Sean (More Than Friends Book 1)

by Fiona Keane

  The street below was packed with people, and the beach was just as busy as before dinner but twinkled in the blurry glow of torches and lights that lined sporadic volleyball nets. I sank into the vinyl lounge chair and started biting my thumb as I clutched my cell phone, lost in thought.

  I remembered Lindsay asking about Declan, and I wondered how appropriate it was to say we were seeing each other after only a handful of dates; albeit, the dates were full of his courteous manners and sweet gestures, so maybe that counted for something. I was overthinking and needed to stop.

  As I watched the pedestrians meander beneath me, I got lost in thoughts of back home. Three weeks had passed since I saw Sean. Since he left me. I knew it was more than the part of me muddled by margaritas who wanted to talk to him. Three weeks of nothing, after a night of everything.

  While we were barely able to talk after the night he kissed me outside, I had to remind myself it wasn’t about me, it was everything he was going through, but that didn’t stop my overwhelming confusion. When my boss asked if I were seeing someone, I should’ve been more honest and told her I sealed my heart shut so it wouldn’t break again. But…Sean. He was out there, literally in Miami, going through something life-altering, without a friend. It was his decision, but he was a stubborn brute.

  I stopped chewing my thumbnail and prepared a harmless message to him. He was probably on a beach somewhere, surrounded by his posse of girls, so I safely assumed it would go ignored or get lost in the shuffle.

  Me: I miss you.

  There, I said it. Send. I tapped the phone on my chin as I looked back out over Ocean Drive and toward the ocean. The instantaneous buzz tickled my bottom lip.

  Sean: you too

  It was careless of me to even start a dialogue with him. I spent three weeks ashamed, trying to focus on my life, all to throw it away on one message. But that’s all I needed to know. He was alive. If he missed me, he knew where to find me. I tried not to think of the night in his room, but it was my last memory of him, so I viciously clung to it. I didn’t want to have memories, that meant someone was no more, and I couldn’t handle that. I shook my head, opting to text my friends to let them know I looked forward to returning the following evening, and that the conference was a snooze-fest.

  I didn’t hear from Sean that evening, or the following day, but I resolved to start over on myself when I got home. The new year was coming, and I didn’t want to bring old baggage to the celebration.

  Chapter Nine

  I clung to Lizzie’s side as we attempted to make our way through the flock of people dancing between the entrance of King Street Lounge and the corner booth Ella had reserved for us. The music pounded through the speakers so loudly that it took over my heartbeat. Ella stood from her seat, raising a glass filled with a rainbow of pink, purple, and orange slush with a tiny umbrella hanging from the rim.

  “You made it!” she called out to us as we neared the table. “I almost thought you’d bailed.” We climbed in on each side of her, my hips blocked by the frilly black tulle skirt she wore.

  “What are you drinking?” Lizzie inquired, cynically eyeing the umbrella floating in Ella’s glass.

  “It’s called a tropical honeymoon or something. Look,” she pulled out the umbrella, “it comes with an umbrella. It’s so dainty. Just like me!”

  “How many of those have you had?” I laughed at her, reaching for the drink list. It was covered in a sticky film that blurred the text. Lizzie waved for a server, silver and rose gold bangles dangling from her wrist.

  “Not enough. Maybe like three…or this is my second. I’m not sure.” Ella blushed, taking another sip, requesting a refill when the server arrived. Lizzie and I ordered some variant of Ella’s rainbow drink, and we began rehashing our week. I felt better than earlier in the month as my emptiness filled, but maybe that was my pink drink. Regardless, sharing those ridiculous drinks after a long day was such a happy moment with Ella and Lizzie.

  “Oh no,” Ella grumbled. “I told Jesse this was our girls’ night.”

  Lizzie glanced in Ella’s direction, chuckling at her frustration. Jesse stood at the bar, wildly animated in conversation with someone. “He doesn’t even know you’re over here,” Lizzie hollered above the music. “We’re used to him. Remember?”

  “But it’s girls’ night.” Ella pouted. I sipped, ignoring them.

  “We can still look at hot guys, flirt mercilessly, and not care,” Lizzie assured her, as if speaking to a child. “I promise.”

  “Well…” Ella thought for a moment and reached for her recently refilled beverage.

  “Whatever, Smella,” I teased as I climbed from the booth. “Let’s dance.”

  I wiggled to the music, waiting for Ella and Lizzie to escape the safety of our booth. Lizzie took my hand, and we joined the crowd, dancing to the rhythm of downtown’s best mix of electronic and house music.

  Ella’s tulle scratched my arm as she sprang by my side once she joined us. Lizzie spun in circles, the glass of some lemon-blueberry-vodka-something held prisoner in her hand. It was always difficult to dance in heels, so my feet throbbed by the second song. We bounced in our tripod, careless and happy.

  I spun around and around, my brain already struggling to focus with the sensory overload of the music, lights, volume, and the toxicity of my pink strawberry-rum-raspberry-something to which my left hand clutched. As I spun back to face Lizzie and Ella, I noticed Ella was dancing in her own bubble, spinning like a blissful child. Lizzie was dancing with a blond guy, still holding her drink and taking sporadic sips. I’m thirsty too. I reminded myself of the bubbly pink thing in my glass and began pulling my hand toward my face when the cup was jerked from my grasp.

  “Delicious,” Sean murmured as he sipped from the rim of my glass, lifting his eyebrows and grinning hopelessly. Is this real?

  “Where did you come from?” I snapped. “What are you doing here?” The words fell out in accusation, but I was more surprised than anything. I stopped dancing and stared at him, tanned and gorgeous. His beard disappeared into delectable stubble. I had to stop myself from wanting to touch it, to touch him. His wavy hair was cropped, forcing my focus to his glowing emerald eyes which stared at me.

  “Meeting Jesse. What are you doing here?” This creep owes me an explanation. Or does he?

  “Come here.” I pulled on his wrist and walked with Sean through the gaping wall of windows that was open for the evening, blasted with heat lamps and fans. Sorry, planet. In the dim glow of the streetlights, I observed Sean was wearing all black; dress pants and shirt, of course teasingly unbuttoned at the top with his cuffs rolled over his muscular forearms. I continued sipping from my glass, eyeing him suspiciously. I wasn’t sure what to say, how to feel, or if he was actually standing there.

  “I thought you were still in Miami,” I pressed, taking a sip from my drink.

  “I thought you’d be spending a Saturday night with your boyfriend.” His top lip rolled from between his teeth, jaw clenched, and eyes wild.

  “Girls’ night,” I reminded him, smiling coyly. “When did you get back?”

  “Tuesday.”

  “You waited almost a week to tell me.” I swung at his arm playfully. “I’m hurt. I’m going back inside, and you owe me a drink now that you’ve tampered with this one.”

  I turned to walk back into the bar, and I felt his fingers quickly wrap around my wrist and lift the glass from my hand. “I think you’ve had enough, Ave.”

  My body warmed with his hand along the middle of my back as Sean guided me back to the booth. I was only on my second drink and resentful he thought it was his place to tell me I had enough. I had enough of his stupid, handsome face, that was for sure. I had enough of him the last time I saw him, when he left me alone. Shudder. I didn’t have enough then. Seeing him next to me, feeling his skin on my back, his eyes burning into mine, reminded me of how much not enough I had of Sean.

  Ella and Lizzie were still dancing in the middle of the f
loor, leaving our booth empty. I noticed Jesse turn from the bar and gaze in our direction, his mouth spreading into a playful smile. It was one twisted reunion, and I couldn’t stop myself from attending.

  “Sit down with me,” Sean pressed as we approached the booth. “Please?”

  “What’s wrong with you?” I grumbled, climbing back in. I adjusted my skirt when I reached my final spot across from Sean. I observed him as he placed a finger into the collar of his black shirt and briefly lifted it away from his chest. Is he uncomfortable? I sure am. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, and exhaled deeply. I couldn’t hear the sound, but any adept observer in the human condition could feel the strain in his sigh.

  In his silence, I focused on the sounds around us, realizing how quickly the pink bubbles tormented my bloodstream.

  “I get dizzy when I close my eyes.” I hummed, a giggle escaping my mouth, and rested my head against the wall of our booth, rolling it sideways to glance at Sean.

  “Then don’t.” Sean’s roguish tone sang so melodically I felt as though I were dreaming. I wanted to fight the dizziness and close my eyes. I wanted to see Sean in the memory my mind held of him, but it was fighting me right now. He was fragile, so delicate to me, despite my opinion of his character substantially altering after I last saw him. He spoke from behind his fingers as they rested against his mouth. My smile faded while he continued to gawk at me.

  “What?”

  “Avery, do you have any idea how senseless you can be?” Ouch. Even on my second pink drink, I was aware of the nasty tinge lining his question.

  “Do you?”

  “Yes.” His gaze momentarily avoided mine. “I do. I have been the epitome of careless and senseless. I’m—” I felt the words in my heart like a dagger, repeatedly stabbing me. Sean’s hands lowered back to the table and began to reach toward the hand I had possessively wrapped around my glass when his words were cut off.

  “Hey!” Kelly pecked Sean’s cheek. Oh, right. The undergraduates flocking to Sean like ants to sugar. Sean’s eyes burned into me as Kelly continued her greeting, his gaze unflinching. I watched him lift a hand to her ear and whisper, Kelly’s eyes flicker back and forth, before Kelly sat down next to me. It was evident in his brooding stare, the tension in his tightly closed jaw, that our conversation wasn’t done. Lord knows I have plenty to say to him. What did he tell Kelly?

  “Excuse me,” I told her, already shifting my weight as I attempted to climb from the booth. She didn’t pick up on my social cue, instead continuing to pout at Sean. I tried the other side. Maybe he will let me out. Where the heck are Lizzie and Ella?

  Sean noticed I’d crept closer to him, sliding along the seat in my attempt to exit my social prison. “Are you okay?” he asked as I was nearly in his lap.

  “I’m trying to get out. I need to use the bathroom,” I lied. I needed to get the heck out of there!

  Sean stood and waited for me to climb out. The sweet smell of freedom! As I headed toward the bathroom, I remembered I didn’t need it; I just needed to leave Kelly and Sean. I saw Lizzie dancing with the same guy as before. Her hands flailed in delight as she spun around in circles with her partner. I fought to get through the mob of twenty-somethings hovering around the bar but eventually broke free onto the cold, damp sidewalk. I rested against the brick exterior to catch my breath and rattled nerves.

  “Avery,” Sean called to me, startling me with his hand grabbing my shoulder.

  “Jesus!” I shouted, feeling my heart fly into my throat. My immediate reaction was laughter, but I didn’t find actual humor in any of it.

  He slowly dropped his hand, probably waiting to see if I’d run, and licked his lips in thought. I stared at his mouth when he began to speak. “I thought you left.”

  “So what if I had?” His expression tightened, and I knew my challenge took him by surprise. He stepped closer to me, the fabric of our shirts grazing and our breaths meeting. Sean cautiously lifted his palms to cup my face, softly tightening his hold as I pressed into it.

  “You can’t pretend anymore, Ave.” About us? About him?

  “Neither should you.” I tried to avoid his eyes, looking anywhere I could. I studied the graffiti on the parking garage across the street, the spider webs dangling from the streetlamp a few feet away from us, but my periphery was tortured with Sean.

  His body moved closer to mine, my mouth inches from the loose fabric of his shirt exposing his collarbone. “You’re heartless, Sean.”

  “I know. I’m a disgusting human being.”

  “Disgusting,” I repeated. “You really shouldn’t be drinking.” A low chuckle escaped his throat before Sean’s palms left my face to brace his cage around me against the wall, locking me in his prison of longing.

  “It’s about damn time,” Lizzie hollered from the sidewalk, her voice filled with inebriated laughter.

  “Shit,” Sean groaned, his head hanging in front of my face. My cage disappeared, his hands slinking back into the pockets of his black pants as Lizzie meandered toward us. Her dance partner wasn’t far behind, stumbling from the bar in search of her.

  “You have an admirer,” Sean attempted to distract her, nodding toward the newcomer.

  Lizzie looked in his direction and then at us. “That’s Josh.” She sighed, looking between us. “He is a friend of…oh…Declan’s…well, this is weird.”

  “Lizzie!” Josh called to her, a warm smile spread along his face as he approached. Lizzie slowly pointed a finger at me and then stabbed it into Sean’s chest right at the opening of his shirt.

  “We,” she poked him, “have a lot to talk about.” Her words were full of promise, and I felt sick thinking about the topic of our future conversation. She blew us a sloppy kiss before walking along the sidewalk toward the Capitol.

  With my head hanging in embarrassment and guilt, my bouncy feelings of happiness quickly erased, I peered up at Sean. His narrowed eyes squinted in the direction of Lizzie and Josh while they walked away. Through his groomed stubble, I could clearly see the tightening of his jaw.

  “I’m going to take Kelly home,” he informed me, his tone low and serious, “and then I’m coming over.”

  “What? No.”

  His eyes were back on mine. “Twenty minutes.”

  Sean clutched my hand, scanning my face with wide eyes, and left me standing against the wall where I originally hoped to get a clear head. Now all I wanted was to crawl under the covers and avoid contact with everyone I knew. I squeezed through the crowd again to find Ella. Fortunately for Miss Dancy Pants, Jesse found her, and they were nuzzling each other’s faces in our booth. So much for girls’ night.

  Kelly was no longer sitting at the booth, so I assumed Sean was on step one of his promise. Crap. I didn’t want to deal with this. I’d forced myself to stop thinking about how used I felt, about how much I wanted, missed, and despised him all at the same time. I didn’t know if it was Sean making me feel that way or my inability to move the heck forward. Either way, he was expecting me to answer my door in fifteen minutes. I decided to leave Jesse and Ella in their moment of intimacy and text her later.

  I started the five-minute walk back to my apartment, planning how I would spend the subsequent ten minutes while I waited for Sean to arrive. Sean, alone in my house, with me. After that night, his health, his silence…

  I tore off my dress, yanked out my earrings, and covered myself in my oversized pajama pants and Jesse’s shirt. I was not going to allow Sean to see me at my best when I had no escape. And besides, why should he have that opportunity? I started boiling water for my French press to sober up when I heard the doorbell. I froze, the anticipation of him coming over finally colliding with reality, and swallowed the lump in my throat, debating whether or not to buzz him in.

  I pressed my finger to the call button. “Hello?”

  “It’s me.” Of course it is. My phone started to vibrate from the turquoise shelf. Declan. It was half past ten, early enough for visitors a
nd text messages, but too late for my brain to cope with Sean’s return. Hence, my French press. Carrying my phone into the kitchen, I read Declan’s message.

  Declan: I’d like to see you soon. Are you free this weekend?

  I didn’t know. Was Sean planning on leaving me again? Would I need to sit in my chair, reflecting on life and refusing to go outside? Stop this nonsense already. I remembered Sean was waiting downstairs to be let in, probably fuming mad that I hadn’t buzzed him in yet. He can wait. I replied to Declan’s message.

  Me: I don’t know yet. I’ll call you.

  And then there was a knock at my door. I turned off the burner, letting the kettle calm its whistling while cautiously opening the door.

  “Your neighbor let me in,” Sean whispered in the doorway, waiting for my permission for him to enter further into my small palace. I irreverently waved toward the inside of my apartment and returned to the kitchen for my coffee. I need to meet this neighbor and punch them in the face.

  “Sorry I left you waiting. My kettle was going off,” I called from the kitchen, “but you’re familiar with that.”

  “With what?” He was leaning against the small table just outside of my kitchen doorway, crossing his arms defensively. I carried two cups in my right hand and the French press and a small carton of cream in my left as I stepped out of the kitchen.

  “Leaving people waiting.” I bit my tongue.

  “Avery.” There was something sensual about his voice, the tone blurred between a warning scold and desperate plea.

  “Would you like some coffee?”

  “Sure. Thank you.” He took the cups from my hand and placed them on the table, pouring them to the brim once I had set down the French press. I laughed to myself, entertaining the hope that Sean might burn his tongue. I mixed far too much cream into my coffee, watching him settle into the chair across from me. He placed his fingers under the collar of his shirt, rubbing his neck before sipping his coffee.