31. Lilian
Chapter 31
Lilian
When he said we’re taking a course, I didn’t think he meant this.
We’re standing in front of a door with a sign that reads ‘Intro to Sewing - Beginner Level.’ Sebastian’s hand rests on the small of my back, guiding me inside.
The room is set up with several long tables, each with its own sewing machine. A few other people are already seated, chatting amongst themselves. My palms grow slick with sweat, and I rub them against my jeans. What the hell am I doing here?
“Sebastian.” I whirl to face him, ready to bolt. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”
“Relax, princess. It’ll be fun.”
Fun. Right. Because the last time I sat in front of a sewing machine went so well. The memory of blood welling from my fingertip makes my stomach churn.
He must sense my unease because he hauls me to his side. “Hey. I’ve got you, okay? We’ll take it slow.”
I want to believe him. Want to trust that he won’t let me fall apart again. But the monsters linger, ready to drag me under at any moment .
“Welcome!” A petite woman with a sleek bob bustles over, beaming. “You must be the couple who booked last minute. I’m Margo, your instructor.”
Couple? Last minute? I shoot him a glare.
“That’s us,” he says smoothly. “Sebastian and Lil. We’re excited to learn.”
“Wonderful! Let’s get you settled then, shall we?” Margo leads us to a pair of machines in the back. Sebastian’s arm clings to my waist, preventing escape.
I drop into the chair, leg bouncing, fingers twisting in my lap. I can’t do this. I can’t.
Sebastian sits beside me, stopping my leg with his hand. “Relax, princess. I’m right here.”
The instructor claps her hands to get everyone’s attention. “Welcome, everyone! I’m so glad you could join us today. We’re going to start with the basics—threading your machine and sewing a straight line.”
I eye the sewing machine warily.
She launches into an explanation of the machine parts, the different stitches, how to thread the needle. “Alright, let’s get started!” Her voice is far too chipper for the dread coiling in my gut. “First, make sure your machine is plugged in and the power is on.”
Sebastian reaches over, flicking the switch. The machine whirs to life, and I flinch at the sound, my heart rate spiking.
I can’t do this. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t—
“Lil. Look at me.” His hands find my face, tilting my chin up until our eyes meet. “Breathe. Nice and slow.”
I focus on the speck of yellow within the green of his eyes, like a warm sunrise just behind the forest, mirroring the heat of his palms against my skin. He’s here. I’m not alone .
“That’s it.” His thumbs stroke over my cheekbones, grounding me. “You’re safe. I promise.”
I nod.
“Good.” He holds my gaze longer than needed before releasing me, turning his attention back to the instructor.
“Next, we’re going to thread the machine. Watch closely, now…”
I try to concentrate on her words and the step-by-step process. But my hands are shaking as I reach for the spool of thread, my fingers foreign and uncoordinated.
Suddenly, Sebastian scoops me up, settling me into his lap.
“What are you doing?” I attempt to squirm away, but his arm secures me in place, preventing any movement.
“Helping.” He takes the spool from my hand. “Let me.”
He threads the machine, his movements sure and steady. He makes it look so easy. So natural.
Adorable. Damn him.
“There. Ready to give it a try?” He arches one brow in challenge.
I swallow hard. “I don’t know if I can.”
“Of course you can.” He takes my hand, guiding it to the fabric. “I’ll be right here the whole time.”
“We could have done this at home.”
His body goes rigid for a split second. “You don’t like it here?”
“It’s not that.” I squirm in his lap, heat rising to my cheeks. “Is this really necessary?”
“You know, I always loved it when you put your hair in a ponytail.” His breath is hot against my neck. “That way, I can see your cute ears blush.”
My face flames, and I fight, clapping my hands over my ears. “Shut up. ”
“What?” He nuzzles the spot behind my ear. “It’s true.”
“Stop it.” I swat at his chest.
He laughs, the sound rich and deep. “You’re not denying it, though.” His hand finds mine, his fingers lacing through my own, the warmth of his touch both comforting and electrifying. “Give it another chance, princess. You might surprise yourself.”
Margo claps her hands again, drawing our attention back to the front of the room. “Alright, everyone! Let’s start sewing. Remember, take it slow and steady. You’ve got this!”
He nuzzles into my neck, his stubble rasping deliciously against my skin. “Focus on me. Forget everyone else.”
Easier said than done. But with his solid warmth surrounding me, his scent flooding my senses, it’s a little easier to breathe and to center myself in the moment.
His hands guide mine, his touch firm yet gentle, helping me position the fabric.
I can do this. It’s a machine. It can’t hurt me.
I inhale deeply and press my foot down on the pedal.
The machine starts whirring, the needle bobbing up and stitching a somewhat wobbly line across the fabric. His hands cover mine, helping me keep it straight.
“You’re doing great.” Pride seeps into his voice. “See? That’s my girl.”
We continue like that for a while, with his arms around me, his body solid and warm against my back. It’s hard to think about anything else. Hard to remember why I was so scared in the first place.
His hands never leave mine, his touch a silent promise. I’m here. I’ve got you.
Until he removes them, and I jerk back, the needle coming to a halt .
“Relax.” His fingers slide under the hem of my shirt, brushing against the bare skin of my stomach. “Start again.”
I shake my head.
“I said start it again, princess. And this time, don’t stop. You can do it.”
I ease my foot down on the pedal, continuing the stitches without his guidance. “We’re supposed to be learning.”
His lips brush the shell of my ear. “Oh, I’m learning plenty.”
“Sebastian,” I warn, but it comes out breathy and weak.
“Hmm?” He feigns innocence, but I can hear the smirk in his voice. “You’re doing great.”
And I actually am. Even without his hands on mine, the stitches are straight.
Margo stops by to check our progress, nodding approvingly. “You two make quite the team! Your stitches are looking great.”
After 2 hours, we finish our first project, a simple pillowcase, and move on to the next. A tote bag. Sebastian lets me take the lead the whole time, keeping one hand on my thigh and one arm around my waist as I work.
It’s distracting.
The heat of his touch seeping through my jeans. The flex of his thigh muscles under my ass every time he shifts. The rumble of his chest when he laughs or makes small talk with me.
How am I supposed to focus like this?
I’m hyper-aware of every place we connect. Every shared breath. By the time class ends, I’m wound tighter than a spring, and my focus is shot to hell.
But it worked. I wasn’t scared and that’s the scary part .
“Thank you so much for coming!” Margo appears at our side, startling me. “I hope you had fun! You’re both welcome back anytime.”
“We had a blast,” Sebastian says. “Lil especially. She’s a pro.”
“Hardly,” I say. “But thank you, Margo. The class was great.”
“I’m so glad.” She clasps her hands to her chest. “You two really are the sweetest couple. I can tell how much you love each other.”
My stomach swoops. “Ah, we’re not—”
“Have a good night!” He cuts me off smoothly, steering me toward the door with a wave.
The night air slaps me as we step outside, cooling my overheated skin. I suck in a greedy breath, trying to clear my head.
“You okay?” Sebastian’s hand slides up my spine to squeeze the nape of my neck. Grounding. Possessive.
I shrug him off, wrapping my arms around myself. “I’m fine.” I don’t like being so dependent on him.
He hums, shoving his hands in his pockets.
“Why did you do this? The class.” I fling my hand in the air, gesturing around us. “Bringing me here. What are you trying to prove?”
He meets my gaze steadily. “I’m not trying to prove anything. I want to help you. In whatever way I can.”
“Helping?”
“Yes.”
“Touching me like that? Using my weakness to get close?”
He clenches his jaw. “That’s not what I was doing.”
“Really? Then what was it?”
“I was trying to distract you. To make you feel good. I thought…” He lowers his head. “Never mind. Clearly, I was wrong.”
“Distract me?” I pull away. “I don’t know if I’m ready for this. It feels like you’re pushing me, using my vulnerability to get closer. ”
His eyes flash with a mixture of anger and hurt. “Lil, I would never take advantage of you. Not now, not ever. You have to believe me.”
“But you did. You knew how scared I was, how much I was struggling, and you used that to—”
“To what? To comfort you? To show you that you’re not alone? That I’m here for you, no matter what?” He steps closer, his hands coming up to cup my face. I flinch, but he doesn’t let go. “I’m sorry if I crossed a line.”
I stare up at him, my heart racing. His touch is gentle, his eyes sincere. But the doubt lingers, a poison in my veins. I need to stand on my own two feet.
“I don’t need you to save me, Sebastian.” My voice wavers, tears stinging my eyes. “I’m not some broken thing for you to fix out of guilt.”
“I know that. Believe me, I know.” His thumb brushes over my cheekbone, wiping away a stray tear. “But I want to be there for you. In whatever way you’ll let me.”
I’m terrified of how much I crave his touch, his comfort. It’s too easy to fall back into old patterns, to let myself depend on him. But I can’t ignore the nagging doubt in the back of my mind, the fear that he’s only doing this out of pity or guilt.
I back away, needing to separate myself from him. “I think… I think it’s best if we focus on being roommates. Can you do that?”