The Fundamental Theory of Us Read Online Free PDF Page B

green olives—and played music on his computer. An eclectic mix of country, jazz, and piano that somehow worked well together.
    Halfway through her second slice, Sawyer’s phone chirped. She dropped her pizza in the box as a band cinched tighter, ever tighter around her chest. Not a text from Rachel. Her tone sounded like a bowling ball hitting pins. Loud and irritating, just like Rachel.
    Tension squeezed the air from her lungs. Her pulse skipped a few beats. The terrified part of her wanted to throw the phone away and go without, until she could afford a new one. Of course, she had to look. It was like a deadly car wreck on the freeway. She knew she shouldn’t slow down and stare, but she did, even when seeing it made her feel horrible.
    Sawyer reached for her phone, sitting on the edge of the table. As she leaned away, Andrew set his hand on top of hers—in support, she supposed. This time, she was glad of his touch, soaking up the comfort he provided. This time, she wasn’t alone in her dark apartment when she read the message.
    Hesitant for a second, she cleared her lungs and grabbed her phone. The screen lit up and she slumped against the back of the couch. For a second she wondered why Rachel’s chosen text tone didn’t sound—until she read the message.
    hey its rach can u open ur door?
    “Open my door?” Sawyer stood and crossed the room to peer through the peephole. Sure enough, purple spikey hair and leather filled her vision.
    Andrew joined her at the door. “What’s up?”
    “Not sure.” She pulled his door open and Rachel turned around.
    “Oh, you’re busy. I can come back.” Rachel didn’t move from Sawyer’s apartment.
    She felt the warmth from Andrew’s hand on the small of her back, a touch so light and quick she couldn’t be sure it happened. “It’s all right,” he said, reaching for Rosie’s leash, hanging on the hook by his door. “You guys have some pizza and talk. I’ll be back in about an hour or so. Come on, Rosie.”
    The dog yipped and scrambled out the door, leaving Sawyer and Rachel alone. Rachel moved her eyes from Sawyer’s place to Andrew’s, her dark brows arched.
    “Don’t ask,” Sawyer said with a groan. “Where’s your phone?”
    A deep blush spread right up to Rachel’s purple hairline. She mumbled something, an excuse, probably.
    Sawyer smirked and changed the subject. “You want some pizza?”
    “What I want”—Rachel crossed the hall and stepped inside Andrew’s apartment—“is to know what’s up with you and Mr. McStudpants?”
    “Mc- what ?”
    Rachel took in the lack of furnishings, then dropped onto the couch. “Ew, mushroom.” She reached for a slice of Sawyer’s pizza. “Ew, pineapple? You guys are gross.” She picked off the pineapple from a slice, then scarfed the pizza down to the crust. “He’s hot. Isn’t he in our art class?”
    Sawyer’s face burned. “Yeah. I was helping him with—”
    “No need to explain it to me.” Rachel kicked off her boots and rested her feet on Andrew’s couch. “If I were into guys, I’d be all over him. I’d let him wear me, like fur, but, you know, not dead.”
    “You’re weird.” Sawyer checked the hall, hoping Andrew and Rosie would come back.
    “Maybe I am.” Rachel paused. “Okay, the reason I came here is this. I need your help.”
    “With what?”
    After wiping her mouth with a napkin, Rachel took a long time folding it, unfolding it, and finally crumpled the paper into a ball. “I need you to help me make someone jealous.”
    For the first time in what felt like forever, Sawyer laughed. Really, truly laughed. “You’re joking, right?”
    When Rachel looked up, her expression was but the polar opposite of light-hearted. “I don’t think I’ve ever been more serious about anything. Ever.”

Chapter Seven
     
    “I look ridiculous.” Sawyer examined her reflection in the changing room mirror. Her hair, washed with Rachel’s expensive salon shampoo and conditioner,