Act Like You Love Me (An Accidentally in Love Novel) (Entangled: Bliss) (8 page)

“I’ll catch you later,” she said as though she didn’t care either way.

“You have my number,” he said as she retreated. When she glanced back, he was still watching her like there wasn’t anyone else in the room.

Mom swung open the door and threw her arms around Brynn, nearly crushing the Double Chocolate Dream Cake between them. “Goodness gracious, I thought you must’ve gotten into an accident on your way here, you took so long.”

Ah, hugs and a guilt trip, all at the same time. That’s motherly love for you.

Brynn patted Mom’s back. “I’m fine. And I’m sorry I’m late. Is Paul here yet?” This was a win-win question because if he was, Mom would stop focusing on how Brynn was late, and if he wasn’t, Mom would focus on how
he
was late.

“Yes, he and Carly got here a couple minutes ago. Didn’t you get my text?”

You texted me?
she wanted to say with a good dose of sarcasm, but instead said, “I don’t text and drive— Wait. Who did you say Paul was with?”

“Brynn. Hey.” Paul came into the room hand in hand with a girl. Not just any girl. The name had instinctually triggered warning bells, but seeing her in the flesh was worse. Carly Johnson had been Sawyer’s girlfriend most of senior year until she dumped him in front of everyone in one of those dramatic cafeteria room displays. Brynn remembered that moment, feeling sorry for Sawyer, but also inwardly celebrating her chance to finally lay it all on the line and ask him out.

Carly tilted her head, two tiny creases forming between her eyebrows. “Have we met before? You look kind of familiar.” She was still beautiful, flawless tan skin, platinum blond hair, and the perfect big-boobs-to-small-waist combo. Like a Barbie on crack. It was so unfair. Couldn’t the universe restore some balance? Give her a fat ass or something? “You went to Hough High, right?”

Yeah, get there faster. We both went there. You lived the dream version of high school, while I got to live the horror one.
It was one thing for her to have been with Sawyer, but there was no way Brynn was going to let Carly have her brother.

“You used to have, like, light brown hair, though,” Carly said. “And you always wore those cool, funky clothes.”

Was she being passive aggressive? Was
cool, funky clothes
code for weird?

“Apparently, she’s forgotten how to speak.” Paul snapped his fingers in front of Brynn’s face.

Brynn slapped them away. “Yep, that was me. And you were on the cheerleading team.” She wished she’d stayed for that cup of coffee with Sawyer. Only now she was looking at Carly and thinking she couldn’t compete with that, and there was no way he’d ever settle for a girl like her.

All the self-esteem her brief encounter with Sawyer had built deflated, leaving a too-thick feeling in her gut.

“You never told me you were a cheerleader,” Paul said, kissing Carly’s cheek. And she giggled. Actually
giggled
.

Mom beamed, unborn grandchildren dancing in her eyes. “Aren’t they cute?”

Brynn forced her lips into a smile. “Super cute.”

During dinner, she had to endure more of the
cuteness
. Paul and Carly, smiling and kissing and complimenting each other every second. For once, it wasn’t giving Brynn a contact love-high.

Apparently, Carly had gone to cosmetology school and now worked at a salon. “Love that color and cut, by the way,” she said, pointing at Brynn.

It would be easier to keep hating her if she stopped being nice. Or was she just
acting
nice? Either way, Carly was sure charming her parents and brother. The only consolation was that Brynn hadn’t lost her mind and invited Sawyer—that would’ve been a whole new level of awkward. Or maybe they’d rekindle in front of everyone, and the day could finish going straight to hell.

After dinner, when Brynn found herself alone in a room with Carly, the girl turned to her and smiled. “I’m so glad I ran into you again.”

Ran into… Bombarded my family. Same difference.

Carly’s pouty lips stuck out farther. “I always felt so bad for you.”

Pity. Yeah, that’s super for my already dying self-esteem, so thanks for that.

Carly twisted the ends of her hair around her finger. “Getting de-pantsed in front of the whole school like that probably felt like the end of the world, but I’m sure no one really remembers it.”

Right. That’s why you’re talking about it this very second. And it wasn’t de-pantsed. It was de-skirted.
Just like that, there was the incident Brynn tried to avoid thinking about, flashing through her mind as if it were yesterday.

The school had called the dress rehearsal an assembly and required all students to go, so that the drama club would have an audience to practice on. Brynn was making her acting debut, a tiny part in a short scene. Mid-scene, a guy named Mark had stepped on her skirt. Only Brynn didn’t know it, so she stepped forward like the stage directions told her to, and down came her skirt. First she had to worry about not tripping, what with the fact her ankles were bound. Once she got her balance, she had to shove a stunned-looking Mark
off
her skirt before she could pull it up. The audience had erupted in laughter, and she’d run off the stage, embarrassment burning every inch of her body.

Thinking of it again sent a wave of nausea rolling through her stomach.

But it didn’t end there. No. The next day all anyone called her was McFlasher. People finally knew her name—enough to turn McAdams into McFlasher. What an honor.

“Really, I always thought it was cool you had your own thing going,” Carly continued, as though she hadn’t just brought up the worst moment of Brynn’s life. There was still a part of her that relived it every time she went onstage, but she’d told herself she was strong enough to get over it. Five minutes ago, she would’ve said she was doing a hell of a job.

Carly sighed and put her hand on Brynn’s knee. “I had way too many supposed friends who weren’t true friends. I wish I’d hung out with more people like you.”

Did she actually just say “people like you”?

“Excuse me. I’ve gotta go see if my mom needs help.” Brynn ran into Paul on the way to the kitchen.

“So, Carly’s great, huh?” he asked, Cheshire cat grin on his face.

“I knew her in high school.”

“So?”

“So, that says it all.”

Of course he didn’t get it. Paul had been popular in high school. He was coordinated and confident and all the things that Brynn wasn’t back then. She was about to launch into her monologue on why high school sucked—she had one all ready to go, too—but then Paul said, “Was she one of the people who was mean to you?” Disappointment was thick in his voice, and she could see it on his face as well.

“Not exactly. She was just…”
Dating my boyfriend. My pretend boyfriend.
Jealousy burned through Brynn’s gut, even stronger than it used to when she saw Carly and Sawyer together in high school. Paul was staring at her, obviously waiting for more. “We hung in different circles, that’s all.”

Relief washed over his features. He really liked her, and he hadn’t been interested in anyone since Skanky McSkankerson cheated on him and broke his heart.

Brynn pushed back the past that seemed determined to haunt her lately. “She’s very pretty. Plus she’s obviously crazy about you.” And as much as she wished it were anyone but Carly Johnson, it was nice to see Paul happy. So Brynn put on another act and smiled so hard her cheeks hurt.

All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players…

Chapter Eight

As soon as Sawyer saw Brynn on the other side of the door, he was glad he’d decided to come back to the lake house. He’d told Mom he needed to get an early start in the morning, which was partially true, but he’d been hoping to see Brynn. He just thought he’d have to wait until tomorrow.

She looked different than she had earlier that day, but he couldn’t pinpoint how. She seemed…deflated, almost. She twirled a piece of hair around her finger, her eyes not meeting his. “So…I felt bad about running out on you earlier today—”

“As you should.” Sawyer reached out and squeezed her hand so she’d know he was kidding.

Her fingers slowly curled around his and his heart rate kicked up a couple notches. She wasn’t pulling away. She was standing on his porch, the light from inside the house illuminating her features. She had a unique brand of pretty that was all her own, and he felt a little intoxicated as he took her in. Big eyes, perfect lips…

He swallowed. “You wanna come in for a bit?”

She glanced toward her house, and he worried she’d say no. But then she nodded and stepped inside, pausing long enough for him to get a whiff of her floral scent. Her hand was still in his, too, and he was in no hurry to let it go.

Okay, Raines, just play it cool. Don’t scare her off now that you’ve got her here.
He shook his head. That made him sound like a serial killer.
I should use something like that in my screenplay, though. The bad guy’s been such a hard character to nail down.

She smiled at him and all work thoughts left his head. He scrambled to think of an excuse to keep her there for a while. “How about a movie? It’s the greatest movie of all time, and also the only one I’ve got.”

Her smile widened, showing off her cute cheeks. “Sounds like a win all around.”

“Wait here. I’ll get something for us to sit on.”

Sawyer grabbed the sleeping bag and the spare blanket he’d been using and brought them out to the living room. He placed them down in front of the TV. “Sorry. Since I’m in the middle of remodeling the place, I don’t have much furniture.”

“No big deal. I like picnic movie time. Only I guess it’d need to have food to be a picnic. Not that I’m asking for food…I’m full, actually.” She shook her head and then flopped down on the blanket. “Yeah, this is good.”

No, it wasn’t good. It was going to be uncomfortable if they didn’t have something to rest against. He thought maybe he should suggest her place, but that might seem pushy or suggestive, and he didn’t want to screw it up now that she was here. He spotted the box with the new cabinets inside and scooted it over to where he’d set up the blankets. “We’ll use this for a backrest.”

She leaned against it, and from this viewpoint, he had a good shot of her cleavage. Then he was thinking of that day she’d been changing in the car and her pink bra—

“Sawyer?”

He straightened, guilt flushing his skin. “Want a drink? I have water or grape soda.”

“You have
grape
soda?” she asked, a note of amusement in her voice.

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing. It’s just something my grandparents always drank.”

“Well, your grandparents sound like they had excellent taste.”

She laughed. “Okay, bring me a grape soda.”

He headed into the kitchen and pulled two cans out of the fridge. Liking grape soda was actually a pain because restaurants rarely carried it, which was why he always had to stock it at home. But looking at the can now, with its generic clump of grapes, it did seem like a supremely un-manly drink. Maybe he should’ve offered her a shot of Jack or some Scotch. Only he didn’t have any here, and he never drank much of either.

Brynn took the cold can from him with a smile. “Thanks.”

He settled next to her on the blanket, popped the soda top, and reached for the remote. When he pushed play, the movie started up where he’d left off the other night, and he moved it back to the beginning.

“
Die Hard
?” Brynn glanced at him, the lights from the television glowing in her eyes. “How can it be the greatest movie of all time if it doesn’t even have romance?”

“Oh, it’s got romance.”

Brynn pressed her lips together. “That’s not what I’ve heard.”

“Wait. You’ve never
seen
it?”

“Can’t say that I have.”

“Then you have to watch it.” This was perfect. He got to see Brynn experience its greatness for the first time. He had all the background information, too, facts most people didn’t know. “It’s got everything. You’ll see…”

She raised an eyebrow at him, and he leaned back right next to her, covering her hand with his. She took a swig of soda and then studied the can. “I don’t know why more places don’t have grape. It’s actually really good.”

“See? I’m right about the soda, so obviously I’m right about the movie.”

“We’ll see,” she said. Then she leaned her head on his shoulder and he thought his heart might burst.

A few minutes in, he noticed she was watching him and not the movie. He looked down at her. “What?”

“Nothing. Sorry.” She turned to face the TV and he did, too. But then his gaze drifted back to her and he couldn’t look away. He liked watching other people’s reactions to different scenes. But he especially liked watching her, every small smile or eyebrow twitch, and the way she jumped every time there was a loud noise.

Each time he’d grip her hand tighter, too, happy for the excuse.

And then he stopped paying attention to the movie and started plotting how he was going to kiss her at the end, no matter what.

…

Brynn glanced at Sawyer and found him looking back at her. Her pulse spiked and she was acutely aware of every place their skin touched. Earlier she’d been watching his expressions, noticing how into the movie he was. Seeing passion like that only made him that much more attractive, and it wasn’t like he needed any help in that department.

She thought he might lean in for a kiss, and she wasn’t sure if she was supposed to go for it or not… If this were strictly experimental—and it was—then science needed to know if kissing him again would be as good as it had been behind the stage, especially now that she was in control of the situation. It’d help her read the signs when she dated someone else. Yeah. That made total sense.

But she wasn’t sure if she had played it cool long enough. Or was she reaching the prude, not-worth-his-time territory now? Was she supposed to kiss him, and then go back to cool and indifferent?

Holy crap, I’m totally going to screw this up.
She looked down at the blanket they were sitting on and ran her hand across it, the wool texture rough under her skin. “You use this blanket for sleeping?”

Sawyer stared at her for a moment, probably wondering what had brought that about. Honestly, she was wondering the same thing. “Yeah…why?”

A voice in the back of her mind was shouting for her to stop, but her mouth kept on going anyway. “It looks like the type of blanket you’d use to ride a donkey.”

One corner of his mouth twisted up. “You use blankets to ride donkeys? And how many donkeys have you ridden?”

He leaned in, so close now, the scent of his cologne invaded her senses. Her breath slowly leaked from her lungs, but none seemed to be coming in anymore. “No donkeys, actually. I’m just saying it looks like what you’d use if… I just think you should have something softer to cuddle up with.”

He ran his knuckles down her arm and goose bumps broke out across her skin. “You look pretty soft.”

She could feel every beat of her heart.
Thump, thump, thump
. “I’m warm, too.”

She didn’t know where it came from, but Sawyer’s eyebrows jerked up and sweet satisfaction ran through her veins. She was actually doing this. Flirting. It was working, but now holding it all back made her feel like she might explode and possibly make a comment even stupider than the donkey-blanket one.

“Brynn…” He whispered her name into the air between them and her heart lurched. “I wish we weren’t just friends, because I kinda want to kiss you now.”

She smiled, leaning in the tiniest bit. “Just kinda?”

He slid his hand up her arm and behind her neck, his thumb resting at the rapidly beating pulse point under her jaw. “It’s
all
I can think about. And since
Die Hard
’s currently on, that’s saying something.”

“You almost pulled off the romance, but then you had to go reference the action movie. I was hoping for a more poetic pickup line, coming from a writer and all.”

He brushed his thumb over her skin, sending tingly heat in its wake. “Damn. So I blew it?”

She leaned closer. “I’m afraid so.”

For a moment their breath mixed in the air between them, and then he brought his mouth down on hers. He started out gentle, his soft lips barely pressing against hers. Then the kisses grew in urgency, his tongue parting her lips and slipping into her mouth.

Intoxicating heat traveled through her, stealing away all the doubts she’d had earlier. When she pulled back, she was breathless and dizzy. She worried he’d push her for more, but he simply put his arm around her shoulders and curled her into him.

“This is the best part,” he said as Bruce Willis confronted the bad guy. The rest was a lot of punching and shooting, and finally the credits rolled up the screen.

Brynn ran her hand across Sawyer’s firm stomach. “I’m still waiting for the romance I was promised.”

Sawyer gestured at the TV screen. “He got back together with his wife. Of course in the third movie, they’re not together, but still… Romance.”

Brynn lifted her head from his chest. “That’s not even close to romance! Love stories need to have the guy and the girl who meet, and then they realize they’re perfect for each other, but of course the world’s against them, so they have to fight for their love, so much so that they’re willing to risk
everything
to be together.”

Sawyer was looking at her like she was adorable, and she didn’t want to be adorable. And—she realized way too late—she wasn’t supposed to be so into romance, either.

“Uh, not that I believe in any of that stuff,” she tried to cover. “But it makes a nice movie. Or a nice play. Story. Whatever. I know it’s all fiction. I’m not saying—”

Sawyer kissed her again, a soft peck on the lips, but he lingered there and swept her hair behind her ear. “I’m glad you came over tonight.”

“Yeah?”

She felt him smile. “Yeah. But just so you know, I can’t let you slam
Die Hard
, romance or not. Make fun of my soda, blanket—whatever—but the movie’s crossing a line.”

She laughed. “Okay, I’ll keep back my comments about how unlikely it was that any of that would occur. Not to mention how he just happens to—”

Sawyer put his finger to her lips.

Brynn laughed again and then pulled back enough so she could look Sawyer in the eyes. “Why do you love it so much, anyway? Not only that movie, but I’m guessing you’re like that with all of them, since you write them. It’s the way I get into plays. Even if I don’t love it, I’m seeing the way they act it out and how they get into character. Movies are your plays.”

He sighed and rolled so that his back was against the box, and she worried she’d said the wrong thing. She was asking too many questions. Acting too needy. Paul was right; she always screwed it up by talking too much.

“My dad had ALS,” Sawyer said, running his palms down the legs of his jeans. “Most people know of it as Lou Gehrig’s disease.”

From the
had
, she knew that he must’ve passed on. “I’ve heard of that, but I don’t know what it means.”

“It means his muscles started atrophying, and gradually they got worse and worse until he could hardly move.” Sawyer turned his head toward her, casting half of it in shadows. “He was a carpenter and started having trouble at work—that was my sophomore year. After a while, it got to where he couldn’t work anymore, then he could hardly even move. So he and I would watch movies together. Afterward, we’d sit and talk about them, argue about why they were good or bad, what worked and what didn’t, and all the plot holes.” He pointed his chin at the TV. “
Die Hard
was his favorite.”

Brynn ran her fingers across her forehead. “Now I feel like a jerk for making fun of it.”

Sawyer put his hand on her knee. “Don’t. That’s what we used to do after every movie. So one day I decided to write a screenplay, working in the things we liked and avoiding all the movie clichés that bothered us. I read it to him shortly before he died, and he told me it was good, even though it wasn’t.” He smiled, but there was so much sorrow behind it, and Brynn’s heart ached for him. “So that’s how I got into the movie biz. I decided I wouldn’t stop until I wrote something that made it.”

“And you did.”

“Getting there, anyway.” Sawyer glanced away and cleared his throat. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to get into all that.”

Brynn put her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. He closed his eyes and let out an exhale. They sat like that for a moment, and then she noticed the time. She had to be up before the sun tomorrow. On top of that, Mondays were always hell days, filled with retired fishermen who were happy to get the lake back after the “too-busy weekend.”

“I better go,” she whispered. Then she pushed herself to her feet. Sawyer stood, too, and walked with her across the living room.

When she turned to tell him good-bye, he grabbed her hand. “I’ll walk you to your door.”

“Oh, you don’t need to.”

“I know.” His grip on her hand tightened. “But I’m going to.”

Would it be cheesy to say the stars and moon were shining exceptionally brightly tonight? Or that the air, filled with the crisp smell that only living by the water brought, smelled extra delicious? Probably, so Brynn wouldn’t say them aloud. Just hold them in until she could write them all down in her journal, so she’d never forget that for one night, at least, she’d felt the magic and butterflies, and everything she’d always dreamed of.

She unlocked her door, which swung open easily now, and turned to face Sawyer. Back in high school, she’d imagined he had some tragic past and kept his most intense thoughts buried under the surface, waiting to come out only for her. Maybe she hadn’t been that far off.