"How are you feeling?" Jospeh asks.
I sit up on the couch after staring at the ceiling and hearing everyone conversing downstairs. I'm not sure if I have the strength to get out of bed or if I even want to get out of bed.
"Abnormally tired." I say yawning, my voice going deeper as I do.
I see a coffee mug near Sawyers computer, hot steam still rising from the cup. Fresh cup of coffee, he just left the room. He's been up all night.
"Hungry?" Jospeh asks and I turn my attention back to him.
The thought of food makes me want to puke.
"Umm, maybe later." I tell him with a smile and plop back down into the sofa. My whole body sinking in the comfort of cushions.
"Hey, if you're up for it we're all headed into downtown Toronto. Haven't been there since we were kids." He says with a hopeful smile.
"Sounds fun." I tell him. He walks back downstairs and I close my eyes. "Wait, isn't it dangerous to go out?"
"Nope. We will be fine." Jospeh shouts from the bottom of the stairs. I close my eyes again, time for the first nap of the day.
I stir awake from a blaring alarm.
"Sleeping beauty's finally up." Sawyer deadpans, he's carefully distributing something into a small vile.
"What time is it?" I question.
"Three o' clock."
I shoot off the couch. Jospeh said they were going into town, why didn't he wake me?
I walk back and forth in panic, not knowing what to do.
"Don't bother, they've already gone." Sawyer says.
"When did they leave?" I brush the curls from my face.
"Couple hours ago." He shrugs.
"Why didn't anyone wake me?" I huff out. I pick up the blanket from the floor and start folding it.
"Jospeh didn't want to wake you."
I see Sawyers phone near the couch, the alarm still going. I look back to Sawyer.
"Did you set an alarm on purpose?" I cross my arms, "to wake me up?"
Sawyer slowly walks to me and grabs the phone from the small side table.
"You have a little drool." He points to my chin. "Right there."
I slap his hand away, my cheeks turning pink. I wipe away the white crust around my mouth.
Sawyer goes back to working. I sit back on the couch not knowing what else to do.
"Go get dressed..." Sawyer says, not batting an eye in my direction.
"Where are we going?"
He takes off his gloves and lifts his head to look at me, "Paris."
"Nope, I'm not getting on anymore planes."
Sawyer rolls his eyes.
"A village is missing its idiot." Sawyer mutters.
"What?" I question.
"Nothing. It's a small town in Ontario. It's not France." He says, expressionless.
"Right." I scratch my head. "I knew that." I let out a laugh.
"Fever making you forget to?" Sawyer looks at me, he seems worried, but he's good at hiding his facial emotions.
"Small fact I forgot." I shrug. "How much time do I have?"
"Ten minutes." He shoos me out of the room.
I make my way downstairs and take a quick shower, brush my teeth, and get dressed.
Sawyer is packing a few folders into his satchel when I make my way into the entrance of the house.
"Shouldn't we meet up with the rest of them?" I question. Sawyer shakes his head,
"It's a little boring."
"For you, or me?" I question.
"Both."
"I wanted to see the the city." I slightly complain.
"It's like every other city." He places his wallet into his pocket. "Get your shoes on. I'll be in the car." He grabs his keys hanging from the wall.
"I'm ready." I tell him, grabbing my shoes. I walk to the car with just socks and once inside I start putting my shoes on.
"You haven't eaten today." Sawyer points out.
"I'm not really hungry." I grunt, finally getting my shoe on and tying the shoe lace. "I actually feel like puking." I mutter the last part, not loud enough for him to hear.
"Does your stomach hurt?" He questions.
"Umm, no. It doesn't." I answer truthfully, it just feels funny, but it doesn't hurt.
"You should eat something small." He reaches over to the back seats. "I think I have a granola bar." I hear the crunch of a wrapper and he places the granola bar in front of my face.
I reluctantly take it from him.
"So how far is this Paris place?" I change the subject, slowly opening the wrapper.
"About an hour out."
"Why are we going there?" I take a small bite and Sawyer watches me as I do.
"I've seen you take bigger bites." Sawyer backs out of the drive way.
"I'm not that hungry." I take another small bite.
"My father lives there." He softly says. I turn to him, confused. I take another bite of the granola bar.
"You saw what you wanted to see." He says before I can say anything.
"But I thought those were your parents. Your mom is divorced? You look so much like the both of them." I try remembering who I thought his dad was. Makes sense as to why he's all broody when he's around.
"Guess my mom has a type. He can be my dads brother. Thank God that bastard isn't." Sawyers hands tighten around the wheel.
"Why do you hate him so much?" I turn in my seat to look at him.
"He ruined our family. He's well known in America for finding a cure to some disease that doesn't fucking exist anymore." Sawyer rolls his eyes. "He works with your uncle." Sawyer turns to me with a glare.
"I had no idea any of this was happening." I raise my hands up in surrender. "Don't give me those fiery eyes." I playfully tap his shoulder.
"That's not even the half of it." He says. I pick at my lips. I almost forgot we're in this mess because of Whit.
"We're both sick because of them." He says the last part so low I barley catch it. He runs his hands through his curls.
"I'm sorry." I whisper.
Sawyer doesn't say anything after that. The bright light from outside is starting to give me a headache. I rest my head on the window and I watch Sawyer drive. He glances at me a few times, worry written across his features.
"You okay?" I question when we slow down. We finally hit traffic.
"Hmm?" Sawyer turns to me.
"You seem troubled." I eye him warily.
He sighs out and stretches his arms while holding the steering wheel.
"Just a lot." He turns to me and gives me a tight smile.
"Tell me about it, we're both dying." I try to make light of the situation, but Sawyer visibly cringes. My face falls at his reaction.
"Would you ever get a tattoo?" Sawyer asks after a few moments of silence. I turn to him thankful that he changes the subject.
"Not for a million dollars." I shake my head.
"You're no fun. You're missing out."
"Why did you get tattoos?"
"For the hell of it. Girls seem into it." He smirks.
I gag, "Is that the only reason? For girls." I look at him disgusted.
Seems kind of lame.
"No." His face turns serious. I can't tell when he's joking or not.
"It just seems like too much pain. I don't think I would be able to handle it."
"Live on the edge." Sawyer laughs a little.
"I'll let you do that." I sickly smile at him and he rolls his eyes.
I look at Sawyers tattoos as his focus is on the road. He's right about girls being into it. I roll my eyes. Maybe one day I would get one, no I don't think so. I can't, I won't.
I end up falling asleep and wake up with a jump. Sawyers still driving, his head whips to me.
He raises an eyebrow, "sorry." I tell him and sink further into my seat, slightly embarrassed.
He continues to drive for another thirty minutes before we finally stop the car. I look out the window and open the car door. It feels like I've just been transported to France. It's so beautiful, the smell of bread from the bakeries. The cute boutiques, cafes, pubs. Why in the world did we drive all the way over here?
"So what are we doing here?" I bend down to tie my other shoe.
"We have to walk from here." He informs me.
"How much walking?" I groan, he watches my sour expression and smiles.
"We should be there by morning."
I roll my eyes, jerk.
We begin walking on a cobble stone street, not big enough for cars to drive through. There's a river beside us and we end up by a small stone arched bridge. We're both quiet, and I hear Sawyer complaining about how slow I'm walking. I can't help it, the scenery is so peaceful. I now know why he likes this place, it's quiet and comfortable, something I'm sure is completely different than the loud city.
"Look, I'm living on the edge." I tell Sawyer as I climb the bridge and walk along the edge.
"Jump in." He challenges.
I look down and behind me, the water doesn't seem deep. It actually looks like it's drying from the summer heat.
I lift one leg up, "Look, one leg. Call me a daredevil."
I catch a small smile, but it quickly disappears.
"You done being stupid?" He questions. I hop along the edge just to piss him off. I lose my footing and try grabbing at the air.
I fall back, my screams loud as thunder as I fall into the freezing water. I pick myself up and stand in the shallow water, drenched.
All I hear is Sawyers echoing laugh, his deep rumble heard beneath the bridge.
I stand there shivering.
I walk up the small hill to the end of the bridge where Sawyer is waiting for me.
His eyes widen and I watch as he rakes down my body. I watch as his jaw hardens and I notice his cheeks turning slightly pink.
"You feeling sick?" I ask, walling closer to him. I put my hand on his cheek. "You're a little warm."
He aggressively takes my hand off his face.
"Uhm, lets get you dried up, yeah?" His is voice slightly huskier than usual.
"Ok." I tell him, shivering. "I shouldn't have done that." My face burns with embarrassment.
"You're face right before you fell, priceless." He laughs. His head falls back and he looks adorable.
"Yeah, yeah." I playfully crash into him which makes him laugh more.
We head off of the road and into a secret pathway. We're in a small neighborhood.
"Come on, this way."
We walk up to a house, I'm assuming is his fathers.
Sawyer stares at the door for a while before he knocks.
I stand closer to Sawyer for warmth.
"Qui diable frappe à ma porte?" (French: Who the hell is knocking at my door?) I hear an old grumpy voice screaming.
"He doesn't sound very friendly..." I whisper to Sawyer and Sawyer smirks. The door swings open.
"qui est là?" (French: who's there?)
"Who's there?" The old man repeats. If I thought Sawyers step dad looked like him, his really father is an older version of Sawyer. He's aging well. Still has a full set of hair, his teeth are white and straight. He's still standing tall, dressed really fancy.
"Speak up." Sawyers father says and I look to Sawyer. Why isn't he saying anything? I step in front of Sawyer to go in for a handshake but Sawyer blocks me with his arm.
"Dr. Grant." Sawyer finally voices out. His fathers face turns from hard to soft within seconds. Why is he calling him Grant? Why can't he just call him father? Men. I roll my eyes.
"Sawyer, is that you?" Dr. Grant asks, he lifts his arms up and reaches out for Sawyer. He feels Sawyers face and smiles. "It is you, my boy."
"I apologize for coming at such short notice." Sawyer says.
His father doesn't look at me once.
"Who's the damsel?" Grant says and I turn to Sawyer.
I go in for a handshake, but he never takes it. I hear Sawyer snort.
"He's blind." Sawyer whispers into my ear. I pull my hand back, my cheeks turning pink for the second time.
"Blind, but I have sharp hearing." Grant laughs.
"Did you fall into the river, girl?" He turns to me. I turn to Sawyer surprised.
"I can hear the droplets falling off of you. Trying to sneak a girl in, Sawyer. You haven't changed a bit." He chuckles. "Come in. Let's get you warm clothes."
My stomach sinks just thinking about all the girls Sawyer tried sneaking past his father.
Sawyer places his hand on the small of my back and I pull away from him. Sawyer glances at me, giving me a questioning look.
I walk faster trying to keep up with his dad. His dad hands me a warm towel, and a large t-shirt and sweats.
"These were Sawyers, when he was younger. They should fit a small girl like you, might be a little baggy." He smiles, handing me the clothes. I thank him and head into the bathroom. My curls are flat against my face, my cheeks are flushed red. My finger nails are purple from how cold I am. It feels good.
Once I'm done I take in my surroundings. The house is the cleanest house I've ever seen. Granted there are tons of books everywhere, some stacked in piles in every nook and cranny.
"I walk a long hallway and follow the deep voices of Sawyer and his father quietly bickering. I slowly walk closer, trying to make out what they're saying.
"That's the thing. I can't stop it and she's dying." Sawyer harshly whispers.
"She's here." His father says, whipping his head in my direction. I stand there frozen. Sawyer doesn't look at me, his focus on some files.
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Double update! 🤍💚🤍💚
So I'm giving the intimidate scene a thought! I might write it, and I'm also open to others wanting to write it, if you're up to it. 🤔