Page 120 of Godless Saints

Sawyer hesitated, then looked away.

“Sawyer?”

“The professor.”

“You didn’t go full Whitlock on him, did you?”

“He wouldn’t give me an A.”

“So you went full Whitlock on him.”

“He dropped me from the class.”

I caught the shame in the tight line of his jaw, the way his eyes wouldn’t meet mine.

“Sawyer.”

He looked away. That was worse. Sawyer loved an audience. He only avoided eyes when it actually hurt.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, quieter.

“Nothing.”

“Something’s wrong.”

He exhaled shakily, then flashed a weak version of his usual grin. “What, you want the full tragic monologue? Sorry, I’m still workshopping the material.”

I held his gaze. “Stop joking. Leave the professor alone. And no more Blood Writs. Not on me. Not on anyone I care about. This stops here.”

Sawyer’s arms tightened one last time before he finally let go.

“I know. You’re right.” He flashed a weak, self-mocking smile. “I'm sorry, Hyun. I really did fuck this one up.”

“You’ll always be my best friend,” I mumbled. “Just… try to stop solving problems with felonies.”

“Fewer felonies,” he offered weakly.

“No felonies.”

“Let’s be realistic.”

I shoved him lightly as we started walking back toward the table.

Sawyer kept one arm slung stubbornly around my shoulders anyway.

“You can release me now,” I muttered.

“No.”

Cillian’s eyes locked onto Sawyer’s arm. Jaw flexed once. Fingers tightened around his glass. Sawyer saw it too. And because he was Sawyer, he couldn’t resist.

“Don’t growl, Ashbourne,” he called happily. “I had him first.”

Cillian shifted his weight forward. “You want to keep that arm?”

“Both of you shut up,” I snapped.

Vivienne didn’t even look up from her phone. “Progress. They’re bonding.”