Mr Garcia

She watches me and I can see her brain working at a million miles per minute. "You liked it when I worked at the Escape Room, didn't you?"

"Shut up. Go home."

"Why would you like me better then…?" Her voice trails off and her face falls. "You’re compartmentalizing me?"

"Now you’re a fucking shrink. Go the fuck home." I march upstairs.

She storms after me. "You are, aren’t you?" She takes the stairs two at a time. "The way you're acting now is telling me that I'm right."

"Just go!” I don’t want her here, and I don’t want to talk about this.

"Sebastian!" she snaps. "Answer the question."

"What do you fucking know about compartmentalizing?"

"Everything." She throws up her hands. "I wrote the fucking book on it."

"Oh, so now everyone is fucked up like you, are they?"

"I'm not fucked up." She points to her chest. "And it took me about ten thousand dollars in shrink appointments to be able to admit that."

I walk into my bathroom and slam the door behind me.

She opens it. "Don’t slam the fucking door on me."

"Then stop following me!" I yell as I begin to lose my patience.

"Is that what you're doing?"

I stay silent.

"Sebastian?" she asks softly. "You're still thinking of me as your Escape Girl."

I begin to hear my heartbeat pounding in my ears as I stare at her.

She steps back, as if my lack of words physically hurt her.

"So…. I'm just some girl you pay to have sex with?" Her eyes well with tears.

I clench my jaw. "Don't you dare use tears as a weapon,” I sneer. "That’s not fucking fair."

Her face falls. “What was last night?"

I stare at her.

She puts her hand over her heart. "While I'm over here falling for you, you think of me as a whore."

I drop my gaze to the floor. I can't look her in the eye.

"Sebastian?"

I keep staring down.

"Look at me!" she cries. "Is that fucking true?"

My eyes rise to meet hers. "Just go," I whisper.

Her eyes search mine. "Answer me."

"If you wrote the book on compartmentalizing, you should already know the answer."

Her brow furrows. "I do it to everyone in my life; I hate that I do. I've sought treatment for it for years. And then I met you, the one person I couldn't block out." Her shoulders slump in sadness. "And you go and do it to me."

We stare at each other. "April…"

"What, Sebastian?"

"I'm sorry," I whisper.

Her eyes well with tears again, and she drops her head. "Me, too."

She turns and walks out.

I hear her go downstairs, and then I hear the garage door open.

Moments later, I hear the car drive off, and I close my eyes in regret.

Fuck.

April

If there's one thing worse than falling for the wrong man, it's having to work for him once it's fallen apart.

We’re in Bristol this week. It's Tuesday night, and Sebastian hasn’t said one word to me since I left his house on Sunday.

I'm angry at myself.

How the fuck did I let myself fall for him when I knew it was dangerous?

The worst part is, I know he's not happy, either. He's been a cranky bear, and everyone is scared to even talk to him.

We are in connecting rooms, but I'm not sure why. He didn’t knock on my door last night. Perhaps it was too late to change the booking.

I didn’t go out to dinner with everyone else. I chose room service alone instead. I’m not much in the mood for socializing. I heard his door open and close about an hour ago, so I know he's in his room alone, too.

And it sucks.

I hear a faint knock on the door, and I hold my breath.

Is that him?

The lock is on his side, so I lie still in the dark. I reach up and turn my bedside lamp on, my back to his door when I hear it open slowly.

I close my eyes.

The bed dips as he lays down behind me and pulls me into his arms.

He kisses my temple. "I'm sorry."

I keep lying with my back to him, unsure what to say.

"My demons are dark," he whispers.

I frown and roll to face him. "Then let me chase them away."

"They’re too big for us."

I stare at him for a moment. "What are they?"

He swallows the lump in his throat but stays silent.

I cup his cheek in my hand, whatever he's dealing with is upsetting him. "Baby, talk to me."

His eyes search mine.

"Sebastian."

"I'm fucked up," he whispers.

I lean in and kiss his lips. "Tell me."

His brow furrows. "I can't." He pauses, and I wait. "I can't perform unless I'm with a prostitute."

I frown, confused.

"Unless I know for certain that there is no future with a woman, I can't even get it up."

I blink, shocked.

Fuck.

17

April

I stare at him, the way the shadow is throwing off the lamp, I can only partially see his face. I run my fingers through his stubble as I try to think of the right thing to say.