makeover. Except I have no idea what my friends did.
I phone Abby and Shanelle, but get voice mail. So I am responsible for my own makeover.
Shanelle started with face primer, followed up with foundation (borrowed from Abby), bronzer, then blush. I don't own any of those things.
Eye makeup. That really changed my appearance and Shanelle bought some stuff for me. I quickly brush on the black, waterproof mascara she got. Then I remember she started with liner. Damn. I undo the liquid liner, lean into the mirror with the brush clutched in my hand and … WTF? It blobs on my lid and leaks into my eye