Georgia sighs. “I think it’s worth talking to him tomorrow. Maybe he just freaked out. You know Bass is impulsive and a little rabid, but he isn’t mean. It sounds like it was just a really stressful day for you both.” I nod, unable to argue with that.
Georgia and I sit across from one another, quiet and solemn, because what else can a victim of a Wilcox brother do?
Almost a day passes before I go looking for Bass.
It seems like he vanished after leaving me in the Nerd’s parking lot that cold afternoon. I spent all of Dr. Ross’s class the next morning staring at the door, waiting for him to waltz in with some weak excuse and charming apology. But it never comes. It’s only later at lunch that I find out Georgia’s intel—in the form of Carlton—says he never went back to his dorm room. Another source—in the form of Ben—confirms that he’d gone back home. Naturally.
He’d already skipped one day of school to go with me to the Briar Cliffs. What’s the harm in taking another?
I’m impatient the whole day, annoying my neighbors with the way I keep tapping my pencil. The tension creates a bitch of a headache, stabbing like an icepick right into my temples. I wince through Econ period, but beg off my AP Lit class to go lay in the nurse’s office for an hour, lights turned off, knees tucked to my chest against the ache. Probably a lingering gift from Doug’s slap the day before. He got good at making shit hurt without leaving visible marks a long, long time ago.
I’m drowsy when the final bell finally rings, shuffling out of the nurse’s office to meet Georgia at her locker.
As soon as I do, she gets a text. “It’s Vandy,” she informs me, thumb rolling over the screen. “She said she just saw Sebastian head up to his room.”
My stomach drops like lead, but at the same time, I’m also weirdly excited. Despite our fight, all day I’ve found myself reaching for a hand that isn’t there, or expecting to see him across the quad, walking toward me.
I’m pissed at him.
I miss him.
It’s a lot of complex stuff to reconcile, and as I’m using the code to get into Cresswell, heading to the fourth floor, I’m wondering which one will win out.
Half the doors are open, revealing messy boys’ dorm rooms, along with the commingled stench of sweat and bad body spray. Sebastian’s door sits at the end of the Senior hall like a shiny, precious, ominous thing. I approach it with a flare of nerves, my stomach flipping, feeling queasy and unsure. I’ve never in my life gone after a guy like this—wanted a guy like this—fuck, needed a guy like this. I barely hear my own knuckles rap on the door, the sound drowned out by my pulse thundering in my ears.
When the door swings open, there’s no one in the entry.
I shuffle my feet for a moment, waiting, but ultimately peer my head inside, searching.
Sebastian’s on the couch, bent at the waist, tying a shoe. He’s dressed in athletic gear, a large gym bag and equipment waiting on the coffee table. When he glances up, I wince at the color of his eye, a mottled rainbow of purple, red, and yellow.
“Uh, hey,” I try. “Can I come in?”
His only response is a grunt of disinterest.
I step into the room, trying to soothe my own anxiety. “I’ve been looking for you.”
His shoulders lift in a dispassionate shrug. “Been busy.”
Okay. Guess that cooling off period didn’t take.
“How are the kittens?” I ask, hoping maybe that’ll ease the mood. Hasn’t Abby always been that for us? A middle, neutral ground?
“Fine. Healthy. Getting spoiled by Liesel and my mom.” He moves to the other shoe, yet makes no eye contact with me. “I don’t really have time to talk—I’ve got a scrimmage.”
“This should only take a minute.” I take a deep breath, filling my lungs with his warm scent. “About yesterday—"
He yanks aggressively at his laces, voice low. “You really want to do this now?”
I look around the room in confusion. “This?”
“Talk about our feelings until we’re yelling at each other again?” He flicks a hand dismissively. “No thanks.”
“What…” I rear back, stunned, “I’m sorry, what’s happening here?”
“What was always going to happen.” He stands and smooths down his shorts, finally meeting my gaze. “Or had you really deluded yourself?”
The cold flatness of his eyes makes me take an involuntary step back. This isn’t my Sebastian. This isn’t the guy who kissed me, laughed with me, protected me, or… loved me.
This is someone else. Someone cold as stone and just as hard.
“Is this about Heston?” I ask, trying to put the pieces together—to make them fit. My brain works overtime to rationalize the man standing in front of me, blank-faced and empty.
“So, you had, then. Alright, let me clear it up for you.” He bends to put something in his bag, seeming like only half his attention is on the words pouring from his mouth. “You had it right before. I chase, you run, I chase some more, you finally cave, I get what I want, and then it’s over.” When he looks at me again, it’s with a quick, dagger-sharp glance of his blue eyes. “All clear?”
“Wait,” I say, frozen in shock. Nothing has ever been less clear. “It’s over? What’s over?”
He shrugs, grabbing his bag and throwing the strap across his broad chest. “Move.”
I blink, realizing that I’m standing in the doorway, blocking his exit. Too bad. “No. Not until you talk to me.”
“I just told you how I feel.” His eyebrow arches. “I know you’ve got some masochistic hard-on about being abused, but seriously? You want me to say that again?”
Hot anger and embarrassment rushes through me, but I try to ground myself. “No, you just basically told me that you’re a dick. Bravo. Sebastian Wilcox is an asshole! But there’s more to this than you’re saying. I know there is, Bass. Is it about Heston? Talk to me.”
The impassive expression on his face flickers, clouding for a moment, before returning smooth as a stone. “This has nothing to do with my brother and everything to do with the fact that if you think I’m spending the rest of my senior year coaxing you out of your pants when I could fuck any girl in this school—anyway, anytime, anyhow—you’re more clueless than I thought.” He watches me, face hardening at whatever he sees in my expression. “Where exactly did you think this was going? We both know I don’t do girlfriends, but if I did, you know who I’d choose?” He dips in close, voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “Someone I could actually fucking touch.”
I’ve been hit before. Punched, slapped, shoved, kicked. I’ve even taken a fist from Sebastian himself. But nothing, none of those, hurt the way this does. I look at him and I can’t even see the guy I thought I was falling in love with. All I can see is the tear-blurred vision of his expressionless face and bored eyes.
It takes me three tries to inhale. It feels like the air has been knocked out of my fucking lungs. “Why are you acting like this?”
He steps closer to me, barely an inch away. “The sex was fine, just not worth all the bullshit, truthfully.” He pauses and I stare at the floor, refusing to let him see me cry. “Now, I don’t want to force you to move, but I will. Don’t make me.”