Chapter 20 | Whatever Razzles Your Berries

“When a defining moment comes along, you can do one of two things: define the moment or let the moment define you.” — Tin Cup

On Monday morning, I wake up to the chorus of my favorite song of the moment, Fancy by Iggy Azalea and Charli XCX, blaring in my ear. I really have no idea why I changed my alarm tone to that song because I really hate having to wake up for school and since that song is what wakes me up for school, I’m sure I’ll end up hating it sooner or later. For the time being though, I love it.

I sleepily reach my hand out to my bedside table, grabbing my iPhone in my hand and disabling the stupid alarm, thus ending the singing. Like I said, I absolutely love the song, I just don’t love having it blasted through my bedroom so early in the morning.

With a quiet groan, I peak open my eyes, letting them adjust to the weirdly lit atmosphere of my bedroom—for some reason, the curtains are drawn, and I never, ever draw my curtains because I don’t want the sun basking its way into my room.

I sigh loudly then and snap my eyes shut, not really in the mood to get up. It’s not just that I don’t want to go to school (well, that’s a part of it but it doesn’t matter) it’s just that I’m so tired and it’s all my dumb boyfriend’s fault.  And by ‘dumb’, I mean ‘perfectly wonderful’.

So, yesterday, right before noon, we (Cassidy, Tucker, Jackson, Graham and I) got back to Andover from Deerfield (which is where we were camping), but I wasn’t really ready to come home and face my mother yet, so I decided to stay over Graham’s house with him for a few hours.

I was just kind of scared of what my mom would do because even though on Friday, shortly after we had gotten to the mountain, I said I would call my mom later, I didn’t. I know that that sounds really awful of me, to just leave my poor mother worried about my well-being, so you should be happy to know that I didn’t do that. I did text her and tell her that I was fine. She proceeded to call me and I ignored the call because I knew she was going to yell at me, and I didn’t want to hear that.

Anyway though, I stayed with Graham for a while and basically, we just did what we always do whenever we hang out- watch movies and eat a bunch of junk food. At around 7:00-ish though, Graham brought me home and fortunately for me, my mother wasn’t home.

She was handling some last minute business at the office (at least, that’s what her note said) before she started her week-long vacation from all things work related. So, since she wasn’t home, it was really easy for me to get in and up to my room. Beckett, Aspen, and Tom were all gone too, which made my life a hundred times easier.

After I was in the house, I just went upstairs and got in my pajamas and watched Netflix for a couple of hours until I heard someone come in the house, and that’s when I pretended to be asleep. I actually fell asleep though and a couple of hours later, at around maybe like, 12 o’clock, I woke up because my lovely boyfriend was calling me and I obviously wasn’t going to just ignore his call, so I answered and we ended up talking until around 3 this morning and I didn’t get back to sleep until around 3:30-ish, which explains my current sleepiness.

I really just wanna throw my covers over my head and go back to sleep, but then I remember that my mom is most likely already awake and is most likely going to be here at the house all day, so she’ll know if skip. Besides, I skipped the last two classes on Friday with Graham after we went to lunch and back to his house, so it’s probably in my best interest to go.

I mean, I hate school just as much as the next girl but I don’t really like skipping. Mostly because it makes me feel all rebellious and guilty and such and I just don’t do very well with handling guilt. Not very well at all.

After lying there in my bed for another ten minutes, I force myself to get up and make my way out of my bedroom, to the bathroom. In the bathroom, I tiredly brush my teeth and wash my face before jumping into the shower and taking a quick shower.

Once I’m out, I apply my normally minimal make-up (mascara and eye liner, and that’s it) and pull my hair into a low ponytail. Since I am so terribly tired right now, I’m not even going to attempt to straighten my hair because I know that if I do, I’ll either end up burning myself or burning the house down. Both would be awful.

Thankfully, I make it back to my bedroom with my towel wrapped around me without being intercepted by anyone, namely, Brett. I don’t know where his is, nor do I care, but I don’t think that he’s here at our house. Maybe he finally realized that this isn’t his house and he doesn’t need to be here always.

Now that my brother and Aspen are dating though, they spend a whole bunch of time together, so that might have something to do with why I see a lot less of him, Brett, I mean. Not that I’m complaining, because I think that I’ve made it perfectly clear that I don’t like him.

In my bedroom, I get dressed in my underwear and then a pair of black yoga pants, a blue t-shirt that has in uppercase white letters the word WEIRD, a sea foam green-ish colored North Face hoodie and a pair of Sperry’s. Then, I grab my phone, along with my keys and backpack then leave my room.

I really don’t know what the deal with my car is, but obviously something is wrong, because I still don’t have it back, despite the fact that Tom supposedly took it to the shop quite some time ago. Surely it can’t take this long to fix a dent and a busted taillight.

Since it’s still in the shop though, I’m driving Aspen’s car to school today. Even though she got back from Maryland yesterday (her dance team came in first place at their big competition, by the way) she’s not coming to school today because she’s just “so exhausted” and she’s spending the day with Beckett, since he doesn’t have class today.

I head down the hallway to the guest room that’s now been deemed as Aspen’s room and push the door open, walking in. I almost throw up when I see that she’s not alone in her bed though and that my brother is in it with her. I mean, they’re just spooning, which is totally innocent, but still. I know that I told Aspen that I was cool with the two of them dating, which I am, it just freaks me out, seeing them all being all intimate.

I spot Aspen’s car keys on the bedside table though, which is good, because that means I don’t have to wake her up and make this situation an awkward situation. I grab the keys and then carefully tip-toe out of the room, closing the door behind me.

I head down the stairs and instead of going into the kitchen for breakfast like I usually do, I make a bee line for the front door, trying to avoid running into my mother or Tom. It doesn’t really work out in my favor though because as soon as I pull the door open, I hear my mother’s voice behind me.

“Sawyer, aren’t you going to come and eat breakfast?” She wonders from behind me.

“Um, yeah, sure, I guess,” I mumble with a small sigh instead of making up a bogus excuse and leaving. She doesn’t really seem too mad and who am I to turn down breakfast?”

“So, where exactly were you this weekend?” My mother casually asks as I follow her into the kitchen and sit down. I notice that Tom is sitting at the table too and I roll my eyes.

“I was with Piper,” I evasively lie, picking up my fork (I guess she just assumed I wanted breakfast and already made me a plate) and awkwardly stabbing through a piece of toast.

“Were you?” She queries, raising her eyebrows in question and cocking her head to the side, which is a clear-cut sign that she doesn’t believe me. “I told you that you couldn’t go camping.”

“I know that. We didn’t go camping—Piper’s parents postponed the trip,” I state, continuing on with my lie. “But yeah, we just spend the weekend over at Sienna’s house, me and Piper did.”

I only add in that we were over at Sienna’s house this past weekend because knowing my mother, she would probably call Piper’s mom and try to verify my story. Then it would all fall apart since I obviously wasn’t with Piper this weekend and also because Piper most likely lied to her mom and told her that she was staying over my house this weekend, when in fact, she went to Tewksbury to be with Jason.

So, yeah, if my mom were to call Piper’s mom, both Piper and I would get into major trouble for lying. Like I mentioned before though, Sienna’s parents are very, very busy business people, so they travel a lot, which means they’re hardly ever home.

They’re pretty lax parents too, so they don’t care if Sienna’s got company and since they’re never home, they’d have no way of knowing if Piper and I actually were over there with Sienna this weekend or not. I mean, I really hate lying, especially to my mother, but you just do what you gotta to do.

“Alright then,” My mother replies, seeming to buy the story. “How’re they? Your friends.”

“They’re good,” I chirpily reply before taking a sip from my apple juice and then pulling my iPhone out of my pocket when I feel it vibrate.

“What’re you doing?” Tom demands as I unlock my phone to read the text from Graham.

“I’m texting, obviously,” I respond, trying my best to keep my cool because I just don’t really have the energy to deal with Tom right now.

“Well, stop it,” He commands then. “This is breakfast and you’re being so rude right now.”

Instead of replying to Tom’s idiotic attempt at being all authoritative just now, I just glance up at my mother. She has a tired expression on her face and she looks kind of annoyed (I’m not sure if she’s annoyed by me or Tom though, but probably Tom because he’s the annoying one here, not me) but she doesn’t say anything about me being on my phone, so I just go back to texting.

All of a sudden, Tom reaches over and rips my phone out of my hand, which takes leaves me a little taken aback because I wasn’t expecting him to do that, or else I would have held on tighter.

“Give me my phone back, Tom!” I screech, practically jumping across the table, trying to snatch my phone back out of his hand.

“No, because I asked you to quit and you chose not to,” He states, scooting back in his chair so that he’s out of my arm’s reach.

“I am seriously not even kidding right now—I will pour this orange juice on you,” I threaten him, grabbing the carton in my hand.

“Sawyer, stop it,” My mother scolds then, gesturing for me to sit back down in my chair. “And Tom, just give her back her phone.”

“In just a second, Heather,” Tom replies, scrolling through my phone. I would honestly go over to him and just hit him a bunch of times until he gives me my phone back but my mother really hates confrontation and I think that that counts as confrontation, so I’d probably get in trouble for it. “Oh, what’s this?” He wonders, apparently seeing something on my phone that sparks his interest. “From Graham: ‘Because you’re incredibly adorable when you get all pouty,’” Tom reads straight from the text that Graham just sent me a second ago and my face burns bright red. I seriously consider using my fork to stab myself to death just to escape from this momentously embarrassing moment but I realize that if I do that, I won’t be able to kiss Graham anymore and seeing as how I haven’t been able to do that all that long, I’m not quite ready to give it up. “I just wanted to see what was so important that you had to ignore your family,” Tom tells me then.

If you’re wondering, I was trying to get Graham to tell me what he wants for his birthday, but he still won’t budge. When I asked him why he’s so difficult, he replied with what Tom just read.

“I thought that you and Graham were just friends?” My mother queries.

“Just friends?” Tom echoes with a snort before I can even begin to formulate a response. “Beckett told me on Christmas that this Graham guy is her boyfriend,” He states.

“Is that true, Sawyer?” My mom wonders, giving me a suspicious look.

“Well, it’s true that Beckett told him that on Christmas, yeah, but that’s just because Beckett’s overdramatic. Graham and I weren’t even together on Christmas,” I assure her.

“But you’re together now?” She asks and I can tell she’s so confused.

“Yes,” I confirm with an annoyed sigh. I wasn’t planning on tell my mother or Tom about my relationship with Graham anytime soon because I know exactly what’s coming.

“Oh, well, then you need to invite him over for dinner or something.”

“No, that’s not necessary,” I deny, shaking my head. I knew it was coming because it’s the exact same thing that Beckett advised once he found out that Graham and I are together.

“You know,” Tom interjects all of a sudden. “I still don’t think that you’re mentally stable enough for a boyfriend.”

“And I still don’t think that you have any kind of authority or rights to try to be a parent to me, yet here you are.”

“Why do you think it’s alright for you to talk to me like that?” He queries then.

“Why do you think it’s alright for you to talk to me like that?” I snarkily refute.

“Alright, that’s enough,” My mom announces before Tom has the chance to say anything. “Both of you, make sure your schedules are clear tomorrow night so we can all have a talk.”

“Yeah, tomorrow’s not going to work for me, Heather,” Tom informs her. “I have to—“

“I am just not interested in your excuses, Tom,” My mother interrupts. “Make it work.”

“Well, I’m supposed to go to work tomorrow, but I guess I can just get someone to cover for me,” I state, checking the time on my phone as I reply to Graham’s text with that blushing Emoji thing and then stand up, having lost what little appetite I had, thanks to Tom’s presence. I walk over to the sink and dump the remainder of my food into it, turning the garbage disposal on. Once the food disappears down the drain, I go over to the table and grab my backpack, along with Aspen’s car keys. “Well, I’m leaving now,” I explain before turning and leaving the kitchen.

As soon as I set foot out of my house and into the ridiculously cold weather outside, I let out a loud, annoyed groan when I see just how heavily the snow is falling. I mean, yeah, it snows a whole bunch here and being a New England girl, I really should accept this fact, but I just can’t because the snow is just so stupid and dumb.

I’m pretty sure you could technically call what’s happening right now a blizzard though because the wind is gusting really fast and the snow is pouring like rain, not to mention the fact that my fingers literally feel like they’re about to fall off, and I’ve only been standing here for a few seconds. Then again, I’m no meteorologist or anything, so maybe I’m just being dramatic and maybe it’s just a really bad snowfall, but I don’t think so.

When I make it inside Aspen’s car, I slip my seatbelt on and then start the car up, carefully backing out of the driveway. Since we live on a residential road and not a main road, whenever the street sweeper come around to clear the roads, they usually don’t get to our for a while, which means that we’re stuck driving on incredibly icy roads until they feel like clearing them off.

It’s terrible but I’m used to it now, I think. I slowly coast down the road for quite some time before deciding that I want to go to Starbucks for some breakfast before school. I know that I just ate when I was at home but Tom was in there and I didn’t want to be around him any longer than absolutely necessary, so I didn’t get to finish and I know that if I don’t eat now, I’ll be starving.

When I get to Starbucks, I decide to go inside because it’s only 8:15 right now, which means I’ve still got a full thirty minutes until I have to be in class. I get out of Aspen’s car and then lock the doors behind me before making my way inside. Surprisingly enough, the line is incredibly short, but I guess it’s really not that surprising, considering the fact that we’re in the midst of a blizzard. 

Since the line is kind of short, I’m at the front of it in just about two minutes. I already have my order in mind, because I get the exact same thing every time, but when the barista turns around, everything that I was about to say leaves my head and heart skips a beat. And not in the good way.

“Hey there, Sawyer,” Flynn greets, wearing his stupid signature smirk.

“What’re you doing here?” I wonder, priding myself in the fact that I didn’t stutter or anything just now.

“Well, some of us actually have to work for a living,” He informs me.

Obviously, some people have to work for a living. Most people have to work for a living, as a matter of fact, but Flynn Decker isn’t one of those people. His parents have so much money that even Flynn’s great-great-great grandchildren probably won’t have to work for a living when they’re adults. Crazy and really weird to imagine, someone having kids with that monster, but yeah.

“Well, what do you want?” Flynn asks.

“Another barista, that’s what I want.”

“Well, you’re not getting one,” Flynn says, even though there’s like, three other baristas just standing behind the counter, doing literally nothing.

“Fine, this isn’t the only Starbucks in town,” I murmur in response before turning to leave. I’m not going to be around Flynn if I don’t have to be.

“Wait,” Flynn calls after me as I walk towards door to leave.

“What is it, Flynn?” I sigh, stopping but not turning around.

“Have you talked to my step-brother at all yet?” Flynn wonders, obviously referring to Creepy Kevin.

“Unfortunately,” I muzzle with a nod. “If both of you would just leave me alone, all three of us would have easier lives.”

“Well, I can’t speak for my brother, but I’m not leaving you alone. Not until I make you pay for what you did,” He says.

Obviously, that’s a threat and I don’t really respond well to threats at all, simply because I’m incredibly paranoid and with amazing reason too, I think. Immediately, a bunch of crazy scenarios start flying through my head and I feel myself getting all worked up.

I know that I could just walk right out of this coffee shop right now and drive away, but I also know that doing that won’t solve anything. I know that if I were to just walk out right now, then the next time I see Flynn, he’ll just start it up again.

“There’s nothing to ‘pay for’ though,” I sigh then, turning around so that I’m facing him but I make sure to keep my eyes trained on the floor and not at him. “I didn’t even do anything.”

“If by ‘didn’t even do anything’, you mean ‘ruined your life’, then no, you didn’t do anything at all Sawyer,” Flynn snorts sarcastically. “You’re the reason for everything that’s wrong in my life.”

“Are you kidding me?” I rhetorically ask him, narrowing my eyes at him then. “That is a load of bullshit and you know it, Flynn,” I screech, completely unable to believe his incredibly stupidity.

“You know what is hilarious to me, Sawyer?” Flynn questions. “You try to act like some big, bad wolf whenever we talk in like, public but whenever we’re alone, you just cry like a little bitch.”

By this time, people are actually like, staring at us and whispering and it’s just really weird because I’m definitely not used to being the center of attention. I don’t think that I like it very much either, if this is what it’s like, having people just stare at you and whisper about you.

Flynn’s words are actually true though, at least, to a degree. I’m slightly less terrified of him whenever people are around us because I know that even though he’s psychotic, he wouldn’t dare try to hurt me in public, not when he knows that there are witness everything that could land him back in the county in a heartbeat if he tried anything. Whenever he sneaks up on me when I’m alone though, that’s when I’m afraid. That’s when the hyperventilation and heart palpitations both start.

I know that if I stay in here any longer though, I’m just going to completely blow up on him and I don’t want to do that. I mean, I do want to do that but the reason that I’m not going to do that is because I know that it’d piss him off and Flynn is not someone I wish to piss off.

Especially when I already know that he hates me and apparently has it out for me. I just know that if I were to piss him off too badly right now, he’d devise some weirdly psychotic plan to like, attack me or something when I’m alone. You might think that I’m being dramatic, but I put nothing past Flynn.

“Get some new insults, Flynn—you said that exact same thing at the football game,” I mumble before stalking out of the coffee shop then practically running to Aspen’s car and speeding off.

When I get to school, it’s 8:50, which means I’m late, which sucks. It doesn’t suck too badly though because today’s a ‘B’ day, which means I have Art first block with Sienna and since she’s just such an amazing friend, I’m sure she covered for me.

I park in the lot and then make my way across the icy pavement (I really think school should be out if the parking lot is going to be all icy and whatnot because I mean, we’re just a bunch of teenagers and driving on ice freaks the majority of us out). After crossing the pavement without falling on my face, I head inside the school.

I make a quick stop at my locker to put my stuff up since I won’t need any of it until after lunch and then head down the hallway, slipping in the open door of my Art classroom and plopping down in my seat beside Sienna, who looks incredibly bored. Well, slightly less bored now that I’m here but bored nonetheless.

“Miss Jameson,” Mr. Eubanks, my art teacher, who I didn’t think saw me slip in, starts. “Care to explain why you’re late?”

“Well, Mr. Eubanks, there’s a blizzard outside,” I inform him in all seriousness. I think that some of my classmates think I’m trying to be funny or something because they laugh but I’m serious.

“Touché,” He replies with a nod before standing up from his desk and going to the SMART board. “Okay, class, today we’re going to start talking about Pierre-Auguste Renoir,” He announces.

The class lets out a collective groan then, which makes sense because we all know what’s coming: a lecture. Lectures aren’t really that bad though, because you don’t have to do any work or anything. I mean, Mr. Eubanks asks for us to take notes but hardly anyone ever does—we all just go home and look up everything we can find on Wikipedia about whoever our next test is on.

Well, at least that’s what Sienna and I do.

“Where were you?” Sienna queries curiously after Mr. Eubanks dives into his lecture.

“I ran into Lucifer’s son,” I inform her with a sigh, taking out a pen and a piece of paper so I look like I’m taking notes.

“Flynn?” Sienna guesses and when I nod in confirmation, she crinkles her nose in distaste. “Where’d you run into him?”

“Starbucks,” I answer. “Apparently he has a job there—which is crazy, the fact that they now hires psychotic psychopaths.”

“That’s very crazy,” My friend nods in agreement. “Well, what happened? He didn’t like, try anything or something, right?”

“No,” I shake my head. “He’s stupid but he’s not stupid enough to actually try anything in such a public place.”

“Ooh, right, that makes sense,” Sienna agrees. “Oooh, camping. Tell me how camping went—was it amazing?”

“It was pretty amazing,” I admit with a nod and a small grin.

“Details, Sawyer, I need details,” My friend informs me then.

“Sienna, we were in the mountains for three days—there isn’t much detail to tell,” I defend then with a chuckle. 

“Did you and Graham “sleep” in the same tent?” She asks me.

“I don’t know why there are air quotes around sleep,” I laugh, picking up on that. “But yeah, we did,” I confirm and she lets out a pig-like squeal because she’s so dramatic. “But with his brother.”

“Tucker slept in a tent with you and Graham?” Sienna queries, raising her eyebrows with a confused look. “That’s weird on so, so many levels,” She says, giving off a fake shudder.

“I mean Jackson, genius,” I tell her then, playfully rolling my eyes.

“Oooh, okay, good, that makes much more sense,” She responds.

“Okay, so, I need to ask you a question,” I tell her then in an attempt to change the subject.

I mean, camping with Graham and his family really was super fun, there’s just not much to mention. Like, for the most part, Tucker, Cassidy and Jackson went fishing and stuff like that and Graham and I made s’mores and kissed and talked and just had a really good time together. There was always a point where we made this little campfire and told scary stories, which sounds incredibly lame but it actually was quite the opposite because the stories were actually incredibly scary.

“What’s up?” She asks, raising her eyebrows in question.

“Okay, well, you know how Graham’s birthday is in like, eight days?”

“I am aware of this fact, yes,” Sienna confirms, nodding.

“I have absolutely no idea what to get him, so what do you think?”

“What do I think about what?” She asks, clearly confused. Like I said, Sienna’s not the sharpest tack in the box and if you aren’t like, expressively clear with her at all times, she’s get confused.

“What do you think I should get Graham for his birthday?” I clarify.

“Oh, I have no idea,” Sienna states.

“What do you mean?” I ask incredulously. “You guys are friends.”

“Yeah, but we don’t really buy each other birthday presents,” She laughs.

“Well, I’m stumped,” I complain with a sigh. “I’ve been thinking for the past three days and I still don’t know what to get, but I do know that I have to get him something.”

“Sawyer, Graham is nowhere near that superficial,” Sienna informs me matter-of-factly. “I promise you he won’t care if you don’t get him an eighteenth birthday present.”

“I know, but I’m his girlfriend and girlfriends are most definitely supposed to get their boyfriends birthday presents—it’s like, a rule of dating.”

“Well, if that’s the case, then no wonder none of my past relationships have worked out,” Sienna jokes. “But he likes balloons—get him some.”

“I am not getting my boyfriend balloons as a birthday present, Sienna,” I deadpan, rolling my eyes at her.

“You are literally so dramatic, Sawyer,” She laughs. “You’re totally overthinking this whole birthday thing.”

“Maybe,” I nod in agreement. “He’s just had a really hard life, which you know, and I want him to have an amazing eighteenth birthday,” I explain then.

“He finally got the girl he was crushing on for like, three months to agree to be his girlfriend,” She reminds me. “I’m sure he doesn’t want much more.”

“You really aren’t helping me decide what I should get him, you know,” I laugh with a small blush because that’s just so cute, knowing that Graham had a crush on me for that long.

“Well, I’m sorry,” Sienna pipes with a shrug. “But you know how bad I suck at gift-giving,” She says, running her fingers through her hair. “I gave you doughnuts your last birthday.”

“You sure did,” I laugh at the memory of her having three dozen jelly-filled doughnuts delivered (she was grounded at the time, so she had them delivered) to my house last year.

“And that proves that I’m definitely not the best person to ask about when it comes to gifts,” Sienna concludes. “Unless you want to get Graham’s doughnuts—he’s a boy, he’d be happy.”

“This is true,” I nod in agreement, seriously considering doing just that. An idea (one that doesn’t suck) pops into my head just then though. “What exactly do you know about his mom?”

“That she lives in Amsterdam?”

“Is that it?” I wonder curiously.

“That’s about it,” She confirms with a nod. “Why, do you have an idea or something?”                   

“Yes, I do and it is a perfectly brilliant idea,” I nod. “Do you have his friend’s number?”

“Well, that’s great,” Sienna chimes. “This is Graham Cambridge we’re talking about though—he’s a got a lot of friends, you’re going to have to be more specific.”

“Ooh, um, the guy,” I say, trying to remember the name of the one from the New Year’s Eve party. “Halden, I think it is?” Like I said, I have a terribly bad memory.

“Oh, yeah, I have his number,” Sienna nods. “Why, do you want it?” She asks and when I nod, she reads me the number from her phone. “What’re you thinking?”

“You’ll know in due time,” I assure her in a singsong voice, saving Halden’s number to my phone. “Anyway though, you know what I was thinking a little bit ago?”

“What were you thinking just a little bit ago?” Sienna ponders.

“That you should come over,” I explain. “Graham has football practice after school, so I’m not tutoring him and we haven’t hung out in way too long.”

“This is true,” She agrees. “So, yeah, I’ll come,” Sienna decides.

From then on, Sienna and I make plans for our Girl’s Night tonight. Neither of us are that adventurous—we’re both pretty lazy, actually, so we’re probably just going to eat a bunch of food and watch a bunch of bad comedies on Netflix and stuff like that because I mean, why not?

I think that it’ll just be the two of us because more than likely, Aspen and Beckett are going to be hanging out or something tonight and I’d bet my life that Piper and Jason made up this weekend and that she’s planning on going back down to Tewksbury to hang out with him for a few hours tonight.

I also fill Sienna in on my plans for Graham’s birthday and she says that she thinks he’ll love it. When I asked about his mother just a few minutes ago, I got this really, really amazing idea and if I can get ahold of this Halden guy either today or tomorrow, I think that I can probably pull it off.

What I’m planning on doing is super tricky though because even though Sienna’s sure Graham’s going to love it, there’s always a chance that he completely hates it. He might hate it so much that he actually just doesn’t even want to be with me anymore and breaks up with me, which is a terrible though. Alright, well, maybe I’m being just a bit dramatic with that—even if he doesn’t like it, I think that he would just pretend that he loves it because that’s just the kind of guy he is.

After Art, I have Study Hall with Sienna, so it’s basically just a continuation of Art, because we continue to talk about my plan for Graham’s birthday. It goes by pretty speedily though, Study Hall does, which is great because when it’s over, I’m starving, just like I knew I would be if I didn’t get Starbucks this morning.

After I left the Starbucks that Flynn apparently works at this morning, I drove all the way across town to the next nearest Starbucks, only to discover that for some reason, that one wasn’t open. I think that the snowstorm like, knocked out their power or something.

So, when I left that Starbucks, it was already 8:30, which meant that I only had fifteen minutes to get back across town and to school before class and had the roads not been extra slick, I think that I would have been here on time. So, to make a long story short, I didn’t eat breakfast this morning, aside from the small amount of breakfast that I ate this morning at my house.

After lunch, I have physics, which I’m really, really terrible at because science is just hard and stupid. It’s not all that terrible though because Graham is in there with me. It’s kind of funny though because he’s really good at physics and I’m really terrible at it, just like I’m really good at Theology and he’s really terrible at it.

But I’m not so bad with it though to the point that I need tutoring. Some kind of way, I’ve managed to keep a ‘C’ in the class this entire year, which is super weird, considering the fact that I don’t turn in most of the homework, but I’m definitely not complaining.

After physics, I have my last class of the day, which is trigonometry. I don’t much care for trig just because I absolutely hate logarithms but it’s another class that I have with my lovely boyfriend, so it’s not totally unbearable.

The fact that our regular teacher isn’t here today makes the class suck even less though, because we’ve got a substitute who just don’t really care what we do. She gave us this worksheet thing at the beginning of the class today, but no one is really doing it, I don’t think, so I’m most likely not going to do it either because I suck at trig and so does Graham.

“So, are you going to therapy today?” Graham randomly asks from beside me in his desk.

“Unfortunately, yes, I am,” I confirm with a sigh. “Well, at least, I’m supposed to go today.”

“What, you don’t like going to therapy?” He queries, noticing the annoyed look on my face.

“I hate it,” I mumble with a small sigh. “It makes me feel like I’m crazy or something,” I state.

“Well, I don’t think you’re crazy,” Graham assures me. “And if I didn’t have football practice after school today, I’d offer to let you take refuge in my house so you don’t have to go,” He says.

“Wow, you are such a good boyfriend,” I inform Graham with a small giggle, playfully rolling my eyes at him.

“Yeah, I know, right?” He agrees with a grin. “So, how does that work? Therapy, I mean. Like, what happens?”

“Not much,” I truthfully reply. “Usually, I just tell Dr. Fontana how I’m feeling on that particular day, and sometimes we talk about Tom or Flynn. Ooh, and he gushes about our relationship.”

“Your psychiatrist gushes about our relationship?” Graham questions then, raising his eyebrows in suspicion.

“Yeah, he does,” I confirm with a nod and a chuckle. “Quite a bit, actually—he’s like, really glad we’re dating.”

“Well, that makes two of us,” Graham bluntly states and I, of course, blush because I think that that was another of his coy compliments and I’m so awkward and I can’t accept compliments.

“You are such a dork, Graham,” I giggle, glancing down at the trig worksheet that we’re supposed to be doing to hide my blush. At least, I think it’s trig—it honestly looks like a foreign language.

“Yeah, but I am a very honest dork,” Graham corrects me then with a laugh.

“Whatever razzles your berries,” I appease my very stubborn my boyfriend.

“You come up with some incredibly weird phrases, you know,” Graham tells me.

“If by ‘incredibly weird’, you mean ‘super cute’, I agree whole-heartedly.” I chirp.

Graham opens his mouth to reply then but before he can, the bell rings, signaling the end of the school day, which is such a glorious thing. It’s not that I hate school or anything, it’s just that I’m still incredibly tired and I just want to go home and go to sleep. I mean, I have to go and see Dr. Fontana but after that, I’m going home and going to sleep. Well, until Sienna comes over, that is.

Graham and I gather our stuff together and then shuffle out of the classroom together, along with the rest of our classmates after handing in our half-attempted trigonometry worksheets. As we make our way out of the classroom and head down the hallway together, going towards my locker, Graham reaches down, grabbing my hand in his, which is something he does a lot, but I’m definitely not complaining about it because I love holding his hand. Yes, I’m aware of how incredibly cheesy that sounds but since we’re still a new couple, we’re allowed to be a little bit cheesy.

“Oh, so, did I tell you what happened this morning?” I wonder, remembering the whole breakfast thing earlier.

“I don’t think so, no,” Graham denies, shaking his head as we reach my locker. “What happened?” He queries.

“My mom found out about us,” I inform him, spinning the dial on my locker and pulling it open, throwing everything inside of it.

“She did?’ Graham asks with his eyebrows in raised in question, which makes sense because I think that he sense that my mother and I aren’t particularly close and we don’t talk much.

“She did,” I confirm with a nod. “Tom basically abducted my phone this morning and he was reading our texts, which was super awkward, but he told her and so yeah, now she knows.”

“So, what does she think?” Graham queries then, obviously curious as to what my mother thinks of our relationship. I don’t know why it even matters to him though because it doesn’t to me.

“I don’t really know, honestly,” I admit with a small shrug, closing my locker after getting what I need to take home for homework. “She does want you to come over for dinner soon though.”

“That sounds a little bit terrifying,” He informs me.

“I agree, which is why I told her that that won’t be necessary, but I’m sure she’s going to keep pushing for it,” I state.

“Well, if she just really wants me to come over, I will,” He decides. “Anyway though, I need to get to football practice.”

“Okay then,” I chirp, going up on my tip-toes and pecking Graham lightly on his lips. “So, I’ll see you tomorrow, yes?”

“Yeah, unless I die in the midst of this football practice,” Graham jokingly assures me, leaning down and kissing my forehead.

“Well, let’s just hope that that doesn’t happen,” I reply with a small giggle after playfully rolling my eyes at my overly dramatic boyfriend.

Graham sends me one of his gorgeous grins then and then sets off in the opposite direction, heading towards the field house, I guess. Once he’s gone, I pull Aspen’s car keys out of the pocket of my hoodie and then make my way down the hallway and out of the side door.

Thankfully, the snow has stopped—for the time being, anyway—which is just absolutely perfect news because as I’m sure you’ve noticed by now, I hate snow with a burning passion. Especially since it hardly ever snows so terribly that they actually close school. If it did that sometimes, I’d actually like it.

When I make it to Aspen’s car in the lot, I get in and pull my seatbelt on before starting the car and pulling out, coasting towards Dr. Fontana’s office building.

✿✿✿✿✿✿

“How was that my first time ever seeing this movie?” I ask Sienna a few hours later as the credits for Clueless roll down the screen of my TV.

“I have absolutely no idea,” Sienna replies, stuffing her face with caramel popcorn—it sounds gross but she loves it. “But now that you’ve seen how perfect it is, it’s your favorite now, yes?”

“I think that Footloose still beats it by a few points,” I reply, shaking my head and grabbing my DVD remote, flipping from the DVD channel over to the TV channels. Don’t get me wrong, Clueless is a really amazing movie but I don’t think that anything can ever beat Footloose. Well, maybe Frozen or Tangled can top it as best movie but they’re about the only two, I think.

“That’s nonsense,” Sienna matter-of-factly informs me then, shaking her head in disagreement.

“That is not nonsense,” I disagree. “Anyway though, we haven’t talked in forever, so tell me what’s new in your life and whatnot,” I urge.

“Um, nothing’s new,” She states but she blushes bright red as soon as the words are out of her mouth, which is how I know she’s lying.

“Is that why you’re blushing?” I teasingly ask her, poking her a few times because she really being poked, so if I continually poke her, I know she’ll tell me just so that I’ll stop poking her.

“Blushing?” Sienna echoes, raising her eyebrows as her blush deepens. “I am most definitely not blushing,” She lies then with a cough.

“I really hope you don’t plan on being an actress in the future, S,” I chuckle. “Or a lawyer or a blackjack player—your poker face sucks.”

“Oh, hush,” She mutters, running her fingers through her hair. “Okay, I’ll tell you but you have to swear you’re not going to freak out.”

“I swear I won’t freak out,” I assure her, holding out my pinky, letting her lock hers around mine.  “Now come on, tell me,” I urge her.

“Alright, well, there’s this guy,” She starts and immediately, I cut her off.

“A guy?” I repeat with a shocked look. “Like, an actual guy?” I question.

“Like an actual guy,” Sienna confirms, starting to redden again. “It’s Mayor McCormack’s son—Vince?” She explains then, still blushing.

“Oh, yeah, I know who he is,” I assure her, motioning for her to keep going. It’s kind of surprising that Sienna’s showing interest in a guy because like I said, she hates the entire idea of dating.

“Right, well, like, two weeks ago, his dad hosted this Charity Gala thing over at Volcom and my parents and I went to it. Vince was there too, obviously, and we just kind of hit it off,” She says.

“Two weeks?” I echo, giving my best friend a weird look. “How am I just hearing about this after two weeks?”

“Well, I had to make sure it could actually be something serious before I told you about it,” Sienna defends.

“And can it?” I wonder. “Be something serious, I mean,” I add for clarification because like I said, she gets confused pretty easily, Sienna does.

“I think so, yeah,” Sienna confirms with a shy smile. “We’ve been on one date so far and we’re supposed to be going out again this weekend.”

“That’s so adorable,” I truthfully tell her. “What about your little dating philosophy though?”

“Yeah, I’ve been re-thinking that whole thing,” She states. “I mean, you’re only young once.”

“This is true,” I nod in agreement. “Ooh, when you guys are official, we can go on a double date,” I suggest because I’ve always wanted to go on a double date—they look so much fun on TV.

“Yeah, if Vince and I ever become official, we can definitely go on a double date,” She agrees.

“You’re so pessimistic, Sienna, you know that, don’t you?” I ask my best friend, noticing how she substituted my ‘when’ for an ‘if’, which is an incredibly pessimistic thing for her to do, I think.

“I am not pessimistic,” She argues, shaking her head in disagreement. “I’m simply a realist.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Sienna,” I appease her in a singsong voice even though she’s so wrong. I, on the other hand, am a realist—Sienna is most definitely not, she’s a pessimist.

“Anyways, what time is it?” She asks before stuffing her face with the rest of the caramel popcorn in her huge bowl. I’m not sure why, but she hates regular popcorn, so she brought her own.

“Uh, right after 11 o’clock, which means you have to go now, right?” I ask before plugging my phone, which is about to die, onto the charger.

“Yes, because unfortunately, my parents still don’t trust me after the whole rehab in Switzerland thing,” Sienna explains with an annoyed sigh.

Like I said, Sienna’s parents are pretty lax parents but they do care about their children, you know, to an extent. The fact that they almost lost their only daughter to an overdose was kind of this massive wake-up call to them, so now they’re a bit better at being parents to Sienna and Tommy than they used to be. They’re really hard on Sienna though, her dad especially. She has so many ground rules that she has to follow and it’s a little bit ridiculous,

Like, she has a curfew of midnight (I don’t even go out and my curfew is later than that), she can’t spend the night away from home, and she can’t go to parties—but she breaks that a whole lot.

“Well, then next time, I’ll come over to your house instead,” I decide, since her parents don’t really care if she brings company home.

“That’s an amazing idea,” Sienna says, standing up from my bed and grabbing her keys as the two of us make our way out my room.

I’m starving and we ordered pizza a couple of hours ago when she got here, so I figure I might as well go and eat the rest of it now since she’s leaving. When we get downstairs, I tell Sienna that I’ll see her tomorrow and then I make my way into the kitchen as she heads out of the front door.

Now, I’m all alone, which kind of sucks, because I hate being alone. In case you have somehow failed to realize, I am incredibly paranoid, which is the main reason I hate being alone. The other reason why I hate it is because my mind’s got this strong tendency to wander and I can’t stop it.

As I’m warming up a couple of slices of pizza, I hear the front door open, and I assume that it’s just Sienna, having forgotten something, which is pretty plausible because the girl is so forgetful.

Or it could be Aspen and Beckett, back from their little date, but I think that if it was them, they’d be making some kind of noise, like, talking or something.

Then of course, it could be my mom, but she said that by the time she gets back from wherever it is she’s at, I’d probably be asleep, which is crazy talk because I don’t go to sleep until around like, 1 or 2 o’clock in the morning.

But of course, it could be Tom, but seeing as how it’s almost midnight, I’m sure he’s at a bar, completely wasted or something by now. He’ll probably stroll in at around 3 or 4 in the morning, maybe.

“Did you forget something, Sienna?” I call out to her as I hear footsteps getting closer to the kitchen. She doesn’t reply, which is weird but she’s a weird girl, so, it isn’t all that weird, I don’t think.

“Hey Sawyer,” A voice, one that definitely does not belong to Sienna, greets, suddenly behind me, making me jump a little bit as I place the voice.

“F-Flynn,” I shakily say, spinning around and seeing the reincarnation of Satan himself standing on the other side of the counter. “What’re you doing here?” I demand, only it comes out all shaky.

“I told you that I was going to make you pay for what you did—you know, get my revenge. You’re never alone though, so I just had to wait a while.”

“Get out of my house Flynn,” I murmur, crossing my arms across my chest and trying to look tough but failing miserably, most likely. Like I said, I can’t handle being alone with Flynn. I just can’t.

“No, Sawyer, I’m not going to get out,” He assures me, pushing his hands down in the pockets of his jogging pants and that’s when I realize that he’s dressed in all black, which is just very weird.

“I’m serious, Flynn,” I add. “Beckett is going to be here in like, ten minutes and if you don’t wanna find yourself in a morgue, you should just leave.”

“I’m not afraid of your brother, Sawyer,” Flynn barks with laughter. “You forget I used to be friends with the guy—I know what he can and can’t do.”

“He can beat your ass and he will beat your ass,” I inform Flynn matter-of-factly, trying to take a few baited breaths so that I don’t lose my cool and start panicking.

“I’d like to fucking see him try,” Flynn chuckles before stumbling—literally stumbling, so I take it he’s been drinking—over to me, standing a few feet away from me.

I try then to begin devising an escape plan because I’m pretty that Beckett isn’t coming back anytime soon and if Flynn isn’t going to leave, then I will. The only way out is through the front door though, obviously, which I’d have to go through the living room to get through.

And in order to get to the living room, I’d have to leave the kitchen, going past Flynn. Or I can try to get out the window here in the kitchen but it’s pretty tiny and to be completely honest, I don’t even know if the stupid thing opens.

Flynn walks closer to me then and I decide to put my plan in motion now and just try and run around him. It doesn’t work out too well for me though, for obvious reasons in which I’d suspected. For starters, Flynn is an athlete, which means he’s quick on his feet and he’s strong. I, on the other hand, am not an athlete, which means I’m not quick on my feet and I’ve got almost no muscle.

He grabs my wrists in either hand, Flynn does, and then roughly backs me up against a counter, squeezing my wrists tightly in his hold. That’s when the panic attack sets in and my mind kicks into overdrive. The extreme heart palpitations start and my breathing quickens.

Flynn steps closer to me then and then he’s pressing himself against me and it feels incredibly gross and weird and it brings back memories. Memories that I’ve tried to so hard to erase from my long term memory but to no avail. I open my mouth to speak but I literally can’t even one formulate a single word, let alone an entire sentence.

“It appears my theory was correct,” Flynn chuckles and his breath (which absolutely reeks of like, Vodka or Tequila or something) washes over my face. “You go all mute when we’re alone.”

“Flynn,” I gasp, trying to push him off of me but I can’t. “The restraining order,” I say, trying to use that to scare him into leaving. “You’re violating the restraining order,” I inform Flynn then.

“Like I said before, fuck that restraining order—you think a piece of paper is going to get in the way of me getting my revenge?” He wonders.

“Let me go, Flynn,” I plead as stupid, traitor tears start running down my face. “Let me go and I won’t tell the police about this,” I try to bargain and even though that’s obviously a huge lie.

There’s no way I’m just going to let Flynn practically break into my house—although, Sienna probably thought that I was going to lock the door behind her, so she didn’t lock it, and that’s probably how he got in—and practically assault me. 

Considering the fact that the restraining order clearly states that Flynn can’t be within a certain amount of feet with me, he would most definitely be going back to jail after this.

“Do you think I’m fucking stupid, Sawyer?” Flynn asks me then, tightening his grasp on my wrists. His hold is so tight now that it’s actually painful that I let out a yelp of pain when he does it.

“I’m gonna call 911,” I threaten, not bothering to answer his stupid question.

“Yeah?” He laughs. “On what phone?” Flynn wonders and that’s when I realize that I don’t have my phone—it’s upstairs in my bedroom—and that the landline is all the way in the living room.

“I am literally begging you, Flynn,” I plead, going to my last resort. I really hate begging for anything but desperate times call for desperate measures and this is obviously a desperate time.

“You’re even prettier now than you were at that party,” He slurs, totally ignoring my plead before quickly ducking his head down and mashing his lips to mine, forcing his tongue in my mouth.

“STOP!” I shout as loud as I possibly can, musing all my might into pushing him off of me and since he’s evidently a tad bit tipsy, he stumbles, but only just a little bit. “Flynn, get off!” I scream.

“Sawyer, why do you have to act like you don’t want it?” He asks with a small laugh as he pushes himself even closer to me then. “We had fun that night; we can have fun again,” He adds then.

I think then of how bad everything got after that party. How bad I got as a person, mentally and emotionally. I became a totally different person—a totally dark and depressed person, and I even though I’m not the girl I used to be before that party, I’m working on getting back to being that person. I’m somewhere right in the middle right now, I think, and I’ll be damned if I let Flynn do what he did to me for a second time and send me back into a world of deathly depression.

With that in mind, I swiftly bring my knee up, kneeing Flynn in his…man parts, which immediately makes him cower. He doesn’t like, fall to the floor or anything like that like the guys in the movies do or anything though and I don’t know if that’s just because I’ve got a weak knee or if the alcohol in his softened the blow.

I reach behind me then to wear we keep all of our fancy knives that we never use. I honestly don’t know what the purpose of any of them are because I’ve never seen my mom use any of the eight of them but they’re really sharp and scary looking.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Flynn coughs, grabbing his man parts with one hand before grabbing my wrist in his other hand.

“L-let go of me, Flynn, or I swear to God, I’ll do it,” I threaten, showing him the sharp blade of the knife as my hand quivery uncontrollably.

“Why don’t you put that damn thing down before you hurt yourself?” Flynn advises. “I’ll be damned if you stand there and cut yourself and try to tell the cops that it was me,” He informs me.

“I-I’m not gonna cut myself, genius,” I snarkily reply, trying to keep my hand steady so that I don’t drop the incredibly sharp and incredibly creepy looking knife. I gotta ask my mom about them.

“Then what the hell do you think you’re gonna do?” He demands. “What, you gonna stab me?” He wonders with a laugh as if the possibility of me driving this knife through him is unfathomable.

“I-If you don’t let me go, I will, Flynn, I swear to God, I will stab you,” I hysterically warn him, my entire body starting to the tremor because I’m like, crying riotously and I just can’t control myself.

“You’re so full of shit, Sawyer,” He laughs before trying to pry the knife out of my hand, which is just a really terrible idea because I’m shaking and I’m having a full-blown panic attack right now.

“STOP!” I shout, trying to stop my hand from quivering as I pull my arm back so he can’t grab the knife.

“Give me the knife, Sawyer!” Flynn yells, lunging for it and so I do give it to him. Straight in the stomach.

Now, I’m not a killer, let’s just be clear about that. I took anatomy as a sophomore, so I know where most of the vital organs like the lungs and the heart and the kidneys and all that good stuff is.

I make sure to not aim for any of those spots because if Flynn were to die as a result of my stabbing him, I don’t think I could live with myself, despite the fact he’s made my live a living hell.

As soon as the knife goes through Flynn’s stomach, he lets out a painful groan and his hand drops my wrist. Flynn’s hands immediately fly to his stab wound, which the knife is still lodged into.

I stand there in horror, tears streaming down my face and my chest heaving up and down as a terrible wave of anxiety washes over me and all these crazy thoughts start invading my brain.

Flynn tries to pull the knife out of his stomach but he can’t, I guess, because he’s growing too weak. Blood stains the front of his grey t-shirt and it’s coming out way, way too fast and I’m starting to think that I maybe punctured something, which was definitely not my intention. Before I can make a move, Flynn falls to the floor, clutching his wound and gasping for air.

“Sawyer,” Flynn gasps my name from the floor as I stand there, watching in horror as blood pours out. “Call…call an ambulance,” He chokes out. “Please, Sawyer—I’m begging you.”

Instead of replying, I immediately take off running into the living room and grab the landline, dialing 911. When the operator picks up, I shakily inform her that I need an ambulance and then tell her my home address.

She assures me that they’re on their way and I hang the phone up before grabbing Aspen’s car keys (she and Beckett took his car when they went out) and then I run full speed out of the front door, closing the door behind me.

I run across slippery lawn—I don’t have shoes on, so I don’t fall, which is good, but I know I’m probably going to get sick because I’m wearing just a pair of those really short Nike shorts and a big t-shirt—and over to Aspen’s car.

I shakily unlock the door and then get in, starting the car and speeding away from my house. It’s not that I’m trying to like, get away before the police and the paramedics and stuff get to my house, it’s just that if I were to stay in that house, I would have had a full on mental breakdown and probably woken up to find myself back in the psych ward.

I only make it a little ways down the street though before I feel a bile rising up in my throat. I pull over to the side of the road and empty the contents of my stomach, throwing up all the pizza I ate earlier.

When I’m fairly sure I’ve gotten it all out, I close the door and merge back onto the road, speeding down the street. After about ten minutes or so, I reach my destination and get out of the car, running up to the front door and timidly ringing the doorbell.

After a couple of seconds, the door swings open and there stands Graham with a sleepy look on his face. When he sees that it’s me and not some crazy psychopathic door-to-door salesman or something crazy like that, a small smile appears on his face. Then he realizes that I’m having difficulty breathing and that I look a disgustingly terrible mess and his smile is replaced with a frown.

“Sweetie, what’s wrong?” Graham wonders, pulling me inside his house and closing the door, holding me tight. “Why’re you crying? What happened?” He asks in a hushed tone and I assume it’s so as not to disturb his family, who are probably all asleep by now.

“I-I’m in so much trouble,” I wail as Graham wraps his arms around me and I bury my face into his chest as the tears fall from my eyes like the water flows through a broken levee. 

Author's Note: Oh, hey there, guys. Well, I did warn you in the past author's note that the ending of this chapter was going to be super intense, which it was, no? In case you didn't get the memo last chapter, the updates have been moved to Mondays now. Every Monday. Also, my last week of school is last week and once I'm done with that, I shouldn't have any problems updating on time, so yeah.

1. This chapter is dedicated to londonhorizons because I loved her comment on Chapter 19 the most. Don't forget that whoever leaves the comment that I love the absolute most on this chapter will have the next chapter dedicated to them! And also, don't forget that you have to be a fan of me to get a dedication because Wattpad doesn't let you dedicate to people that aren't fans, so yeah.

2. Thoughts on this chapter? Predictions for the next? Are you surprised? Sienna and Sawyer had a little bit of quality friend bonding time- thoughts on that and them? Thoughts on what's gonna happen with Flynn? Thoughts on what Sawyer's got planned for Graham's birthday? Thoughts on what's gonna go down at the dinner with Sawyer, Heather (her and Beckett's mother) and Tom? 

3. Please notice the picture, Brenton Thwaites, who plays Flynn Decker and the song- Glory and Gore by Lorde.

And I think that that's all I've got to say- I'll see you gorgeous people next time! <333