Page 27 of Sinful as They Come (Sinful Trilogy #1)

SAWYER

My weekend was meant to be fun. The plan had been to camp under the stars and drink some beer and eat some good steak and forget all about my shitty life back at the trailer park.

But those forty-eight hours had quickly turned into drama and I was so goddamn happy it was over.

I couldn’t stand to look at Holly any longer after seeing her with those tears in her eyes.

God, she had been crying right in front of me.

I still felt responsible for that – even though her asshole boyfriend was the real source of her tears.

She had avoided me the next day, and then the day after that when we left. My theory was that she was embarrassed about the whole thing. Either way, for the first time ever, I was thankful to be back in class and not stuck at a cabin with Holly and her stupid boyfriend.

I had also learned an… interesting fact about Holly that night. That she was a virgin. I had to hold back a grunt. She was untouched, and part of me, for whatever reason, was glad that she never let Carter put his hands on her. That asshole didn’t deserve the chance to be her first.

Fuck, why did I even care about that?

I coughed and instead focused on the canvas in front of me. Art class was nearly over, and I was making good progress on my project. Our assignment had been to paint something far away, and I picked the place the felt the furthest: New York City.

A distraction hit me a second later. Holly, as always, somehow made her way back into my mind.

Whether she knew it or not, she was too good at that.

I couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to be her first. I told myself it was because Holly was hot.

Because she had those big tits and that peachy ass and those plump lips.

That was the only reason why I imagined what sliding into her tight, untouched pussy would feel like.

She’d look up at me with those big doe eyes too, whimpering out my name as I stretched out her pussy for the first time.

Was she a screamer? A moaner? Maybe both?

My cock twitched.

Don’t think about her, don’t think about her, don’t think about her. Just because she had a nice ass didn’t mean I had to start fantasizing about her. I closed my eyes, let out a sharp breath, and focused on the canvas before me. It was nearly done.

City landscapes were one my favorite things to paint and I knew exactly why.

It was because that was where I wanted to be.

Not necessarily in a city. Hell, I didn’t even need to be in a big town.

All I wanted was to be out. Out of Mills Mobile Home Park, out of school, out of the harsh grasp of my father’s hand on my throat when he had too much to drink – or nothing at all.

Living anywhere else would make me feel like I had made it.

Like I had gotten out of Cedar Crest and done something.

I needed change and I needed it fast. College wasn’t it for me. I had always known that. More school wasn’t my thing. A normal, nine-to-five, suit-and-tie job wasn’t my thing either – like I had a chance at anything like that, anyway.

I knew I would never get that skyscraper life. I didn’t even want that. I just wanted escape. Wanted to be in the midst of a crowd without people looking at me and scoffing and seeing a fucking trailer park kid who was never going anywhere with his life. I needed more than that.

I shook my head as Holly creeped back into my mind.

I was trying my hardest to not think about that look on her face and those tears in her eyes.

That night she had looked well and truly heartbroken.

Holly had never cried in front of me. Ever.

As much as we fought, as we much as we got in each other’s faces, I never pushed her to that level.

Funny how her boyfriend of all people seemed to have no issue leaving Holly a crying mess.

“Looking good, looking good.” Brodie suddenly nudged me to my left.

Looking over at his painting, I snorted at his work. He had painted some flowers in a vase. Well, tried to, anyway.

“Nice job,” I chuckled, looking at the splotchy mess he created.

“Hey, I did my best. We can’t all be future artists like you.”

Future artist. Yeah, right. Who was gonna buy my shit? That wasn’t a living unless you already had money. Or the right connections. Lucky me – I had neither.

Shaking away the thought, I focused on the clock. Only a few minutes until it was three. Just a few minutes until freedom. Well, I had thirty minutes of freedom – because the rest of my afternoon and night were going to be spent working.

We were down to two minutes left of class when there was a soft knock on the door. I focused on the entrance, staring at my exit, beyond excited to get out school but also dreading my five hour shift of fixing up cars.

My eyes narrowed when I saw who opened the door up.

Why the hell couldn’t I get away from Holly Sutton?

There she stood with a little smile on her face and a folder in her hands.

Holly and I had barely talked after our encounter.

After she had cried there in the woods. That was the only time I had ever seen her be so vulnerable.

She had no issue giving me shit. No issue arguing with me over the dumbest stuff.

That was the way I liked her – because a teary eyed, sobbing Holly Sutton was a whole other story.

It was weird seeing her without her confidence, and all because of fucking Carter.

“Oh, Miss Sutton.” Mrs. Blaine smiled from her desk. “What can I help you with?”

“Hi,” Holly greeted. “I was wondering if I could talk to your class about a little project The Chronicle is working on?”

“Oh, of course. The floor is yours.”

I elbowed Brodie. “What the hell does she want?”

“You’ll see, you’ll see.” He waved a hand at me.

“So, The Chronicle is going to have a focus on twelfth grade projects for our major monthly issue. We’ll be looking at stuff from shop students and, of course, our artists – you guys,” Holly said, standing at the front of the room.

“So, we’ll be taking photos of your work, interviewing you, and publishing all of it in our special addition.

You can pick anything you’ve made, whether it’s something you made in class or at home.

This is the third year The Chronicle has been showcasing works like this, so it’s pretty exciting.

If you’d like to sign up, just write your name and details down on this list and I’ll get in touch! ”

“What a fucking nightmare,” I mumbled out of breath. I watched as a few giddy students got out of their chairs and approached Holly, presumably writing their names down on her stupid, pink piece of paper.

“You’re not gonna do it?” Brodie asked.

“Is that a joke? Also, you must have already known about this stupid project, so why didn’t you warn me she was gonna come in here?”

“What do you mean? You’re the best painter in this class. Hell, you’re the best painter in the whole school. You should do it. ”

“No.” I rolled my eyes. The shrill ringing of the bell had me rushing out of my chair as I grabbed my bag off the ground and left my canvas at the back of the room to dry. “Feel free to sign up if you want. Not my thing, though.”

“It’s a good opportunity, don’t you think? I’d do it, but no one wants to see my crappy flowers.”

I just shrugged. “Not interested.”

I walked past Holly, ready to leave the room.

I knew full well that Brodie planned on staying inside to talk to her.

I didn’t want to see her face. Not after what happened.

The whole camping trip had been more than an awkward encounter.

Seeing her cry like that was beyond uncomfortable.

And I didn’t want to feel sorry for her. Holly didn’t deserve any compassion.

I had every intention of heading to my truck and waiting for Brodie inside, but someone placed a hand on my shoulder.

Mrs. Blaine. She looked at me with big eyes and guided me over to Holly before I could protest. It was hard to be mad at her.

She was the only teacher who ever saw any kind of talent in me, the only teacher who encouraged me with art.

I already knew what she was trying to do.

“I gotta get to work, Mrs. Blaine,” I tried to tell her.

“Oh, this will only take a minute.” She winked. “Holly, dear. I think it’ll be great to have Sawyer sign up for that. I’ve always said Sawyer is our most talented painter.”

“Me too.” Brodie chuckled.

I glared at him and he quickly shut up. “Uh, this isn’t really my kinda thing.”

“Holly, please tell Sawyer how good of an opportunity this is for him,” Mrs. Blaine insisted.

I locked eyes with her. For the first time since that night in the forest, I looked right at her.

Avoiding her had been easy. And that had been a favor to her as well, because I knew she didn’t wanna see me either.

She had poured her heart out to me and probably wanted to pretend like it had never happened.

She should have just stayed outside the art room and not come in.

Fuck, she should have broken up with her shitty boyfriend the other night.

“It’s… It’s a good opportunity to get your art out there,” Holly said quietly.

Her cheeks were pink as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“We put this special edition in the library and community centers. Even in the mall. So, lots of people will see it. Not just students. You’re allowed to sell the stuff you make, too.

A couple students last year made some sales. ”

“It’s wonderful, isn’t it?” Mrs. Blaine smiled. “Sawyer, you have to do it. I’ll write your name down.”

I let her do it. I didn’t have to go. I didn’t have to do shit. It was easier to just let Mrs. Blaine have her little moment. My eyes hadn’t left Holly. She was still blushing, her eyes not meeting mine. She had her hands clasped in front of her, playing with the rings on her dainty fingers.

“Yeah, alright…” I managed to let out. “I gotta go now. Gonna be late for my shift…”

“Oh, yes. Go on, go on.” Mrs. Blaine waved at me .

I grabbed Brodie by his jacket and pulled him out of the room with me. I couldn’t look at Holly for much longer. He was chuckling beside me. If he thought I was going to spend time with Holly for some stupid interview, then he was dead wrong.

“Stop laughing,” I snapped at him. “I’m not doing that shit.”

“Why not? Come on. Don’t screw yourself over just because Holly’s involved.” Brodie guided us over to his locker, pulling a couple books out.

“The whole idea is stupid.” But even as I said that, I couldn’t help but wonder if it would be a good opportunity. A sale here or there meant some extra cash, and I always needed that. “You go do it. Show everyone your vase and your flowers.”

“You know what? I will do it. Just to spite you.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re so annoying. Wait, hold up, we gotta go to my locker too.”

We walked over to mine and I dug through it, spending the next couple minutes trying to find the box of cigarettes I had thrown in there during lunch.

“Finally,” I muttered when I had the box in my hand, so ready to get in my truck and leave.

But then I saw Holly halfway down the hallway, pressed up against the lockers, that pink piece of paper in one of her hands.

She was looking up at Carter, her doe eyes fluttering shut when he kissed at her.

My fists curled in my pockets. She let him kiss her.

Let him put his hand on her waist. I sucked in a sharp breath, feeling a strong urge to punch him repeatedly.

What the hell was she doing? Why was she letting herself get hurt all over again?

“Yeah, I don’t get it either…” Brodie mumbled behind me. “Come on, let’s go. You’re gonna be late.”

I let Brodie spin me around and nudge me towards the exit. But I couldn’t help it when I looked over my shoulder. Carter gave Holly another kiss – a kiss he seemed much more excited about then she did. His lips were on her neck a second later.

But the worst part was that we locked eyes. It was just for a short moment. But her brown eyes met mine and I could have sworn I saw her sigh. And it wasn’t a content sigh, either. No. She either looked bored out of her fucking mind or… sad. I couldn’t tell from where I was standing.

All I knew was that she kept looking at me. Kept looking at me until I met the door and had to leave.

For a second, I wished I could read Holly Sutton’s mind.