The Beautiful Truth

// 28

"What time are you supposed to get in?" Barton asked as we stood in line at the airport the following evening.

"It's a three and a half hour flight," I said. "So...on west coast time I'll get there at nine thirty, but it'll be eleven thirty there. That's gonna be weird."

Barton smirked. "It's gonna be weird not having you around for a week."

"I get back on Saturday...not quite a week," I winked at him.

"Oh, trust me, I know exactly when you get back."

I laughed. "I'm gonna miss you."

He pulled me into his side. "I know you are."

I rolled my eyes at him and stepped forward to get my ticket. He walked with me to security, and stood in line for as long as he could, holding my hand the entire time.

"Call me when you land, OK?" Barton asked, moving off to the side, as if this had ever been a question.

I looked into his steel gray eyes. "Of course."

"K," he said, looking down at the floor.

I laughed softly. "What are you, bashful all the sudden?"

He pressed his lips together trying not to smile, then looked up at me. "I love you, Sawyer. Have a good trip home, OK?"

My heart skipped a beat. I threw my arms around him and squeezed him as tight as I could. "I love you, too, Barton Black. Tell your mom I said happy Thanksgiving, and I'll see you on Saturday, OK?"

"It's a date," he winked at me.

I gave him one last kiss before heading through the security. Barton turned to leave, and my heart swelled. I missed him already. And he'd just said he loved me.

Last night after leaving the bar on Claremont, we all headed back to the guys' house across campus. By the time Barton and I woke up, Micki and Alex had already gone back to the dorms so she could pack in time for her parents to come pick her up for the break. I hadn't gotten a chance to continue to conversation we'd had while I was in the shower the night before. Micki was probably of the notion that she could get out of talking to me, but I wouldn't forget. I was going to get to the bottom of this.

After a quick trip to the airport Starbucks, I made it to my gate with twenty minutes to spare before boarding. I happily pulled out my phone and put in my headphones. The sounds of The Evan Parrish EP kept me company while I waited. Alex had apparently worked for hours, cutting up the audio tracks on his computer so I could load last night's show onto my iPhone before leaving today.

After sleeping all the way to Texas, I groggily deplaned, stumbling out of the jetway and into the bright lights of Dallas-Fort Worth International. Someone laughed.

Looking up, I scowled at no one in particular. And then I realized who it had been. Talyn was sitting on the bench just outside my gate, having just looked up from the latest Sports Illustrated.

That frown melted into a massive expression of surprise as I approached. He didn't move, but kept his eyes on me.

"Hey, aren't you that quarterback from USC?" I asked casually, standing over him.

He never changed his expression. "Aren't you that girl Michael's Mistress wrote a song about?"

I smiled. "Nah, that was Evan somebody...I thought you got in hours ago."

"I had to take a later flight. I've been sitting here outside your gate for less than twenty minutes."

"Well, aren't you gonna stand up and give me a hug?"