Saving Us by Wendy Million

Chapter Eight

We walked in silence back to my house. What was he thinking about? I couldn’t stop wondering whether encouraging the curiosity we seemed to have about each other was a good idea. He didn’t once let go of my hand on the walk and every once in a while, when I looked over at him, he was looking at me, too.

At my townhouse, Sebastian knocked before we unlocked it. “Just in case.”

Smart. I probably would have burst in and ended up yelling, “My eyes” as they tried to cover up.

When we opened the door and stepped into the open living room, Johnny and Annika were sitting on the couch, watching one of the football games Annika had on the DVR from that week. I stood there stunned by the scene. Them actually watching football hadn’t occurred to me. I expected them to be arguing or making out. Could the intensity I saw on the dance floor be lessened by taped games?

“Seb.” Johnny glanced over the back of the couch. The change in him was incredible—so calm and collected now.

“You’re re-watching the Bucs game?” Excitement tinged Sebastian’s voice.

“Yeah, man. It was a good game. Tom Brady is a god.” Johnny raised his beer in a toast.

“You want a beer?” Sebastian headed to the kitchen.

“Sure.” I hovered behind the sectional couch before sitting down as far away from Annika and Johnny as I could get. There was still something about what happened at the bar eating at my gut. He’d been so full of rage over such a small thing.

When Sebastian came back, he passed me the beer and then sat so close to me our thighs brushed. When I cocked an eyebrow at him, he grinned. If I shifted away, I’d fall off the couch. I shoved him a little with my shoulder, and when I looked up, Annika was examining us with a smile on her face.

“Looks cozy,” she said.

Johnny’s hand rested on Annika’s leg, and they were touching from the waist down.

“Right back at ya.” I avoided Sebastian’s smug gaze.

Names, positions, plays, strategy, and scoring flew around my head while they viewed the game. None of it registered. Everything in me was fine-tuned to Sebastian’s leg brushing against mine each time he moved. Or the way his hand would rest on my leg, as though it was the most natural thing in the world to touch me. Was it possible to overheat from suppressed lust while dying of boredom from a football game? When I couldn’t take my skyrocketing libido anymore, I stood and went to the kitchen for more drinks.

I pressed my hands into the counter, lost in the stupidity of developing a crush on a womanizing football player. He was the opposite of anyone I would have ever wanted. Footsteps sounded from the living room, and I opened the fridge.

Sebastian slid behind me, and my entire body vibrated on a frequency meant just for him. Unfair. Completely and utterly unfair to want someone so wrong for me. I stifled a groan.

“No beer left?”

Several bottles of beer were right in front of me, and he’d be able to see them from where he was standing. I grabbed the pineapple and orange juice from the fridge and gathered the ingredients for a rum swizzle as though that had been my intent all along.

“You have enough for everyone?” Sebastian tipped his head in Annika and Johnny’s direction.

I nodded, still not trusting myself to speak just yet.

“You guys want a swizzle?” Sebastian raised his voice over the noise of the game.

“Is that the girly drink you like?” Johnny called back, at ease with Sebastian in a way he wasn’t with me. Maybe Johnny just didn’t like me.

Sebastian laughed. “It’s de drink of de rock!” Sebastian adopted the Bermudian accent I’d heard so much while on vacation.

“Mmm…beer!” Johnny responded. “Make sure you get something a man would pick.” Annika’s voice wasn’t quite audible, but her admonishing tone was clear. “Okay, fine. The drink of real football fans!”

Sebastian chuckled and shook his head. I passed him the first rum swizzle while I mixed my own.

“Mmm…it’s liquid Bermy. How’d you learn to mix this?”

I half smiled while I shook the next one in the canister. “Truth?”

“Always.” He took another long gulp.

“The bartender at the Hamilton Princess had a thing for me, and I had a thing for learning how to mix this drink. I spent time with him after hours.”

Sebastian raised his eyebrows. “Is that code for something else?”

“Yes.” I grinned. “And I still learned how to make a mean cocktail.” I poured the now frothy concoction into another glass.

He gave me an appraising look across the rim. “So, not a fan of me sleeping around, but you don’t have a problem with casual sex.” He sniffed and scanned the kitchen. “What’s that I smell? Oh, yes! It would be a double standard.”

“’Cause that’s never existed in the history of man. You’re just not used to being on the other side of it.” I lifted my chin in challenge, my own glass poised between my fingers.

He laughed, and an amused smile elevated the edges of his mouth. “You may be right.”

“So, can you turn your accent off and on?”

“At this point, yeah, I can. It’s a carefully acquired skill.” His smile faded. “If football doesn’t work out, I need the lingo for a career in business on de rock. But, if I go pro, I want people to be able to understand me.”

“I understood everyone when I was on the island.”

“All the time?”

I considered the question, my mind drawn back to my vacation. “Okay, maybe not all the time.”

“Imagine being interviewed and being asked to repeat yourself over and over. I’ve been there. No one wants that.”

From the living room, Johnny and Annika’s excited voices drifted into the kitchen.

“You came here to play with Johnny?” I put the ingredients together for another swizzle.

“I did.” He drained the last of his and set his glass on the counter with a soft thud.

“What’s he like?”

“Johnny?” His expression turned to one of surprise. He examined me for a minute, trying to assess why I’d asked. “You’re wondering about Annika?”

I shrugged and shook the mixture in the container. “She’s my friend. I just want to know if I should be worried.”

He crossed his arms and focused on the fridge. “I’m not sure how to answer that.” He frowned. “He’s my ace boy. He’s a good guy.” He gave me a wry smile. “Sometimes women define good differently.”

“You mean he sleeps with a lot of women or he’s mean to them? One’s kind of gross, but the other…?”

He turned so one hand was leaning on the counter, his shoulder almost brushing mine as he took his next drink. He looked into my eyes. “Yeah, he sleeps with a lot of women. But in the last week or two, it’s been less. Does that help?”

I wasn’t sure if he was avoiding the comment about Johnny being mean to girls or he assumed I was concerned with Johnny’s sex life. My heart beat so loudly I feared he’d hear it as I tried to read him. When he came closer and ducked his head as though he might kiss me, I turned to mix another swizzle.

“I’m going to win you over.” Sebastian shifted and leaned back against the counter.

I grinned while shaking the container. “Unlikely.”

“Give me one good reason why you can’t be with me.”

“You only want one?”

“I already know you’re fine with casual sex.” He took a big gulp.

“When I’m on vacation and it’s not my real life, sure. This”—I gestured around the house—“is my everyday life.” I sighed in frustration, but I wasn’t sure if I was upset with myself or him. The thought of sleeping with him sent heat rushing to places I didn’t want to get heated. “I don’t even like football. You can find lots of girls who enjoy football and don’t mind casual sex. From what I’ve heard, you already have. You don’t need to get me just to prove you can.”

Sebastian drank in silence while I poured mine into a cup. I’d mixed it too much, and the ice was melted. Part of me wanted to grab Sebastian’s shirt and drag him to my room, but the other part of me, the more rational part, wanted to go to my bedroom alone, lock the door, and never come out. How could I get off this slippery slope with him?

“I’ll be your wing-woman.” The words tumbled out. Oh, God. Where did that suggestion come from? Insane. His proximity had turned my brain to mush. Wing-woman?

He gave me a half-appraising, amused look. “I’m not sure that’ll work.”

“Sebastian!” Johnny said from the living room. “We have practice at stupid o’clock in the morning. We gotta get out of here or we’ll be dragging our asses.”

Sebastian fished out his phone and checked the time. He grimaced. “There in a sec.” He opened his contacts, typed something into it, and passed it to me.

Nattie—Wing-woman. There was an emoji of a girl with short, dark hair in a cape. I glanced up at him, and my heart pitter-pattered in my chest. The sincerity mixed with humor I always found in his eyes would undo me. I wasn’t there yet, and if I was smart, maybe I could sidestep whatever this was.

“If you’re my wing-woman, I’m going to need a number. I may have to send out the bat signal when I can’t get a girl to sleep with me.”

I laughed in spite of myself and typed in my number, shaking my head. I passed it to him, grinning.

Before I realized what he was doing, he leaned forward and kissed my temple.

“You know what my coaches say is my best quality?” His hand lingered on my waist.

Reluctantly, I lifted my gaze from his broad chest to look into his eyes one last time. “No idea.”

“Perseverance. I’m going to persevere the hell out of you, Nattie.” He took a step back from me and wiggled his cell. “I have your number now.”

“My superpower is blocking your calls.” I stifled a laugh.

“You wouldn’t dare. I’d have to send out a real bat signal then. Nobody wants that.” Sebastian chuckled and headed for the door, slapping Johnny on the shoulder as they both slipped into the night.

I followed behind him to stand with Annika. At the exact same time, we both sighed.

She turned to examine me. “You’re in deep.”

“Don’t I know it.” Sebastian’s wide back disappeared around the corner. “You seem happy.”

She nodded. “I am. He’s perfect for me. I can’t believe how lucky I am.” A wistful smile was on her face. I stared into the dark night and wondered how many other girls he’d be perfect for this week.