“So which one of my brother’s friends are you?” comes a deep, quiet voice.
I open my eyes to find the guy studying me. Then I realize what he said. “You’re Sebastian’s brother?” As soon as I say the words, I remember him mentioning one of his brothers being into video game design. Also, duh. This is Kellan’s twin.
He nods. “I’m guessing you’re not one of his teammates.”
“No.” I laugh a little at that.
“I’m not a fan either.” His eyes narrow. He keeps watching me.
I gesture to his game. “What are you playing?”
In answer, he passes me the game. It’s one I don’t recognize.
“I designed it myself,” he explains.
I begin fiddling with the controllers. I’m playing the character of a superhero and it seems my job is to save the city. The graphics are impressive. When I die, I pass it back to him. “It’s good. How long have you been working on it?”
“This one I finished in about five months, but I still have some tweaking to do.” There’s the barest hint of a smile. “Glad to know I’m not the only one who can’t stand my family.”
I’m not sure what to say to that. True, his parents were a little, well, much. I’m not trying to be ungrateful. I’m a guest, after all, but it’s not my scene. I don’t care for material things or status. “They’re nice.”
Now he’s the one who laughs.
“No, really.” I shrug. “It’s not my scene, that’s all.”
“Yeah, try living with them.”
“I’m guessing you’re not a soccer player?”
“Nope. I’m in school for game design. Way better use of my time than sweating on a hot field with a bunch of other assholes.”
Immediately, I feel a kinship with him. Video game design sounds pretty nerdy, same as math. An analytical mind. Noah seems like someone I’d get along with. Sebastian had said as much, and I think he was right.
“I was wondering where you went.”
I startle at Sebastian’s voice, and a moment later, he slides onto the loveseat beside me, his thigh warm and hard against mine, his smell tantalizing. His arm goes over the back of the chair, the tips of his fingers brushing my shoulder. It takes a huge effort not to lean into him. Not sure how his brother would feel about that, though he seems pretty chill. Us introverts have to stick together.
Noah looks between us. And suddenly his face relaxes into a stunning smile. He doesn’t have Sebastian’s golden boy looks, but there’s something about this kid that whispers of a dark intensity. “I like him,” he announces to his brother, jerking his chin at me.
“Yeah?” Sebastian offers me a slow grin. The effect is devastating and makes my heart kick into overdrive. “Me, too.”
Three days following Sebastian’s party, I receive a text from him while I’m busy inputting grades for one of my classes. It’s the weekend, but I’m behind. Tutoring has been taking up more time than I would like, but I enjoy the time spent with Sebastian, so right now, it’s not something I’m willing to give up. I can deal with a few hours less sleep for the night.
What are you up to today?
My heart pounds in my throat as I debate on whether to tell the truth—I’m working—or to push my work off for another night. In the end, I decide on the truth. Sebastian can interpret it how he likes. Grading. Then I have to tweak a few of my lesson plans. The PowerPoint presentations are outdated.
Sounds boring as hell.
At that, I roll my eyes, though I can’t stop my mouth from inching into a smile. It’s a typical Sebastian response. A few weeks of tutoring is enough to have familiarized myself with his humor. Half the reason he says it is because he doesn’t understand what I’m talking about.
Sometimes it is, I concede. I love math, but I don’t love every class I have to teach.
You know what’s better than grading papers?
My attention is firmly fixed on my phone screen, the lesson plans forgotten. What?
Three dots appear to signal that he’s typing. Everything.
I huff a laugh, shake my head. This guy.
After a minute passes, he types again. I don’t have to tell you it’s the weekend and you’re stuck in your office. I was going to go hiking today. You should come with me.
My first instinct is to say no. I’m a responsible person. There’s not a spontaneous bone in my body. For example, I can’t just decide to watch a show or movie. I have to research ahead of time to determine if it’s something I’d enjoy. And I always write a list before going to the grocery store. Always.
As if sensing my reluctance, Sebastian types, You’re in the prime of your life and you want to waste your time grading? It’s time to live a little. Come on. I promise I’ll make it worth your while. He follows that with a smiley face, and I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but my body perks up and takes notice. God, I don’t know what I’m doing, but Sebastian is making me feel scary things. And that’s the reason I’m hesitating, right? Fear? I’ve never been pursued by anyone before. Generally, I fade into the background. I’ve been happy with my life, for the most part. Being around Sebastian, however, makes me think he’s rubbed some of his spontaneity, his carefree attitude, onto me. I respond with, I’m not dressed for hiking.
His reply is immediate. I’ll pick you up from school and stop by your place so you can change. Meet me at the student union in ten.
Twenty minutes later, dressed in exercise clothes, we head out to a hiking trail about ten miles from campus. Sitting in Sebastian’s Ferrari, I feel like I’m in another world. The leather seats are butter soft. It smells of new car, and that’s because I’m pretty sure it’s only a few months old—however long it’s been since he moved to Indiana. He drives with confidence, one hand on the wheel, the other on the shifter. It’s a manual. He knows how to handle this beast of an engine. Makes me wonder what other things he can handle.
For most of the drive, we don’t speak. There’s a comfort to the silence, probably because we’re used to being in the other person’s company.
“You ever been to this park?” he asks as we turn into the entrance gates.
I just look at him. “Do I look like someone who hikes a lot?”
He gives me a slow once-over, taking his time. My nipples harden into points. “Then I’m looking forward to getting you all hot and sweaty,” comes his rumbled response.
Mumbling something, I turn to look out the window, taking in the area as we park. The trees are full green but in the next few weeks they will start to change as fall hits. It’s a very grassy area, with a few picnic tables and paths that disappear into the tall pine trees. A few minutes later, we head to the trail head. Sebastian is dressed in sneakers, soccer shorts, and a jersey. He wears sunglasses and a backwards cap with his curls pushing out the sides of the cap. The breadth of his shoulders stretch the fabric of his jersey. I realize I’m staring when he turns to ask me a question.
“What?” My eyes snap up to his.
The tension changes between us. It’s crackling outward, around us, pulling taut with tangible need. Heat pools in my body as I watch his eyes darken, his pupils enlarge, his lips part, wettened by the tip of his tongue. I’m staring and I don’t care. Not anymore.
It’s then I realize we’re the only people here. The picnic area is deserted. Gray clouds roll in from the south, threatening rain.
His hands are on my back. He pushes me against the map post, and the heat of his body cloaks the front of mine. Sebastian’s mouth hovers a few inches from my own.
My blood is a thrum in my ears. He’s so close I can taste his breath, the remembrance of the last kiss we shared. It’s been weeks now. The truth is, I’ve wanted to kiss him again but haven’t had the courage to do so. When he tilts his pelvis against mine, I feel the length of his cock press into my thigh. It’s hard as i
ron and swollen with desire.
“Do you know,” he whispers, the words dark, “how many times I’ve imagined bending you over and plowing into your ass?” He moves up to my ear, licking the fleshy lobe, tugging it between his teeth. My groan catches. My eyelashes flutter. God, that feels good. Heat rushes up my neck, flooding that erogenous zone.
He bites my ear again, harder. The sting makes my blood sing. There’s something wrong with me. Maybe I like the pain. Or maybe I like that it’s Sebastian who’s doing it.
“Aidan,” he croons in that deep voice of his. “You didn’t answer the question.”
I’ve forgotten what he said. “What was the question?”
“Do you know how many times I’ve imagined bending you over and fucking you in the ass?”
Oh. Right.
“Ah.” My throat bobs. Do not stutter. “No.”
“Every damn night. Ever had anyone jerk off to the thought of you?”
Wow. Okay. I’m getting way in over my head and this guy is so far out of my league so as to be on another planet.
He keeps going. “Maybe one night I’ll let you watch. Would you like that?”
Sebastian Dumont has the dirtiest mouth I’ve ever heard. I feel close to fainting from his proximity, the intoxication of his scent. I’m his math tutor. He’s a gorgeous soccer player. And somehow, he chose me.
A soft, helpless sound falls from my mouth as he palms my cock through my shorts. It takes everything in me not to thrust into his hand.
“Before this day ends,” he says, sex in his voice, “I’m going to make you come so hard, the only name in your head will be mine. That’s a promise.”
With that, he eases back, his smile subtle, tinged by mystery. My breath comes in shallow pants. It takes me a moment to realize he didn’t kiss me. I thought for sure he would. I was ready for it. I wanted it. I still want it. But now he sends me a come-hither look, and I’m drawn by his energy, up the path through the trees, my mind a tangle.
I’m not sure how long we hike. In the first few miles, I keep a few feet behind him, checking out his excellent butt. It’s one of my favorite parts of him, I’ve decided. The next mile or so he starts to slow, and I speed up until we’re hiking side by side, close enough for our arms to brush every once in a while. A few other hikers grace the trail. Some students, at one point an elderly couple. The weather is perfect, and I don’t even notice the weariness in my legs. I mean, I mostly sit at a desk or walk around a classroom. Sebastian is the one who gets intense physical exercise daily. He seems to be aware of this though, as he doesn’t push too hard. The last thing I want to do is embarrass myself by collapsing.
When we reach the top, I catch my breath. We’re at the summit of a bald mound with shallow, rolling mountains and shades valleys from every angle. Sebastian indicates for me to follow him to an overhang, where he sits and hangs his legs over the edge. I approach a little more cautiously. He turns his head, sees me hovering a few feet away. “I’m not going to push you off.”
“If you do, you’ll never pass math.”
“That’s why I won’t do it.”
Can’t tell if he’s being funny or serious. I sit anyway. His shoulder presses to mine, and together, we stare out at the phenomenal vista view.
“Your family seems nice,” I say, because I’m awkward like that.
Sebastian laughs. “You weren’t thrilled with them, were you. At least, not my parents. Maybe not Mav either. It’s okay. They’re not for everyone. And I’m aware they do things that might be uncomfortable to you.”
What he says isn’t untrue, but I don’t want him to feel like I’m judging his family. You can’t help what family you were born into or where you came from. “Noah was cool.”
“Yeah, I figured you’d like him. He’s the smartest of all of us. He wants to make video games, but he’s honestly smart enough to work for NASA if he wanted to. Never met a harder worker either.”
“You mean you’re saying someone does something better than you?” I ask, a quirk to my mouth.
He shifts his body toward mine, giving me a clear view of his beautiful eyes. The sun hits them just right, making the green shards glitter like fractured light. “Oh, I know people are better than me at most things. But not soccer. That’s something I can say with confidence that most people don’t come close to my skill.” He speaks with confidence. Like it’s a fact.
“How are you going to deal with your team going forward?”
He’s quiet. A rarity. The mountains are beginning to change their colors in patches, shading from green into gold. It’s one of my favorite things living in the northern United States. I can do without the winter, but the beauty of approaching fall makes it worthwhile.
“You remember when you told me I wasn’t a team player?” he asks softly, staring straight ahead.
I glance at him from the corner of my eye. It makes me wonder if I overstepped, but at the time, I was angry at how self-absorbed he was acting, the things he was saying. Do I regret saying those things? No. Do I regret how I said them? Yes. It’s rare that my anger gets away from me, but Sebastian pushes my buttons like nobody’s business.
“I remember,” I answer.
“You were right.”
I wait for him to go on. Sometimes I think what Sebastian wants is someone to listen to him. I’ve gotten that sense during our tutoring sessions when he talks about everything under the sun. His teammates write him off because of his attitude, but what if he has the attitude because he doesn’t think that what he says is important? That’s why I lend him an ear.
“My attitude sucks. I’ve been an absolute ass to my team.”
He’s not wrong, but I’ve hammered on Sebastian enough that I don’t want to beat him down any further. “Everyone has their moments,” I say.
“And when it’s all the time?”
The question settles. Sebastian taking issue with his behavior showcases growth. At the end of the day, I don’t want to judge people for their actions all the time. Liking Sebastian—and I do like him—means I take all of who he is, not just the preferable parts. He does have an attitude, but his self-awareness gives me hope.
“So what are you going to do going forward? That’s what you should ask yourself. Changing your thoughts is connected to your actions. Your actions determine everything.”
As I speak, he nods to himself, his eyes faraway. “I’ve treated my teammates pretty horribly. I’d probably start with an apology.”
Guilt tinges his voice. That’s good. People need to understand that in life, actions lead to consequences, whether positive or negative. If you don’t like the consequences, change the action. “That sounds like a good idea.”
Lifting a hand, he brushes the hair from his forehead. A moment later, the wind picks up. He turns his head with a half-smile in my direction. “When I think about how I treated you that first meeting, I’m ashamed at myself. It’s made me realize I’ve treated people that way for a long time—for my own gain—and I’ve gotten used to it. Expected it, even.” His hand lands on my shoulder and gives it a squeeze. It’s not a sexual act. It’s comforting. The gesture of a friend. “Now I realize you’re someone I’m glad to have in my corner.”
I’m touched by the sentiment. His eyes are clear, bright, and vulnerable. It can’t be easy to admit his wrongdoings. It’s even harder to make change.
Sebastian returns his focus to the stunning vista. “I guess that’s why I turned to alcohol to cope. It numbs the shame I have about who I’ve become, and that’s someone I’m not proud of.”
“Do you think you should avoid drinking until you have a better handle on your life?”
A pause. “Yeah. I should. Going forward, I want to make better choices. Maybe in six or seven months I can review my progress, but for now I’m going to take a break.”
“That’s admirable.” I
mean it. Drinking yourself into a fool can have serious consequences. “What’s something else you want to change?”
“It’s funny.” Except he’s not laughing. His face is somber, his mouth hard. “Every coach I’ve ever had has spoken to me specifically about teamwork, and I never listened to any of them. My pro career won’t last if I can’t change my ways. It doesn’t matter how good of a player I am. They want people who work as a team, not themselves.” His dark lashes lower, shielding his gaze from me. “But to answer your question, I need to get better about taking direction from others. I’m going to talk to the team captain about some stuff. Max isn’t so bad. He’s a good guy who got the unlucky task of dealing with me.” His mouth softens at the barb. “I’ll start there and see where it gets me.”
This entire conversation has taught me it’s never too late to decide what kind of person you want to be. If Sebastian can look himself in a mirror and work toward change, then I can do the same.
That includes taking risks. Letting Sebastian in, trusting him. Sebastian likes me. I like him, enjoy his company, the conversation. So what am I so afraid of?
After another hour of conversation, Sebastian and I hike back to his car. We talked about every topic under the sun, even geometry, which surprised me. In a pleasant way, of course. He drives toward the highway that will take us north, back toward Notre Dame, when he abruptly heads south.
“Where are we going?” I ask, curious.
His smile holds devilish overtones. “My parents’ house.”
The thought gives me heart palpitations. Not that I dislike his parents, but again, I’m not the best person in social settings, and we don’t run in the same circle. What do I have to say about art or complaining about the latest high-end luxury resort? I’m trying to get through life without a massive amount of debt. That’s all. “Why is that?”
“Chill. They’re not home.” His eyes crinkle as he whips past a bunch of cars. At my look, he slows down some. I’m not a fan of speeding. It’s one of the dumbest risks to take. “But they have a hot tub and I’m feeling in the mood.”
Sebastian (The Dumonts Book 1) Page 10