by Emma Hart
“There’s nothing wrong with your boobs.”
“How do you know that?”
“We shared a bed. You wore a tank top. It was hardly intentional.”
My cheeks flamed red. Shit. I really hadn’t thought that through the first night. “Okay, well, this is awkward.”
Seb laughed and bumped me with his elbow—deliberately this time. “Nah, it’s all right. It’s not like I saw nipple or anything.”
“Oh, my God. Please stop.” I shook my head and looked down at the fresh snow in front of us. “I guess I don’t understand how she’s not your type.”
“She just isn’t,” he replied, his voice quietening toward the end. “I know exactly what kind of woman she is, and while it’s fine, she’s not for me.”
“What kind of woman is she?”
“She’s the kind who recognizes me, but probably isn’t entirely sure where from. She knows I’m semi-famous but can’t place me because she’s only ever seen me if I’ve been spotted with someone she knows or my face has flashed on the screen if her ex or her dad have been watching a game,” he started. “She wants to place me to see if I’m worth her time. She’s not a chaser, not really, but she’s definitely not going to settle for the bakery owner or the guy who changes her oil for free because he’s got a crush on her.”
His tone was getting drier the longer he speaks.
“And that’s fine. I don’t begrudge anyone their choices, and if those are the ones she wants to make, then good for her. But I won’t be one of them. Besides, she’s clearly overly confident which is why she was furious when I turned her down, and I don’t have the patience for that kind of drama.”
“Have you met your friends? We’re the most dramatic group of people outside of Hollywood.”
He looked at me, lips curving again. “Yeah, but I like this drama. It’s harmless. It’s fun. It’s overreactions at stupid shit like you being a good little student and studying while your best friends were getting drunk, high, and making out over spin the bottle.”
“I’m still mad nobody ever told me about that.”
“I don’t think they’d ever told anybody, to be honest with you.”
“I know, but I’m still mad. I mean, Saylor tells me every detail about her periods. You’d think she’d mention that she played tonsil tennis with Tori.”
“The kissing thing was fun, but can we avoid the periods? I don’t care to know about Saylor’s.”
“Neither do I, but I don’t have a choice,” I mumbled. “Is that why she turned down Colton?”
“Who?”
“The redhead.”
“Oh.” Seb put his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “A little, yeah. But I think mostly because Tori was glaring at her and she and Colton clearly have some issues.”
“No shit. We’re all just kind of waiting for them to fuck and get it over with.”
He barked out a laugh. “That’s one way to put it.”
I shrugged as we turned toward my building. “It’s true. It’s been going on for weeks, but they both insist they hate each other, so here we are. We actually have a betting pool going on.”
“You don’t.”
“We do. I bet they’ll do it by the end of the year. Ivy thinks April, Kinsley says by the summer, and Saylor reckons they’re already doing it.”
“They’re not doing it yet.”
“Oh, totally not. It’s still too tense. They won’t last long though, so fingers crossed for December.” I crossed my fingers and dug into my purse for my keys. After I plucked them out of the depths of the abyss that was my beloved red Lauren Ralph Lauren purse, I unlocked the main door to the building, and Seb followed me in.
“Thank God. It’s warm in here.”
I smiled, removing my gloves and tucking them into my purse. “Thanks for walking me home. I appreciate it.”
He returned my smile, and his eyes sparkled. “You’re welcome. I’d hate it if a bear ate you.”
“I have you know I’d be a delicious snack for a bear,” I replied. “Do you want to come up while you call a cab?”
He hesitated. “I don’t want to bother you. I’ll call from here.”
“Okay.” I shrugged and headed for the mailboxes on the wall. “I didn’t get it earlier,” I explained when I caught him watching me.
He raised his eyebrows. “Oh, hi,” he said into the phone, dipping his head and turning away. “I need a cab if you have one available, please.”
I flicked through my mail while he rattled off my address.
“Twenty to twenty-five minutes? Okay, yeah, I guess that’s fine… Thanks. Can you call when you’re outside? … Perfect, thanks. I’ll see you soon.” He hung up and turned to me. “Do you mind? They’re apparently busy tonight and are going to keep me waiting.”
“It’s fine.” I smiled and tucked my mail into my purse, then motioned for him to follow me.
“Sorry. I shouldn’t have had that third beer.”
“Or the fourth,” I replied playfully.
“All right, settle down. As soon as Dylan gets to town, that’s it. I’m on a chicken and rice diet for the next three months.”
“I’ll think of you while I eat my weight in pizza.”
“Thanks. You’re so kind.”
“I do try.” We reached my apartment, and I unlocked the front door. “Come in.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN – SEBASTIAN
rule seventeen: the only person you’re lying to is yourself.
I followed Holley into her apartment. She stepped aside so I could enter, and I pushed the door closed behind me. It was hot as hell in here, but I wasn’t sure if it was because it was actually hot or because I was wearing close to an Eskimo outfit to stay warm outside.
I shed my layers and hung them on the empty hook next to her coat. Without my huge coat, gloves, and hat, it wasn’t quite so hot, but still warm.
“Damn. I forgot to turn down the thermostat.” Holley moved toward the little white box on the wall and pressed a button, then moved into another area of her apartment. “Do you want a coffee?”
“Bit late for coffee,” I replied, following her into the cleanest kitchen I’d ever seen in my fucking life. “Jesus, did a bleach monster attack your kitchen?”
“You’re so funny,” she drawled. “Some of us like clean kitchens.”
“I know why you don’t date. You’re too busy pulling crumbs from your toaster.”
“You can wait for your cab downstairs if you want.”
“I love how you’ve organized your plates,” I said quickly. “By color and size. Wow.”
“Sebastian?”
“Yes?”
“Get out of my fucking cabinets.”
I shut the cabinet door with a chuckle and leaned against the counter. “Done.”
“Would you like a hot chocolate?” Holley asked, holding up the jar that I assumed was full of the hot chocolate powder. “No caffeine but just as yummy.”
“Sure.” I tucked my hands in my pockets and watched as she expertly navigated her little hot drink station.
It was fucking adorable.
There was a coffee machine, an electric kettle, a mug rack, and various storage jars that were labeled with their contents.
There was even one for marshmallows.
I’d take that.
Holley fixed my cocoa and handed it to me in a mug that proclaimed me to be a book lover. I side-eyed it for only a moment before I sipped the hot drink and let it warm me from the inside out.
It was good.
“No marshmallows?” I asked, peering into the mug.
“Oh, drama queen,” she replied, shoving her hand in the marshmallow jar. She grabbed a handful and crossed the kitchen, unceremoniously dumping them into my mug with a glare.
“Thank you,” I said with a smirk, then sipped. “Mm. That’s better.”
“See, just when I think we could be friends, you irritate me, and I realize it’s only in a group setting that we can be friend
s.”
“You’re in a sweet mood.”
“I’m never in a sweet mood.”
I sipped the hot chocolate, then set the mug down on the counter behind me. Holley didn’t move from her spot on the other side of the kitchen, and she cradled her mug as if it would slip out of her hands any second.
“Can I ask you something?”
She peered over the rim of the mug as she lifted it to her mouth, raising her eyebrows in a move I assumed to be a yes.
“Why did you care why I didn’t go home with that redhead?”
Holley choked. She quickly put down her mug and banged her fist against her chest, waving me off with the other hand. After a minute she was fine, but was gripping the counter that, judging by the whiteness of her knuckles, was with one hell of a tight grasp.
“What do you mean?” she asked, frowning. “I was just curious. Pretty much every guy in there was staring at her, so…”
“So you assumed I would?”
“I didn’t assume anything.” She shook her hair out. “I didn’t care if you left with her or not, I was just wondering. You know, like friends do.”
“Nobody else asked me why I didn’t go home with her.”
“Colton did.”
“Only because Colton wanted to go home with her,” I replied. “Not the same.”
Holley shrugged, but it was somewhat stunted thanks to her grip on the counter. “I don’t know what to tell you, Seb. I was just curious.”
“Did you know that you’re a really bad liar?” I pushed off the counter and crossed the kitchen to her. I stopped only a few feet in front of her. “You always put your tongue in your cheek right after you’re done talking.”
She swallowed. “I just do that sometimes.”
“When you lie.”
“What could I possibly be lying about, Sebastian?” She went to move, but I shot my arm out and blocked her. She fell back against the counter, gripping the edge once again.
I flattened my hand on it next to her and leaned in. “Everything.”
“Well it certainly feels like I’m living a lie when I have to pretend to be your girlfriend.”
“That’s not what I’m referring to, and you know it.”
“I have no idea.”
“The redhead.” I dipped my face closer to hers and met her gaze. “Why did you really care when I said she wasn’t my type?”
“I didn’t.” She put her tongue in her cheek and immediately dropped her tongue again. “Your cab is going to be here in a minute, so…”
“Do you want to know what I think?”
“Not particularly,” she whispered. She paused before she cleared her throat. “No. I can’t say I do,” she said, this time a lot stronger.
“Ever since I told you the truth on Friday night about what happened at prom, it’s been different, hasn’t it?”
“I guess I don’t have a choice.”
“No. You don’t. Now answer the question.”
She shifted uncomfortably. “Yes, it’s been different. I no longer want to castrate you on sight.”
Always a good thing.
“Holley.”
“I don’t know what you want me to say to you!”
“The truth.” I moved so I was standing in front of her. “It’s not that hard to do.”
She looked at me with her big, blue eyes. Her cheeks were flushed, and there was a little panic to her expression, like I’d bashed down a wall she’d been desperately trying to keep up. “There’s nothing to say,” she said after a moment. “There is no ulterior motive to my questions, Sebastian. Yes, it’s been different since you told me the truth about prom. I’ve done some soul-searching and I’m sorry I was too stubborn to hear the truth back then. But now I know, we’ve cleared it up, and we can move on. As friends.”
“Can we?” I raised an eyebrow. “Because it feels like there’s something we haven’t dealt with.”
“We were eighteen. We were kids. It’s all irrelevant now. There’s nothing left to be dealt with.” She moved, but I put my arm out once again.
This time, I wrapped it around her body and pinned her against me. She took a deep breath in and it shuddered out. She was trying to control her breathing but failing, and dismally so.
I reached up with my free hand and tucked her hair behind her ear. Her sweater had fallen off her shoulder, exposing her skin, and all I wanted to do was drop my mouth there and kiss a path from her collarbone to her shoulder and back again.
“Here’s what I think,” I whispered in her ear, staring at the curve of her collarbone. “I think there’s a whole bunch of stuff we haven’t dealt with. We sorted out the issue that ended our friendship, but not the feelings that led up to that issues.”
“There’s nothing to sort out. It was years ago.” Her voice was quiet, and her still-juddery breaths gave away her uncertainty.
“There’s a lot to sort out,” I replied, my own voice barely above a whisper. “Mostly to do with the fact I’d intended to kiss you that night and never got a chance to.”
“You’re not kissing me.”
“I’m not. But I could.”
“But you won’t.”
She didn’t sound too sure about that.
“I won’t, huh?”
Holley shook her head. “Because we’re friends,” she breathed out, staring at the wall in front of her. “And that’s not what friends do. Besides, you tried it earlier and it didn’t go well.”
“Like I said, that wasn’t a kiss. That was a placation.”
“It was a kiss.”
“No, it wasn’t.” I moved so I was standing in front of her. I hooked my finger under her chin and tilted her head up so she had to meet my eyes. “Holley, when I kiss you, you’ll know about it.”
She said nothing, just stared into my eyes. It was almost a challenge, daring me to follow through with the threat I’d just made.
I held her gaze and only moved when my phone rang in my pocket. Then, I dropped my hand, stepped back, and pulled it out to answer. “Hello?” I said, never taking my eyes from her.
“Mr. Stone? Your cab is outside waiting for you.”
“Thank you. I’ll be down in two minutes.” I hung up and put it back in my pocket. “That’s my cab.”
Holley nodded, swallowing. “Bye, then.”
I shrugged on my coat and wrapped up warm with the rest of my stuff. “Just bye? That’s it?”
“What else do you want me to do? I don’t have the time to throw you a going away party, Sebastian.”
I grinned. Clearly she’d managed to pull herself together enough to inject a little sass into the conversation. I wasn’t going to argue further with her tonight—I’d already made my point, and I was going to leave her to think it over.
Not that I ever expected her to admit I was right.
I wasn’t sure she’d ever admitted I was right, even though it was a regular occurrence.
“See you soon.” I smirked and let myself out, leaving her staring at me like she didn’t know whether to kiss me or slap me.
She’d probably go with slap me, but I was definitely partial to the first option.
A part of me wondered if I was only feeling this way because I’d never handled this when we were eighteen. If it was just leftover, unresolved emotions that needed to be dealt with so they could be put in a box and never paid attention to again.
Then I remembered how it’d felt to kiss her this morning.
That brief touch of our lips that had been a little firmer than I’d intended.
I hadn’t wanted to let her go.
I’d wanted to lean back in and kiss her properly. I’d wanted to feel her melt against me, to kiss me back.
And I still did.
All I really wanted was to kiss Holley and know what it felt like to have her kiss me back.
And that was fucking terrifying.
***
The weather had eased long enough for Dylan to confirm he was coming to town thi
s weekend. He’d stay with me for three nights, long enough for us to work through a new workout routine for me to hopefully further my rehab, and then he’d head back to the city until he had another place to stay.
I hoped it would be Saylor’s apartment. We’d already made plans to introduce them on Saturday afternoon at the store, so I had my fingers crossed that they got along and could figure something out that would be beneficial for both of them.
I parked up a block away from the bookstore. I hadn’t spoken to Holley for two days. She’d been busy at the store with a huge delivery ready to be handled before Christmas, and my mom had spent the last forty-eight hours talking my ear off about Thanksgiving.
I had to be honest.
I didn’t give a fuck about Thanksgiving.
Mostly because she wanted me to talk Holley into coming to dinner. Not only did I think that was a complete non-starter for obvious reasons, but I also assumed she planned to spend the holiday with her own family.
Hell, I’d rather spend it with her family.
Her family was crazy, but not as bad as mine.
I stopped into the café and grabbed two coffees, then walked down the street to Bookworm’s Books. The board outside today said, ‘You’d look better with a book in your hand.’
I chuckled to myself and put the coffee tray in my other hand so I could open the door. The bell above it jingled, then there was a clunk and something hit me in the bed.
“Ow!”
Holley’s head poked out from behind a bookshelf. “Are you okay?”
“No. I think your bell just attacked me.”
“My bell?” She looked up. “Oh. For fuck’s sake, not again!” She came out from behind the bookshelf and set a pile of books on the counter. “Saylor was supposed to fix that.”
I put the coffees down as she grabbed the bell from the floor. “What’s wrong with it?”
“It’s old,” she replied. “It’s been wobbly for a couple of weeks, but I think the chain finally broke.”
“Here, let me have a look.” I took the bell from her. It was surprisingly heavy, and a quick search of the bell and the chain it hung from was all I needed. “The metal is bent,” I said, taking the chain between my finger and thumb. “You see? The link needs closing up.”