Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
SEBASTIAN
My knee is probably fucked, but I can’t stop thinking about the kiss.
I live in a Groundhog Day of kisses. The taste of Sasha’s lips. The feel of her full, lush body cushioned against mine. The sharp little gasp she made when I licked into her mouth. The sexy little moan when I sank my fingers into the swell of her ass. The way it felt so fucking… right.
I’m obsessed.
She’s all I think about. In all my years of dating, even with Charlie’s mum, I never felt like this. It’s all consuming. Intoxicating.
I want to do it again.
I need to.
But does she feel the same?
I can’t stop thinking about that either.
Sasha
How’s the knee today?
Sebastian
Sore and a bit swollen but not as bad as I expected.
Sasha
I’m so relieved & also v sorry still.
Sebastian
It wasn’t your fault.
Sasha
Logically I know that but I still feel bad. I don’t like seeing you hurting.
Or anyone.
Sebastian
Thanks but it’s OK. I can even walk on it.
Sasha
Tell the truth.
Sebastian
OK it’s more of a hobble but trust me. This is good news.
Sasha
Promise?
Sebastian
Cross my heart.
Sebastian
Something you said at dinner yesterday got me thinking. What are you doing for Christmas this year?
Sasha
Nothing. Why?
Sebastian
You’re not spending it with your parents?
Sasha
No. They’re going on a Christmas Scandinavian cruise.
Sebastian
You don’t want to do that too?
Sasha
No way. I get sea sick on a lilo.
Sebastian
Lol
Do you want to spend Christmas with us?
Sasha
Oh. That’s really sweet of you to ask but you don’t have to invite me. I’m fine being on my own. I know sometimes that’s something people say but I mean it.
Sebastian
I know. But we’d all like you here. Charlotte’s been asking me about it for days now.
No pressure though. If you’d rather be on your own, that’s cool too.
But the invite is there.
Sasha
Then I’d love to come.
To Christmas dinner I mean.
I wasn’t being dirty, I swear.
Sebastian
What a shame.
Sasha
What’s your favourite Christmas song?
Sebastian
Impossible to say. Ask me something else.
Sasha
No! I need to know. I’ve decided to change up the Christmas music in the shop. Nan had a lot of jazz but it’s time for an update.
Sebastian
Makes sense.
I guess I like ‘Peace on Earth/Little Drummer Boy’ by David Bowie & Bing Crosby.
Sasha
OK grandpa.
Sebastian
It’s a classic. I will not be answering questions at this time.
I just asked the family. Gran’s favourite is Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow! by Dean Martin. Charlotte’s is One More Sleep by Leona Lewis. I don’t know who that is.
Sasha
Oh grandpa.
Sebastian
We’re done here.
Sasha
LOL
“I also bought some cinnamon buns from The Tea Rooms ,” Sasha says, setting the tray of coffees on the table where my leg is propped on a cushion. “Violet says they’re your favourite.”
It’s been a week since the ice rink incident, and on top of daily and nightly texts, Sasha has visited every day. Sometimes, it’s a quick drive-by to drop off coffee, sweets or cake, and other times she stays for dinner, spending the whole evening charming Gran and Charlotte, working herself even deeper under my skin and into their hearts.
Maybe my heart too.
I know a lot of her actions are motivated by a sense of guilt, but I have to admit it’s nice to have someone who actually gives a shit.
It’s the first time I realise how isolated I’ve become. In truth, there’s not a lot of people in my life who would be there for me in a time of need, and it’s humbling to admit it’s a solitude of my own making.
The thing is, I don’t really want to change that. I’m happy as I am, living this life just the three of us. But I’m starting to believe there’s room for one more.
Sasha stops rambling to look at me. Her brow wrinkles and she shifts in her seat, seeming unsettled by the weight of the silence and my gaze.
“Why are you looking at me like that? I’m not sure if you’re smiling or not.”
“I’m just wondering if we’re ever gonna talk about that kiss.”
Sasha’s breath hitches. Her cheeks bloom rosy and stark against her pale skin, and her fingertips find their way to her mouth, like she’s remembering. Reminiscing. It’s unconsciously done, the pads barely brush across her lips and her eyes glaze, and she lets her hand drop as soon as she notices me watching.
Oh yeah.
She’s affected alright.
“There’s nothing to talk about, is there?” she says, though she sounds just as curious as me.
“No?”
“No. Everyone kisses under the mistletoe. It’s tradition, right? No big deal.”
“It’s strange. I’m thirty-nine years old and I’ve gone my entire life not kissing under the mistletoe. Until the other week. Imagine that.”
“Hmm. Imagine.”
“Sasha.”
“Yes?”
I want to reach for her then, pull her into my lap, and get my fill of her mouth, tell her I can’t stop thinking about her, or the way she made me feel. That some part of me had frozen a long time ago without even realising, and the warmth of her smile has set me on a deep, slow thaw.
But the hesitance in her eyes pulls me up short, and instead, all I can think to say is, “I’m grateful you’re here.”
It’s not a lie anyway.
“Oh.” She flusters at that, and starts rifling through the paper bag, pulling out napkins and too many wooden stirrers and tiny packets of sugar. “Well, I’d be the worst fake girlfriend if I didn’t show up, right?”
My stomach plummets, disappointment welling inside me. “Right. Yeah.”
“Wait.” Sasha’s clenching her eyes tight when I finally manage to look at her again, her regret visible.
“That was wrong of me to say that,” she adds.
“It’s fine.”
“No, it’s not. I think… I like to think we’ve become friends now, if nothing else. And as your friend, I will always be here, especially if you’re injured and hurting. A fake relationship doesn’t change that.”
“Thanks. I feel the same.”
I duck my chin, touched by the sentiment and annoyed by my lie, but mostly confused by the chaos of emotions inside me.
Somewhere along the way, everything once fake and pretend has tangled up in my brain, crossing wires and blurring lines, until I’m not sure what goes where anymore. I’m not sure what to believe.
We never should have kissed.
It was the kiss that did it.
Kissing and touching a person, learning the taste of their lips and the softness of their skin, the sound of their moans… There’s no going back from that.
“Do you have plans for lunch tomorrow?” Sasha asks then.
“I have to drive to Cheltenham to see my physiotherapist. It’s the last appointment I could get before Christmas.”
“I’ll drive you. We don’t want you aggravating that knee again.”
There’s those crossed wires again, those blurred lines. I’m pretzeled with panic at such forced proximity, but also a desperate want to be near her. I want to take whatever I can get, but is it wise to even take it?
“You don’t have to do that,” I tell her. “It’s fine.”
“I want to, and on the way you can help me decide what to buy Charlotte for Christmas. And before you tell me I don’t have to, be quiet. I want to.”
I can’t hide the softness of my smile and I don’t even want to anymore. “Deal.”
“How’s that feel?”
Fists tight against my eyes, I grimace and smother a roar as Eric scrapes the outside of my thigh with a stainless steel Gua Sha tool. He’s been working on my IT band for five minutes now, scraping over and over to break up the adhesions and scar tissue causing tightness in my knee.
“It feels like I wanted to murder you four minutes ago.”
Eric laughs. “Music to my ears.”
“Sadist.”
“If that’s what you want to call it. But an hour of this, a couple of days of soreness, and then you’ll be right as rain. You know the score.”
I jerk and groan when he hits a particularly painful spot. “I know. It’s why I’m here. I need to get back to normal already.”
Eric tuts and sighs. “You should’ve been here months ago, Seb. You know you have to keep up with physio and strengthening exercises to see continued results. This is probably why you’re in this position right now.”
“I know. But the estate keeps me busy. Then there’s my gran and my daughter, although one is more of a child than the other and it’s not who you think.”
He chuckles at that, circling the table to work on the other leg. “How is Charlotte?”
“Thirteen going on thirty. Light of my life.”
“Jesus. I remember when she was born.”
“Don’t tell me. I don’t like to think about it. Time is flying by.”
“What about the hot redhead sitting out in the waiting room for you? Does she keep you busy?”
Something about Eric calling Sasha hot sets me on edge. Ridiculous . The man has been married for twenty-five years and is not even remotely a threat. “There’s nothing to talk about. She drove me here, that’s all.”
“Sure. That’s why your whole body just clenched for no reason at all.”
He sets the Gua Sha aside and starts needling my thigh with nothing but his body weight and the pressure of his elbow.
“Ah, fuck! I mean, we are doing this fake dating thing to make my grandmother happy. But that’s it.”
“Fake dating? You mean people actually do that kind of thing in real life?”
“You’d be surprised,” I mutter before letting out a hiss between my teeth. “Fucking hell. Why does this hurt more than my injured side?”
“Because you’re unbalanced. Stop trying to change the subject. Why are you fake dating anyone?”
“It’s my gran. She wants me to settle down before she dies, even though she’s clearly not dying. I thought dating Sasha might get her off my back for a bit, but I think it made things worse.”
“Because you want to fuck the hot redhead.”
My head lifts off the table, straining my neck as I glare at him in offence.
I would very much like to fuck Sasha into next week. I have a whole mental list of obscene things I’d like to do to her sexy body, and the need to make her come, to feel her spasm around me, is a craving at this point. But Eric doesn’t need to know that.
I don’t talk about women like that either.
“I meant more that Gran and Charlotte are totally in love with her now, and I’ll probably end up the bad guy when our arrangement comes to an end. I well and truly screwed myself over with this one.”
“Are you sure that’s all it is, Sebastian?” Eric asks.
I think back to yesterday and the way Sasha reaffirmed our friendship, cementing me firmly in the friend zone, and the disappointment still dwelling inside me. I had thought things were shifting in a new direction before that, when she looked genuinely upset at me hurting myself, the way she soothed me with a simple, loving caress. A misunderstanding, I suppose.
“That’s all it can be.”