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he doesn’t want to do this, or if there is a part of that sentence he doesn’t know how to complete.

Either way, I’m not sticking around to find out. I’m the one to go, fleeing in another direction down a hallway that I think leads to an exit that hasn’t been blocked off.

I forgot myself tonight. I forgot what he did to me. But just as quickly, I’ve been brought back to reality.

Sawyer Roarke isn’t mine. And he never wanted me to be his in the first place.

13

Sawyer

“This week we’re going to start the project you’ll be completing at the culmination of this marking period,”

my AP government teacher, Mr. Fennis, announces as the class straightens in their seats. This isn’t a room full of students who will groan at the prospect of hard work; no, we’re the brainiacs who actually enjoy school, as witnessed by our willingness to have our asses handed to us in an advanced placement course.

“You’ll be paired off in teams, one president and one vice president. You’ll need to come up with your platform, stance on issues, marketing strategy … basically, you’ll be putting together an entire mock campaign. Each week, I’ll expect a written report on aspects such as your healthcare initiative, foreign policies, social issues, military goals, etcetera. Then right before winter break, we’ll be having two separate debates; one for the presidents and one for the vice presidents.”

This actually sounds like a pretty cool project, and I always prefer learning hands-on than sitting at our desks and being lectured to. It’s not like I’m interested in going into government or politics, but this sounds better than textbook work.

“I’ve already randomly assigned your partners, so listen up.”

Mr. Fennis begins to read off the pairings, and I stare daggers at Blair’s thick curtain of chocolate hair right in front of me.

My fingers still tingle with the thought of her body making contact with them. I’ve thought of barely anything else since Saturday night, and as much as it kills me to admit it, I’ve been waiting for this class since I left the dance in Matt’s car.

The after-party that night is a blur; not because I was drunk, but because my emotions were spiraling. All I seemed to want to do was run over to Blair’s house, climb up the trellis outside her bedroom window, and sneak into her room. I wanted to get her naked, get my hands on something other than the silky material of that dress that clung to every curve.

But I watched the light go from her eyes in that hallway. The minute they announced my name, reality was a cold, hard punch to the gut. We were … well, we were us. We put on this show of loathing each other for years, and here we were, two seconds from sharing an earth-shattering kiss just feet from our peers. Peers who thought we hate each other. I know that I was hesitant, and I could tell from her body language that she was scared out of her mind. Scared of me, I put that fear there.

And just when I thought that I could forgive her, that I could swallow the pill of anger that has lingered in my throat for so long, I realized that I did way more damage than I ever thought. I’m not sure there is any way to get her back now, I’m not sure she’ll ever look at me like she did before all of this transpired.

How do I even broach the subject? Hey Blair, I think I’m in love with you even though I treated you like shit because you treated me like shit first, so can we just forget the last two years and make out? Pretty sure that’s not going to fly.

“Sawyer Roarke and Blair Oden, Bradley Young and Greg Vichy …” Mr. Fennis is listing off names.

A couple students shift in their seats to look at Blair and me; my desk is directly behind hers. They all know exactly how we feel about each other.

I’m waiting for her to turn around, to give me a death glare or stink eye or something. But she keeps her head straight-on, only moving to swoop her hair over one shoulder so that I have a view of her elegant neck. Even with the shock I’m just dealt, being announced as her partner, my mind is fixated on kissing up and down that column until she sighs my name.

Mr. Fennis talks about some more aspects of the project, and sets the first benchmark of assignments, but I’m barely listening. Being paired with her is both the best and worst thing that could have happened, and I don’t know how to handle it.

The bell rings, and I’m expecting Blair to turn back toward me, to begrudgingly agree on when we should discuss the beginnings of our partnership.

Instead, I watch as she walks to the front of the class and right up to Fennis’ desk.

And by the way she bends to him, to talk in low tones, I know exactly what she’s doing.

She’s trying to switch her partner. Trying not to work with me, trash my name or some shit.

Blair Oden is trying to get away from me. Her, get away from me.

I’m so livid that I can’t just brush it off. So confronting her head-on it is.

14

Blair

I come out of the classroom, and Sawyer is hot on my heels.

“You really asked to switch?”

My cheeks burn at being so obviously found out. “You really want to work together?”

“Hell no, but I’m not going to be a fucking baby about it.”

My eyes slice to him, because I don’t need to be cursed at in the hallways of my high school. He’s basically trailing me down the hall as I try to speed walk away from him, and we’re drawing looks.

“And I don’t need to be paired with someone who doesn’t value this project in the same way I do.” I make up an excuse.

Of

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