3 Sides to a Circle (8 page)

Libby finally releases Honor and they’re both kind of breathing hard. And Honor doesn’t look horrified, but she doesn’t look turned on either. Mostly just stunned. Which I think is kind of how it always goes with Libby.

“Good mouth,” Libby says. “It’s soft. I think Sawyer will approve. So ready?”

And it’s like nothing happened. Like
Libby has no clue I’m even more sexually frustrated now. And like Honor isn’t staggered by the fact that she was just kissed for probably the first time by a girl. A crazy girl who also happens to be living with her.

Libby pouts. “Oh
, come on. Do you need me to kiss Toby now so we’re all square?”

Yes.
The word flashes into my brain and I can’t let go of it. Because if I kissed Libby, I’d be tasting them both. And yeah, that wouldn’t suck.

“Sure
,” Honor says and she looks sort of worried, which I’m not sure what that’s about. “But don’t kiss me again. I’m not into girls.”

Libby. “Honor. You’re eighteen. How do you know what you’re into? This is college. You’re supposed to experiment.”

“I know I’m not into getting involved with my roommate.”

And this time we all laugh
even though I’m sorta wondering what the hell happened to my kiss. Though, to be honest, I probably couldn’t take it. Not tonight.

“Fair enough,” Libby says.
“But you’re still gonna wanna pretend at the party. Trust me. It’ll save you from a world of bad come-ons.”

“And what am I supposed to do at this party?” I say. The color is starting to come back into Honor’s cheeks and the intensity of the kiss has totally dissipated
, which I guess is the way with Libby.

Libby rubs her chin in mock-thought. “I don’t know. What’s the male equivalent of a fag hag?”

“Forget it,” I mumble. I grab the girls’ hands and walk toward the party.

B
lue Light House is packed when we get there. Bodies are pressed so tightly in together that I can’t even get near the keg for almost an hour. I keep my eye on Honor and Libby while I’m waiting. Libby keeps her hand on Honor’s back and at first, Honor is tense and moves away, but after the second guy slides up behind her and wraps his arms around her waist, she sticks to Libby like glue.

The haze of weed smoke is everywhere
, and the music is so loud that I couldn’t even talk to the guy in front of me if I wanted to. Which I don’t. All I want is out of here. I was never a party guy in high school. I’m not great in crowds. And it’s even more true in college. I’ve always been a better listener than talker. Plus, the lights in the house actually are blue, and red, which is giving me the worst kind of headache and making me think that the ratty patterned carpet is covered in bugs.

By the time I get to the keg, the beer is so sudsy in our cups that I know we’ve reached the bottom. If they don’t come in with more beer, the
place’ll empty out pretty soon. I make my way to Libby and Honor and find them with beer cups already.

“Why did I just wait in that massive line?” I say, juggling the three cups of suds.

Libby lifts a shoulder and smiles. “I don’t know,” she shouts. “I haven’t waited in line for anything since I was in seventh grade and wanted to camp out for Buffalo Tom concert tickets.”

I quickly choke down the suds before putting the cups down against the edge of the wall
. Honor looks like she wants to puke. So I guess she feels the same way about parties that I do. Libby is the exact opposite. It’s like she’s absorbing all the energy in the room. Her eyes are buzzing and traveling everywhere.

“What are we doing here?” Honor says. Screams, really.

“Just wait,” Libby says.

And then my gut drops when Libby points to
Mr. Handsome-and-Perfect painter walking out the back door. God fucking dammit. If Libby came to get Honor and him together, that could have happened in a million more convenient ways. And now I’m trapped in a house with a shit headache, a manic pixie, and a horrified Honor.

Honor

I’
m shaking from just being here and grab a beer cup of foam to drink down before my nerves take over my body and I forget to speak.

Libby know
s everyone, and her stupid idea of pretending to by my girlfriend isn’t as stupid as I thought it would be. I’m not sure how to keep guys from grabbing me, but Libby does. She’s saving me, and I hate her for bringing me here, but love her for protecting me, which is sort of how she works. Or we work.

“Go!” Libby’s pushing me toward the door, and I glance back
at Toby, but I’ve already lost him in the crowd. A pang of worry hits me but then I remember he’s a guy and will be fine.

But
Sawyer’s
here.

Suddenly another girl kiss is preferable to whatever kind of embarrassment
Libby’s going to put me through when we step into the backyard.

A few more people high-five Libby on our way out, and I’m trying to figure out how one girl can know so many people.

Now that we’re on the porch and in the cold night air, she may not
find
Sawyer out here because not only is the backyard huge, there are almost as many people out here as in the house. Plus, we’re not exactly in summer weather anymore and I’m not that interested in getting frostbite for a guy.

“Well, shit.” Libby pauses on the edge of the porch, cups her hands around her mouth and y
ells, “Sawyer! Anyone seen Sawyer? Hot painter?
Sawyer
!! Paging Hottie Sawyer!”

“Libby, please,” I beg.

“Honor.” She turns and grabs my shoulders. “You like this guy, right?”

I nod.

“And you keep bailing on him, yes?”

I nod again.

“You can do this. Being with him is better than being in the house, yes?”

“Yes!” I yell. “Fine.” And now I’m the one who feels like a petulant child, but all I’ll have to do to keep from freezing up is know that I could be back at this stupid house.

Libby hollers again, making me wish I’d have begged her to stop yelling a moment ago.

“Sawyer!” she yells.

This is not happening. I half wish I could allow the porch to suck me up, so I don’t have to be the one with the crazy yelling girl next to me.

I grab th
e back of her shirt to pull her inside as a few more people yell her name in recognition, though I don’t want to be inside. I want Toby to take us home. Why isn’t Toby out here yet?

Finally
, someone stands up on a picnic table and waves.

In spite of my panic,
I’ve never been so relieved to see a person in my life.
Sawyer
.

“Go get him.” Libby pushes me down the stairs.

I try to slow my steps so I don’t trip, but she’s strong for being so short and follows me down.

“Libby, I…”

“I’m not leaving. Not yet. You need an escort home, and he’s the perfect guy for the job.” She laughs loud and gives me one final push before running back into the party and screaming, “Libby’s in the house!”

I swear the house
goes into a collective shout, and my heart starts to race because I’ve lost sight of Sawyer, which basically just tells me how much I want to see him again after I was pulled from in front of him when I totally froze up again at the coffeehouse. He probably thinks I’m an idiot. And now I’m a little okay with Libby kissing me because without her influence, I don’t think I’d stand a chance with this guy—or I’d definitely not even try. And I can’t believe how much has happened in one day, though with Libby, I probably shouldn’t be surprised.

“This d
oesn’t seem like your scene.” Sawyer rests an arm loosely over my shoulders. His hand starts to pull away, but I lean into him, glad to know someone here who is hopefully saner than my roommate. His arm relaxes over me and the beginnings of happy nerves settle in. I’m back to loving Libby a little.

“It’s
definitely not my scene.”

“
And you’re not running away from me tonight.” His breath hits the side of my face, smelling like something sweet. Edible maybe… And my eyes glance at his lips before my cheeks heat up and I turn away.

I want to say something about how I don’t mean to run away from him, but can’t get it out.
“Can you please take me home?”

“Any excuse to get out of here.”
His arm tightens a little as he moves us through the crowd in the backyard.

Gratitude washes over me so hard my knees go weak. The night’s been too long.
Then I worry about Toby and Libby again. “I hope they’ll be okay.”

“Who?”

“Libby and Toby.”

“Libby’s fine,” Sawyer says before he pauses long enough for me wonder if something’s weird. “And who is Toby to you two?”

“Just a friend,” I blurt, probably too fast.

We take a few steps in silence, and
I can tell he’s thinking. Sawyer’s mouth opens twice, but no words come out as he opens the back gate for me to walk through. I’m just about to break the silence when he speaks.

“Is your brother okay?”
Sawyer asks as soon as we start walking up the sidewalk.

I freeze for a moment, trying
to figure out what to tell him.

“Oh.” His lips press into a thin line and he stops with me. “You don’t have a brother, do you? And
it was probably an excuse to get away from me, which means you might want me to leave you alone.”

Panic starts to scrape in and I open my mouth to talk, but nothing comes out.
I can’t do the whole panic blank out thing now. Toby said it really doesn’t help, and I already know that, but this is
definitely
not the time.

“You know.” He scratches his forehead. “You could have just said you weren’t interested.”

Now I’m scrambling to try and figure out what Libby said to him because I figured she was helping when she shoved me out the coffeehouse door, but maybe she wasn’t, and I’m not sure how to ask him or what to do with that information.

“I’m interested,” I
say. And then I feel like I’m suffocating on the rest of the words. “In you.”

Sawyer
’s smile is smooth but genuine. “Good.” He reaches out a hand, always splattered with specks of paint, and slides our fingers together. “Because I’m interested too.”

He’s interested too
. All the happy nerves turn into some kind of crazy happy flutters.

The music
quiets as we get farther up the street. “I think it’s shorter to go straight through there, isn’t it?” I point to the park that Libby dragged me through earlier.

“Faster, but always stick to the main streets, H
onor. Survival 101 near college campuses,” he teases. “Always stay under the streetlights.”

“I guess.”

“Tip number two. Don’t let go of the guy next to you.” He squeezes my hand and I lean into him again.

“Wait.
What did Libby say to you? At the coffeehouse?” I ask.

He smiles a little. “
That you’re shy. To not take it personally if you seemed a little distant. To probably not compliment you on your looks because you get weird. That you’re one of the most amazing people she’s met, and that I wouldn’t be sorry if we were both…interested.”

I want to hug Libby because it
gives Sawyer more insight into me than I maybe want him to have, but at the same time, it’s good that it’s out there, and he seems okay with it. And I’m amazed again that she knows the perfect thing to say. Although I’m feeling a bit vulnerable because I feel like Libby laid out my hand, and I still don’t know his. I squeeze his hand and go for weather because I can be pathetic. “It’s cold.”

“I wonder how
much closer you’d let me get to you if it was
freezing
?” The corner of his mouth comes up in a smile.

I try not to blush, guess he
just sort of laid out his hand too. Or maybe that all happened back with the “interested” part of the conversation. But “interested,” and “I want you closer” are two different things.

“So, you’ve been checking up on me,” he says. “Or Libby has on your behalf.”

“Oh.” I stare at the sidewalk and the paint splatters on his shoes, suddenly wanting to know what he paints. “Libby. She’s crazy, but she really watches out for me too, you know?”

And she
has
been watching him, and knew he and I were getting together today, and said all the right things, and told me more about him than I really needed to know without him telling me himself, but she did do it all for me. Maybe it’s her warped way of apologizing for making me insane during the times when she does, or maybe Libby doesn’t apologize and she’s just hot and cold. I still think it’s her way of keeping us close—I like Libby too much to want to be angry with her.