30

tabby

 

“Are you excited?” I asked Mrs. Worthington.

“Excited for what, honey?”

The woman had been trying to sell her house for nearly a year, and now that we were close to finalizing the deal, she couldn’t remember what there was to be excited about?

I sighed, laughing softly. “The sale.”

“Oh.” Mrs. Worthington tightened her lips, clicking her knitting needles together as Sandy scurried across the living room floor. “Of course, honey.”

I was skeptical of her response, but continued, “I’m thinking we’ll be closing by the end of August.”

“Mm-hmm,” she nodded, only half-listening as Mozart played his symphony on the old record player.

I sighed, resting into the armchair as my phone chimed for what felt like the fiftieth time that day, and of course, it was Sebastian. I wasn’t intending to ignore him. With every text that came through, I made a mental note to reply later, and later would come and go, taking with it the courage to reply.

I didn’t know how to be honest with him about Roman, about our kiss. Hell, I didn’t know if I needed to be honest at all. Was it any of Sebastian’s business that we had kissed, or that I had enjoyed it? It wasn’t the same, that was for sure, but it had been sweet and pleasant. But it wasn’t without guilt, as I had hoped, and I wondered if maybe that also played into my reluctance to talk to Sebastian.

With a pull of bravery into my lungs, I lifted my phone to read his messages.

 

Sebastian: Hey, so I was talking to Devin and Kylie and they wanted to get together this weekend. They told me to bring a date, and since I don’t know anybody else, I figured I’d ask you.

  Sebastian: You ARE still planning on coming this weekend, right?

Sebastian: Because I could ask one of my sisters, that’s cool, but I figured if you were around, you’d like to come. I mean, fancy dinner in the city. Who doesn’t love that shit, right?

 

I had to stare at the texts for a few minutes, reading them multiple times to analyze and dissect them until they made sense. Was he asking me on a date? Or was it simply that he needed someone to go with him, to avoid being the third wheel? Sebastian didn’t seem like the type of guy who cared about being the loner, he’d find fun wherever he went. But, on the other hand, I knew Devin and Kylie were a married couple who might feel more comfortable double-dating, as opposed to hanging out with a bachelor and some one-night stand.

 

  Me: Yeah, sure, it sounds like fun. What should I wear?

Sebastian: Nothing. HAHAHA. God, I’m funny. No, for real, don’t worry about it, Thumbelina. I’ll handle this shit.

  Me: Uh, excuse me? You’re not deciding what I wear.

  Sebastian: Why? You don’t trust me?

  Me: I probably shouldn’t.

Sebastian: Okay, how about this? Bring your own dress. Something nice, just in case you don’t like what I pick out. That way, you’ll have options. Sound good?

  Me: Yeah. Okay. I guess I can handle that.

 

When I put the phone down on the arm of the chair, Mrs. Worthington glanced up from her knitting and asked, “What are you smiling about?”

“Nothing,” I lied.

The truth was, it’d been several days since I had smiled, and it felt good.

Free, even.

 

***

 

When I arrived at Sebastian’s house that weekend, I carried my garment bag up the walkway and to the porch, preparing myself to tell him that Roman and I were making an attempt at dating. Real dating. Not casual sex, not feisty flirtation, but the potential for a real relationship. I knew Sebastian and I could be friends, I enjoyed his company, but this … what we were doing …

It wasn’t working anymore, not when there was something else on the horizon, and I couldn’t help that.

It just is.

Greyson opened the door. “Hey, Aunt Tabs.”

“Hey, Grey!” I wrapped him in my arms and kissed him twice on the cheek.

I had missed him. The house was too quiet, and the distance felt too big. I’d seen him nearly every day since he was born, and not seeing him for such long periods of time was now throwing me off to the point that I couldn’t pinpoint what exactly was different about him.

“Did you change something?”

“Huh?” he asked, stepping back and letting me into the house. “What do you mean?”

“You look different,” I mentioned, stepping inside and noticing immediately the changes in the house.

Greyson’s things were everywhere. There was no mistaking that a teenager lived here, so unlike my own house, and something in me whispered, Sebastian’s so much better at this than me.

For a minute, I resented him for it.

“Oh, I got a haircut,” Greyson told me, jumping over the back of the couch, and I noticed the other boy. I recognized him as one of Sebastian’s nephews, one of Greyson’s cousins, and I smiled at him.

“Hi,” I greeted, and he nodded with a quickly blurted, “Oh, hey.”

“So, wait. You got a haircut?” I asked Greyson, looking for confirmation, even though the sight of his hair was proof enough. The length I had grown so accustomed to was gone, leaving behind this purposefully messy look that suited him so much more. “It looks really good.”

“Thanks,” Greyson turned to me, smiling happily.

Every gesture, every word, every look … everything told me he was so much better off with his father. He had friends, family. He had a house that allowed him to live and thrive, and what was I providing for him? A stick-up-the-ass aunt that wouldn’t let him play his drums when I was trying to concentrate.

“Where’s Sebastian?” I asked, my throat tightening with the realization that I had failed my sister tremendously.

“Dad’s upstairs,” he told me before turning back to the movie playing on the TV.

Dad. God, I didn’t know if I’d ever get used to hearing him say that. Fifteen years was a lot of time to overwrite.

The boys laughed at whatever they were watching and I felt dismissed. I decided to head upstairs and change in what had been assigned as my room. An eruption of butterflies struck me hard and fast in the gut—why was I so nervous? This was just a dinner with Sebastian’s friends, to keep him from being the third wheel. Nothing more, nothing less.

But when I landed on the top step, and saw his bedroom door open, my poor, battered heart—abused from a year of relentless heartbreak—took a startled leap into the constricting cavern of my throat.

Before me stood a stranger.

“Y-you cut your hair,” I stammered, clutching my garment bag to my chest.

Sebastian ran his fingers through the short, lifted strands of blonde, mussing it up in a way that looked effortlessly unkempt and styled. “Yeah, Greyson wanted a haircut, so I thought, hell, why not?”

“Greyson wanted a haircut?” I asked doubtfully. He hadn’t gotten his hair cut in well over a couple years.

He laughed, and his cheeks pinked just a little. “Okay, fine. You got me. I wanted to go, but I was freaking out, so he went first.”

“W-why did you want to cut your hair?” I hated that I was horrified. I hated that I was shocked. Because, while it was certainly an unexpected change, Sebastian had taken a sharp turn from beautiful to undeniably gorgeous.

He shrugged so nonchalantly, like it wasn’t a big deal whatsoever to change the hairstyle he’d kept for decades. “Just felt like it was time.”

“Does it feel weird when you’re drumming?” I asked.

He looked so different, so unlike himself, that I hesitated to reach up and touch it.

“Hell yeah, but I’ll get used to it. It’s kinda nice being able to see what I’m doing, actually,” he laughed, and cleared his throat. “Uh, anyway, so …” He stepped forward, opening the door to the guest room. “Greyson gave me Jess’s number, and I got your sizes from her—”

“You talked to Jess?”

Nodding, he replied, “Yeah, I wasn’t just gonna buy you a dress and guess your size, Tabby. That’s a good way to get myself castrated.” He walked into the room and opened the closet, removing a garment bag from Nordstrom and laying it on the bed. “You can check it out. Mel and Dinah helped pick it out because, for some fucking reason, they didn’t trust me. Jen took it upon herself to handle the shoes, so blame her if they’re hideous.”

“O-oh, um … okay,” I nodded, taking it all in and processing. “Are you wearing that?”

I stupidly gestured toward his ripped jeans and t-shirt with its sleeves cut off. Of course he wasn’t wearing that. Why would he have gone through the trouble of finding me something nice to wear, only for him to go out in some old beat-up shit he’d probably had for the past fifteen years?

But of course, Sebastian looked down at his clothes and back to me with an expression so sincere, I almost laughed just looking at him. “Well, I thought I’d throw on a tie, but yeah. Why? You don’t like this?”

“Oh, God, shut up,” I laughed. “Get out of here and let me get dressed.”

“Yeah, me too,” he sighed, nodding and heading toward the door. “Oh, and don’t worry about your hair. Just leave it down.”

 

***

 

Open-backed with a sweetheart neckline, the dress was stunning in a way that teetered on the fine line between dress casual and formal. A jersey-knit, swing-style dress that would have looked great on a modern-day Lucille Ball, and I found that it suited me just as well. I noted how it showed off my tattoo, and wondered if he’d done that on purpose, knowing I never would’ve picked it for myself.

With a swipe of black eyeliner, a sweep of mascara, and some red lipstick, I called myself finished. For the first time in a very long while, I felt satisfied without trying too hard.

He sets me free.

Slipping my feet into the red Converse that made me giggle when I opened the shoebox, I pulled in a breath, for courage, for reassurance. I pulled the door open to find Sebastian’s room empty. With a quick glance down the hall, I determined that the bathroom and his drum studio were also vacant, so with a deep breath that did nothing to satisfy my nerves, I slowly made my way down the stairs.

I felt like I was in another life, another me, another prom. I descended with the anticipation of greeting my date for the first time, regardless of that little voice insisting that this was most definitely not a date.

I found him in the living room working with Greyson, who I was sure had even less experience than him, trying to figure out how to properly put on a tie. They were consulting the other boy’s phone, looking at a diagram, when I cleared my throat and the three of them looked up from their tedious work.

“Fuck. Me.” Sebastian uttered lazily under his breath, unblinking with his jaw unhinged.

“Wow, Aunt Tabs. You look good,” Greyson complimented before turning back to Sebastian’s neck.

“Grey, you have no idea what you’re doing,” I said, brushing him away and undoing the knots he was making.

“I was getting there,” he insisted, crossing his arms and watching over my shoulder.

“Mm-hmm,” I grumbled, lifting my eyes to catch Sebastian’s.

He was watching me with a heart-tugging intensity, lifting the corner of his mouth into a lopsided smile. “Do you like the shoes?”

I nodded as I looped the tie. “I do, but I have a feeling your sisters didn’t help pick them out at all.”

Shaking his head, he grinned. “Nah, I lied; that was all me.”

“But are they appropriate for where we’re going?” I raised my eyebrows, tightening the black-and-red silk to his collar and smoothing it down over his chest.

“Thumbelina, tonight you’re going out with a couple of rock stars. There’s no such thing as appropriate or inappropriate. It just is,” he said, pointing down to his own feet, and I saw that he was also wearing red Chuck Taylors. “But we do match, and that’s cute, right?”

I couldn’t help but giggle, shaking my head as I stood back to take him in. “Very cute,” I agreed, scanning the all-black suit and black button-down shirt underneath. “You clean up nicely.”

Tugging at the knot of his tie, he flashed me with a cocky grin. “Oh, baby, you have no idea.”