25

sebastian

 

“How have you boys been this week?” Mom asked, bustling into the house with a tray of my dad’s famous barbeque ribs. “Things going well? Is he pissing you off yet, Greyson?”

Greyson shrugged. “It’s okay.”

It was Thursday. Tomorrow, we would be heading back to spend the night with Tabby before meeting with my sisters at Hershey Park on Saturday morning.

“Good,” she replied, pressing her hand to his back. “Are you hungry? You can grab some ribs—”

“I’m gonna go play Street Fighter,” he cut her off, and headed straight to the basement.

Mom looked to me, both of us wincing when the door shut behind him. “So, I take it things aren’t going so great?”

I folded my forearms against the counter and pursed my lips with consideration. How could I adequately describe the week we’d had in a way that she’d understand, without having witnessed it herself?

There seemed to be a pattern in this new life of mine. Greyson and I would spend time together, playing drums or video games, or watching movies. We’d laugh, have a great time, and then there’d be a lull. A moment between movies, a quiet minute in the grocery store, a few fuzzy seconds while we waited for the next song to play, and his mood would dim. Instantly, he’d shut down, shut me out, and walk away. I often wouldn’t see him again until the next day.

“Things are fine until they’re not,” I mumbled, shrugging and tapping my fingertips against the counter, before adding, “They’re more fine than not though.”

“Well, that’s good,” she encouraged, standing across from me. “Hon, you can’t expect for things to be perfect in just a few weeks. Nothing ever is.”

“I know that.” I sucked in a frustrated gust of air, holding it before exhaling my discouragement. “I just wanted to have a better report for Tabby, I guess. I didn’t want her to worry about him over here.”

“Have you been talking to her?”

I nodded, tracing the speckles in the stone. It’d been nearly two weeks since I’d seen her, and I hated how badly I missed her. How badly I felt dependent on her. “Yeah, we text all the time.”

“Then I’m sure she already knows how he’s doing,” she assured me, and she was right. I gave Tabby updates on the regular. She knew about his flip-flopping, and she had even expected it. Still, it didn’t make me feel like any less of a failure at this whole single parent thing, and I wondered if maybe I wasn’t cut out for it after all.

“I bet you’re excited to see her again, huh,” Mom teased, nudging her hand against mine and grabbing my attention.

“Sure,” I shrugged, overselling my nonchalance. “It’ll be nice.”

“Nice,” she mocked with a tip of her head. “Can I remind you that I carried you in my belly for forty-one weeks?”

“God, I don’t envy you,” I mumbled, shaking my head with a chuckle.

“You didn’t want to leave, and after twenty-six fucking hours of labor, I finally had my boy and he was already a literal pain in my ass,” she snickered, reminding me for the thousandth time that she broke her tailbone while giving birth to me.

“Still sorry about that,” I pouted.

“You lived with me for a little over eighteen years before you moved out, and I spent that time, and all this time after, learning everything there is to know about you.” She raised a finger, poking the center of my chest. “You can’t hide a damn thing from me. Remember that.”

“I’m not hiding anything,” I quirked my lips.

“Okay, then you’ll admit that you have feelings for Tabby.”

I lifted my arms off the counter and huffed at the accusation. “If you mean we’re friends, then sure.”

“Well, I already know you’re friends, but that’s not what I meant.” She poked my chest again. “You like her.”

Mimicking, I poked her forehead. “Not like that,” I smirked, emphasizing every word with another poke between her brows.

Narrowing her eyes and shaking her head, she pressed her lips into a firm line and brushed my finger away. “You can deny it all you want, Bastian. Just don’t forget that I know you better than you know yourself, and I know I’ve never seen you like this before. Not even during your Christina Aguilera phase.”

“That wasn’t a phase, Mom. I still beat it to Christina Aguilera.” It was almost the truth, aside from the fact that I hadn’t jerked off to anything but memories of Tabby since our first time together.

She smacked my arm. “Don’t be disgusting.”

I shrugged. “Just being honest.”

“Well, if you’re in the mood to be honest, then why not admit that you like her?”

“Fine,” I practically sneered, not entirely sure of why I was suddenly getting so defensive. “If I’m being honest, then how about this? I really like sex with her. That’s fucking great.”

Mom pinched her lips and shook her head. “You know I didn’t need to hear that.”

Guilt struck my gut. I dropped my head, staring at the floor. “No, probably not. Sorry.”

With a disgruntled sigh, she waved an arm in the air. “Whatever. You’re adults. It’s none of my business. I just hope nobody ends up hurt in that situation.”

Me too.

 

***

 

“So, then,” I told Greyson, as we pulled up to the curb outside of Jane’s house, “I’m coming out of the bathroom stall, right, and there’s Grohl at the fucking urinal. And all I could think was, my fucking god is taking a piss right after I just took a shit. Most embarrassing moment of my fucking life.”

“Get the fuck out of here,” Greyson laughed, staring at me with wonderment. “What did you do?”

“What did I do? Kid, I didn’t do anything. I just went to wash my hands, hoping to Christ I’d just disappear.”

“That’s fucking crazy, D—” My heart stopped as he caught himself. Was he going to call me Dad? God, I wanted him to call me Dad. More than anything. “Did he say anything?”

“Yeah, actually. He said, ‘Hey, you’re Sebastian Moore, right?’ and that on its own was enough to make me piss myself. But then he had to go ahead and say, ‘You should try this shit you spray into the bowl before you take a dump. It helps a lot.’” I bubbled with laughter at the memory.

“You’re kidding me!” Greyson exclaimed, continuing to laugh.

“Not even a little bit,” I insisted with a shake of my head. “Hell, I wish. You don’t want your god talking to you about bathroom etiquette, trust me.”

With a puff of my cheeks and a long-winded sigh, I eyed the house, knowing Tabby was behind those walls. It felt like I hadn’t seen her in months, when it was really only a couple of weeks. Would I be able to control myself?

“Ready, kid?” I asked, smacking my hand against his thigh before getting out of the car.

The two of us walked through the wrought iron fence and up the porch steps, and before I could ring the doorbell, Jane threw the door open. With Sandy clutched to her chest, and whispered, “He’s here.”

“Who?” Greyson asked.

“Mr. Dolecki,” Jane hissed, thrusting Sandy into Greyson’s arms before grabbing me by the wrist. “Sebastian, you need to get a load of this guy.”

She dragged me toward the back of the house, through a hallway and into a room that she’d told me Mr. Worthington used as a library. There, we found Tabby, perched on the arm of a chair, giggling and talking with a man in what was undoubtedly a very expensive suit. The way he held his etched-glass tumbler, holding his head up high and leaning over her with a crocodile grin, brought on an immediate sensation of dread. It manifested and coiled through my guts, up toward my lungs, until I swore I could breathe fire.

I didn’t realize it before. Didn’t know it until I knew his face. But holy hell, I was jealous.

“Tabitha! Look who’s here!” Jane announced, dragging me further into the room, closer to Tabby and Mr. Fancy Pants.

Tabby turned to look at me. Her hair was pinned up in a complicated-looking twist, her makeup was pristine, and her clothes were pressed and neat. She looked the way she had when I first met her, when all I had wanted to do was mess her up. Now, knowing what she was like without her clothes on, knowing her tattoo and nipple piercings, I wanted to wipe her face, undo her hair, rip those clothes off, and yell at her that this wasn’t her. But he didn’t know any of that.

“What are you doing here?” she nearly gasped at the sight of me.

Without permission, and without Greyson there to see, I wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pressed my lips to the top of her head. I gauged her body’s reaction as I gauged the flat expression on his face.

“I told you we were coming tonight before going to Hershey tomorrow,” I reminded her, never taking my eyes off of him.

“Well, I’m work—”

“Tabitha.” He spoke with the refinery of someone who had grown up privileged. “Will you please introduce me to your interesting companion?”

Interesting companion. I broke my staring contest with his face to assess myself. Jeans ripped at the knees, sleeveless Metallica t-shirt, Chucks—did he know about her collection of Converse?

The contrast between us was startling, I’d give him that. My hair was pulled up in its usual knotted bun, a wreck in comparison to the neat and tidy gelled look he pulled off with pompous pride. My beard was close-cropped and only a bit longer than his, but not nearly as groomed. For fuck’s sake, the man looked like he had his eyebrows waxed, and the last time mine had seen any beautification was that one horrific night when my sisters attacked me with the tweezers.

“So sorry, Roman,” Tabby rushed to remedy the awkward encounter. “This is Sebastian, my nephew’s father. Remember I told you how Greyson lives with me?”

“Ah, yes,” Roman nodded thoughtfully, eyeing me up and down with a studious judgment. “I do remember. You’re the one who plays with drums, yes?”

Plays with drums. He had sneered the demeaning comment behind something I’m sure he thought looked like a smile.

“That would be me,” I extended a hand as I added, “And you’re the one who can’t decide what you want to do, so you just do everything, you little entrepreneur, you.”

He chortled condescendingly as we shook. “That’s cute. Very witty.”

“Sebastian,” Tabby cut in, turning her face upward to bore her eyes through me, “Roman and I were in the middle of a business meeting. So, if you could just wait outside, I would really appreciate that.”

I smiled tightly, looking from her to Roman, as I nodded. “Right, of course. Pleasure to meet you, Roman.”

“Ah, yes, and same to you, Sebastian. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again.”

You bet your ass you will. I turned, leaving the room with hostile intent. Jane and Greyson were waiting for me in the kitchen, Sandy still in Greyson’s arms.

“Well?” Grey asked. “What’s he like?”

“Fucking douche,” I assessed abruptly, the words tumbling out of my mouth as though they’d been dying to be released. “What do you think, Jane?”

“Fucking douche,” she repeated, nodding.

“So, where’s Tom to toss his pompous ass out of here?”

“It doesn’t work like that,” Jane sighed sadly. “I have to wait for his magic to work. Maybe the bank will disapprove of his request for a mortgage—”

“That guy won’t have a mortgage,” I told her, shaking my head. “He’ll be paying in cash.”

“Well, then maybe something else will happen. Another pressing matter, a natural disaster …” She shrugged helplessly.

I could hear their terse laughter drifting through the house, nipping at my ears. What business meeting required him to lean into her the way he was? What could they be talking about, that made her giggle like that?

“Sebastian?” Jane asked, and I snapped out of my ill-fated reverie to find her and Greyson staring at me.

“Sorry,” I grumbled, taking Sandy from Greyson’s arms and smoothing my hand over his back. “Hopefully something gets in the way of this shit.”

Or someone.

 

***

 

Sighing languorously, Tabby dug her fingers into my chest, rocking her hips and pulling me in. The red tendrils of her hair hung over her breasts to her bellybutton, reaching for my stomach like auburn fingers. Little glints of sparkle caught the light with every back and forth motion, every controlled caress of her groin against mine.

Fuck, I didn’t even need to come, I realized, in a trance as she tipped her head back. This was just fine, watching her use me as she wanted, the tickles of hair dancing over my thighs. This was more than fine.

“God, Sebastian,” she moaned, her voice lazy and sated, while piercing my skin with her nude-colored fingernails. “I’ve missed this so much.”

My hands circled her hips, taking back the control in her speed. “Oh, yeah?”

My palms engulfed her waist, a belt of fingers and ink. She was so small, so delicate, so fragile, and right now, she was mine.

Mine.

Hear that, Roman?

“Mm-hmm,” she brought her eyes back to mine and nodded, licking her pouty lips as she bent down to swipe her tongue over mine. “I thought about you every single night.”

“Mm,” I groaned. “What did you think about?”

“This. Fucking you, and your mouth,” she whispered against my lips. “I’d get off, thinking about your tongue.”

I growled, capturing her mouth and sweeping inside to collect her taste on the tip of my tongue, to swallow it until it became a part of me. This was all I needed, I decided. Just to be inside her, to curl around her body and cocoon in the nest created by us. This was good, this was great, and whatever it was, I wasn’t ready to give it up. Not now, not yet, but I felt a darkness looming above the bed. The crocodile smile began to penetrate the veil of passion laying over me, and before I could meet release with release, I lost it.

“What’s wrong?” Tabby asked, raising her forehead from mine, searching my eyes. “Are you okay?”

I swallowed. “Yeah, maybe I just need to, uh …”

We changed position and I squeezed my eyes shut. I tried to fight it, to focus, to chase away the dread and the worry. But it wasn’t happening. I bent over her, pressing my lips and forehead to her back.

“Sebastian?” She was concerned, looking over her shoulder.

“I’m okay,” I assured her, kissing her again. “I think I’m just tired.”

I collapsed beside her, half-expecting to see his face hovering over the bed. This feeling was terrible, sickening in every definition of the word, and I bit at my lips out of frustration.

Tabby sat back on her heels, gripping me in her warm, soft hand. “I could do this, if it would help …”

I sighed, touched by her determination to please me and angry that I knew there was no hope of getting there, and I shook my head. “Really, I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?” She was stroking me gently, without any plan of arousal but to soothe.

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“Are you really that tired?” She was skeptical. She knew me better than that.

So, I shook my head. “I have some shit on my mind.”

Sitting down with her legs crossed, her and all of her naked confidence, she shrugged. “Okay, so talk to me.”

I snorted. “Well, okay, for starters, I don’t like Roman.”

Abruptly pulling her hand from my dick, she demanded, “Why would you bring him up right now?”

“Because I don’t like him. He rubs me the wrong way.” I folded my arms behind my head.

“Oh, well, great, because right now you’re rubbing me the wrong way,” Tabby growled, clambering from the bed and grabbing her robe. “It doesn’t matter if you don’t like him, Sebastian. He’s my client. I’m selling a house to him, and selling one for him, and that’s it.”

I shrugged, crossing one leg over the other. “Does he know that? Because the way he was leaning over you today …” I shook my head, pursing my lips. “I dunno, Tabby. Sorta feels like there’s more to it than that to me.”

“Jealousy doesn’t suit you,” she sneered, bending over to grab my pajamas. “Get dressed and get out.”

“Okay,” I shrugged, catching the t-shirt and pants as she chucked them at me.

I pulled them on, and she threw the door open. Without a word, I walked out to go to bed. When the door closed behind me, I thrust my hands into my hair and gave a low, internal groan.

What the fuck am I doing? This isn’t what I do. This isn’t how I handled conflict. I shook my head, turned around and lifted my fist to knock, when the door opened. Tabby was shaking her head, grabbing my hand and pulling me inside.

“This is how we fight, huh?” I asked, as her arms wrapped around my waist and my chin tipped to the crown of her head.

“I think it’s sweet you care,” she uttered quietly, kissing the center of my chest. “But you don’t have to worry about me.”

“What if I want to worry about you?”

I tightened my arms around her shoulders, looking off to her bed and wanting nothing more than to lay there. I wanted our arms around each other, drifting toward a sleep where maybe we could also be together in my dreams. That’s all I wanted. This. Her.

Fuck. “God, Tabby, what the fuck are you doing to me?”

“What do you mean?” She disturbed my chin’s rest as she tipped her head back to look up to me.

“You really are a witch.”

She giggled, shaking her head and spearing me with her glittering emerald eyes. “You keep saying that.”

“It’s better than the truth,” I admitted, lifting the corner of my mouth in what I hoped looked like a smile.

“And what’s the truth?”

“That you’re going to be the end of me.”

She hesitated, searching my eyes for clues of something I wasn’t sure of, before pulling her arms from around my waist. She pressed her palms to my cheeks, stood on her toes and pressed one sweet kiss against my lips before taking one, two steps back toward the bed. One hand stretched out toward me, grasping my fingers and tugging me back with her.

“What are you doing?” I asked, shaking my head, while allowing her to tow me toward the cloud of sex and dreams.

“I need good sleep,” she stated simply, “and I only get that with you.”

“What about Greyson?” I cocked my head.

“We both know he sleeps late in the summer,” she reasoned with a shrug, dropping down and pulling me with her.

We laid together, facing each other, before the onset of sleep could take us away. There had been a shift on this night, from casual fucking to something teetering toward feelings. I wasn’t sure if that was what either of us truly wanted, or if we were simply succumbing to the moment, but I felt them. The emotions. They were there. A discombobulated cluster of confusion and uncertainty sprinkled delicately with something affectionate.

“Maybe it’s not the end,” she whispered, afraid to speak louder, to tell the truth.

“Sure as fuck feels like it,” I laughed, and for a moment, I missed my old life. Before Greyson. Before her.

“Yeah, I know, but maybe it only feels that way because something else is beginning.”

“Like what?”

She shrugged. “I have no idea.”

Those words served as the end to the night, before she rolled over and turned off the light. She settled her back against my chest and I wrapped my arms around her, sighing contentedly. I breathed in her hair, wrestling between sleep and my thoughts. Roman. Emotions.

It just is.