The Guys Are Props Club

by Ingrid Seymour

  I looked down and saw the bulk of him under the cotton fabric of his boxers.

  “Sebastian,” I said, pushing my hand under the elastic band, to find his hardness throbbing.

  As if spurred on by my touch, his hand began moving in circles under my panties. My hand, in turn, wrapped around him and went down his length, finding him large and velvety smooth.

  Our hands moved in the same rhythm. His eyes were closed as he sucked on his bottom lip. I kissed his cheek, feeling like my body would snap with all the tension inside my muscles. He throbbed in my hand, and, in that moment, I felt that he was mine. I was lost trying to feel him, when he began doing something different with his fingers. His thumb stayed on my aching, pulsing knob, while his middle finger slid down to my core. It felt like he was everywhere, and for a few endless seconds, I was suspended in the feeling, in the totality of a moment where there was nothing but his touch.

  Then a wave of spasms began deep inside me and rippled outward, lighting every single one of my nerve endings on fire. I put a hand over my mouth and panted into it over and over, as wave after wave of sensation washed over me, until I was left limp and helpless in Sebastian’s arms.

  Chapter 24

  I never thought guilt could weigh so much. I’d felt heartache, and I had believed it to be the worst thing I would experience, but the guilt of lying to Sebastian was far worse than that. Telling the truth about Jessica and G.A.P. and me had been a difficult concept before. Now, after what had happened between us, that confession seemed absolutely impossible.

  Yet I had to do it, and I had to do it before we moved even further in our relationship, either physically or emotionally.

  It was undeniable that our physical attraction was explosive, so to get even two sentences into this ill-fated conversation, I had to talk to him in a public place. There was no doubt that the next time we were alone, we wouldn’t be able to resist going all the way.

  And if we went all the way, my feelings for Sebastian, which were already too complicated and intense to make sense of, would evolve into something dangerous and very likely incurable.

  So the day after Sebastian’s surprise visit, I texted him a message asking to meet in the most public place I could think of. My fingers hovered over the keys as I wished I could erase the past and give in to the intensity of my relationship with him. But I knew I couldn’t—not without telling him everything first.

  Finally, I clicked send.

  Me: “Need to talk. Meet me in the center of Aldrich Park at 5 p.m.”

  Sebastian: “Everything okay?”

  Me: “Maybe not.”

  He texted me six times after that, asking to meet me right away. He finally stopped when I typed a terse, “Later, please.”

  At lunch, I headed early toward the food court. I was walking down the pathway when a familiar figure caught my eye. Steve was walking ahead of me with a purposeful stride. Immediately, I slowed down my pace, letting him get further ahead of me. His pack bounced against his back with every step he took. After a few more strides a metal bottle slipped out of the backpack’s side pocket and clattered to the cement pathway.

  Steve cursed and turned to pick up his bottle. When he straightened, he caught sight of me and did a double take, recognizing me. He sneered and took a few steps in my direction. I stopped. We hadn’t talked since he’d tracked me down to call me ugly names after my text-message break-up.

  “Hi, Maddie,” he said, with a malicious look in his eyes.

  “Steve,” I said, looking around for an escape.

  “What have you been up to these days?” His mouth twisted in a sadistic grin that gave me a chill.

  “Nothing.”

  “Nothing . . . really?” He looked doubtful. “Guess who I ran into yesterday?”

  I shook my head, trying to indicate I didn’t know and didn’t want to know.

  “Jessica,” he announced with wicked satisfaction.

  My stomach churned.

  “We had a very interesting conversation,” he said, leaving me little doubt as to what their conversation had been about. “You two are a special pair,” he said with disdain. “I don’t know how I ever thought you were a good person.”

  “What I did was wrong,” I blurted out. “I’m sorry.”

  Steve laughed in an exaggerated manner. “Don’t be, sweetheart.” I cringed as he used the word he’d started using days before I closed the Play. “As a matter of fact, after what I just learned, I’m glad things didn’t go any further. You’re not worth an ounce of the feelings I had for you.”

  I was taken aback by his candid confession.

  “Yeah, I’m not embarrassed to admit it. Not after learning I was dealing with a professional deceiver.”

  “It’s not like that, Steve. I’m not—” I said, but he kept going, talking over me.

  “I bought into your act. Let me tell you, your little, innocent girl charade is excellent. You even had me believing you were a virgin when you’re really just a slut.” The word felt like a physical assault. I shied away from him.

  The sour taste of shame flooded my mouth, because it was true. I had Played Steve with the truth. I had been myself with him. There had been no act in that respect. The only thing I had faked was my attraction to him. He was a good-looking guy, but I had never felt that way about him.

  I’d approached him shyly, spurred by Jessica. When my Play had a slow start—due mainly to my passive reluctance to go with it—she intervened, telling me that my best bet with Steve was to be myself. She said that handsome, athletic guys like him have had it all: Sluts, vixens, preppy girls, studious girls. But she was almost certain he’d never had a virgin. She said that men love to be first with a girl, that it feeds their egos.

  I didn’t like the idea and tried to tell Jessica it wouldn’t work, that I was a failure at pretending. But my protests were weak. I was confused, thought that maybe, if I were more like Jessica, I would feel happier. She seemed so enthusiastic all the time, so in control. I wanted to feel that way, but it seemed like I was stuck, living in the past and feeling as if I’d never outgrow what had happened with David.

  However, being with Steve only managed to make me feel dirty and low. Maybe it would have been easier if I hadn’t suspected Steve was developing real feelings for me, if he’d truly been the slimy pig Brandy had portrayed him to be. But he had been nice to me, had believed I reciprocated his attraction and had done nothing that suggested he deserved to be Played.

  “I’m not proud of what I did,” I said, staring at the ground.

  “Yeah, and you expect me to believe you?” he tsked and shook his head. “I’m not stupid. You’re lying scum.”

  Steve turned to leave then stopped.

  “Oh, by the way, I thought you’d like to know, I finally picked a major.”

  During the short time we’d dated, we talked about him making a decision on majors. He’d been struggling between choosing something that would please his parents and something he wanted to do for himself. Still, it was odd for him to bring it up so casually after insulting me.

  Steve grinned. “I decided on theater.” His eyes glinted with malice before he walked into the student center and disappeared behind its glass doors.

  Oh, God. He knew Sebastian!

  Chapter 25

  As I stood, going over what Steve had said, I felt the color drain from my face.

  Sebastian was a theater major, too. Given the malice in Steve’s eyes I had no doubt he knew I was dating him. Maybe they even shared a class. The question was: Had Steve told me as a threat? Or was it too late, and he’d already told Sebastian everything?

  I tried to imagine what Sebastian’s reaction would be if he learned about my mistakes from someone else. At the simple thought, I felt the world fold in on itself. Sebastian valued honesty more than anything. He’d been honest to me from the very beginning, showing me his true intentions and respecting me even when I was willing to give more in our physical relationship.r />
  It would have been bad enough for him to hear these things from me, but what if he heard them from Steve? What little hope I’d had of getting him to understand the puny justifications for what I’d done would evaporate.

  I looked around wondering where I could find Sebastian. I couldn’t wait until 5 p.m. anymore. I had to find him now. I pulled out my cell phone and texted him.

  Me: “Where are you?”

  I waited, pacing in front of the food court while people who walked by threw curious glances my way. I got a response after the longest five minutes of my life.

  Sebastian: “Eating lunch.”

  My lungs seemed to forget how to operate. I tried to gulp down a breath that was stuck in my throat. It seemed to pass very slowly and painfully, then my heart started hammering. I inched toward the glass doors. My legs shook as I slowly moved forward.

  I crossed over the threshold, clinging to the strap of my messenger bag. My eyes did a quick sweep of the room. I spotted Steve first, standing by one of the tables, talking to somebody. To my dismay, when I took another step forward and the person Steve was talking to came into view, I discovered it was Sebastian.

  I froze, even while I wanted to scream and run toward Sebastian. I wanted to tell him to plug his ears, to wait for me, to give me the chance to explain. I, with my own lips, wanted to tell him what an awful person I was. I wanted to be the one to say that I deserved his anger, his hatred, and that if he never wanted to speak to me again, I would understand.

  Because, if I got to confess to him about this awful thing I’d done, then at least I might be able to keep a shred of my dignity, and might be able to claim I’d freely chosen to be honest, even when it was the most difficult thing I’d ever done. And maybe, just maybe, he would not hold against me the fact that I didn’t tell him earlier. Maybe, just maybe, he would still like me.

  But I became a statue, and with unblinking eyes I watched Sebastian’s face transform. His friendly smile fell slowly, then his eyebrows drew closer. A shadow fell over his face as Steve continued talking, gesturing with his hands.

  After a few seconds, Sebastian stood abruptly and seemed to issue a challenge. Steve took a step back and put his palms up in a pacifying gesture, then he shrugged and walked away.

  Sebastian stood there, staring at the floor and shaking his head slightly. He took the cell phone out of his pocket and looked at it. When he glanced up, his eyes wandered around the room, as if searching for something. Instinctively, I took a step back which drew his attention straight to me. Our eyes met, but I kept backing away.

  I shook my head, my brain trying to deny this unbearable situation. I couldn’t imagine a more terrible turn of events. He must have seen the guilt on my face. He’d probably seen it before—I’d been carrying it with me all this time—but now he could link it to something.

  Unable to stand the way he was looking at me, I kept backing out of the room, my panic rising with every step I took. By the time I reached the doors, I was almost running, a clear admission of my culpability. When I got outside, the cheery California sun mocked me. I continued down the pathway, but I hadn’t gotten very far when I heard Sebastian behind me.

  “Madison, wait!”

  He reached me after only a few strides. I stopped when he took my upper arm and tugged it. He forced me to face him, then let go of me, as if touching me wasn’t something he wanted to do anymore.

  “Is it true? What he told me, is it true?” he demanded.

  “Sebastian.” I swallowed. “I . . . I wanted to talk you, to tell you—”

  He interrupted me, his expression changing. “So it’s true. You set out to deceive that guy.” When he finished, what little trace of doubt had been on his features had disappeared.

  “Let me explain—”

  “What is there to explain? That you set out to deceive me, too? Is that it?”

  A girl walked around us and gave us an annoyed look. I waited until she had entered the building to respond.

  “No, I didn’t do that, Sebastian. I can explain. And after I do maybe you’ll think . . . maybe you’ll still . . .”

  “Still hate you?” he offered coldly, his green eyes dark and intense, holding an emotion that could very well be hate. Something inside my chest seemed to shrivel. Was it possible to go from liking someone to hating them so quickly?

  Well, I knew the answer to that, didn’t I? One day I had been in love with David, the next I could have killed him.

  It was absolutely possible.

  I gathered my strength by inhaling a deep breath. “Yes, maybe you’ll still hate me, but at least you might understand.”

  Sebastian looked up to the sky. His Adam’s apple rose and fell, as he tried to decide whether he should listen to me or not. After a moment, he let out a shaky breath and lowered his gaze to mine.

  “I will be honest with you,” he paused, as he let the word crawl under my skin and do its job. The flush of embarrassment rose to my cheeks, and I had the distinct urge to hide under a rock.

  He continued, “I don’t think your explanation will make a difference, but I’ll listen to it and hope it does.”

  Tears prickled the backs of my eyes. Any doubts I might have had about Sebastian’s character were erased in that moment. He was the kind of man I had believed to be extinct. He was giving me a chance I didn’t deserve, a chance to give my version of the story—not for his benefit, but for mine.

  I knew he understood my need to explain. He could probably think ahead and foresee what not having this opportunity might do to me. It was the kind of thing that could haunt you for the rest of your life, a nightmarish string of what-ifs that would make regret grow like a cancer.

  It was in that moment, as I witnessed the strength of his character, that I finally accepted my feelings for him.

  I was in love with Sebastian.

  The realization stabbed me like a knife in the chest. The irony wasn’t lost on me. All hope of rescuing what we’d started to build was gone in the same instant that I discovered loving again was possible.

  Except love was not for me. Heartache on the other hand . . .

  Then it dawned on me. Guys were not the problem. I was the problem. Even when I found the most amazing man, a man who seemed to care about me, something about me wasn’t good enough to keep him from leaving.

  I knew my version of the story wouldn’t make a difference, like Sebastian had so candidly pointed out, but I would take his generous offer. I would explain my reasons for doing what I did, and then I would walk away, trying to be glad I met Sebastian, thanking him for showing me that the fault laid within me, and nowhere else.

  “Thank you,” I said, sounding pathetically grateful for getting a chance to explain.

  His eyelashes fell over his beautiful green eyes. Maybe he suspected I’d seen through to the real reason behind his offer.

  “Let’s sit over there,” I said pointing to a bench. “I won’t take long.”

  We turned and headed toward the bench. Someone else came up behind us, and we stopped when we recognized him. It was Matt.

  “Hey,” Sebastian greeted.

  Matt stopped when he saw us. A slow transformation occurred in his face. It went from a normal walking-around-campus expression, to startled recognition, then quickly to anger. Without saying a word, Matt clenched his fist, strode toward Sebastian, and punched him in the eye.

  I shrieked in surprise as Sebastian staggered off the pathway and fell backward onto a patch of grass. He sat up, holding a hand over his left eye.

  “What the hell?!” he exclaimed.

  Matt stood, breathing hard and looking down at Sebastian with fury in his gold-flecked, blue eyes.

  “Are you okay?” I crouched by Sebastian to help him as he tried to get back up, but he pushed me away.

  “Stay the fuck away from my girlfriend.” Matt’s words rumbled in his wide chest.

  “What are you talking about?” Sebastian asked, looking unsteady on his feet. He wince
d at the pain on his face.

  “She’s not interested in you, dude.”

  “What?!” Sebastian looked from Matt to me, as if he suspected his friend was referring to me.

  I shook my head, feeling the bite of despair in the pit of my stomach. His concept of me had fallen fast and hard.

  A few people had started to gather around us.

  “Jessica told you from the beginning she wasn’t interested, okay? You’re not going to intimidate her into going out with you. She’s with me. Is that clear?”

  “Matt, it’s not like that, man,” Sebastian tried to explain.

  “I thought you were dating this one,” he said, looking at me as if I was a piece of trash.

  “Hey!” Sebastian yelled. “Leave her out of this. Get this in your head, I don’t care about Jessica, alright? She’s playing you, man.”

  “Yeah, she said you’d say that.” Matt pointed a finger at Sebastian and shook it threateningly. He seemed about to say something else, but instead he made a dismissive gesture and stormed off.

  Sebastian watched him leave, dazed. He groaned, removed his hand from his face and blinked. His eye was bloodshot and swelling quickly.

  I gasped. “Your eye!” I tried to get close, but Sebastian took a step away. He looked around and scowled at the students that stood there watching us. He hunched his shoulders, looked at the ground and started walking away.

  Trailing behind him, I said, “We need to get you some ice.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Sebastian,” I pleaded.

  He whirled, his bloodshot eye giving him a wild look. “This is all your fault.”

  “What?”

  “What are you and Jessica? Some sort of slutty team?”

  “No, you—” I started, but he didn’t let me finish.

  “I get it now. You’re just like her, only worse. I don’t want to see you anymore.”