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I moved to his side, staring at him all the while. Even passed out, even with thick blonde stubble on his jawline, he was one of the most handsome men I’d ever seen. I wanted to touch him, and yet the longer I stared at him, the more his position didn’t look right. It sure as hell didn’t look comfortable. Was he drinking that much on a school night? I knew he was a drunk, but he had classes tomorrow to go to.
What…
My eyes moved to the nightstand, spotting a small bag that was about an inch wide. So small it would be near useless, unless… I grabbed the bag, lifting it up against the lamp’s light. I wasn’t a psychic. I didn’t know for sure what was in there before, but whatever it was, it was gone now, the tiny plastic bag the only evidence.
I found myself needing to sit, and I practically collapsed on the edge of the bed, near the arm hanging off. Holding the bag in one hand, I reached behind me to feel the pulse in his neck.
Still alive…but for how long? If the bag was what I thought it was, Sawyer was in worse straits than I knew. I was spiraling, but so was he. Whereas someone might kill me, Sawyer might end up killing himself.
I was slow to withdraw my hand from his neck, running a finger down the side of the bag. There were no other reasons I could think of why he would have a bag like this on his nightstand. Drugs. It had to be drugs, and if it was…
“Sawyer,” I whispered his name, looking down at him sadly, “what are you doing to yourself? Why don’t you leave it to me? I can make your life miserable without this.” I spoke of the bag, as if he could hear me.
He couldn’t. He was out cold.
Fuck. Who was I kidding? I couldn’t make Sawyer’s life miserable without Ray thinking that I liked him. I did like him, but that was beside the point.
I should never have come here, never have left the room and Declan. What I should’ve done was get up and go to the bathroom to get away from Declan, not grab my skateboard and run. I should know by now there are things you can’t run from, no matter how badly you try.
A hushed sound escaped Sawyer’s lips, and he rolled onto his back. Or tried to, at least. Since I was on the edge of the bed, when he went to roll, his arm collided with my lap, which then caused his eyes to peek open. Their beautiful green hue was bloodshot, and the pupils dilated to the point where almost all I could see was black.
The fool.
He’d kill himself, and I wouldn’t be there to stop him.
“You’ve been bad, Sawyer,” I told him. “Very, very bad.” Would he even remember this in the morning? How high was his current high? He seemed out of it, and those pupils were like saucers. I wasn’t that knowledgeable on drugs, because I’d never tried them. My only vices were a bit of underage drinking and men who could kill you after fucking you. That’s it. No biggies there, right?
“Mmm,” Sawyer murmured, moving his arm to touch my leg. The arm became a nomad, wandering along me, never staying in a single position too long. He was lucky he was high and I was vulnerable, otherwise I would’ve put the bastard in his place. “Come here,” he whispered, his arm suddenly stronger than steel as he pulled me down to him, ramming my back against his chest.
I winced, my spine still sore from the whole hit-and-run thing, and I dropped the small plastic bag in the process. The bag landed somewhere on the floor while I was subjected to Sawyer and his high.
Not someplace I should be, and definitely not something I should be doing.
Had he been this out of it Saturday? I didn’t think so, but Sawyer was good at hiding the mess his pretty face wore. If he wasn’t this bad Saturday…I couldn’t help but wonder if it was my childish prank that did him in. After all, he’d woken up, alone, chained to his bed with pink hair. That had to put a damper on things.
If I made him like this, well, I felt bad. I knew there was no way everything Sawyer felt was my fault, though. A huge part of him had probably been shattered when he lost his sister, and he’d done his best to keep himself put together since then, putting all of his effort into making Declan’s life miserable.
This was a breakdown that was a long time coming. It was just unfortunate that his breakdown and my breakdown were happening simultaneously.
“Sawyer,” I spoke his name, squirming against him, trying to get out of his arms—which had a surprisingly good hold on me, considering he was so out of it. I could’ve fought harder, could’ve sent a fist where it would hurt, which wouldn’t be the first time his nutsack had been assaulted by one of my limbs, but I didn’t.
We were just two people, having a rough go at life. Two people breaking down because of things we could not control. We were cracked, battered, and broken. But sometimes things were more beautiful when they were broken.
Sawyer’s hands roamed along my thighs, bunching up my shirt as they found the sensitive skin just above my hip bone. I shivered against him, whispering, “You need to sleep your high off, buddy.” Sawyer wasn’t a buddy to me. What he was…was inexplicable. Unexplainable. He was something to me even though he shouldn’t be.
And I, I should definitely not be here, stuck in his arms, while he was out of his own head.
“Sleep with me,” he begged, his lips finding my shoulder, trailing kisses where his mouth should not be. The fingers dancing along my hip bones moved upwards, snaking along my flat stomach and toying with the fabric of my bra.
My body ached, both because of the accident and because of Sawyer’s touch. My body reacted to his in spite of myself, and even though I knew I should put my foot down and pull myself from him, I didn’t.
I didn’t, even though the logical part of me stood beside the bed, practically glaring. My conscience didn’t want me here, with Sawyer. Hell, I wasn’t even sure I wanted to be here with him, and yet, when I turned my face to view his dilated eyes, I couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if I did lose myself in him, just for tonight.
Odds were he wouldn’t remember. This would be just a dream to him.
Before I could make a choice, Sawyer made it for me. With one hand easing its way beneath my bra, cupping a breast with a fervent strength, his other grabbed hold of my chin, forcing his lips to mine. My neck was bent at a terrible angle, but I didn’t try to fix it. This, what was happening to us, there was no fixing it.
I could smell the booze on his breath as he kissed me, and I knew Sawyer was even more broken than I suspected. Losing himself like this when he had classes tomorrow didn’t bode well for the future Sawyer.
