by Emily Mayer
“I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with being a nerd! I like who I am, mostly. I just mean that there’s no reason Sebastian would think, ‘Hey, I should be friends with this girl who has fled from my presence in a horribly awkward manner both times we have occupied the same space.’” I held up a finger, indicating I was about to make a point and also that I was starting to feel the effects of the wine. Where was that sushi? “Plus, he’s a chick magnet. Paige, you saw what happened at the club. And, I mean, he looks really good in that soccer uniform. His legs have a lot of muscles, and you can see, like, all of them in those shorts.”
“We don’t have a lot in common on paper, but you are basically my BFF. Wait a minute.” Paige waggled a finger around near my face. “You seem to know a lot about Sebastian all of a sudden. Did you do some internet stalking, missy?”
“No!” My flaming cheeks gave away the lie. “I did some light research on a problem. I can’t help it that the articles had pictures.”
Janie dug around in her bag for her phone. “Well, now I feel like I have to check him out.”
I tried to swat the phone out of her hand, but her ninja skills were too good.
“I am feeling so much better about my matchmaking skills now. I knew you two would hit it off.” Paige smiled smugly, taking a sip of wine. “I just need to work on the actual set-up.”
“Wowza.” Janie flipped her phone toward us so we could see her screen. “I can see all the muscles in his abdomen. All. Of. Them. You weren’t lying about the muscles. Paige, feel free to set me up whenever you want.”
“What about Greg?” I asked, reminding her of the guy she’d been casually seeing for the last year.
“Greg, Schmeg, have you seen this guy? I can’t believe I almost had to murder him,” Janie answered, eyes still glued to her phone screen.
“I’m sorry, did you just say you were going to have to murder him?” Paige asked, looking appropriately concerned.
Janie just shrugged, still swiping through pictures. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Can we go back to the part about your matchmaking skills? I feel the need to point out that you were not right in this instance. Are you just going to ignore the whole club disaster?” I asked just as the waitress delivered our sushi rolls.
Paige pointed at me with her chopsticks. “I wasn’t wrong. I knew Sebastian was going to be a great first blind date for you. His outgoing personality is a great match for your shyness.”
“Paige, Sebastian is not a starter blind date! That’s like… like giving a student driver a Ferrari to practice with. You don’t do that,” I huffed, picking up my own chopsticks. “You give them a beat-up old Corolla, so they can ease into it without pressure. That way if they back into a light pole, it’s no big deal. What’s another dent?”
“Hey!” Janie said, mouth half full. “Don’t talk about my friend that way! You’re at least a BMW.”
I gave up trying to convince them that Sebastian was probably somewhere across town feeling relieved that I’d let him off the hook, and attempted to steer the conversation toward more neutral territory. I had done the right thing, and I got to have dinner with two of my favorite people even if they were slightly delusional. All was right in my world again. I promised myself I wouldn’t give Sebastian another thought, and I almost believed it.
12.
The next morning, I woke up slightly flustered after a very, very vivid dream about non-soccer related activities Sebastian probably excelled at that left me way too worked up to go back to sleep. Making things worse, I had three text messages from Sebastian waiting for me.
Sebastian: Thanks for accepting my genuine apology.
Sebastian: I’m feeling a little cheated though. I had a whole thing prepared. I think I’m going to have to demand a redo. Get dinner with me tonight so I can give you a proper apology.
Sebastian: I just realized how late it is. You’re probably asleep already. Have a good Friday and good luck with your science!
I hated that I had a stupid smile on my face the entire time I read his messages. I hated that I was still thinking about those messages hours later. I hated that I was thinking about him at all after I promised myself I wouldn’t. And I hated how long it took me to send him a simple response—which I wished I could unsend as soon as I sent it.
Me: Thanks for the invitation but I have plans tonight.
Did I have plans? Absolutely not. Was I emotionally and spiritually prepared for another encounter with Sebastian? God no. Honestly, I thought I might never be able to look him in the eyes again after that dream. My brain was literally exhausted from thinking itself in circles by the time I wandered into Bad Wolf.
Kay smiled at me from behind the desk. “Hey girl, you’re looking a little rough around the edges today. Did you all get carried away last night? I’m super bummed I missed it. We’re totally scheduling a girls’ night soon.”
“I probably had too much wine, but I didn’t sleep well. I’m exhausted.” I slumped into the seat she had vacated for me.
Her next customer walked in before she could ask the follow-up question she clearly had planned. I got her customer all checked in and turned my attention to the list of supplies Harrison wanted me to order.
“I think Grandpa is gambling again,” Harrison stated without preamble. I glanced up to see him leaning over the desk. His casual posture belied the serious look on his face. I turned my attention back to the screen, swallowing down my nerves.
“Oh really? Hmm. Why is that?” I asked, careful to keep my voice neutral and my posture relaxed.
I watched Harrison walk around the desk out of the corner of my eye and silently pleaded with myself to be cool as he swiveled my chair around so I was forced to look at him.
“Lennon, you wouldn’t happen to know anything about an illegal gambling operation at the senior center, would you?” His gaze bored through me as if he could actually locate the answers in my brain. Don’t be a snitch, don’t be a snitch, don’t be a snitch played on a loop ready for him to discover.
I felt beads of sweat break out across my forehead under his intense scrutiny. I shook my head slowly. “Nope. I don’t know anything about an illegal gambling ring.”
I forced myself to meet his eyes and gave him what I hoped was a convincing smile. My answer was not technically a lie. I didn’t actually know anything about the gambling ring specifically. He scrutinized me for what felt like another ten minutes, but was probably mere seconds, before he released the armrests and straightened.
He crossed his arms and gave me a nod. “Fine. But if the old man calls asking for odds on a game, I hope you’ll remind him that he is one bust away from a lifetime ban at the senior center.”
I gulped.
“Yeah, of course. No bets.”
Harrison the Inquisitor was not done just yet. “You look like shit. What’s going on with you?”
“Gee, thanks, Harrison.” I rolled my eyes, spinning away from him to face the computer. “Pro-tip: Girls do not like it when you point out how bad they look.”
He grunted. “Yeah, don’t really need help with women.”
I gagged dramatically. “Spare me the details.”
“What’s going on? Are you feeling okay? Have you been skipping meals?” Harrison walked around the desk so we were facing each other again.
“No, Harrison,” I sighed. “When have you ever known me to skip a meal? I didn’t sleep well, that’s all. Don’t worry, though; I plan on sleeping until at least noon tomorrow.”
“All right.” His voice was laced with skepticism but he let it drop. “Did you eat yet? We’re ordering from Frank’s.”
“Yes! I’ll have my usual. Oh! With an extra pickle. And the homemade chips.” My mouth was watering just thinking of all that grease. “Make that extra chips.”
“How about fruit salad instead of the chips?” Father Harrison asked.
“How about no?”
“I like a woman who knows what she wants,�
�� Lou said, emerging from his station. “Wow, Lennon—you might actually want to eat some fruit. You have a very Dawn of the Dead look happening right now.”
“This place is really doing wonders for my self-esteem,” I joked, trying not to smile back at Lou but failing. “Remind me why I come here?”
“For the eye candy, obviously,” Lou answered, sweeping his hand from the top of his head downward.
“Yep, that must be it.” I rolled my eyes playfully, shooting a smile at the group of girls who were walking through the door.
The shop got busy, saving me from any more questions from anyone, and I managed to eat my sandwich in between checking people in and out and scheduling appointments. A series of dings from my phone distracted me from the phone call I was currently on.
“Harrison’s next appointment for a touch-up would be on… Sorry, on the twenty-fourth at six thirty. Would that work?”
Ding. Ding. I eyed my phone suspiciously, like it might turn into a tarantula at any moment. I vaguely registered the voice on the phone agreeing to that time.
“Great. I’ll get you all scheduled.” I said goodbye and hung up, still staring at my phone. I shook my head in disbelief. Since when had I been scared of a text message?
Since Sebastian Kincaid.
“God, I am absolutely starving!” I jumped in my seat at the sound of Kay’s voice. “Whoa, sorry, Lennon. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
She sat on the couch across from the desk and pulled her sandwich out of a grease-stained bag. “Come to mama, you beautiful sandwich. What were you thinking about?”
I scrunched my nose. “Sebastian Kincaid.”
“Who?” Kay asked before taking a large bite of the sandwich.
I gave her a brief rundown of all the Sebastian happenings, from the blind date disaster to last night’s texts.
“And this guy plays professional soccer?” I nodded at her question. “Huh. Never heard of him.”
“Who plays professional soccer?” Aaron asked, taking a seat next to Kay on the couch. He pulled his sandwich out of the bag and started trying to peel back the wax paper that was grease-glued to the bread.
“The guy Lennon went on a date with last week. Sebastian Kincaid,” Kay answered for me.
Aaron’s eyes widened and his hands stopped trying to fight the wrapper. “Did you just say Sebastian Kincaid? As in former Manchester United star and current captain of the Novas?”
“Yes,” I confirmed hesitantly, a little nervous about the crazy look on his face. “But we did not go out a date.”
“Holy shit. Holy shit! I can’t believe you met Sebastian Kincaid, Lennon! Did you tell him about me? Of course you didn’t. Did you get his autograph? Holy shit.” Aaron looked like he might be on the verge of losing it. He ran his hands over his close-cropped hair. His sandwich sat forgotten in his lap.
“Quit fanboying. It’s embarrassing and he was an ass.” Kay swatted Aaron’s arm. “I didn’t even know you liked soccer.”
“That’s the dumbest shit you’ve ever said to me! Do I like soccer? Look at me. I’m Mexican! You know any Mexicans who don’t like soccer?” Aaron was shaking his head in disbelief.
“Bro, that’s racist,” Lou stated, squeezing in between Kay and Aaron.
“It’s not racist if it’s true.” Aaron shot Lou a mean side eye. “Plus, I can’t be racist about myself. Dude, there are other places to sit.”
“What are we talking about?” Lou ignored Aaron. “Are you going to eat that?”
Aaron picked up his sandwich and took a huge bite, smiling at Lou as he chewed.
“Lennon went on a date with Sebastian Kincaid and now Aaron is turning into a thirteen-year-old girl.” Kay filled Lou in on the last five minutes, leaving out almost all the important details.
“We didn’t go on a date,” I pointed out again, even though the three of them were clearly not listening to me at all. “And he apologized for being a jerk.”
My attention drifted back to my phone while they continued to argue on the couch. I traced the edges with my finger, trying to work up the courage to look at the messages I knew were waiting for me.
“Oh, this is just ridiculous,” I muttered, finally flipping over my phone. My lips curved into a smile without my consent when I saw the name on the screen.
Sebastian: What are you up tonight?
Sebastian: I let some mates talk me into going to a club because someone had plans. It’s weirdly dark and very loud. I had to use the flashlight on my phone to find my way back to the table.
Sebastian: I’m sitting in a club wishing I was back at my place reading The Watchmen instead. You’re a bad influence.
Normally, I found it extremely irritating when someone sent multiple text messages to express something that could easily have been said in one message, but for some reason, I found Sebastian’s use of excessive messages endearing. What was happening to me? I decided to be an adult about this. I would simply ignore the problem until it went away. Nodding my head to reaffirm my decision, I opened a drawer and deposited my phone in it before sliding it shut. Out of sight, out of mind.
13.
True to my word, I slept until noon the next day. I still managed to make it to Paige’s yoga class and to the laundromat. I even went back to the little boutique I’d loved when Paige and I had gone shopping, and picked out some more dresses. I barely checked my phone the entire time—only every thirty seconds or so. But I wasn’t hoping that Sebastian’s name would appear on my screen with another string of rambling messages. Nope, not at all.
When I got home, I slipped out of my “doing actual yoga” yoga pants and into my “just lounging” yoga pants. My favorite pair was so worn that the fabric was slightly transparent and there was a small hole just above the right knee. I pulled on a large grey T-shirt that Harrison had lovingly dubbed my invisibility cloak. It reached almost to the hole in my leggings. I had no one to impress except Jason, my faithful food delivery boy, and he didn’t care what I looked like as long as I tipped him well.
I curled up on the couch, fully prepared to catch up on my Game of Thrones, but found myself clicking on a Netflix original teen romantic comedy instead. An hour later, I was cheering on Lara Jean and feeling all the teen-angst feels. I also felt hungry. I paused the movie and headed to my trusty drawer of takeout menus. I dug through the pile of bent and crumpled paper until I found General Chang’s menu. I was dangerously close to having the menu memorized, but sometimes liked to pretend that Chinese takeout was a new experience. I couldn’t decide what I wanted, so I ordered a little bit of everything. I loved cold Chinese food so eating leftovers was a bonus. Not that there usually were leftovers.
My first movie ended and Netflix recommended another teen romantic comedy for me. At some point, I started to have thoughts that were not entirely rational about high schoolers finding their soul mates at the same age I’d been rebuilding alternators with my grandpa in our garage. What if my soulmate had been out there waiting for me while I was passing Grandpa tools? What did it mean that these kids met their great love in high school, and I was twenty-six, living alone and ordering enough Chinese for a family of four?
I rolled over to grab my laptop. I opened a new tab and started searching for cat rescues. Clearly I was destined for a future as a crazy cat lady, so why not finally embrace my destiny? I clicked on Cat Cottage, because I was all about alliteration.
“Aww,” I cooed, looking at the glamour shots of available cats. Each cat had its own little profile next to a small collection of adorable, professional-looking pictures. I started clicking on profiles, determined to find my new roommate. A knock at my door forced me to get off the couch for the first time in too many hours.
“Hey, Lennon, how’s it going?” Jason asked, handing me two bags packed with food containers.
“Oh, you know, another wild Saturday night.” I took the food and handed him a tip. I always gave him a great tip in hopes of keeping the judgment down. I ordered way too much
food, way too often, for one person, and I almost always answered the door looking like… well… like I did right now.
“Yeah, looks like it’s about to get crazy in here.” His eyes scanned my outfit. Jason also had a great sense of humor. I looked forward to our weekly chats. Not.
“Have a good night!” I said, shutting the door and taking my loot to the kitchen. I spread everything out on the counter, then dug around in the cavernous bags looking for the missing egg roll.
A knock at the door interrupted my digging. I smiled and opened the door, fully expecting to find Jason returning with my missing appetizer. Instead, I found a smiling Sebastian Kincaid. My eyes widened to the point that it was almost painful, and my heart attempted to jump out of my chest. I gasped and immediately slammed the door in his no-longer-smiling face.
“Shoot, shoot, shoot. You’re not egg rolls. What do I do?” I banged my head against the door lightly, panic and embarrassment racing through me.
I heard a very masculine chuckle coming from the other side of the door. “Are you asking for my opinion? I would start with opening the door and letting me in,” Sebastian answered, his voice light with obvious humor.
I took a steadying breath and opened the door. Chewing on my lip, I took in the man leaning casually against my door frame, hands tucked into a pair of jeans that molded artfully to sculpted thighs. I gulped before letting my eyes travel up past a narrow waist to take in the black fabric of a T-shirt stretched across wide shoulders.
“I get the feeling you’re trying to avoid me,” he said, the smile still in his voice. My gaze darted briefly upward to meet his startling blue-green eyes before settling on a spot just over his shoulder.
“Wh-why do you think that?” I stumbled over my own words, heat flooding my face. He arched one oddly attractive eyebrow skeptically. “I’ve just been busy with… things. Work! Yep, work. I’ve been busy with work.”