13. Aria #2
"Someone will come looking eventually," he said. "When we miss dinner."
"That's five hours from now."
Five hours. In this room. No escape. No distractions. Nothing but each other and all the things we'd been pretending didn't exist. I moved to the bed and sat on the edge. Dust puffed up around me, tickling my nose. I didn't care. My legs wouldn't hold me anymore.
"This is a nightmare."
Sebastian leaned against the opposite wall, as far from me as the small room allowed. He crossed his arms over his chest.
"It's not ideal. But it's not the worst situation."
"Not ideal?" I stared at him. "We're trapped in a closet."
"It's clearly a bedroom."
"I don't care what it is." My voice rose. "I care that I'm stuck here with you. And I don't want to be."
"The feeling is mutual."
Silence crashed down between us. I stared at the ceiling.
Cracked plaster, water stains spreading from the corners like old bruises.
Sebastian stared at the floor, his jaw working, his shoulders rigid.
The only sound was our breathing. And somewhere beyond the grimy, boarded-up window, the distant crash of waves.
Minutes crawled past. Ten. Twenty. Thirty.
I shifted on the bed, trying to find a position that didn't make my back ache. My sundress was going to be filthy. I'd probably have to throw it away. Such a stupid thing to think about, but my mind kept snagging on small details because the big ones were too overwhelming.
Sebastian hadn't moved from his position against the wall, but I could see the tension building in his body. The way he kept shifting his weight. The way his fingers drummed against his bicep. The way he'd glance at me, then away, then back again.
An hour passed. Maybe more. Time moved strangely in that room.
"This is ridiculous," I finally said. My voice sounded too loud in the silence.
"Agreed."
"We're adults. We should be able to have a conversation."
He looked at me. "Are you sure about that? Every time I open my mouth, you bite my head off."
"That's because you always say the wrong thing."
"And you don't?" He pushed off the wall, taking a step toward me. "You're not exactly easy to talk to either."
Heat flared in my chest. "See? This is exactly why I didn't want to be stuck here with you. You always find a way to make me so angry."
"And you think I enjoy being around you?" Another step. His eyes were blazing now, that cold gray gone hot. "You're so…" He made a frustrated sound, running his hand through his hair. "You make me crazy."
"Yeah?" I was on my feet now, though I didn't remember standing. "Better book a therapy session, because I'm not done with you yet."
We were close. Too close. I could see the rise and fall of his chest, the rapid pulse at the base of his throat. His eyes dropped to my lips and stayed there.
I knew what was about to happen. Could feel it building like a wave about to break.
I stepped back. Put distance between us.
"I told you not to do that again."
Something flickered across his face. He looked away, toward the grimy window, his jaw tight.
Neither of us spoke.
We stayed like that, him by the window, me on the bed, while another hour crawled past. The light outside slowly changed, growing golden as the afternoon aged. Dust motes drifted lazily through the air. My throat was dry, my eyes gritty, my whole body wound tight as a spring.
"I'm sorry."
His voice startled me. I'd gotten so used to the silence that the words felt like an intrusion.
"For yelling," he continued, still not looking at me. "I shouldn't have done that."
I didn't respond. I wasn't sure what to say.
He turned then, finally meeting my eyes. "What do you want me to say, Aria? I've apologized. Doesn't that count for something?"
I gritted my teeth. I didn't want to forgive him. I didn't want to give him the satisfaction. But we were stuck here, and the silence was crushing, and maybe—maybe—I was tired of carrying this anger everywhere I went.
"Apology accepted," I said. The words scraped against my throat.
He nodded. Looked down at his hands. Quiet settled again.
"Why do you hate me?"
The question caught me off guard. I looked up to find him watching me, his expression open in a way I'd never seen before.
"I'm serious," he said. "We've known each other for years. And you've always looked at me like I was something you scraped off your shoe. What did I ever do to you?"
I laughed. It came out bitter. "As if you don't know."
"I don't know. That's why I'm asking."
I studied his face, looking for the lie. The manipulation. The angle he was working at.
I found nothing but confusion.
"Ethan Sullivan," I said.
His brow furrowed. "What about him?"
"What do you mean ‘what about him?’ Have you forgotten what you did?" He just stared at me blankly. “I heard you practically encourage him to break up with me.”
“I didn’t…”
I raised my hand. “You did. I heard you.”
He scoffed. “Even if I did, which I definitely didn’t, it was for a good cause. You didn’t care about him.”
“Excuse me?”
He nodded. “You heard me. You were fine letting him go bankrupt as long as all that money was going into the foundation.”
“Wait… what?” My mouth fell open. That made no sense. Ethan hadn’t donated a single penny to the foundation. He’d escorted me to events, sure. But he’d only tried to convince other donors to invest in one pyramid scheme or the other. “That wasn’t what happened.”
“Then why don’t you tell me what did happen.”
“Ugh… fine. Ethan had gotten himself into some very questionable businesses, made some really bad financial decisions. Decisions so bad that he was broke. I had to loan him some money to keep him afloat. And before he dumped me, he'd asked me to invest in another one of his schemes.”
“And did you?”
“God, no. Fortunately, the relationship ended before we got to that stage.”
Sebastian grinned. “Then I guess you should be thanking me. Seems I did you a monumental favor. You’re welcome. And by the way, he approached me, too. Tried to get me to fund something or other. I turned him down and have avoided him since.”
I glared at him, and yet, I couldn’t believe what I’d just heard. All those years. All that anger. And it was built on a lie told by a man who'd been trying to con both of us.
"I thought…" I pressed my hand to my forehead. "I thought you were a terrible person. Which you are, but I thought you were a lot worse."
“Wow… thanks for the confidence.”
And then, impossibly, a laugh bubbled up from somewhere deep in my chest. Sebastian's lips twitched. Then he was laughing too, a rusty sound, surprised out of him.
"All this time," I managed between giggles. "I thought you ruined my relationship. And it was just Ethan being a con artist."
"To be fair, I did think you were intense."
"I am intense."
"I never said it was a bad thing."
We laughed until my stomach hurt, until tears pricked the corners of my eyes, until something that had been knotted tight inside me for years finally started to loosen. It didn't dissolve completely—too much had happened for that—but the sharp edges dulled.
“And another thing…” Sebastian continued. “You broke my heart when we were kids.”
“Wait… what are you talking about?”
“Come on, Aria. We’re having a heart-to-heart. We might as well just put it all out on the table.” I just stared at him blankly. “You tried to humiliate me by laying one on me?”
My eyes went wide as I realized what he was talking about. I remembered that day pretty clearly. What Sebastian and probably everyone in my life didn’t know was that I’d had a pretty intense crush on him at the time. I finally summoned the courage to… express myself, and he just laughed at me.
So, how did I break his heart?
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Sebastian, but you’re the one who broke my heart.”
He tilted his head, studied me for a second before the reality of that event seemed to dawn on him. “Are you saying… are you saying that kiss was for real?”
I nodded. I didn’t feel any hint of embarrassment. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
“Bloody hell.” He smacked his forehead. “I’m such a fool. I thought you… I mean… it’s you… I never thought…”
We stared at each other and burst into laughter again. When the laughter faded, I noticed him shifting his weight again, wincing slightly.
"Your back hurts," I said.
"I'm fine."
"You've been standing for three hours. Sit down." I nodded toward the space beside me on the bed. "I promise not to bite."
He hesitated. Then he crossed the room and lowered himself onto the mattress, leaving a careful distance between us. Dust puffed up around him. He didn't seem to notice.
An awkward silence settled between us.
"Evie’s doing well at the foundation. She seems to really be enjoying it there."
"I know." His voice went soft. "She's the best thing I'd ever done, even though I had no idea what I was doing."
"You're figuring it out. I can see it. She talks about you differently now from when we first met."
He was quiet for a moment. Then: "When she was seven, she decided she was going to be a marine biologist. Very serious about it. Made me buy her every book about ocean life, watched documentaries constantly, insisted on visiting the aquarium every weekend."
"That's sweet."
"It was, until she decided the best way to learn was hands-on experience." He shook his head, but he was smiling now. "I came home one day to find she'd filled the bathtub with salt water and released six crabs she'd somehow convinced a fishmonger to sell to her."
I pressed my hand to my mouth. "No."
"The nanny was standing on the toilet, screaming. Evie was in the tub, fully clothed, trying to name them all." His smile widened. "She'd already named three. Herbert, Princess Claws, and Senator Pinch."
"Senator Pinch?"
"She'd been watching the news with my mother. I didn't ask questions."