Chapter 1 #2
I’m always the shortest one in the room, but standing in front of him makes me feel impossibly small and fragile.
A discordant note thrums through me as I imagine all the horrible ways he could hurt and humiliate me, but when I lift my gaze to his face, the regret shining from his brown eyes and the unhappy slant of his lips are so far removed from what I expect, all thoughts melt from my brain.
“Don’t run away, Penelope. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
His deep rumble travels down my spine and infects every cell in my body.
My nervous system responds before I do, and I fall on the worst of my habits as though I’m back in high school.
“I’m not running away. I’m getting help for Audrey. She’s sick.”
Covering my lie with a truth doesn’t make it any less of a lie, but I’ve learned people will accept anything as long as I add a bit of sugar on top.
When I told the biggest, worst lies of my life, everyone accepted them as fact because I sprinkled a bit of truth in the mix and delivered them with a smile.
No one ever cared enough to look closer.
Except Sebastian’s narrowed lashes and increased scrutiny say otherwise. I stare back like a deer caught in the headlights as he studies my features. He bends at the waist, invading my space and lowering his face closer to mine.
I don’t know how tall he is, but his stooped posture and nearness only make him seem impossibly larger. With a tilt of his head and a glance at his palm, he indicates my ring.
“This is important to you, right?”
I reach for it. He closes his fist. My fingers skim over his thick, callused knuckles before I jerk my hand back.
“Obviously it is, since you dove under the table for it. I’ll give it back after we talk,” he says.
Fury washes over me. Audrey’s retching echoes in the silence.
“You’ll give it back now,” I demand.
He quirks a brow.
A dozen scenarios play out in my head, but none of them end in my favor. I don’t have the strength to pry his hand open, and I’ve always sucked at verbal sparring, so anything I try will most likely only humiliate me.
I clench my hands into fists and drop them to my sides.
“You’re a jerk, Sebastian. I don’t have time for this,” I manage though the lump in my throat.
With my entire body trembling and my heart aching, I spin on my heel—almost ruining my haughty exit when I lose my balance—and stagger a few steps before rushing toward the dining hall.
It hurts to walk away without my ring, but Audrey is more important. She’s alive and sick in the bathroom whereas the ring is an inanimate object. It will survive a few minutes in Sebastian’s humongous hand.
With annoyance, I realize warmth pulses low in my belly and my nipples throb inside my bra with my every step. They haven’t felt this sensitive since I pierced them several years ago.
Unlike the icy terror I experienced throughout high school, my body flares to life around the man I once thought would always be my savior.
It’s not fair, but life never was. Not from the very beginning.
“Penelope.”
I stop mid-step at the firmness in Sebastian’s voice. With my heart in my throat, I look over my shoulder at him.
“I’ll keep it safe and return it to you after we talk,” he says.
Relief and apprehension war within me.
How did he know a part of me expected to never see the ring again? Anytime my bullies took something from me, I either never saw it again or got it back damaged beyond repair.
I scowl and turn back toward the dining hall. When I step through the door and almost collide with Brook, the woman who leads the self-defense class, I skip my instinctual apologies and let her know about Audrey instead.
Before she walks away, I rest my hand on her arm and meet her eyes.
“Tell Audrey I’m sorry and to forget what I said. I didn’t mean it,” I say.
She lays her hand over the back of mine and gives me a gentle squeeze.
“Whatever happened, I’m sure it’s not as big a deal as you think it is. Audrey has probably already forgiven you, but I’ll let her know,” she says.
“Thank you,” I respond.
With a reassuring pat, she offers me a quick smile before starting toward the restroom to rescue our ailing friend.
Do I look that pathetic? I’m twenty-seven years old, gosh darn it.
Why does everyone always aim pity-filled eyes at me?
Even with my curves and piercings, they see me as inexperienced.
Are my insecurities pasted on my forehead or is it just because of my small stature that everyone treats me like a child?
Matteo Ricco, Brook’s new husband, spots her dashing out of the room and follows her without hesitation.
Sebastian blocks the exit before I can escape.
With dread gluing the soles of my platform sneakers to the floor, I watch as he ducks through the doorway and joins me.
“You rescued your friend. Ready to talk?”
Despite his casual stance with his hands in his pockets and his shoulders relaxed, my senses scream danger.
“No, I’m not. I don’t talk to jerks or bullies,” I snap.
“I was teasing you, sweet pea. Isn’t that what big brothers do?”
“You’re not my brother; you’re my brother’s best friend, and I never liked the way he treated me anyway.”
He pulls his hands out of his pockets, crosses his arms over his chest, and tilts his head as though in deep contemplation.
“You know what? Looking back, I don’t think I liked it either, but you held your own.”
I mimic his stance and cross my arms over my chest, but the movement feels defensive and weak compared to his impressive size, and the pressure on my nipple piercings sends electricity through my veins.
“Right. Sure. Give me my ring back,” I demand with an upturned palm.
“Not until we’ve talked,” he says.
“We have talked,” I insist.
“No, we haven’t. Not really. I just realized we haven’t spoken in years. When’s the last time we were even in the same room together?”
I curl my fingers into my sides and use the itchy flare of pain from the burn scars on my ribs to center myself as he continues.
“You didn’t have any piercings the last time I saw you. When did you get these done?”
He lifts his hand and brushes his fingertip along the outer the shell of my ear. I flinch and curse myself for giving so much away. His bottomless brown orbs narrow on my face.
He doesn’t need to know I pierced my earlobes myself as soon as I graduated high school. Several times. And when that wasn’t enough, I researched online and pierced my nostril and the helix of my ears at home, too.
In fact, when I went to a professional for the rest of my face and body piercings, I found a lady who would let me do it myself under her supervision.
It was safer than cutting and more cathartic than any of my other outlets. Even though it alienated me a bit more from society, it was worth it. I’ll never fit in anyway.
I open my mouth to speak, but the sight of Brennan Diamond—Audrey’s soon-to-be groom—carrying my friend down the hall shocks me into silence.
Brook follows a few paces behind them with a smile on her face.
She hooks her arm into her husband’s and steps into the dining room doorway before addressing the crowd.
“Sorry, everyone, but we’re canceling today’s rehearsal. We’ll meet back here same time tomorrow. Don’t be late. I suspect they’ll have news to share. See you then!”
Without a backward glance, Brook tugs her man out of sight and disappears into the elevator.
After a deep breath, I exhale and turn back toward Sebastian. I crane my neck to meet his eyes. He’s too tall. Butterflies swarm in my stomach.
My mouth waters as a warm, woodsy scent invades my nostrils.
“Have dinner with me,” he says.
My hackles rise. Even though I know he means it as an invitation, his expectation of my compliance is too much.
“No. I’m leaving. Give me my ring,” I demand.
I cringe internally at how immature and petulant I sound, but the last few minutes have ripped open too many old wounds for me handle more.
“If I give this back, you won’t come tomorrow, will you?”
I should lie. With all the practice I’ve had in my life, I should be a master liar by now, except there’s no half-truth to toss in to make any excuse seem realistic.
All I want from him is my ring. The moment I get it back, I’ll do everything in my power to never see him again.
He holds my ring up between his pinched fingers before slipping it into his inner breast pocket.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, pipsqueak,” he vows.
A vice tightens around my chest. Too many emotions barrel through me.
I tuck tail and run, exiting out onto the sidewalk before I even register moving, and don’t stop until after I shove open my apartment door and lock it behind me.
With my lungs burning and my head spinning, I toe off my shoes, hook my fingers into the laces, and dart across the living room to disappear into my room, but screech to a halt when I reach a trail of clothing.
I lift my head and gasp.
So much flesh.
Horror spears through me as I recall my roommate’s texts before I left.
I drop my chin to my chest and skirt around the discarded clothing.
“Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry. Pretend I wasn’t here. I saw nothing,” I mutter as I sidestep into my room.
I cringe at the lewd sound of my roommate’s mouth popping off his guest’s dick.
“You said it was okay if I brought him over because you’d be gone for a few hours,” Peter accuses.
“I know. I did. Really, pretend I’m not here and that I saw noth—”
“She’s cute. Why don’t we let her watch? Maybe even join in?”
My stomach lurches at the interest in the stranger’s voice.
Peter and I suffered under a few of the same bullies in high school—him for being gay and me for being a pariah—so after shared trauma and slowly learning to trust each other, we made a pact to stay together until one of us found a lifelong partner.
When we realized we’d need housing in the same area after graduating high school, we agreed to share an apartment.
I was only fifteen at the time, but my parents were so preoccupied with my father’s health and our family’s financial struggles they never doubted my story when I told them my scholarship included dorm and food allowances.
Peter was eighteen—old enough to sign the lease without involving his parents.
Peter and I have lived peacefully together as roommates for twelve years, but one ill-fated run in with Sebastian Sterling and I’m committing the worst snafu imaginable.
A phone alarm blares. Peter’s guest sighs.
“That’s the alert for my boss. I need to answer it.”
I reach for my bedroom doorknob.
“Hang on, Pen. Wait,” Peter says.
Ignoring the sound of rustling fabric, I move out of my doorway, but Peter blocks me from swinging the door closed. To my relief, his robe covers his legs.
“I’m sorry. I’ll tell him that wasn’t appropriate,” he says.
The panic in his tone pierces into my chest. I lift my gaze, avoiding his body by looking down the hall, and meet his clear green eyes. His flushed, freckled cheeks and swollen lips are proof of his arousal, but although he’s handsome, there’s no attraction between us.
He’s the brother I wish I’d had from birth.
The thought fills me with guilt. Even though I avoid Samuel—the brother I grew up with—like the plague now, once upon a time, before I started advancing in school, he was my rock.
Bullheaded and annoying, but always ready to jump in and help me.
I treasure the simple, honest relationship we had as kids, but that ended the moment he ignored me when I needed him most.
“It’s not your fault. I should have gone to the café instead of barging in like that, but I honestly forgot. I’m sorry,” I say.
“What’s wrong?” he demands.
I stiffen.
“I’m fine,” I lie.
“You look like you saw a ghost.”
I curl my hand tighter around the doorknob. Peter’s gaze shifts beyond my shoulder to my finger.
“Where’s your ring?”
All the blood drains from my head, but his guest saunters out of the other bedroom with Peter’s bedsheet wrapped around his waist.
“Sorry about the interruption. My boss demanded a background check on some poor, innocent girl he knew forever ago. He wants to hire—” his emphasis on the word suggests his boss has other things in mind.
“—her. I swear, that man is hot as hell but a complete workaholic. Not at all my type. Now, where were we?”
I push Peter into the hall and swing the door closed. With a decisive twist of my wrist, I engage the lock before unrolling the white towel I keep on the shelf nearby and tucking it into the gap underneath.
The towel represents my lack of interest. It’s my real-time do not disturb signal to my roommate. He knows he’ll have to either break down the door or call emergency services from his cell to get a response from me.
I slip my headphones over my ears and turn on my music before tucking my shoes into their cubby and hanging my purse and coat on their hooks.
Locked in my room where every little thing has its place and I don’t have to worry about human interaction, I wrap myself in my favorite blanket and curl up on my oversized beanbag, but no amount of deep breathing will settle my mind.
This afternoon sucked hardcore.
I ruined over a decade’s worth of dreams by getting trapped under a table and needing rescue from Sebastian Sterling.
Of all the people on the planet, why did it have to be him?
I hate the world sometimes. Most times actually.
I close my hands into fists and lament my missing ring. By taking the one thing I can’t leave behind, he ensured I’ll seek him out tomorrow.
Dread settles in my gut even as my heart pounds with excitement.
I can’t avoid him forever.
But I wish I could.
Kind of.
The little girl trapped inside me yearns to relive my freshman year of high school. Having Sebastian as my friend and protector was the best time of my life.
The moment he left, my entire world came crashing down.
We can never go back. People don’t respawn after they die. Burned and torn flesh scars forever. Trust never returns. Broken hearts never mend.
Knights in shining armor ride off into the sunset without a backward glance.
Lost little girls never find a place to belong.
I fall asleep with familiar misery weighing down my shoulders, but when my memories resurface as nightmares, rich brown eyes and gargantuan fists ward off the leering faces and abusive hands.
Sebastian Sterling invades my dreams.
I hate it. I hate him.
I’m such a horrible liar.