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Hah. Worth a laugh or two, but okay. If he wanted to play nice, we could do this all night. Being nice to me was not going to get me to change my mind about him. He was a rich, entitled asshole, and I had no idea why he wasn’t spending tonight, a prime partying night, balls deep in some other girl. Nope, tonight I was the lucky one, though he wasn’t going to get balls deep in me, mark my words.
Once we were on the road, Sawyer knew exactly where to go. Our destination was just over an hour away. A hell of a lot of time to spend in the car, especially on a first date. It would be our last, too.
“So,” he said, driving with one hand and leaning his other arm along the open window beside him, “tell me about you, Ash.”
I let out a short chuckle. “Me?” I echoed. “Why talk about me? I’m pretty boring, really.” Actually, I didn’t find myself too boring, but talking about myself and telling Sawyer about little old me? Not something on my bucket list. “Why don’t you tell me about yourself instead?”
He grinned a half smile, tossing a quick look at me as he drove. “Okay. Fire away. Ask anything your heart desires.” Ugh. Such a cheesy line. I immediately wanted to cut my ears off so I’d never have to hear anything like it again.
There were a lot of things I could’ve asked him, but what to ask him that would make me want to steer clear of him the entire date? Ooh, I know! Talking about other girls. Yes, that was not a typical subject of conversation for first dates, was it? It was perfect.
“How many girlfriends have you had?” I asked. I bet the number was low. Someone like him didn’t date girls one-on-one, exclusively. He liked hooking up and playing around. How else would his allegedly awesome dick skills have gotten so good?
“I assume you mean girls I’ve dated while seeing no one else, in which case, that would be zero,” Sawyer said.
Well, I knew the number would be low, but zero? Damn. What a player. All the more reason to stay away from him and his dick.
“Let me rephrase the question,” I said, sinking low in the seat. They were leather, so the chair stuck to my bare legs a bit. “How many girls have you slept with?” An even better topic of conversation.
Sawyer was quiet for a moment, shooting me an annoyed look. “Why do you want to know this stuff?”
“You said I could ask anything my heart desired. My heart desires to know how many girls you’ve had.”
“A lot,” he relented. “I stopped keeping track in high school.”
Wow. So the number had to be way, way up there…which then brought me to my next question, yet another winner for a first date: “When’s the last time you’ve been tested for STDs? Sleeping around like that, you’re bound to catch something.”
“I usually wear condoms, unless I know the girl’s clean and on some kind of birth control.”
“Yes, but sometimes condoms don’t work.” I bite my lower lip. “For some reason, the condom thing surprises me. I wouldn’t have pictured you as the condom type.” If anything, he looked like the kind of guy who complained that condoms dulled the sensation, whiny, whiny, bitch, bitch. Guys were literally so annoying when they said that.
Sawyer’s eyes drifted off. “My parents would kill me if I got a girl pregnant.”
I felt like most parents would, at least if it was an accidental pregnancy from a one-night stand. From what it sounded like, one-night stands were the only things Sawyer had. “Why’s that?”
“I’m sure they have some girls picked out for me,” he muttered, the unhappiness in his voice evident. “When you have money, it matters who you’re with, who you marry. Money tends to stick by other money.”
Words escaped me. Was Sawyer saying his parents had a selection of girls for him to marry in the future? Like some kind of modern arranged marriage? I knew rich people were weird, but that was just…well, it was fucking weird.
I couldn’t help but wonder if that was why he played around so much. He was still in school, out of his parents’ direct control, but once he graduated, would he be forced to choose among the selected girls? Getting his dick wet by as many different pussies as he could until he was forced to settle down? I would feel bad for him, but, you know, it was Sawyer.
I forced out a laugh. “Well, I’m sure your parents would hate all of this, then. Taking me on a date. I’m not exactly rich parent material.” I stared at my feet, at my high tops. The white bottoms were dirty, the fabric on top a bit torn. They were old shoes, nothing new and special, but I loved them all the same. People like Sawyer and his parents probably took one look at me and turned away while holding their noses.
Sawyer’s chest rumbled with a genuine chuckle. “I should bring you home for Thanksgiving. My parents would have a fucking fit. It’d be hilarious.”
Using me as a way to get back at his parents. Yeah, totally funny. Wouldn’t make me feel like shit at all. But hence the rich boy problem: they never thought about anyone other than themselves. Sawyer didn’t care about how something like that would make me feel.
“Yeah,” I said, “and I could bring you home for Christmas and be the envy of the town. I could dress you up in your nice clothes and parade you through the streets with a flashing neon sign that says, property of Ash Bonds, you can look, but no touching.”
“If we do Thanksgiving at my place, I’m okay with that,” Sawyer replied.
As if I’d ever want to take a guy like Sawyer home to meet my mom. Helen would hate him. She didn’t like charity either, and she hated all those movies where the poor girl nabs herself a rich husband and is automatically elevated in society. She hated them with a passion, and I tended to agree with her. I mean, having money would be nice. Not struggling every month to pay the bills would be great. I could buy a shit ton of skateboards and new shoes, but eventually the newness of the money would wear off, and I’d probably donate most of it to some charity or local homeless shelter.
Hillcrest probably didn’t even have a homeless shelter, because there were no homeless in the area. It was a rich person’s town through and through.
We arrived at our destination in about an hour. Traffic took a bit longer because it was rush hour, so the highways were a little backed up. We parked in an empty space in a giant parking lot, one of the biggest parking lots I’d ever seen, and headed to the front gate.
You want to know where Sawyer brought me on our date? The zoo. It wasn’t in Hillcrest, but it was still a rich person’s zoo. The signs were new and clean, and the exhibits, judging from the map I’d grabbed, had a lot of land for the animals to roam around. Honestly, it was how a zoo should be, not nestled inside a poor city with tiny cages.
