The Guys Are Props Club

by Ingrid Seymour

  “How are you, Madison?” Matt said.

  “Oh, hi.” I was surprised he knew my name, then figured Sebastian must have told him something about me. No one else called me Madison. My mind was working in overdrive as I also realized that Matt must have told Jessica about my rooftop date with Sebastian. That’s how she’d found out!

  We stood awkwardly, waiting for the bartender. I wanted to melt out of that dress and seep into the floorboards.

  “Um, well,” Matt said, taking Jessica’s hand. “We’ll see you guys around. I’ve gotta dance with my girl.” Jessica set her glass down on the bar, waved with two fingers and went with Matt.

  Sebastian followed them with his eyes, tight-lipped. A muscle in his jaw worked at a steady pace. Flushed with shame, I excused myself to the ladies’ room to take a few breaths and recover a little. When I came back out, Sebastian wasn’t by the bar anymore. I looked nervously around the room. My heart fell to my knees when I finally spotted him.

  He was arguing with Jessica.

  Chapter 20

  The silence in the car as we drove back to Irvine was absolute. Sebastian gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white over its polished surface. He looked troubled and furious.

  For my part, I kept replaying the image of Sebastian looming over Jessica, his eyebrows drawn together, his hands clenched at his sides. More than anything, I kept replaying the moment he broke away, looked around, and walked in my direction. I pretended I hadn’t seen him arguing with my roommate, while he composed himself and pretended he wasn’t angry at Jessica.

  As the miles went by, the images played faster and faster in my head, heading toward an inevitable collision. By the time we drove into campus, my initial worries had grown into full-blown suspicion. I couldn’t fathom why they had been arguing, but none of my guesses suggested anything good.

  Something was going on between Jessica and Sebastian, something I should have seen coming, especially after the last G.A.P. meeting when she had acted so weird and proclaimed that I was Playing Sebastian. Or after she started avoiding me like I was an infectious biological agent.

  My mouth felt sour as awful scenarios danced through my head, the worst of them being the idea that either Jessica, Sebastian or both were pulling a Play on me.

  The car stopped in a place I didn’t recognize.

  “Where are we?” I asked, panicking a little.

  “My place.”

  I had never been to Sebastian’s apartment before, and at this moment I didn’t feel particularly inclined to walk into his den—not when my mind was reeling with suspicion, hurt, anger and much more. He must have noticed something in my expression, because he hurried to explain.

  “I didn’t want to go to your place, because I want to talk to you . . . in private.”

  Apprehension built in my chest, tightening like a metal strap around my ribs. What did he want to talk to me about? Would he tell me he and Jessica were involved?

  I pushed those ideas aside and concentrated on something more concrete: His request to talk in his apartment. I knew Sebastian didn’t have a roommate, so his place would certainly offer the privacy he sought. Considering that Jessica had been M.I.A. lately, my place would’ve probably worked, too, but there was no guarantee she would not show up, especially after tonight. Still, there was as much privacy inside the car as anywhere else, and it seemed much safer than his apartment.

  “We can talk right here,” I said, thinking it would be fitting to break up in his car, since this was where he’d asked me to be his girlfriend in the first place. Because what else did he have to tell me, but something that would lead to a record-setting, girlfriend-for-one-night, heart-crushing break up? How did I ever convince myself to open the door to heartbreak once more? I was such a fool.

  “This could take a while,” he said. “The car might not be the most comfortable place to talk. C’mon, I’ll make you some chamomile tea.”

  “Chamomile tea?” The suggestion sounded absurd.

  “Yeah. Something wrong with tea? It’s too late for coffee, unless you’re not planning to sleep.” He gave me a mischievous glance that made me blush. How could he be joking right now?

  “Um, no, it’s just that tea isn’t a drink of choice for most guys—not that I’m aware of, anyway.” Why were we talking about tea?

  “My dad used to always make me a cup every night after dinner.” His voice acquired that regretful tone it had the first time he told me about his dad. It was more than clear how much he missed him. “He used to sit with me and we would talk.”

  Sebastian’s eyes became unfocused, as though looking back to days past, to a time when life had been more than good to him.

  He continued. “Dad gave me advice, asked about my fears and concerns. He listened and never judged me. I was always able to trust him, no matter how difficult the topic of conversation. All he ever wanted was for me to be myself and be honest. As long as we had that, he said we'd be alright.” He sighed.

  Even though I feared the conversation, and the impending confirmation that I’d made a huge mistake by opening myself up to him, I couldn’t refuse his invitation when he returned his gaze to me.

  As we walked upstairs to his apartment, he tried to take my hand, but I pretended to scratch my nose to move it out of the way. He was not a fool, though, and gave me a wary look.

  When he opened the door and let me in, my heart’s pace increased a notch. I tried to tell myself the anxiety was due to our impending conversation, but it was a lie. There was a very good reason why we’d avoided being alone together.

  Man, I hated myself for even thinking along those lines. He was about to tell me something that would probably break me once and for all, in a way David hadn’t quite managed, and here I was, afraid I would let him get me under his sheets.

  “Make yourself comfortable,” Sebastian said. “I’ll be right back.”

  He turned to the right in the direction of a narrow door that I assumed was the bathroom. As he disappeared, I found myself standing in a small loft apartment. To my left, there was a tiny but modern kitchenette. Next was the living room area, where a floor lamp glowed in one corner and a comfortable-looking sofa filled most of the space. Against the wall, opposite the living room, there was a double bed with a denim duvet cover and navy blue pillows.

  I walked across the room to a small computer desk by the window. Contrasting the tidiness in the rest of the apartment, an iBook rested amidst several open textbooks, pens, and scattered sheets of paper.

  A paperback novel on top of a low bookshelf caught my attention. I set my small purse on the desk and turned the novel to read its title. It was Paradise Lost, one of our English assignments. I looked at the other books on top of the bookshelf and noticed my copy of The Road lying at the end. Something shiny rested on top of it. It was a tab from a soda can. It had a smudge of pink lip gloss on it. Was this the tab I’d played with during our rooftop date?! Tentatively, I lifted a finger to it and nudged it, wondering if it was possible, if he had . . .

  “I’ll boil some water,” Sebastian said behind me, startling me.

  I turned, wrapping my arms around my stomach. Sebastian stopped in front of the bar-style counter, removed his jacket and draped it over a tall bar stool. Next, he removed the vest and pulled the dress shirt’s tails out of his pants.

  “How many sugars would you like?” he asked as he took two cups out of the cabinet.

  “Two.”

  Five minutes later, we sat next to each other on the sofa, cradling hot cups of tea in our hands.

  “It’s good,” I said, taking a sip, privately wishing that tonight had never happened.

  When we had finished our tea, he took my cup and set it with his on a side table, then angled his body in my direction.

  His clear eyes looked troubled. I felt him waver, trying to decide how to begin. It was clear he wasn’t looking forward to this conversation either. I hated the way he seemed to be rifling through his thoughts as if loo
king for the right words to spare me what he was about to say. His gaze fell to the floor.

  “So what’s going on between you and Jessica?” I blurted out, unable to stand it any longer.

  Sebastian’s eyes snapped back to mine. He swallowed and even through his olive skin, I could see he’d gone a little pale.

  “I saw you arguing with her at the club,” I explained, worrying at the hem of my dress.

  “I see.” He nodded. “That makes this a lot easier, since I don’t want you to have the wrong impression about what you saw. I really do need to explain everything now. Good.”

  Confused by his words, I shifted to look at him better and examined his face.

  Sebastian cleared his throat. “I’ve been wanting to talk you about Jessica, but . . . I wasn’t sure how. I wasn’t even sure I should.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, you guys are roommates, friends, I didn’t know if you’d believe me. I told you a few things at first, but you didn’t seem to take them well. We’d just met, and you’ve known her for a while. I didn’t want to interfere or cause a rift in your friendship, but after seeing her tonight, I’ve decided I need to tell you.”

  I took one of the throw pillows from the sofa and hugged it to my stomach. Sebastian waited for me to say something, but I just gave him a slow blink, inviting him to tell me what was on his mind.

  At this point, I was already resigned to the night ending badly.

  Chapter 21

  Sebastian cleared his throat, squared his shoulders and told me about Jessica.

  “From the day I met you two in Cristina’s dance class,” he began, “Jessica started . . . flirting with me.”

  So far so good. I knew this for a fact. “Go on,” I encouraged him as he paused and sat straighter, turning his shoulders away from me. By now, I felt pretty sure where this was going. He had slept with Jessica, and the guilt was eating him up. I bit my tongue to stop the angry scream that rose to my throat. It was happening all over again, and it was my fault. I had allowed it.

  “I told you about what she did that night after we went to The Bongo Room that first time. You know about the kiss and the . . . condoms.” He rested his elbows on his knees, and placed his chin on clasped hands.

  “After that,” he went on, “I started running into her. Everywhere, it seemed. At the food court and when I walked out of my classes. She was very forward about what she wanted, if you know what I mean.”

  “No, I don’t know what you mean.” My voice brimmed with contempt. I had no intention of making this easy for him. I just knew he had slept with her, and I wasn’t going to let him call that, “you know what I mean.”

  Sebastian turned and looked at me. His eyes were full of understanding, and I hated him for it. He knew full well what he’d done, and how vulnerable I was in that moment.

  Then his expression changed. He frowned. “C’mon, Madison.” He seemed irritated and not willing to elaborate.

  I clenched my jaw, anger bubbling inside me like magma inside a volcano. I didn’t know how much longer I would be able to hold the eruption back. I was at the edge of going nuclear on him. Of calling him a lying bastard and storming out.

  “Anyway,” he said, taking a deep breath. “I was starting to worry about her, thinking maybe she was some sort of stalker or crazy . . . crazy girl.”

  It seemed he’d been about to call her a bitch, but refrained for my sake.

  “You should know that I was very clear with her. I realized very quickly I wasn’t interested in her and made it known in very clear terms. That’s why it was so disturbing when she kept coming on to me, even after hearing that. Then a few days ago, she stopped bothering me, and I thought she’d finally got it in her head that I didn’t like her that way—or any way, to be honest.

  “Then, tonight, when I saw her with Matt, I just lost it. He’s a good friend of mine. A good guy. I don’t know what she’s up to, but it can’t be good, and I don’t want him to get caught up in that. I know she’s your friend, and you probably don’t believe a word I’m saying, but I had to say something to her. So there.” He threw his hands up and let them fall back down with a heavy, despondent gesture.

  I sat there hugging the pillow for a long minute, not even blinking. Sebastian’s jaw muscles worked as he stared at the floor, avoiding eye contact at all cost.

  “That’s it?” I finally asked.

  Sebastian’s eyes snapped to mine. He looked confused. His mouth opened, but he didn’t say anything.

  “I thought . . . I thought you were going to tell me that you slept with her,” I confessed.

  “What?! No, I didn’t sleep with her!” Sebastian sounded utterly offended, as if I’d accused him of murder or worse.

  “I’m sorry, Madison, but Jessica isn’t a good person. She’s shallow and has terrible morals. I’ve met girls like her before, and I can assure you, I do my best to stay away from them. It’s not what I want for my future.”

  Two things about his comment had me reeling. One, if he thought Jessica had loose morals, what would he think of me if he learned what I’d done to Steve last semester? Two, what did he mean by “what he wanted for his future?” I pushed this last question aside. I couldn’t worry about that. The way things were going, I doubted there would be a future to worry about.

  I concentrated on the first question because it gave me a way to defend Jessica as much as myself. “You don’t know Jessica. She’s been through a lot.”

  “Whatever she’s been through doesn’t excuse that sort of behavior, Madison. It’s like she’s deliberately setting out to hurt people,” Sebastian said, sounding both impatient and understanding at the same time. “I know you care about her—that’s just how you are—but I hope you see what I mean.”

  “Sebastian, everybody makes mistakes, she just . . .” I trailed off, unable to complete any defense for what Jessica had done. For what she was still doing.

  When I couldn’t finish, he said, “Maybe you should talk to her.”

  I chuckled sadly. “I’ve been trying to, but I have the feeling she’s avoiding me.”

  “So,” Sebastian angled his body in my direction again. “You’re not mad at me?” The look in his eyes was vulnerable and endearing.

  I was a lot of things, but mad wasn’t one of them. Not anymore. He’d undone me with his honesty once more. The bulk of what I felt could only be described as guilt and embarrassment. I had to tell him. He didn’t deserve being lied to. Once he knew about The Guys Are Props Club, Jessica’s behavior would at least be explained, although not justified. More importantly, once I enlightened him, he would stop thinking so highly of me.

  “Sebastian . . . I . . .”

  He scooted closer to me, removed the pillow from my nervous fingers and set it aside. “I thought you would push me away.” He took one of my hands and kissed it. “I thought you would break up with me, and I didn’t want that. But I had to do the right thing, even at that risk.”

  His words felt like a slap in the face. I had to tell him. “Sebastian . . .”

  I stopped short at his huge smile. His eyes gleamed, happy and soothed. He pulled me into a tight hug, burying his face in my neck. “I’m so relieved.”

  Hesitantly, my arms wrapped around him. My head swam, and I couldn’t find the words to confess. I wasn’t as brave as he was, and the risk of ending this seemed more than I could handle. It was then that I realized Sebastian had gotten through all my barriers, and my feelings for him were starting to change.

  Holy shit!

  We held each other for a moment, then Sebastian pulled away slowly. His face was so close to mine, our noses almost touched. Slowly, he tilted his head and brought his lips to mine. His kiss was shy, tentative and very short. My lips protested when he pulled away. A slow, anxious exhale left me, betraying my disappointment, which was not lost on Sebastian.

  He kissed me again, but this time there was something different in the way his lips moved over mine. The shyness was gone
, replaced by the same voracity he’d always shown in the past. His renewed intensity awakened mine. My body yielded to Sebastian’s, unable to resist its call, a call that felt like something predestined, the inevitable beckoning of two bodies made for each other.

  His fingers buried themselves in my hair, reached around to the back of my neck and pulled me closer. When he found me willing, his tongue pushed its way inside my mouth and tasted me. He pulled away for one second. We were both breathless. His pupils were large and wild. He returned, kissing me as if he would devour me.

  As his lips traced a path to my naked shoulder, his left hand fell to my waist, accidentally brushing my breast. My nipples hardened immediately. I arched my back and a passionate groan sprang from the back of my throat. This seemed to drive Sebastian over the edge. He wrapped an arm around my lower back and pulled me until I lay flat on the sofa. He lay on top of me, with one hand beside my head, propping him up while he searched my face.

  Even through the raw desire in his expression, I could see hesitation. He needed to know I was okay with this. I grabbed a handful of his shirt and tugged, making space for him between my legs. He lowered his weight and fit perfectly there. I felt his arousal, strong against me. My eyes fluttered closed.

  His mouth fell on my naked shoulder once more. His kisses wandered lower, to the edge of my dress, then continued over the fabric until his mouth reached my nipple. I felt his warm breath through the fabric as his hand cupped me. My skin screamed for real contact. I had the urge to rip off my dress, so he could really touch me and kiss me everywhere. He continued to kiss me, his mouth tracing the swell of my breast from top to bottom. I wanted so much more.

  My hands fumbled with his shirt buttons, undoing one at a time with difficulty. When I managed to get the last one undone, I tried to peel the shirt off, but only succeeded in baring his shoulders. They were muscular and tan, and reflecting the lamp’s warm glow.

  Sebastian pushed up, knelt—his legs between mine—and flung the shirt off his back. It landed on the floor. My eyes drank in the perfection of his torso. His chest was smooth. His pecs perfect. I lifted my fingers to his abdomen and marveled at his chiseled muscles as I traced each one. My hand moved up and down with each agitated breath he took. A fine line of dark hairs trailed down from his belly button and disappeared behind the waistband of his pants. He was absolutely perfect.