I can’t believe I froze in front of Sawyer again. And when everything was going so well. And I didn’t mean to look at Toby in any particular way, I only know that he’s safe and that I like him—it’s just the kind of “like” that’s hard for me to quantify. Toby’s safe because I can talk to him about whatever since Libby just says anything she wants to. Anything I say will be tame in comparison. And then I also have to recognize that probably the only reason I like Toby is for his safeness, not because I like him in that way. Libby’s arm slides around my waist in her friendly way, and I laugh a little because she feels more like datable material than Toby does. Of course Sawyer feels dangerous for wholly different reasons. Namely that I don’t understand what he sees in me, and I’m just waiting for him to say, “Yeah. You’re just a pretty face. Nothing more. Sorry it didn’t work out.” Because he might be as hot as the guys I’ve dated, but he’s lacking the asshole quality I’m used to, which is refreshing, but also makes me mistrust him a little.
