Chapter 29 | I Hate You All So Much
“I’m just… happy. I’ve never felt that before. I’m exactly where I want to be.” — Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
“Sawyer,” Graham says the next morning, poking me in my back.
“Hmm?” I sleepily reply, keeping my eyes shut because I’m not ready to wake up just yet.
“You gotta get up,” He tells me, poking me yet again in my back.
“I literally just went to sleep,” I whine, hoping that I’ll actually be able to fall back asleep.
“Babe, it’s noon,” Graham informs me with a small chuckle. “You’ve been asleep for at least, like, ten hours now.”
“Oh,” I mutter, surprised by the fact that I slept so late— I never sleep this way. “Well, why do I need to get up?”
“Because you and I, we need to get back to Andover like, right now,” Graham says, sounding slightly panicked.
“How come?” I wonder, rolling over in the bed and opening my eyes to look up at him, since it’s clear that I won’t be going back to sleep anytime soon.
I mean, it’s Sunday and I don’t have school (obviously) or therapy or work or anything like that today, so I’m in no rush at all to get back home. Especially since I know that when I do get back home, I’m going to get the lecture of a lifetime via Heather and the longest interrogation of all time from Sienna and Aspen and Piper. I’ll definitely take the interrogate over the lecture though— at least my friends won’t be screaming at me, which I’m a thousand percent sure is about all my mother will be doing.
Then there’s Graham, who doesn’t really do anything with his time aside from going to school, hanging out with me, and sometimes hanging out with Halden and his other guy friends whose names I can’t remember. So, I don’t know what his rush is. Unless he has to babysit his brother or something, but that isn’t likely because he’s probably still in the hospital.
“Because Beckett has been calling and texting me all morning,” He tells me. “And I think that if you aren’t home soon, he’s going to find us and kill me.”
“And I think that you’re just being dramatic, per usual,” I laugh. “Besides, I wouldn’t let my big brother kill you— I’d protect you from him,” I assure him.
“I feel like he wouldn’t do anything crazy like shoot me or stab me or anything,” Graham goes on, as if actually considering the possibility that Beckett could kill him. I mean, I know he’s a little psychotic sometimes (Beckett, that is), but he’s not crazy. “I think he’d poison me so that he could watch me die a slow, painful death,” He says and then looks over at me.
“You are being so ridiculous right now, Graham,” I giggle, pulling the covers up to my chin. It’s actually kind of warm here in this room, but I don’t want to be all exposed and whatnot, even though that kind of makes no sense at all, since last night I was totally fine with being all exposed and whatnot. “Beckett has even told me that he kinda likes you, so I am a hundred percent sure he wouldn’t murder you,” I add. “Where’s your phone?”
“Are you going to call him?” He wonders, grabbing his phone from the nightstand and unlocking it before handing it to me.
“Nope,” I deny, shaking my head, finding my brother’s number in Graham’s call history and rolling my eyes when I see the amount of times he’s called Graham— forty-nine, and that’s just since 6 o’clock this morning. I click on his number then and select the option to block it. Man, I love the call blocking feature. It honestly has helped me so many times in life when it comes to avoiding contact with people that I don’t want to talk to. I know that it’s kind of mean to block my brother, but he’s being such a jerk right now. He knows that I am in perfectly good hands and he’s doing this to annoy me.
“What’d you do?” Graham asks once I hand him his phone back.
“I blocked him,” I explain. “Now, can I go back to sleep?” I plead.
“How come you’re so tired?” Graham asks with a chuckle.
“Well, we did stay up pretty late last night,” I remind him.
“This is true,” He agrees. “Okay, well, if you want to go back to sleep, you can, but we really do need to leave by at least , like, two o’clock though.”
“Then wake me up at around 1 o’clock,” I say before rolling back over in the bed and closing my eyes. “By the way, you have really, really nice abs.”
“Thank you?” Graham laughs, clearly confused, but also amused by my random compliment, but I mean, in my defense, he isn’t wearing a shirt right now. So when I rolled over in the bed just now and opened my eyes, his beautiful abs were the first thing I saw and what was I supposed do, not stare? Please. That would’ve been so un-girlfriend-y. “You also have really, really nice bodily features,” He replies with the same hint of amusement in his voice.
“Alrighty then,” I giggle. We’re pretty weird, Graham and I, I think, but we’re also very adorable, so that makes it okay. “I’m gonna go to sleep now,” I say.
“Are you asleep yet?” Graham asks me about twenty minutes later in a quite voice, I guess so he doesn’t wake me in case I actually am asleep.
“Nope,” I sigh,. “I don’t think I can go back to sleep,” I tell him. It’s hard for me to sleep when there’s people in the room unless I’m just super exhausted.
“Well, in that case, are you hungry?” He randomly asks me. “Because I’m pretty much starving.”
“Me too,” I agree, realizing how hungry I am. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I’m always hungry.”
“Of course you weren’t,” He laughs. “Okay, well, there’s a breakfast diner a few blocks up the road— I can go get us some breakfast. I would say that we could just cook some, but given last night with the spaghetti and meatballs situation, maybe that isn’t the best idea,” Graham says, getting up from the bed. I roll over in the bed then and watch discreetly (actually, probably not discreetly at all) as he pulls on a white t-shirt, a black Vanderbilt hoodie, grey sweatpants, and his shoes. Obviously, he’s taken a shower and I can tell because his hair looks damp, so I suppose he’s been up for a while, which is strange because he usually is such a late sleeper. Then again though, I’m just getting up and I’m usually not a late sleeper, so today is just opposite day.
“Yeah, you’re definitely probably right about that,” I reply, nodding in agreement.
Honestly, the spaghetti and meatballs didn’t taste completely awful or anything, which was good, but it definitely didn’t taste like it normally does whenever my mom makes it. I mean, it wasn’t the greatest dish ever, but considering the fact that Graham can really only make macaroni and cheese and I can really only bake cookies and cakes and muffins and make breakfast foods, I think that we did a pretty okay job. Anyway though, really early this morning, at around 5 o’clock, I got this really bad feeling in the pit of my stomach, like I was going to throw up and I’m guessing our semi-failed attempt at cooking was to blame for that. It was still pretty romantic though and he didn’t spend a lot of money on it, which makes me feel better— I sometimes hate it when he spends a lot of money on me for things like dinner because it sort of makes me feel like a gold digger.
“Can you bring me back pancakes?” I ask him hopefully as he grabs his car keys.
“I can bring you back pancakes,” Graham confirms, leaning down to kiss my forehead. “I’ll be back soon,” He states.
“Okay,” I reply. “I love you,” I call after him as he’s walking out of the bedroom.
“I love you too,” He calls over his shoulder, closing the door shut behind him.
I hear him walking down the hallway and then the sound of the front door opening and closing. Shortly thereafter, I hear his car starting up and driving away outside. That’s when a quiet vibrating noise starts going off and I start looking around the room. My phone’s in bathroom— at least, that’s where I left it at— and I don’t know anything else that could be vibrating. After a few seconds, my eyes fall on Graham’s iPhone, which is sitting on the nightstand, illuminated and vibrating with an incoming call. I guess he forgot to grab it on his way out. I know I should just let it ring because it’s really none of my business who calls Graham, but curiosity gets the better of me.
Pulling the cover with me, I sit up in the bed and grab Graham’s phone from the table, glancing down at it. I let out a small laugh when I see the name on the Caller I.D.— Satan’s Daughter— and there’s a picture of Carson herself. The fact that that’s what Graham’s got her number saved under amuses me, but what annoys me is the fact that she’s calling my boyfriend. I mean, I think that Graham made it blatantly clear at Cassidy and Tucker’s wedding reception that he hates Carson’s guts and doesn’t want to be her friend— so why is she calling him?
I clear the “missed call” notification and then see that there’s also three text messages— all unread and all from Carson. I can’t read them though, because the text preview thing isn’t enabled on Graham’s phone for some weird reason, which means I’m going to need his passcode to read them. I realize then that maybe I should just put his phone down and pretend I didn’t see anything. Clearly, he hasn’t texted Carson back or even read her text messages, which must mean he doesn’t want to talk to her. I have no reason in the world not to trust Graham, but I have every reason in the world not to trust his lying, dirty, cheating, conniving ex-girlfriend.
That’s when I start thinking, trying to figure out what four digits Graham could have possibly used as his passcode. I try the last four digits of his phone number— wrong; 1234— wrong; his jersey number and a couple of zeroes— wrong; the four numbers of his home address— wrong. I decide then that if I don’t get it on the fifth try, I’m just going to stop so that a. I don’t lock his phone up and b. I don’t look obsessive or crazy or anything. And since I have absolutely no other guesses, I put in “0106” and hit enter and surprisingly enough, the screen unlocks.
That’s when we got together— January 6— and the only reason I can think of as why Graham would use it is because he knows that practically know one else knows the exact date that we got together and he probably never thought I’d try to hack into his phone. But I’m only doing this because I really need to know what’s so important that Carson feels the need to keep calling him and texting him like crazy.
I go to Graham’s text messages and see that he has well over 100 unread, which is crazy to me. I don’t really care about any of them though, aside from the thread with Carson, which is the first one I see. I click on it and quickly read over her last three text messages:
6:08 a.m. - Guess what school I got into. Do you give up? I’m gonna tell you; UCLA!
Seems innocent enough, although I don’t know why she thinks Graham would care.
8:13 a.m. - Do you ever miss me?
That one makes me roll my eyes. So Tumblr.
11:11 a.m. - So, if you’re not going to text me back or return my phone calls, I’m just going to pour everything I need to say to you into this text message. I know that you probably won’t reply, but I need to say this anyway. I love you, Graham. Okay? I really, really, really love you and I know it’s my fault that we’re not together anymore and I know that you hate me for cheating on you, but not as much as I hate myself. I know that you have a girlfriend and I don’t really remember her name, but I just needed to let you know that. I know you don’t want to talk to me, but believe it or not, I do care about you a lot and I know that you still love me, even if you don’t want. So, if you ever need me, I’ll be here. Seriously, if you need anything at all.
If I was your typical, melodramatic seventeen-year-old girl, that would really piss me off and I’d probably start some huge fight with Graham when he gets back. But because I’m not your typical, melodramatic seventeen-year-old girl, I’m not going to do that. I’m simply going to close the text then put the phone down and pretend that I never even saw the text.
Why? Because it doesn’t matter. Graham’s with me— not Carson— and that says a lot, I think. Obviously, if he did love her as much as she seems to think he does, he’d be with her and not me. But he’s not. I think the one good thing that came out of the whole Flynn thing is that it’s really taught me how not to cry over spilled milk. Graham and Carson were a thing. They happened and I accept that, but if Carson thinks that she’s worming her way back into Graham’s life, she’s crazier than I thought she was.
So that’s what I do, I put Graham’s phone down and wipe the message from my memory. Or at least, I try to wipe it from my memory. I’m not going to get upset over something that doesn’t matter. It’s stupid and time consuming. I realize then that Graham’s been gone for a good five minutes or so and if the breakfast place is up the street, I need to get ready so that we can leave on time. Also, lying here under the covers all naked is just a little bit weird.
I get out of the bed then and pull on Graham’s button down shirt from last night, since it’s the article of clothing nearest to me and also because it’s super comfortable because it’s really big on me and goes down almost to my knees. I button the shirt all the way up and then walk across the room, picking my robe up from the floor along with the lingerie from Victoria’s Secret. I pick up Graham’s stuff too and since I don’t see a laundry hamper in here, I just put the clothes on the bed and make my way out of the room, to the bathroom.
When I get to the bathroom, I find my duffel bag still on the countertop just where I left it last night. I unzip the bag and reach in, pulling my phone out and powering it on. While I wait for it to come on (because for some odd reason, iPhones take forever and a day to come on) I take my hairbrush out of the bag and pull it through my hair a few times because right now, it closely resembles a birds nest. When my phone finally comes on a couple of minutes later, I sigh as it starts vibrating like crazy as everything starts flooding in at once.
Twenty-one missed calls, thirty-four text messages, and eighteen voicemails. But really, I’m not surprised— this is actually so like my friends and family.
Fifteen of the twenty-one missed calls are from my brother (shocker, I know) and the remaining six are from my mother. The last call that came from her phone came in at 2:05 this morning though, so hopefully that’s when she went to sleep and maybe she hasn’t tried to call me back because she’s at work. At least, I hope that’s what it is. If my mother is at home when I get back, she’s definitely going to murder me. If she’s at work though, maybe she’ll have simmered down by the time she gets home tonight. Sixteen of the texts are from Aspen, ten are from Sienna, and eight are from Piper. They mostly all say the same sorts of things— “Did you have sex?” and “How’s everything going?” and “Did you find the condom?” The last text message is from Aspen, obviously.
I don’t reply to any of the texts because I feel like if I do, then one of my friends will try to strike up a conversation, trying to figure out all the details of last night, and I need to get ready to leave before Graham gets back so that we can leave on time. So, I go to my music and find 1989 and select the option to let the album play and then I take Graham’s shirt off and get into the shower. I’m not in there long though— I’m out halfway through Out Of The Woods actually.
When i get out of the shower, I get dressed in my underwear and what I brought to wear from home— a pair of skinny jeans, a plain white t-shirt, and a black hoodie that says across the front in white letters: I’D RATHER BE EATING PIZZA. Once I’m dressed, I brush my teeth and put on my normal amount of make-up. After I’m done, I stuff everything back into the bag and then sling the strap across my shoulder, leaving out of the bathroom and making my way back to Graham’s bedroom.
When I get back to Graham’s bedroom, my eyes immediately avert to his phone, which is vibrating on the nightstand, yet again. I drop my duffel bag on the floor and walk over to it, picking it up and seeing that there’s two more texts from Carson. Man, what is up with this girl? You would think that today is their old anniversary or something.
Cracking Graham’s password and looking through his phone once was bad, but doing it twice is even worse. I do really want to know what Carson keeps texting him about though. Maybe it’s just me, but whenever I text someone and they don’t text me back, I usually take that to mean they don’t want to talk to me. Clearly, Carson isn’t good at taking hints. That gets me wondering though— does Graham actually ever text her back? Without another though, I type in his passcode again and go to the texts, selecting his thread with Carson. They’ve got a lot of messages, but that’s understandable since they used to be together. I’d think that Graham would’ve deleted them though.
There’s too many messages for me to read through them all, so I just read the two that Carson just now sent:
12:23 p.m. - I miss you
12:25 - ♥
The most recent one isn’t just a heart though— it comes with a picture and it’s a picture that makes me feel like I have to throw up. Also, it sort of makes me feel like a trash bag because Carson is so unnecessarily pretty and it’s really annoying. It’s Carson in what looks like her bedroom, which is decorated in a hot pink and zebra scheme (pretty juvenile, if you ask me, but then again, no one ever asks me), and she’s lying across the bed, literally naked, not even attempting to cover anything up. It’s literally a full-body picture too, which is stupid, because everyone knows that if you’re going to sext someone, you don’t put your face in the picture.
That’s completely beside the point the point though.
Anger immediately bubbles inside of me and I get the urge to call her right now, from Graham’s phone, to let her know that the next time I see her, I’m going to beat her ass, because that’s honestly what I feel like doing. I don’t even like to fight because it’s so scary and awful, but I mean, I’m not afraid of her. Honestly, the audacity of her just appalls me. Like, her sending Graham nudes would be a tad bit more justifiable if she actually thought that he was single, but she knows for a fact that he isn’t. I mean, she and I just met like a week ago and she literally acknowledge that she knows he has a girlfriend in one of her weirdly obsessive text messages.
I stand there for a second, trying to keep my composure. I decide not to call her right now, because I wouldn’t want Graham to come back while we’re on the phone because then he’d probably get mad at me for a. Hacking into his phone and b. Instigating a fight with his ex-girlfriend. So I grab my own phone and copy her phone number into it and save it. When I get home and I’m alone, I’m going to call her and I’m going to confront her. I’m definitely not a confrontational person, but clearly this girl has no respect for me or my relationship with Graham, so something has to be done. She needs to understand that Graham’s my boyfriend now and that she needs to back off. I love Graham too much to let some over-made-up Barbie ruin us.
“Can you believe they ran out of bacon at the breakfast diner?” I hear Graham call out all of a sudden and I jump in surprise.
I spin around then, just in time to see Graham walk through the door of the bedroom, holding two plastic bags full of food.
I didn’t hear him come in, but I was probably too wound up thinking about the various ways I could kill Carson and make it look like it was an accident.
“I, um, I... No, I can’t believe that they ran out of bacon at the breakfast diner— that’s really weird,” I awkwardly say, trying not to look at all suspicious.
“Isn’t it?” Graham replies, walking over to the bed and sitting down at the foot of it. “Are you alright?” He asks me curiously.
“Me?” I echo, raising my eyebrows at him as if I’m confused. “Yeah, I’m totally and completely fine,” I nod. “Are you alright?”
“I’m alright,” Graham assures me with a laugh. “You’re being a little bit weird, you know.”
“Weird?” I repeat, giving him a strange look. “I’m not being weird— you’re being weird.”
“Okay babe,” He chuckles again. “Well, they didn’t have normal pancakes, but they did have chocolate chip pancakes, so that’s what I got you,” He says.
“Oh, yum, I love chocolate chip pancakes,” I say, discreetly slipping his phone into the back pocket of my jeans.
I think that he would notice if I just sat it down, so I’m just going to wait until he leaves the room or something, then I’ll put the phone back where he left it and he’ll never even notice. At least, I don’t think that he will— his attention to detail kind of sucks. I sit down across from him on the bed and then take one of the plastic bags from him. I take the container out of the bag and open it up and nearly start crying when I see that it’s full of pancakes and sausages, which are basically the best breakfast foods ever and I’m so hungry and it makes me so happy.
“So,” Graham says, looking up from his food and over at me. I can tell that he’s about to bring up last night (which I thought went really, really, really well, but then again, I only have the Flynn thing to compare it to, so maybe it actually didn’t go well at all and I suck at sex— wow, that is truly a terrifying thought) because he seems hesitant and Graham Cambridge is a lot of things, but hesitant is hardly ever one. “How are you feeling?” He asks.
“Good,” I reply truthfully. “Better than “good” actually— amazing, fantastic, just great,” I add. “How are you feeling?”
“I also feel amazing, fantastic, and just great,” He laughs— he’s so amused this morning, for some reason. “Does that mean you’re having no regrets?”
“No regrets whatsoever,” I assure him. “I think that last night might have been the...second best night of my entire life,” I inform him matter-of-factly.
I mean, I’m not saying it was perfect — because I mean, what is this, a ABC Family movie?— but it was pretty great. Like, we knocked teeth twice and it kind of hurt a little bit (not the knocking teeth part, I mean, you know, the sex part) and at one point, I almost had a literal heart attack and died because his phone start vibrating. Come to think of it, it was probably that horse face troll Carson calling. Aside from that stuff though, it was pretty amazing. But it still doesn’t top what’s number one of my list of “best nights ever.” I am pretty positive nothing can top that night.
“Second?” Graham echoes, giving me a curious look. “What’s the first best night of your life?” He asks once I nod in confirmation.
“The night you came and visited me in the crazy center,” I explain. I mean, yeah, being forcibly admitted to a psychiatric ward by Tom was pretty terrible, but that night as a whole was really great. “Because that’s when I realized how much I like you, even though I was pretty determined not to like you. Also because that’s the night you first kissed me and you’re a really amazing kisser,” I inform him.
“You’re really cute, you know, right?” Graham asks me then with a small grin.
“Yep, I do know that, actually,” I nod before stuffing a pancake in my mouth.
“What about the third best night of your life?” He asks. “What night was that?”
“I think it probably was your Halloween Party,” I state after swallowing the pancake.
“My Halloween Party?” Graham echoes, clearly surprised by my answer. “You hated my Halloween Party.”
“Well, yeah, but that’s just because stupid Sienna forced me to go— I liked talking to you,” I assure him.
“Oh, yeah, I definitely could tell by all of your one-worded answers,” He sarcastically replies.
“And you got me Subway, which, as you now know, is essentially the key to my heart,” I add. “What about you?”
“What about me?” Graham asks.
“What are the three best nights of your life?” I clarify, hoping that his phone doesn’t suddenly start vibrating in my back pocket— I’d be so busted then.
“I think my number one would probably be our first date because that was pretty cool, even though Tucker got kinda mad at me for putting so much on his tab at Alessandra’s and even though you forced to watch that dumb ice movie,” He says and I playfully roll my eyes as he refers to Frozen as a “dumb ice movie.” “Then I think my number two might be my birthday, because that cake was really good and not only did you get my mom to visit me from the Netherlands, but you got her to freaking move back home, so that was awesome, even though she’s kind of annoyingly overbearing now. She tries to pack me lunch for school every day and a bunch of other stuff she should probably only do for Jackson. And then my number three... I don’t know. I think my number three is either a tie for last night or my New Years Eve Party,” Graham explains.
I open my mouth to respond, but before I get a word out, my phone, which is in my back pocket, opposite the one that Graham’s is in, starts vibrating. With a small sigh, I reach in and pull it out, groaning out loud when I see that it’s Beckett. Trust him to start calling me when I block him on Graham’s phone. “You think I should just ignore this?” I ask Graham, showing him the display on my phone.
“No, because he’s not going to stop calling and also because he’s going to get even madder and then want to kill me even more than he already does.”
“Honestly, just so dramatic,” I giggle, but decide that I probably should take my brother’s call. “Hi Beckett,” I chirpily greet, putting the phone to my ear.
“Sawyer, what the hell?” Beckett replies, not bothering to return my niceties, which is pretty rude of him, I think.
“Good morning to you too, big brother,” I sarcastically respond then.
“Where the hell are you?” He demands, sounding so incredibly hostile.
“I told you I was spending the night with Graham,” I remind him, speaking slowly because I’m slightly confused.
“I meant literally,” He tells me. “As in, what is your location?” He asks me.
“It doesn’t really matter where I am,” I reply, rolling my eyes. “I am okay.”
“Are you really?” Beckett asks in an incredulous tone. “Then how come you didn’t answer your phone last night?”
“Maybe you shouldn’t have called me so late,” I shrug, even though he can’t see me.
“It was like, 11 o’clock, Sawyer,” Beckett mumbles.
“Which is late in some people’s books,” I reiterate.
“Not your book,” He replies. “Just tell me where you are so I can come and pick you up.”
“I’m not telling you where I am and you don’t need to come pick me up,” I reply, sighing.
“Well, maybe you and Graham don’t have clocks where you are, but it’s 12:45, Sawyer.”
“Okay and what exactly is your point?” I ask, already getting tired of this conversation.
“My point is that you were supposed to be home an hour and forty-five minutes ago!” He loudly exclaims.
Man, I sure do feel sorry for the girl that’s going to marry Beckett and have kids with him— especially if he has a daughter. I mean, he’s a great guy and all, but as you know, he’s so overprotective. I mean, I’m just his little sister and he’s always breathing down my neck. I can’t imagine how awful his daughter is going to have it once she grows up and starts dating people. Poor girl.
“Well, I just woke up,” I defend, which is pretty much the truth. “I’ll be home soon.”
“How soon?” He asks.
“Soon enough,” I say.
“Fine,” Beckett sighs after a second. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, Beck, I’m fine,” I confirm. “Why do you ask?”
“Just making sure,” He replies. “Mom’s really pissed at you, by the way. Like, seriously, she might actually murder you when you get home,” He state.
“Of course she is,” I mumble. “I don’t know why though; I mean, I literally told her that I wasn’t coming home last night,” I tell Beck with a small sigh.
“Well, I don’t know,” Beckett replies. “You might want to invest in a bulletproof vest before you come home though.”
“Thanks so much, bro,” I sarcastically say. “You’re seriously making me feel so much better, like my life isn’t at stake.”
“Hey, I just tell it like it is,” He defends. “Well, hurry up and get home— your blonde and brown-haired friends have been here all morning waiting.”
“Sienna and Piper,” I tell him my friends’ names for the umpteenth time. “Their names are Sienna and Piper.”
“Right, well, they’re here and they’re loud and annoying and they want to know everything that happened.”
“Okay, well, I’ll be home in a few hours, so I’ll see you soon-ish,” I say before saying goodbye and hanging the phone up.
“Did Beckett say anything about killing me?” Graham asks once I put my phone back down into the pocket of my jeans.
“No, you big baby, he didn’t say anything about killing you,” I assure him with a laugh.
“I think it’s perfectly plausible for me to be a little bit on edge about this,” He tells me.
“It’s definitely not,” I deny, shaking my head and scarfing down another pancake. “So, can I ask you a question?” I wonder.
“Sure, what’s up?”
“Do you and Carson ever talk?” I wonder and I know I said I wouldn’t bring it up, but I really can’t get her out of my head.
“Not on purpose,” Graham denies, shaking his head. “I mean, sometimes she texts me or calls me or something though.”
“But you don’t reply when she calls or texts?” I ask him.
“I don’t want to give her the wrong impression, so no.”
“How come you never talk about the other one?”
“The other what?” Graham asks, clearly confused by the transition.
“The other girlfriend you had— you said that you had two,” I state.
“Oh, you mean Alyson?” He asks, raising his eyebrows. When I nod, he shrugs, “I don’t know. I mean, there’s nothing to talk about.”
“But like, why did you guys break up?” I ask without really meaning to. “I’m sorry— I’m being nosy, aren’t I?” I say as soon as it’s out.
“You are, but that’s okay,” Graham chuckles. “Unlike Carson, Alyson actually has a soul. We only broke up because she moved to California,” He states.
“Oh,” is my brilliant response. Man, I really should just superglue my lips together so I can’t ever say anything. “I just made things awkward, I’m sorry.”
“Things aren’t awkward,” Graham insists. “You know, you really aren’t as awkward as you seem to think you are.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right about that— I’m probably awkwarder than I think I am. Is that even a word?”
“I’m pretty sure it’s not,” He shakes his head. “Anyway, is something wrong?” He asks.
“Something like what?” I ask.
“Something like something,” He shrugs. “Like, is there a certain reason you’re asking about my ex girlfriends?”
“No, no reason,” I say, shaking my head before proceeding to stuff my mouth with more food so I can’t talk.
“I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me, but we’ve got like two hours until we need to leave, so what do you want to do?”
“I think we should bake a cake,” I tell him, finishing the rest of my breakfast and getting a little sad because who knows the next time I’ll have pancakes?
“We literally just ate breakfast though,” Graham reminds me. “And I think the only cake frosting we have here is coconut, which is disgusting,” He adds.
“Coconut is disgusting,” I agree with a shudder. “And whoever had the idea of making it into a frosting for cake should be shot immediately.”
“I agree completely,” Graham replies. “So, baking a cake is out. We could watch a movie,” He suggests.
“Or,” I say, putting my food container back in the bag and moving the bag to the nightstand before slyly pulling Graham’s phone out and putting it back. “We could just have a super hot make out session,” I suggest and he laughs, so I think he thinks I’m kidding, but I’m actually 100% percent serious.
“You know, I think it’s funny that you’re always calling me blunt when half of the stuff you say is more off the wall than the stuff I say,” Graham tells me.
“Obviously I hang out with you too much and your bluntness is rubbing off of me,” I reason. “So, is that a yes on the super hot make out session or...?”
“That’s a definite yes on the super hot make out session,” Graham quickly confirms before moving across the bed and putting his lips against mine.
✿✿✿✿✿✿
“Are we out of the woods yet? Are we out of the woods yet? Are we out of the woods yet? Are we out of the woods? Are we in the clear yet? Are we in the clear yet? Are we in the clear yet? In the clear yet, good.” I belt at the top of my lungs, singing to one of my most favorite songs from 1989 a couple of hours later as Graham and I are cruising down the highway on the way back home.
“You’re really into this Taylor Swift stuff, huh?” Graham asks me from the drivers seat.
“I am so into this Taylor Swift stuff,” I confirm with a nod, raising my voice to speak over the song instead of turning it down like a normal person would.
Just then, I feel my phone vibrating in the pocket of my jeans and I groan, pulling it out. I know that it’s not Beckett because I texted him when Graham and I left the cabin to let him know that I was headed back home. I doubt that it’s any of my friends because they don’t like to bother me when I’m with Graham, I don’t think. And I don’t think it’s my mom because she doesn’t text me and if she’s at work she doesn’t really have time to call and bother me.
I glance down at the screen and my heart skips a few beats when I see the name on the display: Serena.
I mean, I love Serena and she is an amazing attorney, but no is ever happy to receive a call from their lawyer. Oh my God, what if Flynn is out of prison?
“What’s wrong?” Graham asks, noticing my change in demeanor.
“It’s Serena,” I tell him, gesturing down to my phone. “My lawyer.”
“Aren’t you going to answer?” Graham asks.
“I kinda don’t think I should,” I shakily admit.
“You don’t seriously think they let that psychopath out, do you?” He asks me. “Babe, he got six months— it hasn’t even been one yet,” He reminds me.
“Yeah, you’re right,” I agree, swallowing a growing lump in my throat. “I’m sure it’s nothing,” I add before accepting the call. “Hi Serena,” I greet.
“Sawyer, hi!” She cheerfully replies, sounding awfully chipper, for a lawyer. “How have you been doing since the trial?” Serena queries.
“I’ve been really, really great actually,” I tell him because it’s the truth. I have honestly never been as happy with life as I am right now.
“That’s great to hear,” She says. “So, I don’t want to alarm you or anything but—”
“Oh my God, Flynn is out of prison, isn’t he?” I ask and my heart starts pounding.
“No!” Serena quickly denies. “No, honey, of course not. It’s not like that, but I...well, I got a call from Austin this morning,” She states.
“Oh,” I say, breathing a sigh of relief. “Wait, Austin who?”
“Austin Decker,” Serena explains then. “William’s father.”
“What’d he want?” I ask, a little bit confused because why on earth is the Austin calling my lawyer? He has no reason to talk to her (or Tyler) ever.
“He had a message for me to relay to you from Flynn,” She tells me. “He wants to see you,” Serena explains.
“Flynn’s dad wants to see me?” I ask, raising my eyebrows in question because that is so weird and creepy.
“No, no, no, not Flynn’s dad— Flynn,” She explains.
“Flynn wants to see me?” I wonder.
“Yeah, that’s what he told his dad,” Serena states.
“Well, why does he want to see me?”
“I guess he wants to talk to you,” Serena replies. “Austin said that Flynn wants you to come to Rikers next Sunday and see him— he has a favor.”
“What the hell makes Flynn think I’m ever going to do him any favors?” I scoff, rolling my eyes at that.
“I have no idea, Sawyer,” Serena laughs. “I just told Austin I’d call you and let you know,” She explains.
“I don’t have to go and see him though, do I? Like, it’s my choice, isn’t it?”
“It’s absolutely your choice,” She assures me.
“Can I think about it?” I ask her? “And then get back to you in a few days?”
“Of course you can,” She confirms. “I’ll talk to you then.”
“Alright, thanks Serena,” I respond before hanging up. “What could Flynn possibly want to see me about?”
“Maybe he wants to apologize for being the worst person alive,” Graham says from over in the driver’s seat.
“I doubt it,” I scoff. “That’d require him having a conscience, which he doesn’t.”
“You’re right about that,” He agrees. “Are you going to see him?” He asks me.
“Should I?” I wonder.
“If you you want to,” Graham replies. “I mean, I know you don’t want to, but if you think that you should, then yeah.”
“I guess it couldn’t hurt,” I mumble. “He’ll probably be in a cell or something so he can’t touch me, right?” I ask him.
“I would assume so, yeah,” Graham confirms. “I can go with you though, if you.”
“That’d be nice,” I nod. “I mean, I wanna think about it, but that’d make it easier.”
And so Graham assures me that he’ll be there if I do decide to go and I start internally panicking, trying to think of any reason of why Flynn would want to see me, aside from killing me or something. He obviously can’t kill me if he’s in prison though. At least, I wouldn’t think he could. Then again though, he’s already in prison, so he’s literally got nothing left to lose. The boy is a psychopath— there’s no telling what goes through his head at night when he’s sitting in his prison cell or whatever they sit in at prisons.
For the rest of the ride home, I contemplate whether or not I should actually make the trip to Rikers to see Flynn. Maybe Graham’s right and he actually does want to apologize for everything. I doubt it, but I don’t know— maybe prison changes people. Either way though, when Graham pulls up in front of my house and puts the car in park, I still have no answer.
“I might never see you again, so I love you,” I tell Graham, leaning over and kissing his cheek.
“Why would you never see me again?” He laughs.
“Because my mom is probably going to kill me,” I explain, thanking every god in the sky that her car isn’t in the driveway. But what if it’s in the garage?
“Your mother won’t kill you for breaking curfew.”
“You clearly don’t know Heather very well at all if you don’t think that she would,” I sigh.
“Okay, babe, well, I’ll see you tomorrow at school, you know, if your mom doesn’t kill you,” Graham teasingly responds, like this is a joke or something.
“Okay, I’ll text you later, before she kills me,” I say, unbuckling my seatbelt and getting out of the car. I grab my duffel bag from the backseat and then wave at Graham before heading up my driveway, to the porch of my house. I pull my keys out of the duffel bag and unlocking the door, pushing it open. Graham honks at me then and then pulls off as I walk inside and close the door shut behind me, locking it.
I make my way down the foyer, listening intently to try to see if I can hear my mom’s voice, but I can’t, so maybe she actually is at work. I don’t hear Beckett or Aspen or Sienna or Piper either, which is weird, but I guess they’re maybe upstairs. When I reach the end of the foyer, I have a clear view of the stairs and if I can just get up them, I’ll be okay. I take a step out of the foyer and into the living room and then I hear a throat being cleared loudly.
“If it isn’t my little rule-breaking daughter,” My mom says and my fight-or-flight instinct kicks in and I have the urge to turn around and run for my life.
“Hi Mommy,” I greet, stepping out into the living room completely and seeing her sitting there on the couch in her pajamas— why isn’t she at work?
“I hope you had a good time last night,” She tells me, not bothering to say hello to me— she and Beck are just being super unpleasant today I guess.
I had an amazing time. That’s what I mentally reply with, but I don’t have a death wish and I don’t think being cheeky right now is going to amuse her.
“Because you’re not leaving this house again until graduation,” She says once I don’t say anything in response.
“I don’t graduate until next May though,” I remind her, fighting the urge to roll my eyes at her— she’s so weird.
“Exactly,” My mom tells me. “Joking aside, you’re grounded— two weeks.”
“Grounded?” I echo, raising my eyebrows in surprise— my mother hasn’t grounded me since I was in like the eighth grade, maybe even seventh grade.
“Yes, as in, you’re not allowed to leave this house,” She explains. “You go to school, you go to therapy, you go to work, and you come home— that’s it.”
“But that’s not— “ I start to say, but she cuts me off.
“Don’t tell me it’s not fair, Sawyer, because it is fair.”
“It’s totally not fair,” I reply, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. “What have I done wrong?”
“I don’t know, maybe stay out fourteen hours past curfew?” She sarcastically suggests.
“But I don’t see why you’re so mad— it’s not like I just did it; I told you that I wasn’t going to be home,” I remind her.
“And I told you that you could stay out until 2 o’clock and you come waltzing in her at 4 o’clock p.m.,” She tells me.
“Mom, you’re actually so sexist, it’s disgusting,” I inform my mom.
“1. I’m not sexist and 2. What does that have to do with anything?”
“It has everything to do with it,” I murmur. “But whatever— I’ll be in my room,” I say before walking out of the living room.
Being grounded for two weeks actually won’t be that bad, I don’t think. It’s not like I ever leave home anyway, unless it’s for school, work, or therapy. Besides, my mom is always at work anyways, so she’ll never know if I’m actually home or not. Not only that, but she said that I’m not allowed to go anywhere— she never said anything about Graham or Piper or Sienna. So, I could invite them over when I want to see them. Loopholes can be found in anything really and I love that. I’m just glad she didn’t take away my car keys or my phone— then we’d really have a problem.
I make my way up the stairs, dragging the duffel bag with me. I’m really tired and I kind of just want to go to sleep, so that’s what I think I’ll do. The plan quickly changed though, when I walk into my bedroom and see Aspen, Piper, and Sienna all in there. I didn’t see Sienna or Piper’s cars outside, so I though they’d be gone by now, but I suppose Aspen could’ve picked them up in her car. Aspen is lying on her back in my bed, flipping through a Vogue magazine; Sienna is sitting at my desk, spinning around in the rolling chair while simultaneously texting— the girl has skill; and Piper is sitting on the floor, doing what looks like homework.
“Hey guys,” I greet my friends, closing my door behind me and dropping the duffel bag on the floor before crossing the room and sitting on the bed.
“Oh my God, we’ve been waiting for you forever,” Aspen tells me, sitting up and closing her Vogue magazine.
“Well, as you all three apparently knew, the cabin is almost two hours away,” I remind her.
“Who cares why you’re just now getting here?” Sienna jumps in. “How was it? Was it perfect? Was it amazing?”
“It was way more than perfect and amazing,” I tell her. “It was, like, perfect and amazing, but times a million.”
“Wait, but what about the sex? How was the sex?” Piper boldly asks me and I’m a bit surprised, because I thought Aspen would be the one to ask.
“What makes you think we had sex?” I ask her with a laugh and because I’m so awkward, I can literally feel my cheeks getting redder and redder.
“Besides the fact that you’re about as red as a tomato and the fact that you’re smiling from ear to ear?” Piper asks with a giggle.
“It was...I don’t know...it was nice,” I awkwardly tell them with a small laugh.
“But was it nice like, ‘okay, I guess this is nice,’ or was it was nice like “oh my gosh, this is really, really nice?” Aspen asks me then.
“Or was it like, mindblowingly nice?” Sienna wonders without even missing a beat. “There’s like a billion different types of ‘nice.”
“You guys,” I whine, picking up a pillow and putting it over my face. “I’m going to start crying— this is so awkward,” I tell them.
“You’re literally the only one in here who feels awkward,” Piper informs and then I hear her laugh as in my embarrassment actually amuses her.
“Okay, you don’t have to tell us about it now, but we’re not leaving until you do,” Sienna informs me. “Let’s watch a movie and then by the time the movie goes off, you will be completely ready to divulge how perfectly wonderful and amazing your make-up Valentine’s Day with him was.” She states.
“Okay, but it has to be something long, like the Titanic,” I insist, taking the pillow away from my face as I feel my blush fading away slightly.
“Wait, but how big is it?” Aspen asks and I look at her with a stunned look on my face.
“What?” I ask and my face reverts right back to its previously tinged red state.
“I mean,” Aspen puts her hands up then in front of her, like she’s about to start clapping and then she moves her hands closer and farther apart at various lengths. “Like, just say when.” I know Aspen is just kidding and not actually serious, but still, I kind of feel like I’m about to go into cardiac arrest.
“I hate you,” I tell her, swatting her hands down and laughing. “I hate you all so much.”
Author's Note: (I'd say happy New Year, but it's almost February...so, I'm just gonna not do that)
1. So, I have Wi-Fi again, so that's really great and also it means that updates should be slightly faster. I'm not talking weekly or anything, but maybe bi-weekly or something like that. But I make absolutely no promises because like I said, I'm a junior in high school and I am trying to get good-ish grades.
2. Notice the song- I Feel Alive by We the Kings and the picture- I thought it was really cute.
3. Thoughts on this chapter? There's only six left (me: *starts sobbing violently*) which makes me feel very sad, but also very happy because this story has taken me forever to write. But that's okay because I love it with all my heart. Thoughts on the whole Carson situation? Thoughts on the deal with Flynn wanting Sawyer to come see him in prison- do you think she'll go? Btw, a few characters you've met in the past are going to make a reappearance in the next few chapters, but I won't say which characters will be coming back just yet.
4. OH MY GOD YOU GUYS. So, I just remember this just now, but last time I posted (almost a month ago, oops) this story hit NUMBER TEN on the Teen Fiction list and I had a heart attack, but then it hit NUMBER SEVEN...as in one, two, three, four, five, six, SEVEN, and I think I died of shock and came back to life after a few hours. Also thank you so so so so much for FIVE POINT TWO MILLION READS omg. You guys are such lovely people.
5. This chapter is dedicated to TheGoldenBookWorm because her comment on the last chapter was super sweet and made me feel many feelings because it was just really lovely and yeah.
6. Can't remember if I mentioned this, but I mad a Taylor Swift Instagram (lol I'm such a Swiftie) and if you want to follow it, that'd be really cool. It's @youtookapolaroidofus (kudos to you if you get that reference). Also, I've got a Taylor Swift Tumblr and it's outtathewoodsyet.tumblr.com so it'd be cool if you followed that. I'm sure you can guess what one of my faves on the album is lol.
I'll see you guys pretty soon-ish; I love you all a bunch (: