The days move swimmingly along through November. And with it came Jack Frost with his cane of freezing magic. This far into the city, a balmy, windless 50 degrees feels like walking through the Arctic. Now I know what you're thinking, 50 being balmy? Believe me, after single-digit temperatures that are followed by double-digit negatives, 50 can feel like the first warm day of spring. Today was not one of those days. My fingers cramped around the pencil. From the combination of cold and furious scribbles, each line became a challenge to execute. One thing was sure, I was grateful for my new sweaters.
"Pretty cold out here, Shorts. What are you doing?" His voice hit the nape of my neck, a piece of my hair blowing into my view.
My delayed reaction—after the initial jump—was to slam the book and shift forward. Sandwiching it against my forearms and thighs.
"N-nothing." I aimed for nonchalance; I definitely failed. This has been my secret. Even practically glued to his side and under one roof, this has been one of the very few secrets he hasn't siphoned out of me. I had a nagging feeling that was about to change.
"That wasn't nothing. You're an artist." I twisted in my seat at his words, my face pressing into disbelief and denial. Absurd. He was being absurd. Me, an artist. Ha! "Come on, let us have a look." Sebastian held his hand out, fingers waving impatiently. I glanced at it and forced a polite laugh. Because this was the game of defense. He could have the O's if I got to keep my X's.
"Ah no, I don't think so." I shook my head and stopped when I saw his bottom lip jutting out. Sebastian pouting has officially been added to my favorites list. Julie Andrews, you still around? I was still mesmerized when he did the unthinkable. Several weeks into our game of house, you'd think I'd get used to the lack of personal space and his sneak attacks.
"Don't be shy, just a little peek." He tapped his index finger on my nose and grinned at me. Cheese and crackers I just got booped on the nose by Sexy Strawberry Fields. Who was also trying to blindside me with his bright smile. The small dimple on his right cheek making its glorious debut. He knew what he was doing, he wielded that gem like a damn flamethrower...
Nevertheless, I only caught on that this was a distraction tactic when he moved swiftly around me and my hand felt oddly empty. I looked down perplexed and noticed a very important 6x8 sketchbook was missing. My head whipped around to face him as he started to lift the cover.
"Hey, not fair!" I tackled him. Well, as much as one can tackle a brick wall. He laughed, the sound nowhere close to grating even if it was at my expense, and held the notebook out of my reach while I swiped at it. It was embarrassing, here I was jumping up and down, circling him as he twisted away and there was still about a two feet difference between my hand and the book. My breaths puffing out in little clouds from the cold. Although, with all of this exercise I was practically sweating.
"This. Is. Extremely. Rude. You're being rude." I huffed during my unintentional workout. I was getting soft in my new cushy digs.
"Wouldn't have to take to drastic measures if you'd stop being unreasonable." He chuckled. He didn't even sound winded. And why would he? All Sebastian had to do was lift his arm up and the fight was over.
"Please give it back," I whined. Sebastian bent his face closer to mine, tucking a stray hair behind my ear.
"What are you hiding from me, Little Lia?" His voice was all of the velvety things and my lady bits decided they were on board with whatever he was selling. Traitors. My mind couldn't get past the amazing way his lips moved around "Little Lia". I stuttered, blanking out completely. It's the nicknames that are the real weapon here. His pet names spoke to my carnal need to strip us both of clothing. And given our track record, that wasn't so far out of the realm of possibility.
Sebastian took advantage of my momentary shutdown, backslash reset, and stepped around me. Quickly jogging through the back door.
Holy Spaceballs, I'd just been conned.
"Mother Fu—" I took off running after him. Nearly slipping in the hallway just passed the door. I immediately took the right that leads to his office. I skidded to a stop in front of his door and tried the handle. Locked.
"Sebastian!" I whisper yelled. Knocking on the door as fiercely and quietly as possible. My eyes bouncing around in the direction I just came from, making sure no one was around.
"I know you're in there, open this door. Right now!" My whisper yelling taking on a sharp edge once I was facing the blasted thing that was keeping me from wringing his neck...and smearing some of that delicious chocolate sauce Heather made all over his face. Oh, how a girl could dream.
"I'm sorry, Lia, but I'm in the middle of a very important meeting. You'll have to come back." Came his muffled reply.
"Open this door you son of a bi—" I growled banging on it. He ignored me but I swear on my packs of Ramen I heard a chuckle.
Maybe I should explain. I like to doodle. I'm a doodler. Never a full piece or anything cohesive just little odd things here or there. Sometimes it's characters I've seen but mostly it's whatever I'm looking at. It's never an actual picture, only a bunch of random items.
This was something I did and never really thought about. That was until about a few weeks after I started working here. Shortly after I found myself sketching odd pieces for cakes. Confused as to why I seemed to ONLY be doodling cake parts on napkins—which I kept shoving into my work apron, you may remember such an occasion on a stormy day eons ago—I decided to pay attention to what I was doing before I doodled.
Imagine my surprise—not—when I realized that every time I sketched was after I watched Sebastian. Intrigued by this new impulse, I went out and splurged on that sketchbook. I kept it close by for when I felt an idea coming, its size conveniently fitting it in my apron pocket. That's what I was doing in the back outside in the cold. Where my tuckus almost froze to the bucket I turned over.
"Sebastian Ronaldo, you open this door and give me back my sketchbook!" I jiggled the handle and kept banging on the door. I could hear him laughing on the other side and it enraged me. This turd nugget. "I'm so thrilled you find this funny."
"God, only my mom ever calls me that. Usually when she's mad at me." He was still chuckling. I pressed my ear against the door and could make out a faint swish sound. Shit, he was flipping through the pages. I upped my efforts in opening the door, trying with no luck to turn the knob. Logically I knew that I didn't stand a chance, but madness is a funny thing. I stopped when a voice cleared down the hallway.
"Dalia, is everything alright?" Pedro called out to me. I leaned against the door. Adopting the air of a cool cucumber.
"Oh yes, yes, everything's fine Pedro. I was dropping off the mail on Mr. McLoughlin's desk and I accidentally locked the door. No worries, I've got it figured out." I shot him my best reassuring smile. I ignored the fact that I called Sebastian, Mr. McLoughlin. Nobody called him that. Especially not me. My mishap went blessedly unnoticed as Pedro shrugged and continued on to the exit. Maybe I had a reputation as a weirdo...
"Okay then. I'm off for a bite to eat, see you later Dalia." He winked at me, I gave him a weak smile and he left. Close, so close. Sebastian and I haven't been open about our current living arrangements. We also haven't been promoting our growing friendship either. We are as we are and let the rest perceive it the way they will.
For the most part, we just get a lot of side glances. Wide-eyed looks of intrigue and confusion. I'm not ashamed of our closeness, I just don't want questions. And I definitely don't want to put ideas into everyone's head, either. So being caught trying to shimmy into Ronaldo's office was definitely going to give the wrong impression.
"Damn it, Sebastian, let me in! Before anybody else walks by and asks questions!" I was knocking again and heard no movement on the other side. "That's it, you leave me no choice, Ronaldo. I'm breaking this door down."
I rammed my shoulder against the wooden grain and winced. Owwww. Breaking down door squad I am not. Lesson learned. I pushed my back against it with all the energy I could muster. Of course this was ridiculous, there was no way my attempts had a remote chance of working. But, as I said, cornered animals are a desperate beast.
"You are a rapscallion and a trickster. How you've gotten women to fall in your bed is a mystery to me." The last bit I grumbled to myself. Groaning and huffing as I pushed—delusion still the driver of this bus. In the throes of my efforts, I found myself falling backward. The piglet-like squeak emitting from my throat in my panic a true testament to how far I have fallen from my perch.
Sebastian had opened the door and caught me around the waist before I hit the ground.
"Well, that's a story for another day." He grinned, inches from my own face. "If you're a good girl I may just show you."
I stuttered. Swallowed. Then proceeded to choke on my spit. Remember the naked shoulders... Shut up brain!
Clearly, my brain cells were off on a hiatus, a trot down glorious chest memory lane. He had a dirty bird of his own and I suspected it was far more clever than mine. Ronaldo pulled me into the office and set me upright. Quickly, closing the door and locking it. I think, although I'm not certain, I gulped. My escape route was closed, and that amber glint in his eyes was a forewarning of my imminent demise. Satisfied with his efforts, he went to lean against his desk.
"I have to say, I quite like you calling me Mr. McLoughlin. You can keep on doing that." His cheeky grin made me want to drop ice cubes down his pants and then possibly fish them out. Well, there's a swell idea...
"Not a chance, Ronaldo, now give it back you thief." I stretched out my hand. Sebastian pressed the book to his leg.
"Ms. Romanov, please take a seat."
"I think I'll stand." I glared at him. He shook his head in feigned disappointment.
"Fine have it your way." He held up the book. "Why haven't you told me about this?"
"There was nothing to tell." I crossed my arms. Fine, let's just get this over with.
"I don't agree with you. This most certainly isn't nothing. Lia, these sketches are insane. You're a designer." He cocked his head to the side, observing me like I was the most fascinating thing he's ever seen.
"I'm not a designer, I'm a scribbler. Those are scribbles and they were private. It's not a big deal."
"You're calling approximately 75 very detailed full cake designs scribbles?" I shrugged my shoulders. "Do you have any idea how absurd that sounds?" I didn't know what to say. It was just something I did, no one was supposed to see them. "Why didn't you mention anything about this?" He prodded gently, coaxing me to answer. Even though I knew what he was doing I was helpless to prevent it. Having someone to open up to was a nice change from my island of isolation. Seems I wasn't impervious for the need of a human companion after all.
"It's pretty recent. I didn't use to draw like that; only doodled in the past." I shifted on my feet.
"What changed?" I shook my head, nope I didn't want to say. "Pints, please tell me. What changed?"
"You!" I blurted out, exasperated. Making short work of the small space between his desk and the door in my restlessness. I knew if I elaborated, I would be exposing just how much of a place he's carved out in my life. A spot he can now boastfully claim as his own. Burrowing so deep it would require the jaws of life to pry him out. "You is what changed. You're not the only observant one, Beets. I've had a lot of time to watch you work with your designs. To witness how you knew exactly where you were going with it before it was clear to anyone else. When it was all said and done, I doodled. Then I started drawing more parts of it." I didn't look at him. My vulnerability making me want to spit this out quickly. The longer I dwelled on it, I suspected they were my way of feeling closer to him. I wanted to see it all through his eyes.
"The longer I watched you the more detailed my drawings became. Napkins became too small, so I got the book and started to draw out my ideas on a larger scale."
Ronaldo sat up straighter, his intrigue visible from a mile away. "There are napkins?"
"Uh, yea." Buried in a wooden box under all of my clothes in the bottom drawer. Along with my savings... and only one more truth was being held back on my tongue. To hell with it. He's seen me in lingerie and he's shoved ice cubes down my shirt. Even seen the lovely state of my former crash pad. This couldn't be any more embarrassing to admit than telling him that Bathilda wanted to pimp me out. "Watching you work inspired the drawings, Sweets. Um...you inspired me." There I said it, I was also flushed. I rubbed at my brow, blowing a tendril of hair out of my face.
He hadn't said anything so I took a chance and looked at him. His gaze was softened as he watched me. "The way your hands worked when you sculpted or when talked through your vision just sort of got the gears shifting in my head."
Sebastian grinned as he had outside, dimple on display and all. It's interesting to work with someone who always appeared surly and ill-tempered for the better part of a year and only now realize that in the last two months, he hasn't stopped smiling.
I was glad for it because even if he hadn't noticed, his lighthearted expressions of joy seemed to lighten the load off his shoulders. Ronnie seemed relaxed and if there was anything great that could come from him ninja appearing around me all the time, it would be this transformation. Someone with a heart like his deserved to be able to experience great joy. It's an odd thing to be focusing on now instead of preparing for his modest and humble reply.
"Wow, I don't know what to say." Yea me either, I wanted to grunt. "First thing would be thank you. Thank you for telling me. And I'm honored that I inspired you."
"Yea, well, don't get a big head about it or anything," I grumbled and reddened further when the innuendo hit me upside the head. Would I ever stop hearing these implications with everything we said? Sebastian pressed his lips together to keep from laughing. Ah to be the joke in this man's life.
"I'll do you a solid and not touch that one." He finally replied, a lovely smirk pairing with more dirty talk. Lifting the book, he waved it in my direction. "Now this..."
"Can I have it back now?" I whined.
"In a minute. Lia, this is good. Real good. You told me you had an ultimate goal, something you really cared about. This talent, that's right at the tips of your fingers, could help you start building a foundation to finance your dream."
I snorted, right.
"Don't play it off like it's nothing. There are designs in here that I could name at least five of the higher profile clients who'd pay top dollar for them." I stared at him. Such outlandish nonsense.
"I can see it in your eyes, stop it." He narrowed his eyes at me.
"You're very pushy, Ronaldo. You tell me to stop doing a lot of things. I thought we had an agreement that that would end." I responded, he rolled his eyes and pushed off the desk. He walked toward me, holding my book out. I grabbed it, pressing the black rectangle tightly to my chest. Maybe if I pushed hard enough, I could absorb it into my being and out of sight.
"I only tell you to stop it with the negative shit. You've had a lot of people treating you like you can't do it for so long, that you actually believe it. I'm helping you break the habit. Consider me being pushy as tough love." I sighed. He had a point, as usual.
"Nobody was supposed to see them." I offered lamely.
"Well, I did. And now that I have, I have a proposition." He rubbed his hands together excitedly. The puzzle pieces in his head clicking into place and forming a bigger picture I wasn't privy to yet. Oh, dear...
"I'm not going to like this, am I?"
"Tsk, tsk. So negative. I want to offer your sketches as options for our clients. And sketch out custom requests. You'll get 50% of the commission for them on total-of-sale. What do you say?" I lifted my eyebrows at this.
"50%?" I asked incredulously.
"Fine, 75%. You drive a hard bargain." He reached out and took hold of my shoulders, leveling his eyes to mine. I choked.
"Are you nuts?!" He was, he had to be. That was too much. This was Ronaldo being ridiculously generous, again. I mean he already gave me a bed. Not to mention a roof, four walls in a lovely shade of light grey, and electric blinds. In my book, that meant his generosity quota in my department has been fulfilled.
"No," he drew the word out. "I just know what these guys would go for. It would help with that pesky debt you insist on paying off. You know, the one you won't let me retract."
"How is that helping out? I would be getting more than you in this deal?" I sputtered.
"You'd be bringing something new to Shy Guy's Bakery. That expands business, which in point, helps me. So?" I stared at him like he had two heads and shook my own. Advantage. The word burned me at its arrival. It felt like I'd be taking advantage of him.
"No. You've given me a place to live for nothing. You force-feed me five meals a day to ensure I'm not starving. AND you hadn't fired me when you should have from the very first accident. I can't do this Sebastian. This benefits me more than you, at that point I would owe you far more than I could ever repay."
There was just no way I could ever make it up to him if I accepted his ludicrous offer.
"Lia, my kindness doesn't come with a price tag. Or expectations of any kind. I know that's what you're used to but I meant what I said to you. I want to help you, this is another opportunity. Take it." He urged, quietly.
I didn't say no or yes, but he could read me caving in. I dropped my head back and stared at the ceiling. 75% on total-of-sale? For a lousy picture? That's a lot of moola.
Tour de France would be a distant memory... I'd be able to save more, to get my own place in lands unknown. The idea of leaving so soon left me sadder than I wanted to admit. Chewing on my lip, I ignored the implications of those feelings. My Patronus should just be an ostrich since I was so good at burying my head in the sand—even if that's not what that really means.
Think of all the things you could get the misfits... And as if my resolve wasn't melting already he went for the slam dunk.
"It would help me a lot, Shorts. Lighten my load if I didn't have to design every single request that came through the door on top of execution. It would be nice to share the creative space with someone I could trust." Ah, shit sticks, marbles, and piles of cow dung. Ronaldo trusted me. Read: relied on me.
He saw me as reliable and trustworthy. Two things that made my cousin Guilt take center stage when I knew I'll have to leave one day. Leaving him with nothing but fading memories of that one time he tried to save his poor, destitute employee. If I did this, maybe guilt could finally accept that well-deserved shove over the cliff.
"Fine." I snapped my head back down to look at him. "Fine. But drop it down to 35% you lunatic."
"35%..." His nose scrunched up adorably, I could see he wanted to argue. Sorry, compadre, but not today.
"Yes, take it or leave it. I'm not budging on that." I refused to admit as to why I dropped that number so much.
Reluctantly, Sweets held out his hand and we shook on it. "Deal."
To prove him ridiculously right, after the sale of my first sketch, I found myself 35% of total sale richer. Which just so happen to be an hour later...
The devil turned out to be my guardian angel. Facts of life that I'm still reeling from.
***
I'd just sat down with a bowl of beef Ramen, my book propped up against the sturdy tissue box cover and the remote when the sounds of Sebastian puttering around his office grabbed my attention. It was our "weekend", plans of relaxation were on both of our agendas after a grueling and tiring week. Even though we planned to relax, Sweets has been restless since morning. Taking calls from a mysterious caller and trying to schedule another meeting with that pesky family friend of his.
You didn't forget about them, did you?
When all was quiet again, I refocused on my book. Getting lost in the re-read of a meticulous assassin and a hilarious coder. Slurping my noodles like a happy clam. Sebastian plopped down on the double-seater adjacent to me. His disgruntled sigh pulling me out of my reading haze.
"Trouble on the mind?" I asked between bites. My eyes drifting over to Ronaldo, who had sunk low in his seat, head resting back and eyes shut tight.
He tilted his head to look at me. "Something like that."
I lifted a bundle of noodles with my fork and sucked them up. The wayward ends slapping me on the chin and cheek, leaving a trail of beef broth on both. The move was both graceless and obnoxious, but I figured it'd give Sweets a laugh. I was all about eliciting the laugh these days. "Wanna talk about it?"
"Not really." He pulled a pillow onto his lap, hugging it like he was getting ready for a nice long nap and he needed something to hold. Maybe we could schedule in nap time... The life of luxury people. I was living the dream. Minus the psycho villain and the lack of a normal future to my name.
I watched him watching me. Making the moment more ridiculous as the broth trail dried into my skin. In the end, I got a smile, I'd call that a success. "I just wasn't prepared to have to negotiate for over an hour."
"Gave you a hard time, I take it." I nodded into my soup. This little adventurer decided to add some fresh scallions to her meal. Look at me, the great risk-taker and improviser. I blamed Beets for this. Now I was watching them float around the surface as Sebastian shared his woe's. I always feared I'd never be domesticated but this was an encouraging example to give me hope that maybe one day I could settle down with someone and simply be. You know, when Bathilda drops dead.
"It's like she lives to be as difficult as possible." He shared woodenly. Almost as if his soul was dying inside just by talking about it. "It's really not that fucking hard to understand. Twice she blew me off when I did her the massive favor of scheduling the review at her availability and at her location. There is a reason why I don't pander to a clients availability. Once you start showing them that your time is flexible, when it sure as shit is anything but, they think they can dictate when and where. Often times becoming demanding and flakey as fuck. That's a disaster recipe for failure since your other clients get the shit end."
I frowned. "It can't be that bad. I thought customer services was the key to a business?"
"Not always, Shorts. The coined phrase, the customer is always right? That leads to abuse of power. You know I cater to my clients. Making the entire thing effortless for them is what I aim for. But in order for all of them to get the right kind of service, there have to be ground rules. My policies are my own. They may not work everywhere, but they work for me."
"Have you tried the other way?" I wasn't trying to argue with him, I was merely curious. He seemed so adamant about it, I only wanted to understand his confidence. As someone that stumbled from one near-miss to the next, it was alluring to see someone take confident strides to their future.
Sebastian didn't get upset or defensive. He just was. Relaxed and pressed into the sofa. He looked cozy and I fought the need to go curl up by his side and lay my head against his chest just to listen to the steady beat of his heart. These were danger zone thoughts... Luckily his words were able to stamp down that need.
"I have. I tried to be flexible with all of my clients in the beginning. If they needed me to do a certain day, they got it. Even if it meant I had to bump up an appointment and run out to the next. All that got me was an overworked staff, several slip-ups, and a few steps away from closing my doors before they were even really open." He shared honestly and the confession caused my eyebrows to arch in surprise.
Ronaldo stumbling? That was unheard of. "I want to call you a liar."
He chuckled lowly. The rumble pleasantly wrapping around me. "Ask Heather. It only lasted a few weeks, I sorted it out fast after that. When the shifting deadlines started to affect my staff, I knew it was time for a change. They all took a chance on me and I couldn't fail them. After the change, things picked up. Since then we haven't had problems and I haven't looked back."
Well, even the Greek gods all had flaws. Beets had a few but overall I'd say he was aces. This tiny blimp in his bakery career only made him more endearing.
"So did you ever reach a consensus?" We'd gotten off topic a bit.
He shook his head. "Not really. I gave her a time and date. She brushed it off like it was a joke. But I'm just about all out of patience and am one call away from telling her to find another baker."
"Ouch. Dumped by a family friend. That's gonna hurt." I snorted.
He shrugged. "She'll survive. Her event date keeps changing and to me, that sounds like a nightmare on the horizon."
There was a grain of truth to that. If the red flags are waving then they most certainly are an omen. I scooched up and planted my tush on the couch. My knees and joints screaming in protest from the sudden change of position. Younger, I was getting not—Yoda I am slowly becoming. I rubbed a hand down my thigh, easing the strained muscles there from being cramped up for so long.
Once it was secure I took another bite from my soup. Something that refocused his attention on the bowl. Ronaldo was clearly ready to move on from that which grinded his gears. In normal person speak, he was changing the subject because he didn't want to feel irritated by the client from hell anymore. But something told me he was going to find a new irritation. Moi. I was a true clairvoyant, really.
"Ramen again, huh?" Sebastian frowned. This cray train was about to leave the station. At least I was the one behind the wheel this time, I had suspicions that made Ronnie happy.
I pointed at my bowl. "Hold on, this is the pack version, total upgrade. I used to only be able to eat the cups for disposable reasons." I swear on my left nipple that his eye twitched.
"That's your third one in two days." He pointed out. Ah very, very true. Maybe he was right? Nah.
"I added scallions." I tilted my bowl, pointing at the green floating rings. Proud in my cooking bonnet.
"Those are chives, Pints."
"Oh, whatever. I like the soup." We eyed each other like two gunslingers at a showdown. I lifted my noodle laced fork up slowly to my mouth. Wrapping my lips around the loot, successfully pulling all noodles from the prongs and chewing at turtle speed—watching his eyes progressively get smaller and smaller.
"That's it, this abomination has got to go. If it's the meal itself you love so much, I'll show you what real ramen tastes like." Sebastian tossed his pillow aside and made for the kitchen to grab my stash—the one I had foolishly let him see me hide. He was a man on a mission, looking for a distraction, and I had just given him new purpose.
"Don't you dare!" I bolted up on the seat of the couch, half mindedly placing my bowl on the coffee table before I leaped through the air—using a graceful push from the backrest for extra umph—to land on his back. Arms around his neck, legs wrapped around his waist. It was a move for the ages. I was a badass beast. I was magnificent. I should really look into joining a parkour crew when I left this damn city.
Ignoring the sad connotation that the last thought held, feeling Sebastian's sturdy torso between my flimsy legs was very, very nice. Almost made me want to give up my stash willingly. Almost. Id much prefer to dangle a pack of the offending food in front of him to chase while I clung to his back like some lascivious koala. Now there's a sport I could get behind. All jokes aside, it was truth time. He liked when I was open with him and I knew he needed some bonding time.
I leaned my head forward, my chin resting over his shoulder, my temple pressing against his. "Sebastian, please. I know it doesn't make sense but these abominations have been my one constant no matter what shit got pelted in my direction. It's comforting. Kinda like a comfort blanket."
Sebastian's head dropped back to rest against my shoulder, both of his hands coming up to give my forearms a firm squeeze. I sighed in content because, heavenly contact. I loved his hands. This should come as a surprise to no one. His grip squeezed again in something that felt a lot like despair. "Well—fuck."
"Indeed but look on the bright side, they aid the desperate college population and can be dubbed their savior. Can't be all that bad." I tried to joke. At least it earned me a baby rumble from that magnificent chest. Just big enough for me to feel it reverberate through my own torso.
"Yea, they do. I'm still making you a fresh homemade batch. It might just change your mind on the packs for the rest of your life."
"I don't doubt it, Ronaldo. But I think you underestimate my required demand." I felt his head turn inward to face me in our fairly precarious position.
"Little Lia, I will make you a lifetime supply and freeze it in single portions if that was what you wanted." He rubbed my arm back and forth, the sensation tantalizing. But not as tantalizing as his face tucked into my neck. Him almost nuzzling my hair, his lips brushing delicately near that soft spot below my ear as he spoke. The one that triggered a course of ASMR rippling through every nerve in my body in major overload. I closed my eyes tightly shut, squeezing until they ached. Wanting badly to press further into him. This was extremely dangerous territory. If I wasn't careful, I was about to plunge headfirst to a lifetime of heartache and pain.
"I know you would," I whispered after a laborious breath—he simply did things to my faculties. "But I can't keep taking from you. I won't." I swallowed the ball taking over my airway and unwrapped my legs. Signaling him it was time to let me go. He only hesitated for a fraction of a second before helping me down off his back.
I turned away, facing the carpet as tears threatened to spill down my cheeks. Damn it! This was too fucking hard. Already he's become so precious to me and there was no way around it. I practically loved the man.
Who wouldn't when they offered you shelter, safety, and a lifetime supply of your comfort food? I almost wished for those seven months back where I wasn't tied to him and we were two people who begrudgingly worked together. I pushed it all aside, then finally turned to face him when I deemed it safe to look, plastering on a smile.
Sebastian watched me carefully and allowed me the space I needed to put between us instantly. And why the hell wouldn't he? He's an incredible human being who could read me like a fucking book. One that had realized too late she had let him rifle through her pages to get to the crux of her person. I had no doubt he thought about what never seemed to leave me—what we never mentioned.
That this was temporary. That as soon as I paid off my debt to him I was gone from his cozy spare. Only I'm not sure he realized that he'd just handed me the very thing I needed to speed this all up. That gone meant so far away from here, he may never hear from me again. Already the fingers of dread and longing exercised their horrible hold around my heart, lungs, and anything that had by this point lunged at the person standing before me—begging to be claimed.
I didn't want to hurt him any more than I wanted to hurt myself. So I can do this for us. I can take the brunt of the pain if it meant he could stay in the dark for just a little bit longer. Fuck it all, we were going shopping and he was going to make me the best damn Ramen that will haunt me for decades to come.
"Alright, Ronaldo. Let's go. Show me what I'm missing."
"You won't regret it, Short Stack." He cleared his throat from the hoarseness. Working through a personal battle all of his own. "I promise."
Maybe Sebastian was aware after all.
*********
A/N: Okay, sooo there is a bonus scene with this but I'm still editing it. I'm hoping to have it up in the next 24 hours or so. On a minor note, I'm expanding! I've finally started an FB author page where I plan to share updates and announcements for my current and upcoming projects. It's a big step and I would love for some of you to come join in. I'm in several author groups from my favorite writers, and the friends I've made there are some of the best ones I've made in my life. I hope the same can happen for all of you on mine! Anyway, the link is below and on my profile page. Hope to see you there!
https://www.facebook.com/AnnalisNolan/