Which makes my eye water.
Which makes the stupid waterproof mascara run in a huge smear.
Really? This is the waterproof kind?
My next discovery? Tears make the mascara run, but it is sufficiently waterproof that it doesn't wash off. Even soap and water won't remove it.
I end up with a bloodshot, stinging eye that is surrounded by a light grey smear.
I hunt through the medicine cabinet with one eye shut until I find Abby's eye makeup remover. "I'm so sorry." I look in the general direction of Abby's empty bed. "I wouldn't borrow this without permission unless it was an emergency. Which this is."
Finally I get the makeup off and wash my face. I'm ready to start again when I realize I've blown forty-five minutes to get nowhere. Damn, again.
I put on the waterproof mascara. Then lipgloss. I heat up Abby's hair straightener and make a wild attempt to do my hair in five minutes. First I burn my neck. Then, as I juggle the flat iron to deal with my neck, I burn my finger. I run cold water on my finger to stop it from swelling and blistering, then I rub water on my neck.
I have half-straightened hair. Cursing, I put water on the hair, scrunch it to make curls, then blow dry it as fast as I can. I brush it and it looks sort of like I intentionally made big, loose waves.
I am running out of time.
I find a skirt, but it's so frumpy it makes me gag. I put on another pair of jeans and choose a fuzzy pink sweater, one I think looks cute. And it's the perfect weight for an October night. I grab my wrap-around wool coat and run down to the entrance of the dorm.
Given my makeup and hair disasters, I almost hope Sawyer doesn't show.
But he's there. Standing by one of the posts for the canopy that covers the entrance. Tall, beautiful, wearing his black leather jacket, a dress shirt, and his black leather pants. He's typing something into his phone and he looks mad.
"Hi, Sawyer." I give a jerky, circular wave. Then want to smack myself for looking so awkward. "Look, if there's something wrong and you would rather not go out tonight, that's okay."
He looks up. "Claire, hi." Suddenly his smile is there again. He doesn't look at his phone and I notice he's turning it off. "There's nothing wrong and I've been looking forward to tonight since the party."
The way he says it, in his deep, gorgeous voice, makes me shiver. He has been looking forward to seeing me. I know he asked me out, but I'm still surprised.
"How do you want to get there?" I ask. "I usually walk. It's not far."
"I've got a car." He has the keys in his hand and a car in the visitor parking lot beeps.
"Uh," I say. The car is bright red and looks like something Steve McQueen would have driven in Bullitt-I used to watch old movies while I was at home on Saturday nights, doing homework.
Sawyer opens the passenger door for me. As I slide in, I remember Jenna's warning that he raced motorcycles at 150 mph. I wonder if he's going to peel out of the parking lot, and if he drives like a maniac.
Within ten minutes, I learn he is probably the best driver in the world.
We've left the Yardley campus and Sawyer is driving down the main street in Westingham. He stays at the speed limit, and I keep glancing over to watch him drive. It's incredibly sexy. He steers with one elbow propped casually on the door. His legs are so long, he has to bend them slightly to fit. That leaves his thighs open, and makes me think about erotic things. Like sitting between his legs when we are both naked.
Then I just happen to look up. A mom is standing on the sidewalk, talking to another woman. Her hand is on her little boy's shoulder. Sawyer slows down.
"Oh!" I gasp as the child jerks away from his mom and steps out right in front of us. Sawyer hits the brakes and stops at once. The woman runs out and gathers up her son, who is safe.
I turn to Sawyer, heart pounding. "You slowed down. If you hadn't done that, you wouldn't have been able to stop in time."
"I noticed he was looking at the road, tugging at his mom, so I figured he might run out."
"You saved his life."
He grins and looks to me. "Fortunately nothing bad happened."
The mother hauls her boy back onto the sidewalk and hugs him. She gazes at Sawyer and I see the gratitude in her expression.
My heart is still racing. A reaction to the near miss, but also a really strong reaction to Sawyer.
"I was thinking of dinner at Madison's," he says, as he starts driving again.
"I can't afford that." I was so startled, I spoke without thinking. But Madison's is the most expensive and exclusive restaurant in the campus town of Westingham.
"My treat," he says. "I asked you out."
After I asked you to go to bed.
"I'm wearing jeans." I know I am not dressed well enough to go anywhere fancy. "Maybe somewhere more casual."
"If you're sure," he says, "Whatever you want. But if you would like somewhere more casual but really good, there's a Thai restaurant."
"Sure." I'm not entirely sure, actually. I've never had Thai food. But he suggested it and I can't think of anything else. My heart is still pounding over the little boy.
Incredible fragrances reach us as we enter the small restaurant. Sawyer holds the door for me-no one's ever done that. Beautiful wood carvings of graceful figures wearing elaborate headdresses decorate the entry. We're led to a booth in the dining room, which is decorated with exquisite, delicate wood panels and lit by exotic, perforated metal lamps.
We order tea, then I tell Sawyer to choose whatever he thinks is good. But he doesn't work that way. He wants to make sure I like what I'm getting. I finally admit I have no clue about Thai food. So he orders the dishes.
Since I've never actually been on a date, I have no idea what to say.
"You're in my statics and calculus classes." Sawyer pours fragrant tea into a tiny porcelain cup. "I noticed you on the first day." He grins and actually looks shy.
"You did? Why?" I sip tea, sure I'm blushing.
"I don't know. You were so attentive and you looked completely fascinated by calculus proofs."
I blush. He witnessed my geekiness.
"I found I paid more attention, just to see what intrigued you so much. And I love the way you look in glasses. You just look smart."
I am stunned. The things that made me look awkward in high school seem to be what interested him about me. Of course, I wore contacts tonight. "Are you in engineering?" I ask. "What are you going to specialize in? I'm intending to do soils engineering." Now that I know he's not afraid of geekdom, I can talk openly to him.
He grins. "That's my plan too. Geological and soils engineering. I'd like to get a good job for an oil company. That way I could look after my mom and my sisters."
The soup comes to our table, served by a small, slim woman in a floor-length blue satin dress.
The soup, spicy and flavored with lime, makes me think I've died and gone to heaven.
"This is incredible," I say softly to him.
"Wait until you try the curry."
I'm nervous. I've always assumed on a date I should try to be … perfect. But I have no idea how to do that. "I've never tried curry before. It sounds far more exotic than anything I've ever eaten." And strange, too, but I don't say that. Coconut milk, bamboo shoots, red curry paste. "The most adventurous I've been in my past was eating chili."
As the dishes are set in front of us, along with sticky jasmine rice, Sawyer asks me about my hometown. And my family.
For a first date, I know I should avoid talking about sad and intense things, but when he hears I have a younger brother he asks me questions. Finally I admit, "My brother was sick for a lot of the time I was in high school. He has colitis, and he experiences a lot of pain with it."
"I'm sorry," he says gently. He touches my hand. Just a soft stroke of his fingers. I've never felt anything like it. It feels soothing and sweet, but it also steals my breath.
"My mom was sick," he says. "She's had a couple of bouts with cancer. It's not the same as when it happens to a kid brother or sister, but I think I understand a little of what you've gone through."
"Now it's my turn to say I'm sorry. Is she all right now?"
Sawyer nods. "After the last round of chemotherapy and radiation, she's in remission."
"That's so good to hear. Does she live far away from here?"
"She lives in the middle of the country now, near my older brother." He offers me more of the plates-we were served communal plates of red chicken curry, green curry, stir-fried vegetables, and something incredibly amazing with beef and kaffir lime and coriander.
"This food is incredible. Thank you for bringing me here."
"You're welcome." He smiles again. "My mom is the one who taught me to appreciate incredible food like this. On weekends, she would make her own curry pastes for Thai curries and blend spices for Indian dishes. She taught me to appreciate spicy food." He sips his tea. "She's always been slender and healthy, and she eats stuff like vegetables all the time. I could never figure out how she got sick."