Page 33 of Flipping the Script

I could feel his eyes on my back as the crowd parted for me, opening a path to the cooler. Still ignoring him, I grabbed a light beer to pace myself and cracked it open.

“Have you slept with anyone famous?” a voice asked.

It took a second for me to realize they were talking to Sebastian.

“A gentleman never kisses and tells,” he said, his voice syrupy sweet and filled with insinuation.

“Ooooohhhhh,” the crowd chorused.

“Tell us!” a few people begged.

Sebastian just arched his eyebrow suggestively and rolled one shoulder in a shrug.

“I’ll bet it was Anya from Thorn Castle,” someone called out.

Sebastian shook his head. “Nope, not Anya.”

“That lead singer from that band that sings that song?” someone else tried. Was that McKenna?

Sebastian laughed, but it wasn’t his usual sardonic laugh. This one was light and genuine. “I’m going to need more context than that to officially deny it.”

“You know the song,” McKenna, Allyson’s stepsister, said. “By Evermore. That one about waking up alone and the pillow your lover slept on being cold.” She flashed Sebastian a million-watt smile. “The one you wrote and sang with her. We’ve all seen the music video and the footage of when you performed it live with them. There’s no way in hell you two weren’t hooking up.”

“Yes!” another one of their friends shouted. “What’s her name? Lola? Lulu?”

“Lili,” Sebastian supplied. “And we never had a thing. She’s married.”

“Like that matters,” someone quipped.

Sebastian shrugged, his smile faltering. “I don’t need to hook up with married women.”

“You might not need to, but you have, right?” a male voice asked excitedly.

“Not as far as I know. I don’t bother with taken people.”

Something about the way he said it was off. He sounded like his usual arrogant self, but his tone was darker than it had been a moment ago.

“Forget famous women,” Aaron, one of the assholes who’d made my life miserable when I’d been outed, said. “I wanna hear about the groupies.” He toasted Sebastian with his beer. “I bet you have some crazy stories.”

He shrugged, his eyes tightening the slightest bit. “Like I said, a gentleman never kisses and tells.”

The crowd made various protests, trying to goad him into telling them about some of his hookups.

I sipped my drink, watching Sebastian while trying to look like I was ignoring him.

The questions people were asking him were insanely personal. I could see his discomfort growing with each passing minute as he tried to deflect them.

“What was your favorite venue to play?” I asked loudly when he drew in a deep breath, his smirk faltering as his eyes went cold.

He was about to lose his shit, and I honestly didn’t blame him.

But why did I care? I wasn’t his keeper. Who gave a fuck if he blew up at a party? Wouldn’t be the first time his temper got the better of him.

My cock stirred at the memories of the last time I’d seen him lose his shit.

Fucking awesome. Thank Christ I was wearing dark jeans so no one would be able to see my semi unless they looked for it.

He blinked at me in confusion, his cool exterior slipping for a half second before sliding right back into place. “There was this bar in Paris, in the basement of an old opera house.” He smiled, his features relaxing and his eyes lighting up. “It had the most incredible vibe, and the acoustics were perfect because?—"

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