My Imagine

Chapter 31

You're running through an empty field, your hair billowing out behind you in waves. A gentle breeze kisses your skin. The sky is a rich cobalt color, not a single cloud in sight. You look down to see that you're wearing a simple white blouse and your favorite pair of jean shorts. The sunlight is streaming down on the meadow, and flowers are everywhere. You smile and lean down, picking a small rose the most brilliant shade of red you've ever seen. You tuck it behind your ear and walk slowly, making your way through the rainbow of plants.
"Beautiful."
You look up. Sawyer is standing about thirty feet away, signature bowler hat and all. His eyes are locked on yours. "Beautiful." he repeats.
You sprint over to him and throw yourself into his arms. "They are beautiful." you agree, gazing out at the flowers. You step back and stare into his cerulean irises. He's still looking at you, and your spine is tingling. It feels like there's a hummingbird in your chest, fluttering about.
He moves closer. He takes your hands in his own and pulls you in until you're mere inches apart. His breath grazes your cheeks, and the gentle light illuminates his honey hair. He's still moving in, closer with every breath. One of his hands reaches up to caress your face and brush the loose strands of hair away from your face. He's still looking at you, and your breath catches in your throat. He keeps getting closer, and closer, and closer...
He stops. Two inches away. Sawyer smiles and whispers softly.
"I wasn't talking about the flowers."
Closer still, and closer...
Someone yanks the covers off of your bed just as your dream was reaching the magical part. You sigh and roll over. "Mom, gimme five more minutes." you groan into the pillow. The person starts to chuckle by the foot of the bed. "Guess again."
Your eyes fly open, and it all comes flying back. LA. The plane. The apartment. The fight. The party. Everything.
"Sawyer, what are you doing in my room?"
"Waking you up. We should get an early start. Don't want to be late on the first day, do we?"
"No, I guess not..."
"Then get up!"
"Alright, alright, I'm going. Relax." You continue growling at Sawyer as he persistently reminds you to get up, but your reluctance to move causes his to take desperate measures.
"You have to get up."
"No."
"Yes."
"Nooo...."
"You have three seconds before I force you to get up."
You laugh and snuggle into the pillows. "Whatever, Sawyer."
"One..."
"I'm not moving."
"Two..."
"I know that you're bluffing."
"Three!"
Before you can register what his plan is, he leaps on to the bed and starts jumping on the mattress like a toddler. "Get up, get up, get up!" he yells. You involuntarily bounce with the bed and you pull him down next to you. Quick as s flash, you have his arms pinned behind his back and you're sitting quite comfortably on his knees.
"Surrender yet?" He giggles as you hiss in his ear. "Never!" he states boldly.
"Are you sure about that?"
"Not entirely."
"Then say I win!"
"You shall never defeat me!"
"Sawyer, I will give you a five second head start, and you will use it wisely. Got it?"
"Wait, what?"
"One..."
"Okay, I'm leaving now!"
"Two..."
"Look, I'm stepping out of your room!"
"Three..."
"I'm going, I'm going! You can stop counting!"
"Four..."
"Wait wait wait! Don't chase me please! Wait-"
"Five!"
He gulps nervously and dashes away from your bedroom door. With a mischievous grin on your face, you hoist yourself off of the comfy bed and follow him through the apartment. He disappears behind his bedroom door, and you knock on it once.
"Come out, come out, wherever you are!" you sing. Sawyer pushes the door shut. You can hear his muffled "No!"'s through it. If there's one game that can bring out the child in Sawyer, it's this one, and you've been using it against him for years.
You lean against the door patiently. You were waiting for him to try and open it, only to find you preventing it from closing. What you didn't expect was that it opened to the inside, not the outside. When Sawyer suddenly flings the door open, you fall backwards and almost hit your head on the door before he catches you in the most extreme trust fall ever in your whole entire friendship history.
Awkwardly supporting you, he helps you get back on your feet. "Are you okay?" he stammers. "Yeah, I'm good." you reassure him. "Not even a scratch." His guilty expression turns to one of smugness. "So," he chuckles. "This means that I win, right?"
You laugh and walk back to your room to get ready. "Yeah, sure." you call.
"Say it."
"What?"
"Say it!"
"Sawyer, what are you talking about?"
"Admit that I won."
"What? No!"
"Do it!"
"Sawyer, I'm not saying that."
"Please?"
An idea comes to mind. "Sing the magic word," you bargain, "And I'll admit that you beat me."
He sighs heavily. "Are you going to make me do this every single time?" he complains from the other room. You giggle quietly to yourself. "Well, duh, of course I am." You hear him whine some more, then shuffle around looking for his guitar. You go into your bathroom to get a hairbrush, but you're suddenly enveloped by his rich voice. Ray LaMontagne really knew what he was doing when he wrote this song. It's flawless, especially when it's sung by Sawyer.

You want me to say
You want me to say

He starts softly, as to crescendo to the chorus. You're already hooked on his gentle chords.

Please
Baby I can say
Please
You want me to get
Down on my knees
Baby I can get
Down onto my knees
I can say please
Baby I can say please
I can say please

He sings a short version to save time, but it's just as memorizing. You grip the cool hard countertops tightly to steady your balance. Keeping your end of the bargain, you smile into the mirror.
"Sawyer Christopher Fredericks has outwitted me, fair and square."