Chapter 6 #2
Sebastian let out a huff of irritation, and in the next moment, I was being ushered over to his car. “You’re going to freeze to death out here,” he grumbled, opening the passenger door and guiding me into the seat.
Warmth enveloped my skin in an instant, and I held my shaking hands close to the hot air pouring from the vents as Sebastian walked back around the hood and slipped into the driver’s side.
“What the hell were you thinking trying to walk back to campus, especially without a coat?!” he asked with a stony glare.
I shook my head in disbelief instead of answering—this entire night was taking a wildly unexpected turn.
I’d gone from feeling empowered to terrified to unable to form a single word in the span of thirty minutes.
A sudden burst of laughter escaped from between my lips.
From across the center console, Sebastian was watching me with his head cocked to the side, mouth parted in bewilderment.
Maybe I was losing my mind, or maybe this situation was so ridiculous there was nothing else to do but laugh.
“Why am I in your car?” I asked once my laughter died down.
My eyes darted around the vehicle, taking in the pristine space with skepticism.
Was Sebastian kidnapping me? Did he plan to drive me to an isolated spot along the coast of Lake Michigan and throw me in? More laughter bubbled to the surface.
Sebastian reached over and placed the back of his hand against my forehead. Surprisingly, I didn’t shrink away. The strangest expression had overtaken his features. Was that more concern I detected in his eyes, or was I seeing things?
“I’m not dying,” I assured him. “Don’t get your hopes up.”
He looked at me skeptically, brows raised. “Did you hit your head when Castillo tossed you out of the fundraiser?”
“He did not toss me out!” I exclaimed. He had indeed tossed me out, or, to be more accurate, shoved me through the door. But I wasn’t going to admit that to Sebastian.
“I’m taking you home.”
Dumbfounded, I watched as he shifted the gear into drive, the veins in his hands bulging as he gripped the steering wheel tightly.
The sight of his clearly defined blood vessels did stupid things to my stomach.
Get a grip on yourself. I shoved those dangerous feelings to the back of my mind as we drove.
There was no music to lessen the uncomfortable tension in the air or keep my thoughts from running rampant.
When campus finally came into view, I let out a sigh of relief, unaware that I’d been holding my breath.
It was all I could do to keep myself from word-vomiting all over his pristine car.
“Do you know where I live?” I asked, unable to bear another second of awkward silence.
His eyes remained on the road as he said, “You’re a transfer student and a hockey player. I’m assuming you’re in the Athletes’ Village?”
“With Caroline and Lydia,” I confirmed. “Why are you helping me?”
No answer. I scoffed and looked out the window, irritated by his refusal to answer me.
“A thank-you would suffice,” he said at last.
“I didn’t ask for you to drive me home.” Thankfully, we were nearly there.
His jaw clenched. “That doesn’t negate the fact that I did.”
“And that doesn’t negate the fact that I hate you, and you’re a jerk,” I retorted as we pulled up beside my apartment.
Sebastian watched me tug on the locked door handle. After several long moments of struggle, he leaned closer, eyes shining with mischief. “Do you really want to know why I helped you?”
The taunting tone of his question made me freeze.
“The truth is I wanted to say goodbye. It was a pleasure witnessing your final moments at DU, and it will be an even greater pleasure never seeing you again.” Sebastian flashed me a final smug smile then reached across the center console.
Heat rolled off of his body, and I tensed as his forearm brushed against my chest. The door clicked as it unlocked, and a moment later, he was leaning away.
When I didn’t immediately exit his car, he made a shooing motion with his hand. “You can get out now.”
As if my seat had burst into flames, I hopped out and slammed the door shut behind me.
Even though I was embarrassed, I couldn’t help but glance back over my shoulder; my mind and body were at odds with each other.
The first demanded I listen to logic, reminding me of all the cruel things Sebastian had said, while the other remained inside the vehicle, craving the warmth of a body I knew I shouldn’t want.
Thankfully, the bite of cold cement against my bare feet tore me free from the struggle.
I collected myself in time to flash Sebastian the finger as he pulled down the street and out of sight.
>> <<
Caroline bolted off the couch the moment I stepped inside the apartment. A bowl of popcorn went flying from her lap, scattering kernels across the living room floor.
“What happened?” she asked. “How did you get home?”
Her surprise was warranted; I had strayed from tonight’s plan. After giving my speech, I was meant to call Lydia so she and Caroline could pick me up a few blocks from the hotel.
“Grace, we need words,” Lydia urged, gently guiding me toward the couch. I plopped down onto the middle cushion as they sat on either side of me.
“Sebastian.”
“Sebastian what?” Caroline asked.
“Sebastian brought me home.”
“You’re saying that Sebastian drove you home from the gala,” Lydia repeated slowly. “Did he catch you sneaking in?”
I shook my head. It was no use explaining our strange interaction, not when I was still struggling to make sense of his behavior. “I gave the speech.”
“And?” Caroline pushed, eager for more details.
As long as Pearson didn’t get removed from the gala for helping me and I didn’t cost the AV guy his job, tonight had been a success. But when it came to my future at Dallard, I wasn’t too confident.
“Maybe she’s in shock,” Lydia whispered.
“We didn’t get a call from the local jail, so I assume you weren't arrested,” Caroline said.
I let out a snort of laughter. “I might have preferred that to being hauled out of the event by Castillo.”
The words were barely out of my mouth when the couch started to vibrate. All three of our phones were going off, which probably meant—
“It’s Pearson,” I confirmed, holding up my phone to display the name that flashed across the screen.
Caroline paused the TV just as I hit play on the video.
Like any normal person, I cringed at the sound of my own voice.
But despite how nervous I’d felt up on that stage, my words were steady and clear.
I held my breath for the duration of the video, trying not to pick apart every bumbling movement and awkward pause.
At one point, someone in the crowd shifted, their body obstructing the camera view.
Pearson stepped to the right just as Castillo strode onto the stage and pulled me off.
“That was amazing, Grace,” Caroline said, giving my arm an excited squeeze. “Austin has a ton to work with. He could even post the whole thing, but I’m sure he’ll scrape together the best lines.”
Lydia’s head bobbed up and down in agreement. “I’ll send it over now.”
I felt an undeniable rush of anticipation at the thought of my speech making its way around campus. This video could very well be the reason I got kicked off the hockey team or expelled from school, but it also had the power to change everything wrong with female athletics at DU.
Lydia must have sensed the unease building inside me because she leaned over to rest her head on my shoulder. “If they even consider kicking you off the hockey team, every single one of us will be there to protest. They won’t risk losing us all.”
I hoped she was right. Either way, tomorrow would come, and I’d face the consequences, but knowing I’d have them by my side the entire time was a comfort.
“Don’t worry about anything else, not tonight. We can get started on phase two tomorrow, okay?” Caroline suggested.
Phase two involved plastering posters all over the campus, but we hadn’t gotten much further than jotting down some high-level design ideas.
I was much too exhausted to think about it right now.
Caroline was right; it could wait for tomorrow.
Before I left the room, they surrounded me in a crushing hug that stole the air from my lungs.
The show of affection was a comforting surprise, but the warmth of their embrace didn’t last. As soon as I was inside the privacy of my bedroom, the full gravity of the situation settled over me like a waterlogged blanket.
How could I be proud of myself and feel so terrible at the same time?
Pressure built behind my eyes, but I blinked away the moisture, refusing to shed a single tear because of Castillo’s threatening words or Sebastian’s haughty parting remarks.
I willed both men out of my mind and started preparing for bed.
After fifteen minutes of self-care, I was ready to slip under the covers and put an end to the night when my phone buzzed.
The name Matt rolled across the screen, and just the sight of those four letters was enough to soothe my weary heart.
I answered the phone without a second thought. “Hello.”
At first, there was nothing but silence. Then my ex-boyfriend released a long breath.
“I didn’t think you’d pick up,” he said. It was soothing, hearing his voice. We hadn’t spoken over the phone in weeks. No, months.
“I’ve been avoiding you,” I admitted. “I’m sorry.”
The sound of his chuckle was like a sip of hot chocolate on the coldest day of the year.
“You’re an expert at avoiding. I know better than anyone.”
He was right. It had taken him almost a year of chasing after me for our relationship to move beyond friendship, and several more months before things were official.
I needed to know I could trust him before opening up about my past. And now things were even more complicated because six months into our breakup, he was still holding on to the hope that we’d get back together.
There was never any big fight or hurtful betrayal, but I knew that we weren’t right for each other.
“Tell me about your day,” I asked, eager for a distraction from my own life.
“Come on, Grace,” he said in exasperation. I must have sounded too eager. “You can talk to me. I know things have changed, but that doesn’t mean you can’t trust me anymore.”
How can I lean on him after breaking his heart? That was the question that kept me from texting him when my thoughts turned dark.
“I don’t want to talk about me.”
“Of course not. You’re always so focused on something or someone else so that you don’t have to face your own problems. We dated for two years, I know—”
“I didn’t answer the phone for a lecture,” I said. “Don’t make me regret picking up the call.” I told myself I was cruel to him because I had to be, but that was a damn lie. I was cruel because he was right, and I hated that.
“When you want to be honest with me, and honest with yourself, give me a call. You know, I really thought I could do the friendship thing, but I don’t know.
It’s a lot harder than I expected.” His voice cracked at the admission.
Though he said nothing else, I could tell there were unspoken words just fighting to free themselves from within him.
The line went dead a moment later, and I was seized with the need to throw something like a child mid-tantrum.
I reached for the closest item—a round decorative pillow near the edge of my bed—and chucked it across the room.
It flew into my open closet and collided with the top shelf.
Through the darkness, I saw something teeter off the edge and fall to the floor with a thud.
Amazing.
After turning on my lamp, I crawled out of bed to see the damage.
A familiar red shoebox had fallen on the floor, the lid several paces away, unopened letters scattered across the ground.
What the hell is that doing here? It usually resided under my bed at home, and I hadn’t packed it when I left for school.
How—Gabby, I realized. My little sister had probably snuck it into my room when she was here to help move me in at the beginning of the school year.
For ages, she’d been pushing me to read the letters from our mother.
We both received one on our birthday every year, but I never got around to opening mine.
I had no interest in hearing what that woman had to say.
When I knelt on the floor to collect the letters, a numbness set in.
By the time I placed the shoebox back on the top shelf and slipped into bed, I could barely feel a thing.