It never occurred to me that someone on the Slate side of things might have the same lines ready to go. I always figured they wanted to shout about their father’s supposed innocence from the rooftops— but it’s clear that Sebastian wants anything but. When I’m silent for a few moments, he turns and looks at me expectantly.
“I don’t want to ask anything,” I say. It’s true. I don’t want to. I know I should— I know I need to ask, and tell, and admit who I am and who he is and how I think his father is an actual monster and how I want justice for my aunt. But I don’t want to, not at all.
“Everyone wants to ask,” Sebastian argues, shaking his head lightly against the pillow it’s resting on. “Everyone wants to know why I think he’s innocent.”
I close my eyes and fight to avoid cringing. Why I think he’s innocent. I could fight back with the thousand reasons I know Dennis Slate is guilty. But instead, I say, “I’m not with your father. I’m with you. And honestly, I’d rather pretend all that stuff with your family just doesn’t exist.” It’s perhaps the most truthful thing I’ve said all night.
Sebastian smiles a little, but then looks sad. “Yeah, me too.”
“Well. I can pretend if you can,” I say, and try again to cuddle up to him. This time, he allows it, and wraps his arms around me.
“I can. I’d love to, actually,” he says, then lowers his head and kisses me. It isn’t passionate, or deep, or arousing— it’s gentle, and grateful, and the kind of kiss you give someone who you plan on kissing a million more times.
So I kiss him back the same way.
12
Sebastian takes me out to breakfast— well, lunch, actually, since we’ve spent most of the night awake and most of the morning sleeping it off. I’m incredibly sore from him, relegated to taking tiny steps down the brick-paved streets. It obviously pleases Sebastian, once he realizes I’m not in serious pain; he walks alongside me slowly, arm slung around me, ignoring the points and stares that we get over the fact that Sebastian Slate is clearly with freshman girl who isn’t even especially busty or especially blonde.
“I don’t really care what they think,” Sebastian says, shrugging over the plate of pancakes in front of him. There’s enough food there to feed a medium sized army. Even if I were the kind of girl who worried about eating in front of guys, I don’t think I’d have any qualms about downing a few carbs in front of this eating machine.
“Seriously? I’m a freshman. Like, a true freshman,” I say, taking a bite.
He shrugs again. “People will always find something to judge me for. To judge anyone for. I don’t care that you’re a freshman.”
“I literally can’t even legally drink.”
“That just makes you a cheap date,” he says, and nudges me under the table as I roll my eyes at him. “Do you want to go get clothes at your place after this?”
“Like, change clothes?”
“Get clothes,” he says, shaking his head. “So you can stay with me again tonight.”
“You are actually trying to kill me, aren’t you?” I say with a laugh, before realizing what I’ve just said. My aunt flashes into my mind, and I look down at my food as guilt swims through me.
If Sebastian connected my words to his father in any way, it doesn’t show, because he just makes a satisfied growl deep in his throat, and says, “I’m actually just unable to take my hands off you for long, Ashlynn. Besides, if you’re still sore, I’m sure I can find something else you’ll enjoy that doesn’t involve my cock in your pussy.”
I flush that he just said something like that in a public place— what if someone heard him? But when I look up at him, I can see that Sebastian isn’t worried. In fact, Sebastian is already planning on how he’ll undress me, from the looks of the gleam in his eye. I shake my head at him admonishingly, but the truth is, all it took was that look from him and I’m also wondering how he’ll undress me…
Sebastian pays for our meal and we wander off, walking casually through the downtown area rather than heading straight back to his car. Saturdays are always sleepy and beautiful and bright; the scent of spilled beer from last night’s partying is everywhere, but so is the scent of freshly baked bread, warm coffee, and the peppery scent of cleaner. People are out and about, eager to spend the day doing something other than studying— which is how I’d likely be spending my day if I weren’t leaned up against Sebastian. We make our way to the park and sit down on a bench. I’m not usually a PDA person, but when Sebastian pulls my legs up onto the bench and encourages my head onto his lap, I don’t fight it. It’s nice, the smell of him, the feeling of him beneath my head. My eyes begin to drift shut to the sound of idle chatter and birds chirping; when Sebastian begins to stroke my hair, I’m done for, and sleep comes at me quickly.