Chapter 24

"I want to kill him." Sawyer murmured into my hair.

"I can't believe he said those things," I agreed. "That I shouldn't hang out with you because you might . . . because . . . you'd be abusive. He made it sound like you were some asshole like . . . like . . ." I lowered my voice even further. "Like Jared. But you could never be like that, never. Jack's so stupid. So, so stupid-"

"Cammy, Cammy, no, stop talking for a minute." I did, so it was only his voice instead of two in chaos. "I don't care about that. Jack can think what he wants about me, as if I care for a minute! And he's got a point, I'm not the most . . . savoury character in town." He almost laughed. "But he made it sound like it was your fault. It wasn't, Cammy. None of it. Never think that, okay? Promise me. Promise me you'll believe me when I say I know it wasn't your fault. This is all on Jared, and he's going to burn in hell for it, if there is a hell. Can you promise me?"

"I don't know about the hell part. That seems harsh for anyone . . . I mean, I hate him, but . . . eternal pit of fire?"

"You are too good. You're too forgiving and too kind and far too fucking good for that bastard to even look at, let alone do what he did. Too good for me to touch, or kiss . . . even in my dreams. Too good."

"Is that why you . . . ?"

"What?"

"When Jack . . . interrupted us. You had this look on your face like you'd just done something wrong."

"I had just done something wrong." The look returned to his face. "I thought, for a minute, that I'd been too . . . that maybe I'd scared you, forced myself on you."

"Scared me? Maybe a little." I smiled, but his hand stopped stroking my hair at my words, and he tensed, about to pull away. I pressed myself closer to him. "No, no. Nothing like that. How many times do I have to tell you that nothing you could ever do would feel like what he did? When I say you scared me, I mean in a good way. Like riding a rollercoaster, and you're terrified but you never want it to end."

"Oh, okay." He said, and returned to holding me and stroking me. "Still, it was wrong."

"You keep saying that, but you haven't exactly followed up on it."

"I know. I should stop. We should stop. Really."

"No." I wasn't too worried. He'd lost the serious tone he used to have when talking about the two of us. It was like I'd finally talked some sense into him and he didn't really expect to convince himself anymore. This in itself scared me a little.

"Well, you, sweetheart, are getting over a bit of a medical condition, so I don't think it's wise to excite you too much anyway. Should be resting."

"Gah. I've probably gained ten pounds from resting since we crashed. It's all I can do! Then again, there's no food, so . . . "

"You are looking a bit skinny. More than usual."

"I think I'm insulted." I sighed. "But really, since I found out about . . . my condition . . . I haven't been hungry at all. And I puked up everything I ate for quite a while there, anyway."

"Stop doing that, then. I can practically count your ribs. Through your shirt!" He ran a hand from my lower stomach all the way up to just below my breast, for emphasis.

"Oh, no, don't do that!" I moaned.

"Sorry." He pulled away.

"For Christ's sake, it's not that I don't want you to, don't worry. It's just that . . . if we're not going to be 'exciting me too much' today, we should just refrain altogether, it's less agonizing that way."

"I couldn't agree more." He smirked down at me, then tucked his head into my neck and kissed it seductively, grazing his teeth over the skin and sucking gently. When he pulled away, the air felt cool on the wetness, and I hated him a bit.

"You're a tease." I accused.

"What about you? It is absolutely absurd for a human being to smell and to taste as good as you do while on this Godforsaken rock."

"Me? Taste good? I feel disgusting, all crampy and bleedy and grimy."

"No, your skin is salty and sweet and surprisingly cool."

"Whatever you say." I gave up and laid my head against his chest.

We were quiet for a while, just sitting, until he said tentatively, "I've been wondering . . . "

"What?"

"And let me know if this upsets you, you don't have to talk about it." I swallowed dryly, suddenly apprehensive. "But I've been thinking to myself how odd it would be if you honestly and truly haven't had any boyfriends. Of your own age. Like, Freddy who sits in front of you in math class or something."

"Oh. I . . ."

"Have you not been kissed? Properly, and before you met me, that is?" He said in a low, growly chuckle.

"No. I was never really huge on boys. Boys my age, I should say. So noisy, so immature, so . . . " I looked at him and smiled. "So nothing like you."

"Yes, because I'm a stunning example of maturity."

"You're a stunning example of everything." I said, uncharacteristically sultry-sounding.

"I bet you've had crushes on male teachers, haven't you, miss likes-older-men?"

"Maybe one. Or two."

"And you've had fantasies about staying late after class . . . "

I giggled involuntarily. "Go on then, what's your type?"

He frowned. "Come to think of it, I haven't had sex –or been on a date, for that matter- outside of a con in a long time. I guess you could say my type is vulnerable. Stupid. Rich and gullible. It's been a long time since I've been with a woman I actually liked."

I stroked his face, from temple to chin, looking into his eyes. "Must be lonely. Do you have . . . friends? Back in the States or whatever?"

"Not really. Lone wolf." He tried to laugh, but I put two fingers over his lips and shook my head.

"Not anymore."

"Women who talk like that usually get screwed over for all they're worth. I'm good at making people trust me."

I leaned back so I was sitting upright and I looked him in the eyes, more harshly now. "I do trust you. Is it bad that the only reason for that is that I have nothing you could possibly want? I wonder, if I had money, if I was just some woman with a rich husband, would I trust you?"

"I don't know. I'm pretty good." He said, not joking around.

"You betray trust. You hurt people. You prey on a woman's need for comfort. I absolutely shouldn't trust you."

"Then don't."

"I can't help myself."

"Maybe I can't, either."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just that maybe it's in my nature to betray and to screw people over, even when I don't mean to."

"And maybe it's in my nature to overlook the worst in people."

"So," He said, pulling me so that I was sitting practically on top of him with his hands on my hips. "We're either a match made in heaven, perfect for eachother . . . "

"Or?"

"Or I'm the hunter and you're-"

"Prey."

"I'm sorry." He said quickly, but his tone wasn't panicked. "Because you're not. You're not stupid and you're nobody's easy target. Never again. You're a force to be reckoned with, Cammy, I can feel it."

"I'm a fifteen-year-old girl."

"Besides that part, I mean."

I rolled off of him and lay by his side, unsure of what just happened. We'd either cleared some things up or made everything more blurred and foggy, I couldn't tell which. Either way, I didn't feel much different about him. It was as though my eyes had been opened but I wasn't surprised at what I saw.

"Sawyer?"

"Yeah?"

"I think I like you a lot. Too much."

"I think I do, too."

"Is this bad?"

"Maybe."

"Are you still bent on making sure it doesn't happen?"

"No, Cammy, I think I'm done with that act."

"Good. I think."

We lay there in the hot afternoon sun, apart from the world and refusing to admit the inevitability of a future that couldn't be good.