Losing Sawyer

16. Callouses

I haven't left my car. My fingers clutched tight around the steering wheel as if to keep me from floating away. At this point floating away seems like the optimal choice though if I'm being honest.

My heart has been tripping through my chest, ungraceful and loud as I drove through the streets of town to the other side. The less college side of town, the more upscale and sophisticated side. The side that oozes budding careers and financial stability.

I haven't spoke to Christopher since the day I left except for a few minor texts. Mostly to arrange today, one final, I don't even know what. I don't know what today is supposed to be. Am I trying to save the relationship? Or am I solidifying my leave?

"I don't feel good." I mumble to the car.

Sawyer's reclined the passenger seat slightly, his arms folded behind his head as he waits for me.

"You're fine." He tells me with bored interest.

"What if I'm making a mistake?" It's been the number one question since the moment the words left my mouth. "What if he was right? What if it was all in my head?"

Sawyer groans, loud and obnoxious in my car before he pushes himself upright. He squares his shoulders off as he turns to me, leaning over his arm that's propped on the console between us. He always has the musky scent with just the slightest hint of mint. All man but a clean one, which I suppose is the only one you'd ever want. It's a pure smell, one not overridden by artificial odors. Not like Christopher's very distinct cologne he always wore.

"Sav, you deserve better than him. You know it, I know you do." He reaches out for my hand, prying it from my steering wheel.

He's hands are calloused, years of blisters forming and healing on all the pressure points the bat hits. They're rough and hard and yet when his skin meets mine and he pulls my hand to him, it's done with so much delicacy, so much sweetness, such love, I wonder how I can't seem to find the same level of care in a romantic relationship.

"Please Savannah, don't go back." His brown eyes beg me, his whole body does, shoulders rounded, his hands wrapped around mine warm and gentle and safe. "You deserve to be loved without conditions and I promise it's out there."

I lose the definition of his features to tears as I battle against my own fears and insecurities. I'd love to believe Sawyer but I'm just not sure I can. I'm not sure I'm destined for that sort of love. Why should I be?

"What if it's not?" I whisper the question, my voice breaking as a tear slips down my cheek.

Without missing a beat, Sawyer catches my tear, his thumb grazing my skin leaving a trail of warmth in its path.

"It does Sav," he says it so earnestly, adding "but if for some reason it doesn't, I'll go buy you cat."

As his words hit my ears, I watch his face transform into a smirk, a playful glint in his eye that makes me laugh and I pull my hand from his.

"You're a jerk." I scold. "But make sure it's black. They're the least adoptable."

He barks out laughter, amusement dashed across all his features. "Got it, a black pussy."

"Oh my god." My face instantly warms in embarrassment. "Sawyer!"

We're still in my car probably looking like quite a sight as I scream his name hysterically and he howls with laughter. I can guarantee we look out of place at the apartments that are modern and pristine and so very sterile. A place I never fit into no matter how hard I tried. Sawyer never even bothered.

But here, with the walls of my car to shut us off from Christopher's world, we fit perfectly. Too odd, too silly, too imperfect and it's all so much easier.

So before I can change my mind I say "let's get this over with" and climb out.

——————————-

I watch Sawyer as he leans back in one of the expensive patio chairs that Christopher wanted. It's modern and sleek and not that comfortable but I guess it goes with the decor. Sawyer glances at me through the glass and I catch the small crack he's left in it to give us privacy but still eavesdrop.

Christopher stands between us, his back to Sawyer and the crack in the door and I wonder what he would say if he realized Sawyer can hear us.

"So what?" Christopher asks. "This is it?"

I shrug my shoulders, avoiding his honey colored eyes and his perfectly sculpted face and meticulously cut hair. I can't look at him, how familiar he is, the fact that I know all the edges and angles of his body so intimately. That it will now become something I knew, he will be someone I knew.

The thought squeezes my heart, it's grip so tight I feel like I might break. The words bubble up on my tongue, begging for forgiveness, to forget the last few days and everything I said.

But then I see Sawyer sitting out there, his legs out in front of him, crossed at the ankles, arms tucked behind his head as he soaks up the sun while waiting for me. How much easier it is to breath when I'm not striving for perfection.

"I think so." I hear myself tell Christopher.

He blows out a sigh but I suddenly find words. Whether they're the right ones or not, I don't know.

"I think we both know I don't fit into this lifestyle." I say, offering him a sad smile.

It wasn't that I didn't want to. I wanted to fit into his world so badly. I wanted to be elegant and poised and confident, the perfect compliment to him in all situations but I'm not. If anything I'm the complete opposite.

His hand reaches for mine across the counter and I give it to him. Trying to commit the feel of his skin against mine, the lack of callouses he has because he isn't a blue collar man. I try to remember the way our hands fit together so that I might compare it to any future hands I might hold.

"I do love you." Christopher's voice is low, gentle but I can hear the lack of sadness and it hurts more than I want it to.

"I love you too."

His golden eyes look up at me, wide and sad and his perfection suddenly feels too perfect. I want raw emotions. I want anger or sadness or frustration or anything. I want him to feel something in this moment but I know it's impossible to make someone feel something that they don't.

So I pull my hand from his because I am not perfect and my raw emotions are threatening to burst out of me and I head for the door. I can't stand there anymore. Not with proof that I meant so little to him. That I'm not worth emotions.

"Sav!" Sawyer's voice reaches my ear just before I close the door to our...Christopher's apartment.

He bursts out of it behind me a moment later, hand closing around my wrist, pulling me back until I collide with his chest and his arms wrap around me holding me together as I fall apart in his arms.

————————

Well there ya go, Savannah did it.