Red Thorns (Thorns Duet 1)

“And I never will.” She sniffles, her expression hardening. “Stop being a baby and grow up.”

I want to tell her that I’ve been a grownup since that night twelve years ago. That I figuratively lost my innocence and she wasn’t there for me.

I want to scream that I hate everything she’s done since then. That I hate her sometimes. But that will only make me an emotional mess and I don’t know how to deal with that.

My relationship with Mom has been on and off for twelve years now and I don’t think it’ll ever get better. I should’ve moved out when I graduated high school, but one drunken night, she begged me not to go, said she couldn’t imagine her life without me, so I caved in and stayed.

And for what?

Nothing changed. If anything, she’s gotten busier with each passing year.

I’m definitely moving out after college ends. I’ll go to Japan and put some distance between us. Maybe that’s what we needed all along. A break from each other.

The doorbell rings and Mom wipes her eyes and goes to answer it.

Using the sleeve of my hoodie, I rub at my eyes to make the evidence of my weakness disappear. We’re the same in that way, Mom and I. We hate showing our emotions to the outside world and actively close down whenever there’s a chance.

Grabbing my tray of goodies, I head to the living room but freeze when I hear a very familiar rumbling voice.

I must be imagining things.

Soon after, though, Mom walks back inside, accompanied by none other than the Black Devils’ captain and quarterback.

The tray nearly falls to the floor and my legs struggle to keep me upright.

Sebastian is here. In my house.

What the…?

I blink twice to make sure he’s actually here. Yup, there he is, dressed in designer jeans that hang low on his sinful hips. A gray T-shirt stretches across his hard abs that his denim jacket is unable to hide.

His hair is styled back and his star smile is on complete display. So what if I can sense the hollowness behind it? Everyone else only sees the accomplishments and the quarterback image.

Everyone else is only interested in what’s on the surface.

All this time, I thought I was, too, but something changed last night.

Or maybe it’s been there all along and is only now making itself known.

“Your friend came to see you, Nao,” Mom announces ever so casually, as if I actually have any friends aside from Lucy.

I finally find my voice, but it still comes out low, “He’s not my friend, Mom.”

“She’s right.” Sebastian offers her his million-dollar-all-American-boy smile. “I’m actually trying to court her.”

She raises a brow, her gaze flitting between the two of us before she mutters, “Good luck with that.”

And then she ascends the stairs, slowly disappearing from view.

Leaving me alone.

Or with Sebastian—which is way worse.

Ignoring him—and my general state of flustering panic—I try to walk at a steady pace. I miraculously place the tray on the coffee table and sit on the sofa without knocking anything over.

My voice, however, is a little strangled when I speak, “You can leave. The door is right there.”

A heavy weight flops beside me, causing a dip in the sofa. The pungent scent of bergamot and pepper assaults my nostrils and overwhelms my senses.