Sebastian (The Dumonts Book 1)

by Mackenzie Gray

  “Is there a problem?” I wonder, having to squint to see his face clearly. It’s bright as hell out and I forgot my sunglasses. A trickle of sweat rolls down my back.

  Aidan’s gaze darts from me to a point over my shoulder and back again. “It’s messy, that’s all.”

  “So? I barely know how to put my clothes in the hamper.” I wish I was joking.

  “It’s not like your place,” he tries again.

  “Nothing’s like my place.”

  He’s quiet, and I realize I sound like a total dick. God dammit, am I like this all the time? No wonder my teammates hate me. No wonder I’m starting to hate myself. My next thought is that I need a drink. It’s not a healthy coping mechanism.

  With a deep sigh, I cover my face with my hands. “Sorry. I didn’t mean for it to come out like that. I can’t seem to talk like a normal person around you.”

  “Do I make you nervous or something?”

  I drop my hands, the corner of my mouth quirking up. “Well... yeah.”

  Aidan looks dumbstruck by that confession. “Oh.” He shifts from foot to foot and digs his hands into his pockets. A sigh streams out his nose, and I watch the rise of his chest through his thin shirt. Makes me wonder what color his nipples are. If they’re hard, as mine are right now, thinking of all the things I’d do to him were we not standing in a public parking lot. “You’re used to extravagant things. This place is a dump compared to your apartment. I did have a roommate, but after last semester, I moved out. He was too noisy, and I couldn’t study. I’m paying more to live alone, obviously, but it’s a small price. I really want a professorship and that won’t happen with mediocre accomplishments. As a result of trying to save money, I don’t have a lot. My apartment is just a place for me to sleep, that’s it.”

  Makes sense. It also makes me feel like a joke because while I excel at soccer, it’s the only thing I’m good at. Yet here stands Aidan, writing papers for publication, teaching classes and creating lessons, traveling to conferences. It’s a different world, sure, but I can’t help but feel like what I’m doing doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. Soccer is my life, but at the end of the day, it’s entertainment, not the cure for cancer.

  I brush those thoughts aside. Now isn’t the time for a pity party. “I don’t care if you live in a closet. I’d like to see your place so I can try and seduce you before going to the party,” I explain patiently, needing something to get through that oblivious head of his.

  His throat works. The shifting of his tendons is mesmerizing. Turning, he waves me over to a door on the first floor of the nearest building. On the outside, it’s a two-story structure, tired, in need of a fresh coat of paint, with iron grates over the windows. Unlocking the door, he pushes it open to a squeal of hinges, flipping the lights.

  When I mentioned a closet, I was only half-joking. It’s the tiniest apartment I’ve ever seen. The half-bathroom in my parents’ house is twice as large.

  I try to see it from his standpoint. A place to be proud of. Despite its small size, everything is immaculate and orderly. There’s a single couch squished next to a small table for two with stools currently used as a desk. A kitchen is tucked against the far wall with a half-sized fridge. A twin-sized bed is across from the couch. There’s a door that I’m guessing leads to a bathroom. The walls are covered in black and white photography.

  “At least we don’t have to go very far to get to the bed,” I say, watching for his reaction.

  He sucks in a breath that’s trying very hard to be quiet and subtle. His pupils flare behind his glasses, causing the ball of heat in my stomach moves south. As if he senses my body’s reaction, his eyes drop to between my thighs. I’m hard. Like, really hard. I’m suddenly imagining all the things I would do to Aidan if he let me inside him. I’d take him against the wall and in the bed, and maybe on top of that tiny table, and on the floor. I want my dick in his ass, if he’ll have it.

  I’m not sure of his experience. He doesn’t seem like a virgin, but he doesn’t seem extremely experienced either. It’s the awkwardness. It’s hard to tell. I’ve been with men who have surprised me before. Who knows, maybe he’ll take me against the wall. The thought brings a smile to my face. I’ve only bottomed once. It was okay, but there hadn’t been a level of trust. And not that there’s trust between us—it’s tentative at best, due to my frequent fuck-ups—but I think I could let him in, if he was willing, eventually.

  The tension is so thick you could choke on it. I check my watch. There’s isn’t enough time to do everything I want to do to him, and my mom hates it when I’m late. Better to get there early.

  “Your place isn’t bad, you know,” I say on the way to my car after Aidan locks up. “If it works for you, it works. You shouldn’t be ashamed of what you have.”

  He nods, the flush still clinging to his cheeks as he slides into the passenger seat. “Thanks,” he says, buckling up.

  My parents’ house is a fifteen-minute drive outside of town. Aidan and I make small talk on the way there, but after a few minutes, the awkwardness eases and we open up. We talk about everything from music to traveling to life goals to bemoaning the ending of Game of Thrones. I enjoy listening to his points of view. Aidan is highly intelligent, but not arrogant about it. He listens and takes my words into account, and he never makes me feel like an idiot when he starts rambling about some current event I’ve never heard of. When I ask him to clarify points, he’s happy to do so. I’m so used to living a life of competition that sometimes I forget life doesn’t always have to be that way.

  Soon, we reach the gate to my parents’ house, and I coast right through, following the long, shaded driveway all the way to their place sitting atop a hill. The property is ten acres, full of old trees and tall hedges, and Aidan’s mouth hangs open as he takes it in. The house is an enormous Graystone structure with a lot of windows, a blending of old-school charm and high-class breeding. The front lawn, green and perfectly manicured, slopes downward. It’s already packed with parked cars by the valet.

  I pull up to the valet, and we get out. Aidan stands there, staring at everything.

  My mouth twitches. “Aidan. Aidan!”

  Startling, his head whips toward me. “Your parents live here?”

  I’m about to respond when I stop myself. I try to imagine how Aidan sees it. It’s excessive. He’s right. The house is enormous for only two people. My siblings and I each have our own room in the house, even though we don’t live here. The front door is actually two enormous French doors made of glass, allowing you to see inside the foyer. In the back is a pool and jacuzzi, a garden area, and more.

  Unease tugs in my gut as I nod. For whatever reason, his judgment of my background hits harder than most, and I’m not sure how I feel about that. “Yeah.” I wave him up the steps. “Come on. I’ll show you around.”

  Inside, it’s much the same. Vaulted ceilings. A stunning central staircase that spirals up to the second, and in some places, third, floor. Marble flooring. Light floods in from the windows. Crystal chandeliers, original artwork. Everything drips with opulence.

  We head through the foyer and into the living room, and I’m constantly aware of the emotions playing across Aidan’s face. Mostly it’s shock, but there’s envy too, and at times even disgust. There’s an antique vase set on display in the living room that cost my mother twenty grand. When she bought it on one of her many vacations, I hadn’t a care. It’s her money and she can do what she wants with it, so long as she’s happy. But now I’m thinking how ridiculous it is that someone could spend that much money on an object for decorative purposes. This is money Aidan has never seen in his life. This is the world I came from. For the first time, I see it not as a source of pride, but a source of shame.

  “The kitchen,” I mutter, gesturing briefly to the open room we pass through, hoping we can get this tour over as quickly as possible, but he st
ops and takes it all in. I have a feeling he doesn’t want to miss a single detail. It feels like he’s making a tally or something. All the unnecessary stuff—because that’s what it is. Stuff. The luxury.

  Christ, this makes me uncomfortable.

  We move into the dining room, then the sunroom.

  “The what room?”

  I stop and look at him. Confusion twists his features. “The sunroom. It’s a place to sit and hang out.” As if you couldn’t do that in any of the other twenty rooms in the house.

  He nods at this. Tension winds me tighter and tighter.

  “Let’s go upstairs,” I say.

  Aidan follows quietly behind me. This is where my bedroom and my siblings’ bedrooms are. My parents’ bedroom is located on the first floor in a different wing of the house. Since it’s equally enormous and extravagant, it’s probably best we skip that.

  My bedroom isn’t nearly as large. Since I don’t technically live here, it’s more of a guest room. Nothing fancy. Queen-sized bed, dresser, desk. My room overlooks the backyard, and Aidan moves to the window to peer down where the party is currently in full swing. White tents dot the green grass and people wearing silk and cashmere mill about, sipping flutes of Champagne.

  Aidan frowns. “I thought you said this was going to be a barbeque.”

  I’m feeling more uncomfortable by the minute. The thing is, I said barbeque because I thought he wouldn’t show if he knew it was a catered event. I don’t think my parents have had a barbeque in their life. Even my birthday parties growing up were catered or cooked by a private chef. I think we ordered pizza once. Maybe. Could be a dream though for all I remember.

  I come stand next to him. He turns slightly toward me, but his eyes remain on the backyard.

  Fuck. Normally I’d lie about something like this. If it was my brother or any of my teammates—who can kindly go fuck themselves—I would, but Aidan is an honest guy, and just the knowledge that he’s acting straight with me when other people wouldn’t, I should give him the same curtesy.

  “You’re right. I did say it was a barbeque. And I lied.”

  He says, voice toneless, “Why?”

  I shrug, slipping my hands into my pocket. “I didn’t think you’d come if I told you otherwise.”

  He considers this. His blue eyes are intense on mine, and I’m not sure if I should step back or step toward him. Softly, he says, “You’re probably right about that. This is a little... much for me.”

  Which I fully expected. “We don’t have to stay if you’re uncomfortable. But my siblings are down there—well, two of them—and I thought it would be cool if you wanted to meet them. You’d probably get along with my brother Noah. He’s into computer science and is as smart as you.”

  Something in his face softens, the tension ebbing away. “You think I’m smart, huh?”

  The question manages to pull a smile from me. My body, too, relaxes as whatever weird feeling between us dissipates. “The smartest.” I bump my shoulder against his, and he smiles wider at that, looking flustered. When Aidan blushes, it’s the most adorable thing. Would it be wrong to maul him in my bedroom?

  Taking his hand in mine, I tug him out of the room and down the stairs. “When you want to leave, just tell me and we’ll go.”

  Chapter 14

  Aidan

  To say I was shocked when we pulled up to Sebastian’s parents’ house would be an understatement. It’s not a house. It’s more. Mansion suggests wealth, but it doesn’t have the class that this place does. An estate, then. His parents’ estate.

  As Sebastian leads me downstairs and out into the backyard, I’m incredibly aware that this is not my world. Everything is untouchable. Nice to look at, but cold, ultimately. Who needs a life-sized bronze statue of a centaur in their living room? I’m sure it cost a fortune, yet was probably pocket change to the Dumonts. And here I am, ripped jeans from a thrift store, one-dollar soap on my skin, wondering how I’m going to allot my money for next month. I’m not in debt, at least, but the threat never feels far off. Being here feels like I’m wearing a collar that tightens slowly over time. Soon I won’t have any air to breathe.

  Outside, it’s nearly as extravagant as the inside. Women in pearls and men in top hats and suspenders mingle, the scent of expensive perfume and cologne trailing like a creeping vine along the ground. There’s an honest to God ice sculpture and a string quartet playing. Mozart, I think. I keep close to Sebastian, who isn’t as dressed up as everyone else. Knowing him, his clothes only look casual. I’m sure they’re as expensive as the suits some of the guests are wearing.

  Then he does something that makes my brain go haywire and presses his hand to the small of my back, leading me to a table set with various hors d’oeuvres. There’s another guy our age with a distinct likeness to Sebastian in the jaw and olive-toned skin, though he has dark hair and piercing green eyes. I know without being introduced that it’s his brother.

  “Mav.” Sebastian nods in acknowledgement. “This is Aidan. Aidan, this is my brother, Maverick.”

  I reach forward to shake his hand. My palm is sweating. There are too many people. “Nice to meet you.”

  His gaze is curious, though not impolite. “You, too.” He gives Sebastian a questioning look before turning back to me. “Did you know you look like a young Jude Law?”

  That’s the second time this has come up. At this point, I don’t know what to say. I look into the mirror almost every day and I’ve never seen the resemblance. “Um.”

  His gaze is inquisitive. He adds, “You’re not someone I’d expect my older brother to bring as a date.”

  At the word date, I blanch. Is this a date? Crap. Quickly, I glance at Sebastian, who sends his brother a warning look. “Wh-what do you mean?” I manage.

  Mav, clearly, is having fun messing with his brother, so I’m not sure if he was serious about the date thing or not. “You seem like someone who has a good head on their shoulders. Sebastian has brought home too many snobs. You’re a breath of fresh air in comparison.” He smiles widely at Sebastian, who is tense at my side. I fight the urge to place a hand on his arm. It’s an instinctive gesture for me, to comfort someone, but whatever this is between us is too new and confusing for me to know for sure how that gesture would be interpreted.

  With that, his brother moves off somewhere else, and I’m left with the awkwardness between Sebastian and I. Turning to him, I say, “So I’m your date?” The smile isn’t far off.

  At first I think I’m imagining things, but no—his cheeks pinken. “It’s not a date,” he affirms. “You think I’d take you on a date to my parents’ house?” Yet he moves closer, his mouth lifting to speak near my ear in a low, soothing tone. “I’d much rather have you to myself.”

  The words ignite heat in my gut. It sounds . . . dirty. Or am I reading too much into it? Mutely, I nod.

  As abruptly as he leaned forward, he shifts back. “There’s my parents.” He sighs. “Don’t let anything they say offend you.”

  That doesn’t bode well, but I allow Sebastian to lead me to a pretty, slender woman who has stunning features even into middle age, and a severe looking man with tanned skin and gray, combed-back hair. They’re speaking with another couple, their outfits tasteful and elegant. The topic of conversation is, dare I say it, antique vases. Their guest mentions how they bought an antique Chinese vase from the Han dynasty last spring that was a steal. It only cost eight million dollars.

  I almost choke on my drink.

  “Mom, Dad.” Sebastian’s smile is pasted on. “Sorry to interrupt. Do you have a minute?”

  His mother’s gaze lands on me, and she can’t keep the curiosity from her expression. It feels like I’m a piece in a museum. “Of course, Seb. Are you going to introduce us to your friend?”

  “This is Aidan. He’s my math tutor.”

  His father nods. “An admi
rable position.” His voice is deep, stern.

  Without realizing it, I square my shoulders. “Thank you.” Judging from Sebastian’s discreet glance my way, I’m guessing he senses the discomfort I’m feeling. I would rather be anywhere else than here.

  “I expect our Sebastian to be given the best treatment,” his mother says. “As you know, he’s the star of the team. He needs passing grades.” She looks at me long and hard.

  If only I could keep my mouth shut. “I mean no disrespect, but Sebastian’s an adult. He can decide whether he wants to put in the work or not.” A pause, his parents taken aback by my bluntness. “But he has been working hard.”

  They both nod. Now I’ve made them uncomfortable. “Good to hear,” says his father. Sebastian mutters things under his breath.

  When his parents move to speak with other people, he says, “Sorry about that. They’re a bit protective of me.”

  “Yeah,” I mutter. “I can see that.”

  After two hours of mingling and pasting a smile on my face, I feel the need to retreat. Like, now. Sebastian speaks to a posh, older gentleman with a cane. I don’t want to interrupt, so I quickly make my way back up the lawn toward the house. My plan is to lock myself in the bathroom for ten or fifteen minutes my anxiety is under control, but there’s a line ten people long. In the end, I retreat to their front porch. It’s empty save one person sitting in one of the chairs, his head bent over a Nintendo DS.

  “Mind if I join you?” I ask, gesturing to the chair across from him.

  He lifts his head. Dark, dark eyes peer back at me behind stylish, wire-framed glasses. Strong jaw, straight nose, and hair that is so brown so as to be nearly black curls over the back of his neck. The guy looks to be a few years younger than me. He nods.

  I sit with a deep sigh, lean my head back, and close my eyes. The music and conversation drift over from the backyard, but it’s distant. This is the most peace and quiet I’ve had in hours, and part of me hopes Sebastian won’t realize I’m gone until it’s time to leave.