Page 25 of Sawyer

“Sawyer Stewart isn’tboyfriendmaterial.”

“But Clark-the-cheater is?”

I give her a look because that comment feels below the belt.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I’m just trying to understand. Why isn’t Sawyer ‘boyfriend material?’”

“Well, for one thing, he’s…from here.”

She frowns. “I’mfrom here.”

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

“I know! I know! I don’t mean anything bad by it. It’s awesome here, and you know how much I love my summers here. But you went to college and worked in Anchorage for a few years and then came back to Skagway. Skagway was your choice after you’d seen, like, the world, and other options. Sawyer’s barely left Skagway his whole life. He’s a local tour guide in the town where he was born. He still lives up in Dyea with his whole family. He never went to college or traveled or anything. He’s only got one perspective. He’s…” I shrug. “No offense, Aunt P., but he’s a townie from a teeny, tiny Alaskan town. He’s kind of basic, you know? Super sweet and a fun summer friend…but, basic.”

“Basic.” Her brow creases. “Huh.”

Suddenly, I feel like the world’s worst snob, and it’s a very uncomfortable feeling with my beloved aunt. I rush to try to explain better.

“Don’t get me wrong. Sawyer’s super nice and very fun. He’s awesome. And you know IloveSkagway. It’s the most amazing summer place ever. But I’d never want to end up here with him.”

“Because that would be abadthing?”

“Because it wouldn’t be enough for me.Hewouldn’t be enough for me.”

Or for my father.

I still haven’t had the guts to tell my father that I broke up with Clark. No matter how legitimate the reason, he’s going to be crestfallen. I’d never seen him as happy as the time I introduced him to Clark Clement Rupert III as my boyfriend. His whole face had lit up, and for the first time in my life, I’d felt the bright, warm sunshine of his approval. I’d done something right, and I’d been rewarded with his pride and affection.

“I see.” Her voice is tinged with disappointment, and I hate it that I’ve let her down, but I can’t help how I feel. Sawyer Stewart is fine for summer fun, but I don’t feel more than flirty friendship vibes for him, and I never really have.

I go back to sorting my toiletries, trying to ignore the awkwardness in the room. “Tell me more about the girls. I’m dying to see them! What are they up to this summer?”

“We can talk about the girls in a minute,” she says softly. She looks pensive for a moment, then says, “How about this…if you don’t take him seriously at all and can’t ever imagine having real feelings for him, then maybe the right thing to do would either be to a) tell him that so you’re on the same page, or b) leave him alone this summer. What do you think?”

What do I think?

I don’t like her suggestion.

If I tell him I don’t take him seriously, it’ll hurt his ego, wreck our friendship, and we’ll never hook up again. And frankly, I love hooking up with Sawyer. It’s one of the highlights of my summer. I like the way he looks for me in crowds, and when he finally finds me, I love the way he smiles. The way he looks at me across a room, his eyes dark and filled with longing, makes my stomach flutter. And the way he kisses? My knees go wobbly at the thought. I really don’t want to give that up,especially now, in the wake of Clark’s betrayal, when I could really use a boost of self-confidence.

“Ivy.”

I look up, and the expression on my aunt’s face isn’t one I’d generally trifle with. She’s serious, and she wants an answer.

“I don’t know,” I hedge, reaching for a safety razor and plopping it into the carry-all. I’ve never really had a mother figure aside from Aunt P., but let’s be so real: she’snotmy mother. “And seriously, Aunt P., I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but why are you getting involved? Isn’t this sort of between me and Sawyer?”

“I’ve watched you two for years,” she says. “The way he looks at you, the way he shows up for you at a moment’s notice, the way he—well, I’m not positive, of course, but—the way he appears to love you—I’ve noticed it. I have to believe you have, too.”

I blink at her in shock. She’s so wrong, it’s nuts. “Aunt P.! He doesn’tloveme. You have to stop now!”

She leans forward. “Just because he’s from a small town and didn’t go to college, he can’t fall in love?”

“Oh my god. Hecan! Of course he can. But he’snotin love with me! Stop. Please. What we have is a summer friendship and the occasional kiss. It’s easy. It’s fun.”

“It’s fun foryou,” she says, standing up. “But maybe it’s more serious for him. Think about it. Think abouthim. That’s all I’m saying.” She smooths out the bed one last time, then crosses the room like she’s leaving. At the bedroom doorway, she turns around. “As for your question about why I’m getting involved? You deserve an answer, and here it is. I knew his mother, Ivy. She was an awesome lady.”

“He doesn’t talk about her that much. She died a long time ago, right?”

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