Chapter 19
Nineteen
SEBA
Seconds after the final bell rings, students spill from classrooms, their laughter and excited chatter chorusing through the halls. But the racket isn’t enough to drown out the noise in my skull. It’s a constant battle for control over my wayward thoughts.
I’m fucking exhausted.
I close my locker and sling my backpack over my shoulder, pushing up the sleeves of my hoodie as I fish out my keys. Maybe I should hit the gym like yesterday. Sit at the pier until the sun sets. Skip dinner and eat leftovers at midnight.
Distance.
Discipline.
Distractions.
Anything to avoid thinking about the other night. Because if I think about it, I’ll be reminded of how it felt. How he felt—
Nope.
Not going there.
A firm hand slaps my back. I jolt.
“Whoa, you good Holt?” asks Whitley— the only decent guy from the football team.
We’ve spent a good amount of time together, both during and after season, helping each other submit applications for scholarships across the state.
He’s gotten a couple of responses from scouts; I haven’t heard back from any.
Honestly, college hasn’t been at the forefront of my mind.
It should be, but a very frustrating existential crisis has stolen its place.
I need to get my shit straight.
Literally.
“Yeah, just zoned out,” I sigh.
Whitley leans against the lockers, blocking my escape. “Daydreaming of Andrea again?”
I roll my eyes. He caught me texting her in study hall months ago and refuses to let up.
Chuckling at my silence, he shakes his head. “I don’t get why you haven't asked her out already. She’s into you.”
There’s no denying the feeling is mutual on more than a physical level.
She plays it cool with flirty texts and sarcastic jokes, but she’s got this sensitive, selfless side to her that really draws me in.
I see it the way she puts everyone else first, especially her friend, Remy.
The way she dismisses and minimizes anyone’s concerns for her, redirecting the attention to others.
How she remembers every detail from birthdays and highly anticipated test results to family struggles or bullying at school.
She gives and gives and gives of herself without ever asking the same in return.
It’s why I’ve held back. She’s too good for me. She deserves someone whose head isn’t a fucking disaster. Someone who’ll put her above everyone else. Who only has eyes for her.
Or that’s what I’ve been telling myself. But maybe denying myself the opportunity to be with her is only making my situation worse. Maybe by giving in to one desire, I’ll be freed from the other.
“I was waiting to ask her out for Valentine’s Day.”
Whitley recoils in surprise, a giant smile exploding across his face. “I knew you were a romantic. What the fuck are you waiting for? Get your girl!”
My girl.
Damn, I like the sound of that.
Grinning to myself, I trot down the steps and scan the parking lot.
She usually hangs out with Remy until track practice starts.
Sure enough, I spot her sitting on the tailgate beside him, legs swinging as she talks his ear off.
At first, I thought she was crushing on him, but from the bits and pieces she’s shared, they’ve only ever seen each other as friends.
Does she only see me as a friend?
I stop short.
The thought hadn’t even occurred to me, but it’s hard to dismiss. Her best friend is a guy. She hangs out with Cade a lot, too. And yeah, she texts me all the time, but who is to say she’s not texting them the same way?
I’m about to abort the entire mission when Andrea hops off the tailgate and waves at me.
I freeze, brain scrambling. This is impulsive. I should’ve thought this through. I could just ask her out over text later, so I don’t have an audience.
“Hey, Stranger,” Andrea calls. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.”
I shove my hands in my hoodie pocket, cheeks burning as I approach. “Yeah… sorry, been kinda in my head about college stuff lately.”
It’s not a total lie— I have been in my head, just not about that.
Her smirk shifts into a sympathetic smile. “You’ll get in anywhere.”
From his spot on the tailgate, Remy eyes me warily. We’ve never been properly introduced. Andrea glances at him while gesturing at me. “Remy, this is Seba.”
No other explanation. Not, this is my neighbor. Or, this is Cade’s stepbrother. Or even, this is my friend.
Just, Seba.
I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.
They exchange a loaded look. Eventually, Remy gives me an up-nod. I give him one back.
Shit, he hates me. Maybe he’s into her, too. What has she told him about me? She’s known him longer— she’ll ditch me in three seconds flat if he asks.
This is a disaster.
I’ve gotta get on this guy’s good side.
“Andrea’s told me all about you.”
Jesus, shove a sock in my mouth. I sound like an absolute imbecile.
His brow lifts. “She mention I’m a mental case?”
My eyes bulge.
She slaps his knee. “Oh shut up, you self-deprecating dingbat.”
“It’s not self-deprecating if it’s true,” he counters.
I don’t know whether to laugh or run. But Andrea sighs dramatically, “Ignore him. He’s in a mood because Valentine’s is tomorrow.”
Remy scowls, rubbing the pocket of his shorts. “Yeah, well, it’s hard to be a ray of sunshine when this time last year my ex-boyfriend planned a stupidly sweet weekend in for the two of us and I wasted half of it having a mental breakdown over nothing.”
Ex… boyfriend?
I’m standing there, stunned, while Andrea takes his hand and squeezes. “Hey, it wasn’t wasted. I’m sure Win understood—”
“Yeah, he understood that I was too much to deal with,” he scoffs, sliding off the tailgate and slamming it closed.
“Rem…” she murmurs.
He purses his lips in an attempt to smile. “It’s fine. Really. I get it.” To me, he tips his chin again. “Later, man.”
Andrea deflates, mournful gaze glued to Remi’s back as he walks away. Neither of us speaks for a minute. How am I supposed to ask her out after that?
“Sorry.”
She whips around. “It’s not your fault.”
“Kinda is.” I shrug with a nervous laugh. “And now I’m making this weird.”
“You’re really not,” she laughs too, a lock of hair blowing in front of her eyes. My fingers itch to brush it aside.
“I feel like an ass.”
She’s looking at me like I just sprouted three heads. “Why?”
I rub the back of my neck. Drop my hand. Stare at the sky.
“Because I was going to ask you out. For Valentine’s. Cheesy, I know. But I get it if you’ve gotta be there for him—”
“Seba.”
My jaw snaps shut. Looking anywhere but at her, I brace for the inevitable rejection.
A featherlight touch on my cheek. She’s smiling up at me.
“I’d love to go on a cheesy Valentine’s date with you.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes, you buffoon,” she grins, the affectionate insult making me groan, which of course makes her giggle. But I don’t care. She can tease me all day, every day, if it means I get to hear that beautiful sound.