Taming Sawyer (editing)

Chapter 32

Peyton's POV
I woke up with a good nights rest for the first time since we broke up. It was something about the fact that his scent made it feel like he was there with me the whole night, like we used to do.

I'm beginning to find myself wanting to be with him more and more, but I can't let myself be that vulnerable with him. I'm afraid of getting hurt again. Yet I'm also afraid of losing him for good. I want him to be in my life more than a friend. I have the same urges he seems to act on once in a while. Keeping those in are hard to do, especially with how much love I still have for him. That will never fade. I only see it growing if we stay like this any longer. In a friendship way or in a wanting to be romantic way? A little part of me hoping the latter, but my mind yelling at me for even thinking about taking him back. I already forgave him, something I didn't know I would do. Hearing his voice that night made my mind and heart go to goop. All the painful memories washed away, reminding me of the beautiful ones that now only bring tears to my eyes and pain to my heart. Sawyer will always be my first love. Old me just thought he'd be the last.

I never saw Olivia again after it all went down. Did she go back to her hometown or is she still here, sleeping in another bedroom? Was she drunk that night? Sawyer regretted it all, her voice on the phone sounded pretty clear.

Maybe she's good at hiding her drunkenness.

My inner thoughts were pathetic, just trying to make up excuses. Maybe he wasn't drunk that night. Maybe it was mutual thing. Maybe she was right that they were going to be together. I should've listened to her. I was too confident in what I had to even know what was happening between them.

I didn't feel like wallowing in his mesmerizing scent anymore, so I stood up realizing I didn't have he joggers on. I must've gotten hot last night and took them off while I was asleep. Why must I do this to myself? I can't walk out without any pants.

I ran around the room scatter brained, trying to find pants to wear. I checked his drawer to see that he took the last pair last night and that my clothes were gone. I threw random things that were covering the floor, hoping to uncover a blessing, aka a pair of pants. I was hands and knees on the bed digging in-between the wall and bed checking for the same golden treasure.

"Ugh hm," Someone cleared their throat. I froze. "Looking for something?"

"No.....?" I said in more of a questioning say.

"Missing some pants?" He asked. I could hear the smirk on his lips.

"Not at all," I finally pulled my arm out of the wedge and sat down on the bed. I huffed out a breath of frustration, "I must've taken them off while I was asleep. I've been trying to find a pair. Yet they're literally none in here? How could you not have any pants in here? I can't even find my own!"

He just laughed at my little rant, like her always used to. "I was washing clothes and decided to clean up all the clothes on my floor and yours from last night. I wasn't thinking about you throwing off a pair pants into the floor in the middle of the night. That's not what friends do," he was still holding that smirk I knew he was wearing earlier.

It hurt to hear him say friends to me as a label to our relationship. I know I use it with him in playful way as he does. But now that he's playing with it too, I now know that it hurts. I don't like being called his friends nor calling him mine. So much of me wishes we could be more once again.

"Can we not call each other friends?" I ask hoping he wouldn't push me to explain why. I know he already knows the answer.