Chapter 7
Seven
SEBA
Alcohol has never appealed to me before— deceased drunk dad and all— but right now, breaking into the sacristy and chugging the blessed wine doesn’t sound like such a bad idea if it drowns out the obnoxious flirting happening right in front of my fucking face.
They’re not even trying to be subtle.
A small hand tugs on my jeans.
“Saint Seba?”
Thanks to Cade’s loud mouth, I wasn't given the choice in what the kids— or Andrea— called me. I look down to find a wide-eyed redhead.
“What’s up, Meg?”
The eight-year-old glances over her shoulder, where I’ve been glaring.
“Is Cade Miss Andrea’s boyfriend?”
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
“No,” I snap, harsher than intended. I saw her first. Not that I have a right to stake a claim on a girl I don’t even know.
She’s barely had a full conversation with me.
Though on more than one occasion, I've caught her eyes lingering in my direction.
If only my asshole stepbrother would piss off for five fucking seconds so I could talk to her… alone.
“You suuuuure?” Meg drawls.
“Positive.”
She shrugs and skips off to join the other kids at our group's designated lunch table.
“Seba!”
Andrea waves me over to a table separate from the kids, where Cade reclines his chair back on two legs, a sneaker propped on the empty seat beside him as he scrolls on his phone.
Fall on your ass.
His eyes flick up as if hearing my thought.
A ghost of a smirk flickers across his lips. This is just a game to him. The bastard has ulterior motives and she’s walking right into his trap.
My glare burns holes through his skull.
I’m onto you.
His tongue darts out, swiping his bottom lip like he’s tasting my threat. But it only widens his smug grin.
My nostrils flare.
I march over and yank away the chair he's using as a footstool. Unfortunately, he has quick reflexes and steadies himself by gripping the table. I’m about to peel his fingers off one by one until he tips over, but he drops the chair back on all fours.
“Aww, you wanna sit next to me, big brother?” Cade croons. “I feel so special.”
He’s asking to get his ass whooped.
Ignoring the comment, I slam my lunch bag on the table and fall into the seat I’ve claimed.
On Cade’s opposite side, Andrea tucks a foot beneath herself and scoots forward. Her grin, unlike the scheming dick beside me, spills pure amusement. The tightness in my shoulders lessens a fraction.
“I didn’t know you guys were brothers,” she says, gesturing between us with a PB&J— same as the kids.
“Stepbrothers,” I correct.
Her lips roll in and she nods, glancing out of the corner of her eye at Cade, who's glued to his phone, no food in sight.
“Where’s your lunch?”
He shrugs. “I ate it earlier.”
There’s no way. He’s been suction cupped to Andrea since this morning. Even during snack time, he didn’t touch a thing.
“When?”
Eyes like razor blades lift to mine, sharp enough to cut glass.
“I don’t know, earlier,” he scoffs. “Why does it matter?”
It shouldn’t matter, but I know he’s lying and for some reason, that pisses me off more than him hogging Andrea… who's watching us like we’re bombs on the verge of explosion.
Real nice impression you’re giving her, Seba.
I unwrap my sandwich and sigh, “Whatever. Starve if you want.”
Cade huffs, “So fucking dramatic,” as he fixates on his phone again.
Across the table, Andrea’s dark brown eyes snag mine. Dart to Cade. Back to me. One of her brows lifts in silent question, like, What the fuck is his deal?
My heart skips a beat.
I shake my head, reveling in the little smile curving her lips.
Maybe I have a shot after all…