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“Some mixture of spices, I’m sure.”

We sit for a minute, chewing quietly as we watch the fountain spray water in an arc. A fine mist coats our skin, breaking the punishing heat of the sun. I wonder if I should’ve applied sunscreen, like everybody’s always saying. I wasn’t expecting to be out here with him.

“You know what I think?” He hands me a fry and pops one in his mouth. “I think you should stop trying to fit into a square hole.”

Pulling my brows together, I consider this. “I don’t know. I just wanted to be part of a group. I wanted to have people proud to be my friend, posting pictures of us together all over social media and stuff…” Then I laugh, hearing it out loud. “I’m so dumb.”

“You’re not dumb.” He thinks about this a beat. “Somebody said success is the best revenge… But I don’t know. I think revenge sounds vindictive. Maybe success is the best medicine.”

He gets quiet, but I want to know more. Sawyer has always listened to me. He’s always taken me seriously, even when I was eleven years old, crying about my frizzy hair.

“Medicine for me or them?”

“You.” He elbows my side. “They might never see your worth, but accomplishing your goals helps you see your value.”

I study his profile, the muscle moving in his square jaw as he chews. I really love this guy.

“Oprah says you should turn your wounds into wisdom.”

He nods. “I like that.”

“You’ve always done it. You make it look so easy.”

His chin drops and he shakes his head. “I don’t know about that.”

His words bother me. Sawyer has always been sure about everything. When we were kids, life hit him with the hardest blow imaginable, and he manned up. He shook off the dust, picked up his little brother and sister, and kept walking.

Ever since he came back from the Marines, though, he’s been different. He was always quiet, but now h

e seems shaken, like he’s not so sure anymore. I want to ask why, but I want him to come to me on his own.

I’m thinking these things when he looks over at me, giving me a warm smile. “You’re part of our group. Here…” Shifting to the side, he fishes out a phone I almost never see him use and holds it up. “Take a selfie with me.”

My face heats, and I feel tears burning my eyes again. “You don’t know how to take a selfie.”

“How hard can it be?” He puts an arm around my shoulders and pulls me to his chest, resting his cheek against mine. “Say cheese.”

“You don’t say cheese in selfies. You make duck lips.”

“I’m not doing that. Say cheese.” He taps the button then pulls the phone down, looking at the face. “That’s pretty good. Here.”

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out to see he’s texted the picture to me. I open it, and I’m caught off guard. It’s actually a really good picture of us. Sawyer’s arm is around me, and my eyes are wide and happy. My hair spills over one shoulder, and he’s winking, giving the camera a cocky grin like the sex god he is.

“Congrats,” I laugh. “You’re a natural.”

“Now how do I blast it all over social media?”

“Are you on Facebook?”

“Ahh… no.”

“Instagram?”

His eyes narrow, and I shake my head with a light laugh. I can’t help thinking the best people aren’t on social media.

He stuffs our trash in the paper bag and moves it away, turning to face me. “Look at me.” I do as he says. Our legs are crossed, and he catches my cheeks in his hands. “I told you a long time ago you can talk to me.”

I put my hands over his, blinking and nodding. “Okay.”