Disclaimer: I own Ginny, that's it. If I owned Sawyer…I'm not getting in it ;). This is a bit iffy, but I thought that Sawyer, who's certainly so gorgeous he's probably a womanizer (just the character, that is—no association with the actor since I only 'know' Sawyer). I decided, since his past was probably littered with brokenhearted women, someone should burn him, too.
Sawyer sat in the crook of the roots of the tree, his eyes glued to the words of Robinson Crusoe. Before this island—this hell hole—Sawyer really had no time to read, or at least he liked to think that, because he could have cared less about books until now. Books were a means of forgetting and Sawyer wished he had taken them up years ago.
April 22. - The next morning I began to consider of means to put this resolve in execution; but I was at a great loss about my tools.
Taking a good swig from his whiskey, Sawyer blinked and then continued the book. Alcohol was good forgetting, also, if only temporarily. The tree he sat under was a nice respite from the glaring sun; despite how late it was in the day the sun remained a constant ball of burning proportions. He would take Seattle over a constantly sunny son of a bitch of an island.
Sawyer would have jumped if he were Jack, but when he glanced over he saw a young red haired, freckled faced girl standing there, giving him a glare. She looked young, but that could have been due to the freckles—anyway, she was packing well in all the right sections despite how much she tried to hide it.
"You like books, right?"
Glancing at his reading selection, Sawyer raised his brow, and then turned back to her. "Looks like it, don't it?"
"Don't get smart with me." Her bluntness astounded Sawyer—he had not run into this type of vixen since he'd been in the states. "I need some paper, do you have any?"
"You know the magic word."
The girl crossed her arms over her chest. "Don't make me punch you."
"Right," Sawyer looked back to his book, "I don't have any then."
Sawyer was sure he had won the fight, but suddenly his book and face were covered in sand. "Jackass."
Coughing up some of the debris, Sawyer glanced over just in time to see the youngster walking away. Quite a view from where he sat. Sawyer smirked.
The red head spent all day glaring at him. Sawyer was pretty sure she wasn't into any practice such as voodoo or devil worship, but he hated taking the chances. Rising, Sawyer took a small piece of paper he had found and went after the girl.
"Here." Sawyer said bitterly. "Next time, why don't you try bein' nice?"
At first she only stared at Sawyer and then she snatched the paper from him without so much as a 'thank you' glance and trotted right off. "Bitch." Sawyer said beneath his breath, then tilted his head a little. "With a nice rear."
The red head grumbled as she walked away. "Asshole."
Sawyer went back to his reading.
June 22. - A little better, but under dreadful apprehensions of sickness.
The torches were burning, making everyone's skin glow like gold despite the darkness of the night. Sawyer strained to read.
July 2. - I renewed the medicine all the three ways; and dosed myself with it as at first, and doubled the quantity which I drank.
Calling Sawyer names was no way to get you on his good side and when he glanced up with searing eyes of condemnation they settled on the clever little fox. If Sawyer didn't know he got on her nerves (for some reason unknown) he might have wanted to kill her, but he enjoyed this all too much. Curiosity had replaced anger making Sawyer smirk and stand.
"You talkin' to me?"
The girl moved toward him, her face hidden before she stepped into the torch light, revealing a smile across her lips. "You're the only one with glasses around here, right?"
Sawyer hesitated, glancing from side to side, sliding his hands into his pockets, and then settling on the red head. "Guess so."
"What's your name?"
"You lookin' to do something?" The man questioned, his blond stubble glistening when he moved, but he gave up on being hostile. "People call me Sawyer."
"Well." The red head outstretched her hand. "I'm Ginny."
"Hi there Ginny." Sawyer winked, taking her hand as a peaceful offering. "You wouldn't be needin' any more paper, would ya?"
Ginny uncomfortably put her hands in her pockets. "Not really…I uh…just wanted to…thank you…"
"Oh don't—" Ginny caught herself in mid-rebuke and only smiled, "I said thank you."
Sawyer couldn't help but grin devilishly. "You're very welcome then."
It was the 15th of July that I began to take a more particular survey of the island itself.
"That girl you're with all the time, she your girlfriend?"
"That ain't none a your business." Sawyer shot back, his newest shadow sitting nearby as he read, but he softened a little due to her naivety. "No, she ain't my girlfriend."
Ginny stopped trying to sharpen her pencil with her small pink Swiss army knife that had the word 'Diva' on it with butterflies all over it. Girls were taking over everything. "You're from the south, aren't you?"
With that said Ginny, with a dangerously shirt on, turned and lay on the sand before Sawyer, giving him the full view. The sun setting behind her made her look like some sort of pin-up. For a minute Sawyer sat there, completely numb until Ginny sat up and then Sawyer's eyes settled on hers. "Huh?"
"You're from the south, aren't you?" Ginny repeated herself with some annoyance.
"Not really from anywhere."
"Me neither." Ginny agreed with a smirk. "My home's the sea, really, I was a navy brat. Pops took me everywhere."
Sawyer just smiled, starting to get annoyed with her presence, and went back to his book. "You know I was on my climb up to being an actress. My Pops wanted me to have nothing to do with it—haven't seen him in a few years."
"Mmhmm." Sawyer knew better than to encourage her to blabber on, but at least he could ignore her.
"I was on a daytime soap. Have to shag a couple of the producers."
At that Sawyer was listening again, his eyes on the slut—or so she bragged. "'Scuze me?"
"Nevermind." She grinned with mischief. "I'm going to wash off."
Sawyer dropped the book.
Sawyer could hardly concentrate. Even though his new like for books was really itching at him, he had something else that needed scratched.
While this corn was growing, I made a little discovery, which was of use to me afterwards.
"Hey four eyes."
The southerner jumped a little and glanced up to see her standing there, not far from him. "Jesus, girl, you tryin' to give me a heart attack?"
"I just came by to see if you had anymore of that paper," she said with disinterest, "I'll be very nice if you give me some."
Sawyer glanced over and grabbed a piece torn from the back of a book, then offered it to her. The girl strutted on over to him, but suddenly her foot caught in a depression and she went right into Sawyer's lap. "Oops!"
"That's all right." Sawyer smiled, neither of them moving. "Caught ya, didn't I?"
Silently, the girl moved toward him, pressing her lips to his. Oh, she was as sweet as any fruit, but definitely she had the taste of a pomegranate. Good thing they were just out of everyone's view.
Half February, March, half April: Rainy, the sun being then on, or near the equinox.
When Sawyer saw her coming over his spirits rose instantly, but she passed right by him, like she had every time today. Then Sawyer saw her hand in the young man's beside her.
A hand slapped on Sawyer's shoulder and he turned to see Hurley standing there. "She's sixteen, man," Hurley said, "I already tried."
Sawyer's jaw dropped and he looked back to the little snipe that turned and smirked at him, then winked. "The little bitch."
"Yeah, she's hot."