“Fuck you, Knox.”
“There she is.” The corner of his mouth quirks up, but there’s no warmth in it. “Was wondering when the real Sawyer would show up. I’m getting so bored of watching you play house with my brother.”
It’s like he slapped me. Worse, even. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“It means you’ve been putting on a show all day. Perfect girlfriend, perfect smile, pretending everything’s fine.”
I scoff and clench my fists so I don’t punch him here and now in front of the snowcone kiosk. “You’re one to talk. Why is my boyfriend helping your ‘girlfriend’ in the fucking bathroom?”
I don’t realize I’ve raised my voice until a family of four turns to stare at us with horrified expressions.
Shit.
Knox grabs my elbow and pulls me away from them, steering me toward a less crowded area near the side of a deserted kiddie ride. His grip is firm but not rough, and I hate that I feel it all the way to my core.
“Let go of me,” I hiss, yanking my arm free once we’re out of earshot.
“You want to have this conversation in front of half the park? Be my guest.”
“I don’t want to have any conversation with you at all.”
“And yet here we are.” He crosses his arms, that infuriating smirk still playing on his lips. “For the record, Ella went to the bathroom alone. Why the fuck would she need help in the bathroom?”
“Then why did Owen?—”
“I don’t know, Sawyer. Maybe ask your boyfriend.” He says “boyfriend” like it gives him a bad taste in his mouth.
My head is spinning. I just…I can’t deal with this right now.
Knox finally takes off his glasses, holding them in his fist so tight I’m surprised they’re still whole.
My phone chimes and we both look at the place in my bag. I grab it before Knox can make another shitty comment about his brother or about his girlfriend.
Owen:On my way back. Where are you?
“It’s Owen, he’s—” Before I can text back, Knox pulls the phone out of my hand. “What are you doing?”
“Ignore him. He’s fine.”
“Give me my phone back, Knox.” I reach for it, but he holds it up far out of my reach, which is infuriatingly easy for him given our height difference.
“Not until you listen to me.”
“I don’t want to listen to you. I want my phone back so I can tell my boyfriend where I am.”
“Your boyfriend.” He says it again in that same bitter tone. “Right. Your perfect, sweet boyfriend who everyone loves…who can do no wrong…”
“Stop. Just…” I refuse to back down. Instead, I look right at him with my chin raised. “What do you want from me?”
A muscle tics in his jaw and for a split second he looks past me. He lowers my phone but doesn’t give it back, just lets it hang loosely at his side.
“Knox?”
“I don’t know,” he admits. And this time there’s no smirk, no arrogant tone. It’s just Knox, looking at me like he used to before everything went to shit. “I don’t know what I want from you, Sawyer.”
Not Thorne.Sawyer.Fuck, my chest is in a vise grip.
“Then why are we doing this?” I gesture between us. “Why are you—Why do you keep?—”
