Adult Supervision Required: A romantic comedy

by Sarah Peis

  Deciding to stay in the employee bathroom for the few minutes I had left of my break, I leaned against the wall, my back against the cold tiles. Did Sebastian beat someone up tonight? And why wasn’t I more worried at what he’d done?

  I went back out and finished my shift. I was glad the rest of the night was business as usual and groaned in relief when it was time to go home. My body ached, and I was dragging my feet.

  Sebastian met me at the bar, where I was stacking clean glasses. “You ready to head home?”

  I put the dish towel down and nodded. “God, yes.”

  I changed back into my own clothes, the dressing room empty. It had been a busy night, and the girls were all out on the floor. I was still nervous being in here by myself, but I didn’t really have a choice.

  The door opened, and I looked up with a smile on my face, hoping it was Elle. I really wanted to find out more about that Pilates routine she talked about earlier.

  Instead of one of the girls, Clive came through the door. The smile froze on my face, and I fumbled for my jacket. I always felt exposed when he was close, and the more clothes I had on the better.

  “Clive. What are you doing in the girls’ dressing room?” I asked, picking up my bag.

  If I played this smart, I could get past him and outside before he could stop me. I just had to move him farther into the room while at the same time inching my way to the door.

  “I wanted to see you,” he said, walking closer. I evaded him by stepping to the side.

  “Well, here I am. But I need to go home and relieve the babysitter.”

  He came closer again. “She won’t mind if you stay a little longer.”

  I swallowed, hoping today wasn’t the day he snapped. His actions were starting to scare me. I always thought he was harmless, but cornering me all the time and pushing for another date was not exactly giving me the warm and fuzzies. And not to forget the flowers he kept sending me that didn’t exactly make it look like he’d take no for an answer.

  “Sebastian is waiting for me,” I said, glad at least that part was true. “I should really go back out there.”

  Clive watched me with hungry eyes, and I suppressed the gag that worked its way up my throat.

  “What’s going on with you two?” he asked, cocking his head and reminding me of a bird with the way he moved and blinked at me. “Don’t fall for his bullshit, Nora. He’s bad news.”

  A knock sounded on the door, and I called out, “Come in.”

  Sebastian stuck his head in, his eyes narrowing when he saw Clive. “Let’s go.”

  I sprinted past Clive and nearly collided with Sebastian in my haste. He took my hand and held it all the way out to his bike.

  “See you tomorrow,” Sebastian called out on his way past the bar. I waved goodbye, not trusting my voice to say anything yet.

  While I had an unhealthy obsession with riding on Sebastian’s bike, tonight I wished we’d taken my car. But the ride would be short, and I just had to hold on enough not to fall off. I grumbled under my breath when I swung my leg over the seat, the movement awkward and stiff thanks to my earlier workout.

  “Are you hurt?” Sebastian asked, turning his head back to where I was getting comfortable on the seat.

  “Just sore. Long night.”

  He did his broody hot guy stare for another few seconds before turning around and starting the engine. I wound my arms around him and sank against his back. I usually sat close, but tonight I fused myself to him.

  He tensed for a moment but relaxed once it became clear that was how I intended to stay for the ride home. I treasured each time I was on the bike with him. I wasn’t thinking about anything except how much I loved feeling his abs under my hands and how content I was, laying my head against his back and letting the wind take away my worries.

  I really needed to get my head checked, because this was turning into a case of Stockholm syndrome.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “There’s a hole in my donut,” Luca wailed, staring at the donut on his plate.

  We were eating dinner, and the kids had moved on to dessert. Malena and Felix had come over, and I was grateful for the distraction.

  I grabbed a banana and broke off a piece big enough to fit in the hole. I pulled Luca’s plate over and stuffed the banana in it, making sure it was somewhat even with the donut, and pushed the plate back in front of him.

  He looked at it for a second before taking a tentative bite.

  “I take it this has happened before?” Malena asked, holding a hand over her mouth, covering up a laugh.

  “Didn’t you think there was a reason I told you not to get donuts?” I said, shooting laser beams at her. When she’d asked me what to bring for dessert, I’d told her anything but donuts.

  “I just thought you were on some diet. It seemed like a good idea to get the one thing you didn’t want.”

  I face-palmed with my middle finger out. “You are a cruel, cruel friend.”

  She grinned and took another bite of her udon. “The food is amazing as usual,” she said, grinning at me, not sorry at all for causing Luca’s meltdown.

  Making those dishes brought up memories of my mother. She’d been tireless in her efforts of teaching me how to cook traditional Japanese food. For some reasons only known to her it was the one thing she taught me.

  Food had been our way of connecting. We had nothing else in common but our love for cooking. The memories were bittersweet since cooking with her was something I’d always looked forward to when I was younger. At the same time, thinking of my mom reminded me how quickly she cut ties when I was pregnant with Luca.

  My mother was a proud woman, and she didn’t accept anything less than perfection. My pregnancy had brought shame to the family.

  I hadn’t seen them since before Luca was born. And I had little hope that my kids would ever meet their grandparents. But thinking about the past wasn’t going to fix my present. My personal motto was to look forward and concentrate on the things in life I had control over.

  “I also made toscakaka,” I said. It was the one thing I could make that was Swedish. The almond caramel cake was my father’s favorite dish, and I’d made it my mission to perfect it when I was still living at home. The kids didn’t like it which was why I’d asked Malena to bring dessert with her as well since the only reason I made the cake in the first place was because she loved it so much.

  Her face lit up when I mentioned the cake. “I knew you loved me.”

  “Of course I do, you fool. BFFs until the bitter end.”

  We ate our cake while the kids played. As soon as we put our spoons down, Malena asked, “So you gonna tell me why you’ve been fidgeting all night?”

  “I’m not fidgeting,” I said, knowing full well that my limbs had been moving the whole time.

  “You want to tell me something but don’t know how,” she correctly assumed.

  “Stop thinking you know what’s in my head.”

  She rolled her eyes. “But I do. And now I know something’s going on. And you just confirmed my suspicions when you got defensive.”

  “Cheese and rice. I’m not defensive. Now shut up.”

  She laughed and cleared our plates while I remained at the table. I still hadn’t come up with a good way to tell her that I’d officially be a stripper come Monday. And she was almost ready to leave.

  “Does it have to do with Sebastian?” she asked when she came back to the table.

  “What? No, of course not. Why would you think that?”

  “He’s not here tonight. And he’s always around. Did you two have a fight?”

  I got up and started pacing. “It has nothing to do with my roommate. This is something about my work.”

  I looked at the ceiling and shook out my hands. “I’m going to start stripping.”

  There. That wasn’t so hard. Just out with it.

  Malena froze, her arms still suspended over the table where she’d picked up plastic cups the kids had used. �
��Say what?”

  “It’s better money.”

  “Do you need money? I can give you money. I have money. I don’t need it. And I live at home. I have hardly any expenses and a life insurance payout I don’t know what to do with,” she said, the sentences flowing into each other, her voice getting higher and higher.

  “I appreciate the offer. I really do. But I just can’t take you up on it.”

  “You and your misplaced pride,” she ground out, eying the kids to make sure they didn’t witness our argument. “You’d rather strip than accept a loan from a friend.”

  I shot up, my chair scraping back at the sudden movement. “It’s not like that. I just can’t keep depending on everyone else.”

  Malena put the cups back down and ran a hand through her hair. “But that’s what friends do. They help each other out.”

  “Stripping isn’t all that bad.”

  “I’m not worried about the stripping. But I know you. This is the last thing you want to do. You can’t even take your top off in front of me.”

  I glared at her. “Hey, that’s not true.”

  She braced her hands on the table, leaning forward. “Definitely true. Remember when we went to the mall and there were no other changing rooms and we decided to share one? You made me turn around before you took your top off.”

  I did do that. And I really didn’t like taking my clothes off in front of other people.

  “I’ll be fine. I need to face my fear eventually.”

  “I have to get Felix home, but this conversation isn’t over yet, chiquita,” Malena said and pulled on her coat.

  I followed her around the room as she first collected Felix’s jacket and then Felix. He didn’t want to leave and tried running away. When she caught him, he screamed, and she had to carry him out.

  “It’s going to be fine,” I said, not sure who I was trying to convince, her or myself. “It’s just a job.”

  “I’ll be back in a few days to talk some sense into you,” she called over her shoulder, a struggling Felix under her arm.

  “I love you,” I yelled.

  “Love you too,” she returned.

  Well, that went better than expected. There was no yelling. Although it wasn’t the kind of advice I hoped for. I wanted to talk it over with her. Maybe get her to tell me I could do this.

  Instead, I was left to wonder if I was making a huge mistake.

  I put the kids to bed early, reading the same sentence to them three times before Luca complained.

  I was stress cleaning while crying and listening to the Backstreet Boys when the front door opened. Someone banged against the wall, and then Sebastian stumbled into the kitchen. His hair was disheveled, his shirt ripped, and he had a busted lip.

  My eyes widened as I rushed up to him. “What happened? Do you need to go to the hospital?”

  “I’m fine. Just need some ice and a shower,” he said and dropped into one of the chairs.

  I went back to the kitchen and put ice in a dish towel. He was hunched over by the time I came back, his elbows on his thighs.

  “Where do you want it?” I asked, holding out the ice, trying hard not to gasp at the sight of him. I scrunched up my nose at the smell of whiskey wafting off him. Where has he been?

  He sat up, his bloodshot eyes taking me in. “Why are you crying?”

  “No reason. Sometimes I just cry.”

  Worst excuse ever, but all I had at the moment.

  Sebastian raised a brow at me and took the ice. Guess my poker face really needed some work.

  “I’m going to clean up,” he announced and pulled himself back to standing with the help of the dining table.

  I watched him limp out of the kitchen and wondered what kind of man was living in my house.

  The shower turned on, and I was still standing in the same spot when it shut off again. Since I really didn’t want him to pass out in the bathroom, I decided I should check on him.

  I stood outside the door, unsure if I should knock or call out to Sebastian. Or maybe this was a terrible idea and I shouldn’t do anything except go back to the kitchen.

  My hand made the decision for me when it lifted and knocked on the door.

  A muffled curse came through the door and then it opened, showing Sebastian only wearing a towel. His hair was wet, and water was dripping off his twenty-pack. I knew I was staring, but I couldn’t get myself to lift my gaze.

  And what self-respecting woman would when faced with all that’s currently in my line of sight?

  “Do you need the bathroom?” he asked, his voice scratchy.

  I lifted my head and took in his face. For the first time I noticed the circles under his eyes, the slump in his shoulders.

  “Just making sure you didn’t pass out,” I said, keeping my eyes above his neck. It took every ounce of self-control I had not to let them wander again.

  “I’m fine.” He turned back around, dismissing me. “It takes more than a little beating to make me pass out.”

  There was a long cut along his back, and he had a big purple bruise on his side.

  “You can’t clean your back by yourself. Now move. I’m helping.” I pushed my way into the bathroom, closing the door behind me.

  “What are you—” he started to say, but I brushed past him and went to the medicine cabinet.

  I had everything I’d need to clean his cuts, but I wasn’t sure if he needed stitches.

  “Did you fall off your bike?” I asked, taking out cotton pads, gauze, disinfectant, and dressings.

  “That question is insulting,” he growled.

  I ignored his mood and arranged all my supplies on the vanity. “Turn around.”

  When he didn’t move, I lifted my gaze and met his angry glare. “Turn. Around.”

  He still didn’t move. Unfortunately for him, I was feeling like pissing someone off after my talk with Malena. I ignored his death glare and grabbed the disinfectant and a few cotton pads, then stepped around him, facing his back.

  The gasp I was trying to hold in earlier finally escaped.

  “It’s not as bad as it looks,” he said, not moving away like I expected him to.

  “You just keep telling yourself that,” I said and got to work. “This might sting.”

  He didn’t so much as flinch when I doused his back in antiseptic. The wound wasn’t as deep as I first thought. It looked like someone had dragged a knife across his back but didn’t get a chance to go very deep.

  “Almost done. Can you pass me the dressing?” I said, holding out my hand.

  Another sigh, but he leaned forward and handed it to me. Our fingers brushed, and a very inconvenient tingle shot through my body.

  I finished in silence. Once I was done, I paused to admire my work.

  “You finished or you want to stare at it for a bit longer?” Sebastian asked, his eyes meeting mine in the mirror when I looked up.

  “I’m good. Just had to make sure I remembered how long it took to patch you up. You know, for next time I feel like hurting you. This image will stop me from so much as stepping on your toe.”

  “Noted,” he said, not sounding angry for once.

  I stepped back, wringing my hands in front of me. “Guess I’ll leave you to it, then.”

  “Yeah, I guess so,” he responded, his hungry gaze eating me up.

  I stumbled back, overwhelmed by the intensity of his attention.

  Besides, there was still some cleaning to be done, so I scurried back to the kitchen. It was just after eleven, but I wasn’t tired thanks to the adrenaline swirling through my blood following the bathroom encounter.

  Sebastian came in a few minutes later wearing tracksuit pants and no shirt. There were only a few bruises on his chest, and if I hadn’t seen his back, I’d think he was fine. Don’t judge; I only looked to make sure he was okay. Well, mostly.

  “Why are you cleaning in the middle of the night?” he asked, getting a glass of water out of the freshly scrubbed cupboard.

 
; “The house was dirty,” I said, eloquent as ever.

  “Right.”

  “How’s the water?” I asked.

  He frowned but flinched when it pulled on a cut on his eyebrow that I hadn’t noticed before.

  “That doesn’t look like you cleaned it,” I said, pointing to his face. “And you should put something on it to hold it together.”

  “I’ll do it tomorrow.”

  “Stay there. I’ll get the disinfectant,” I said, ignoring his growl.

  He was leaning against the kitchen island when I came back, his arms crossed, his jaw tight.

  I stopped in front of him and reached up to his face. I couldn’t stretch up enough to reach his brow without falling against him. And he wasn’t helping at all, making my task much harder.

  “Do you mind leaning down?” I asked through gritted teeth after he only stared at me.

  He didn’t move. “I told you it doesn’t need cleaning.”

  “And I told you it does.”

  Reading my determined expression correctly, he sighed and walked to a kitchen chair, pulling it out. I followed him, and when he sat with his legs wide, I took the opportunity and stepped between them.

  My brain started screaming at me to retreat, but my body wouldn’t cooperate. Instead, it swayed even closer. He leaned forward so I could reach, his gaze on me. I took longer than necessary to clean and glue the cut, but the stubble on his face felt too good under my hand to hurry up, and his eyes felt too amazing when looking at me.

  I smiled triumphantly when I was done. “Looks as good as new. You can thank me later when you find out that it’ll hardly leave a scar because of my awesome nursing skills.”

  He didn’t respond, and I took that as my cue to leave. But Sebastian had other ideas, his hands shooting out to hold me in place.

  “Do you have another injury?” I asked, blinking at him.

  Instead of answering he pulled me closer. In an effort to not fall into him, my hands went to his chest to steady myself, dropping everything I was holding to the floor.

  One of his arms wound around my body while the other went to my head. He pulled me close, and before I could say holy hotness, his lips covered mine.