***Sebastian's POV***
Sure, he'd let her win. But he didn't think she would choose Backstreet Boys and *NSYNC for the playlist while he cooked. God, was it a beautiful sight watching her smile as she danced and sang along, like she didn't have a care in the world. He wasn't sure what had changed since the night before, what took her from saying they shouldn't have had sex to being so okay with it, but he wasn't going to complain. He wasn't even entirely sure why he'd acted on his thoughts, rather than ignoring them and pretending he didn't want her every second of every day.
"Seb? Hello? Are you there?"
Her laugh jerked him out of his thoughts. Shaking his head he turned to her, eyebrow raised.
"Forgive me if I'm focused on cooking you some food, jerk," he retorted with a smile, fighting the urge to bend her over the counter, food be damned. "What we're you saying?"
"I asked if you meant what you said earlier, about me being perfect," she shrugged, busying herself with making coffee.
He didn't miss the tension in her shoulders, the way she closed the lid on the pot a little harder than she normally would have. It had been three years since she had shown up on his doorstep bartered and broken, but she hadn't been the same since. Once confident and sure of herself, she had become utterly broken. Second guessing everything she did, self-conscious. He hated the guy that did that to her.
He turned off the burner, removing the pan from the heat. Setting the spatula down he stepped towards her, grabbing her shoulders and turning her around. As much as she tried to hide it, he could see the anxiety hidden in those green eyes of her.
"Listen to me. You have always been, and always will be, perfect in my eyes." Grabbing her hand he brought her arm up to his lips, kissing one of the scars the asshole had left her with.
"Even though-"
He cut her off with a kiss, unsure of what else he could do to quiet her worries. Every now and then the effects of that night reared their head, and now was one of those times. He couldn't take her doubting herself.
"I hate him for what he did to you. I wish I hadn't listened to you and left it alone when he made that comment about your weight," he pressed his lips against her forehead, holding her tight. "You're the most fit person I fucking know."
"I didn't want to cause problems with your friendship," she whispered, so quiet he almost wasn't sure he had heard her at first.
"He ruined it by being an abusive cunt," he reassured, squeezing her a little tighter. "You're perfect."
With one last squeeze he turned back to continue cooking, an idea striking him. What if he brought her back to New York with him? Was she on winter break yet? Fuck, he had no idea how school breaks worked.
"Hey, you're on winter break now, right?" he asked, trying to sound as casual as he could.
"Just started yesterday. Why?"
"Come back to New York with me. My flight is supposed to take off tomorrow morning. I could see if I could get you a ticket right now. If not, I'll just cancel and book us a flight together."
"Sebastian, I can't ask you to do that. You know that."
Rolling his eyes he turned back to her, pointing the spatula at her, shocked she would even think he wouldn't do anything and everything for without her asking him.
"You didn't ask. I offered because I just had the idea. And, since it's my idea, I'm paying. You can either waste time arguing with me, or just agree and enjoy an actual vacation for once."
"I guess I'm going to New York then, damn," she laughed, tossing a hand towel at him.
He scooped her up in his arms, happy she wasn't lost inside her own head again.
"That's my girl," he whispered, catching her lips with his own.