Chapter 15 Sebastian
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
SEBASTIAN
At first, when I awoke staring at curtains I didn’t recognize, my immediate panicked thought was: Bugger. Who did I sleep with last night?
It was as I gingerly turned around in the unfamiliar bed and saw the posters and photographs on the wall that last night came back to me on a wave of relief.
I was with Lily.
Curiosity had my head whipping right.
There she was.
Long hair sprawled across her pillow, and mine, in fact.
I rested my head near it and inhaled the scent of that delicious shampoo she used.
My gaze trailed across her face. Her dark lashes were incredibly thick.
And she had a freckle on her right cheekbone I’d never noticed before, which seemed impossible since I was pretty sure I’d studied her face until it was imprinted on my brain.
Perfect little button nose. And her mouth …
my attention snagged on her lips, lips meant for kissing.
They were parted in sleep, her light breathing filling the bedroom.
The urge to press my mouth to hers forced me to drag my eyes off her.
Unfortunately, my attention was ensnared by the rise of her right breast. Her loose pajama top had slipped during the night.
It dipped low over one side and pulled taut on the other.
Lily was generously endowed. Her large chest was what made her narrow waist look even tinier.
I drew in a shuddering breath as need tightened in my gut.
She was all smooth olive skin, elegant limbs, and then lush curves.
I squeezed my eyes closed.
I would pick the most stunning woman to be my best friend.
It was true, then. I was a masochist.
My eyes flew open at the sound of her mumbling in her sleep and shifting.
This is Lily, I reminded myself sharply. Lovely, kind, smart, funny Lily who was the only person I felt truly myself around.
Something as animal and basic as physical attraction was not going to drive a wedge between us.
I needed her too damn much.
No, I still didn’t understand why I’d attached myself to her like a fucking barnacle, but it was what it was, and I wouldn’t ruin our friendship.
Even if the urge to nuzzle my face in her neck and cuddle her was almost as strong as the urge to bury my body inside hers. God, I hoped this want for her dimmed over time. It would get damned exhausting denying it.
Not wanting Lily to wake only to find me with the hard-on I was currently sporting, I drew off the duvet on my side and then tried to ninja my way over her. My breath caught as I hovered over her for a second. Cursing inwardly, I practically jumped off the bed and hurried from the room.
As soon as I was behind the bathroom door, I sighed in relief.
Then looked down at my cock straining against my jeans.
Bloody Nora.
Thankfully, a few minutes of thinking about the Queen of England (who was literally my great-aunt) solved my situation.
Lily was oblivious about my reaction to waking up next to her.
She had a quick shower without washing her hair and while I waited, I started reading one of the romantasy novels on her shelves.
The fae romance sucked me right in. When she came out, I asked if I could borrow it, and she smiled in delight and said yes.
Then I washed up as best as I could. I had extra clothes at my studio, so I’d change there.
We grabbed a quick bowl of cereal and left before Maddie woke.
I think Lily just didn’t want to answer any leading questions about my presence.
Before heading to my studio, I bought us a coffee from the shop across the street from Lily’s flat, discussing the book I’d already read the first few chapters of. Lily grew more animated as she declared the next three books were even better than the first.
We made our way around the corner onto Glengyle Terrace across from the Meadows.
“It’s strange to think I’ve been coming to this studio for two years and never bumped into you. I’m a little annoyed about it, to be honest.” I grinned before sipping my coffee.
Lily chuckled, rubbing sleepily at her makeup-free eyes. “Fate wanted our meeting to be a wee bit more dramatic, it seems.”
I eyed her. “You’re sure you want to come help? You could go back to bed. You’ve had hardly any sleep.”
“I want to,” she insisted. “I’m curious.”
Nodding, I led her halfway down the terrace before stopping at one of the townhouses.
“This is it?” Lily asked incredulously.
I led her up the steps. “This is it.” I opened the main door and led her upward to the top floor of the building.
“The truth is an art studio is considered commercial, so it’s more expensive to rent. I found a light-filled one bedroom flat for cheaper instead.” Turning the key in the lock, I strode into the kitchen slash living space. The bedroom and bathroom were off the kitchen.
Lily stepped inside, eyes wide as she sipped her coffee.
The large living area had a ton of natural light not only from the large bay window but from the large window by the kitchen too.
The only piece of furniture was a leather sofa, worn but comfortable, easels of varying sizes, and my ladder for the larger pieces.
Pots of paint and my painting tools laid scattered by the work I was in the middle of.
Lily stepped toward the painting. It was in the early stages so you could only just start to see the image of the bridges at South Queensferry appearing through the paint. “I can’t wait to see it finished,” she said, admiring it quietly.
Her genuine appreciation for my work made me feel better than the one hundred positive comments I’d gotten on last week’s Reel.
“The packing room is this way.”
Lily followed me into the bedroom that didn’t have a bed but was filled with boxes of prints and packing material.
Pulling out my phone, I ran through the orders with her, picking out the prints we needed to pack.
I had an address label maker set up in the corner that I could use through my phone.
We got into a rhythm of packing, while my ego grew to unimaginable sizes at Lily’s oohing and aahing over different paintings I’d created.
“Oh.” She breathed as I handed her a print of my painting, The Vennel.
It was an iconic spot in Edinburgh. Many a photograph had been taken of the castle from the top of the Vennel Steps because of the way the castle towered over the old buildings, the Victorian lamppost situated in just the right place.
Last winter, there was frost in the air and on the ground.
You could see it sparkling on the lamppost glass.
As the sun was setting, I’d started taking photographs at different angles.
A couple, oblivious to me, passed. She had stopped at the top of the steps to take a photograph while he ventured down the first flight.
He turned back to her and held out his hand to help her down the icy staircase.
I’d taken the photograph of them and captured the adoration on his face when he looked at her.
Afterward, I’d returned to the studio and began work on a painting that attempted to catch the romance in one of Edinburgh’s most romantic spots. It was one of my bestsellers.
“How much?” Lily looked up at me.
“Twenty-five pounds.”
“Done.”
Realizing she wanted to buy it, I smiled so big, I probably looked insane. “You’re not buying a thing.” I pulled another copy from the stack and handed it to her. “It’s yours.”
“I have to pay for it.”
“Consider it a wage for helping me this morning.”
“Really?” Her hazel eyes were bright with joy.
Well, that could get addictive quickly, I thought with slight alarm. Because in that moment, making Lily happy felt like a bit of a kink.
Bloody hell.
I looked away. “Of course.”
“Thank you.” She wrapped an arm around me, giving me a squeeze.
Incapable of ignoring said gesture, I pulled her more tightly into my side and kissed the side of her head. “You’re welcome.”
A few seconds later, after she’d set aside the print like it was made of bone china, Lily opined, “I think you should seriously consider this as a career, Sebastian. I don’t know if you realize how talented you are.
How you look at a canvas and imagine what you then bring to life by flicking and scraping paint around on it … it’s kind of genius.”
Uncomfortable with the subject, I replied quietly, “I appreciate that. I do. But I’m going to be a civil engineer.”
“Sebastian—”
“Lily.” I cut her off and then bit back my impatience because she didn’t deserve it. My expression softened. “I don’t want to talk about this.”
“Why?” she pushed.
“Isn’t it enough that I don’t want to talk about it?”
My friend considered this, then ominously replied, “For now.”