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“perfect life”. Many of my favorite memories were centered around him. But he’d also claimed some of my most painful ones.
    We had met when I was seven and he nine. After seeing him around the neighborhood a few times, I introduced him to Adam and the two of them became fast friends. My parents disapproved of Sawyer’s family and were very vocal about their displeasure that Adam and I were associating ourselves with him. As if a little kid had any power over being born to an abusive father and an absent mother.
    “What kind of mother leaves a little boy to look after his baby sister while she’s away at work?” my father would ask.
    “The kind that has to hold two jobs to make ends meet while the father is in and out of jail,” my mother would reply with a headshake. The remarks would always be delivered in their most pitying tones and accompanied by deep sighs.
    After Adam began hanging out with Sawyer, my parents had started to see him as a “foster project” of sorts. They enjoyed bragging to their friends that they took a kid from a broken family who didn’t even have proper winter boots to Aspen for the weekend to show him what “real life” was all about.
    While my parents had allowed him to enter our family, my mother had been clear that she didn’t want him around her “perfect daughter” for fear that his unfortunate circumstances would somehow corrupt me.
    This only intensified my interest in Sawyer and urged me to find ways to develop our friendship behind my mother’s back. Aside from Maddie, who often traveled abroad with her family for months at a time, he was my only real friend. We were inseparable. That is, until tragedy struck and tore us apart.
    Sawyer chuckled, shocking me out of the recollection. “Now you’re the one doing it.”
    Perplexed, I glanced up. “Doing what?”
    “One of your tells,” he said. “Whenever something’s on your mind—no matter how good or bad—you rub your collarbone. Right here.” He placed his palm across my collarbone, setting my skin on fire.
    I held my breath in an attempt to hide the effect his touch had on me. “You said one of my tells. I have more?”
    “You have many,” he replied. “When you’re nervous you try not to breathe.”
    Shit . I cleared my throat and took a deep breath. “Is that all?”
    He shook his head. “Not quite.” He moved his hand from my collarbone to a loose curl partially covering my right eye. “You also wrap your index finger around this curl. Always this one.” He gently tugged at my hair, pulling my face closer to his. I was about to spontaneously combust.
    “There can’t be any more.” I pouted. “I’m not that transparent, am I?”
    “I just know you, Silver. And your love for assaulting your bottom lip.” Now the thumb that had previously grazed his lower lip was pressing against mine.
    “I guess we have that in common,” I whispered.
    “Except you do it with your teeth.” As he gently massaged the sensitive skin with the pad of his thumb, I had the sudden urge to take his finger into my mouth. I almost did, but he pulled his hand away.
    In that moment—as I was trying not to rub my collarbone, hold my breath, touch my hair, or bite my lip—it suddenly dawned on me that Sawyer and I were completely alone.
    At around two o’clock in the morning, Maddie had announced that she was going to pass out from both alcohol and tiredness. Adam, who’d looked like he was ready to leave the party hours before, had volunteered to take her home.
    Wanting to see the end of the tournament—although I wasn’t playing, I’d been rooting for Sawyer’s shirt to come off all night—I left my best friend in the care of my brother. Since she was unable to walk to his bed without stumbling, I could rest assured that nothing was going to happen between them tonight. Maddie was smart about her rules and my brother was stupid when it came to women. My night, on the other hand, was still wide open.
    “We