Itwas silly, noticing something as mundane and everyday asshoes,especially ones so common. But, both pairs of identical Converse pointed towardeach other—black canvas, scuffed and dirty white capped toes—and it irritatedme to think it might mean something. That perhaps it had been fate pushing meto uncharacteristically change my shoes in the middle of the workday and switchfrom my usual heels to something more preferred.
“Ifyou want my honest opinion—”
“Idon’t,” I interjected, still staring at those sneakers.
“Okay.That’s fine. But I’m giving it to you anyway.”
Ipulled my eyes from the ground to look up at him, staring expectantly andhoping he’d get it over with fast. I was already late, no thanks to thisnonsense.
Atthe lift of my chin, he smiled, deepening the lines creasing the corners of hiseyes and the sides of his mouth. He smiled a lot. It was apparent in hownatural he wore the grin. I didn’t know what that was like anymore.
“Ithink you had to grow up really fast. Probably before you were ready,” heassessed with a critical eye, although the grin never wavered. “I think, at onepoint, you were maybe a lot more like your sister than you let on.”
Thestatement, though true, left me jarred and wondering just how wide those holesin my heart really were. How was it so easy for him to peer inside like thatand know something I’d tried so hard to leave behind?
“Howdo you know that?” The question floated along a whisper, unable to raise myvoice. I was too startled. Too shaken.
Pullinga hand from his pocket, he didn’t falter in lifting his fingers to tuck somehair behind my ear. His fingertips were rough and callused against my skin, buthis touch was expertly gentle, as he slowly traced the curve of that ear. Hisgaze held mine tightly and my pulse quickened, throbbing at the base of mythroat with every beat of my panicked heart. The collection of hoops clickedtogether with the movement, until he reached my lobe, where he lingered. Gentlypinching the skin between his fingers and moving in closely to inspect.
“Theseare gauged,” he determined with a nod, his smirk unrelenting.
Ijerked my head back, pulling away from his touch. Unnerved by my suddenmovement, he slipped his hand back into his pocket.
“Ithink somewhere in there, Tabby, there’s a badass just dying to come out.”
“I’ma badass just the way I am,” I countered with my own smirk, untucking the hairfrom behind my ear.
“Yeah,I’d agree with that,” he nodded, sincerity in his eyes, “but I don’t think thisstuck-up attitude comes as naturally as you’d like to think it does.”
Ican’t keep doing this. I grabbed my phone from my pocket and checkedthe time. I was going to be late to meet with Mrs. Worthington, and realizing Iwasn’t going to shake this overanalyzing bastard, I turned to unlock my car andget in.
“Areyou coming?” I snapped at him.
Withan obnoxious bout of forced enthusiasm, he clapped his hands together, jumpingon his toes. “Do youreallymean it?” His voice oozed obnoxiously withsarcasm and something almost endearing.
“Ohmy God, just get in the car,” I responded with a dramatic roll of my eyes.
Sebastianrounded the car to get into the passenger side, and as soon as he was seated,his knees hit the dashboard. “What the hell kind of car is this?”
“Youcan move the seat back,” I needlessly instructed.
Reachingto the floor between his legs, he found the lever and pulled, sending the seatback as far as it’d go. And his legs still looked uncomfortably bent.
“Looksbigger on the outside,” he muttered, opening the door. “Yeah, this isn’t gonnawork. Come on, Thumbelina.”
“Whatdid you just call me?”
“Thumbelina.You know? Tiny fairy?” He got out of the car.
“Uh,where are you going?” I called after him before he could shut the door behindhim.
“We’retaking my car,” he informed me, as he headed in the direction of a silver RangeRover, before repeating, “Come on.”
Somethingtold me I was going to regret this.
11
tabby
