Page 90 of The Very Naughty List

“I told Lorelai about your dare this morning, and how we all ran naked through the snow,” I tell him, grinning lazily as I lick whipped cream off my fork. “Pretty sure she thinks we’re all crazy.”

“Eh.” He shrugs. “I saw a video once of a surfer who got attacked by a shark andkeptsurfing. So I think Californians are their own brand of crazy.”

That makes me laugh, and I lean my head against his shoulder. It feels good to sit with him like this, just lounging and talking like we used to back in his garage sometimes. Although it’s even better now, with our bodies still flushed and warm from sex and the taste of whipped cream and cinnamon on my tongue.

“I told her about what we’re doing,” I admit. “The fake dating, and the… bucket list thing. I figured it would be okay, since she’s miles away from Chestnut Hill and couldn’t spill the beans to anyone. Not that she would—she’s ride or die for me, so she’d take the secret to her grave.”

“Yeah?” Sebastian twists his neck a little to look down at me, then feeds me another bite of pie. “What did she have to say about all of it?”

“I believe her exact words were ‘get it, girl.’” I smirk, leaving out the part where my bestie warned me not to get my heart broken. I’m heeding her warning, or at least trying my best to, but I don’t need to share all of that with Sebastian.

He chuckles, making his shoulder shift a little beneath my cheek. “That’s a good friend.”

“Yeah.” I grin, staring at the wall opposite us. I hesitate, mulling over my next words, then add, “She also told me to stop running from my past.”

Sebastian sets down the plate, sitting up a little straighter as he cranes his neck to try to see my face. I lift my head, not wanting him to get a crick in his neck.

“What does that mean?” he asks.

Picking up the fork, I drag it through the slowly melting remnants of whipped cream on the plate. “I’m not quite sure what she meant. We had to cut our call short so she could run an errand for her boss. But I can guess what she was getting at.” I sigh. “I ran away from Chestnut Hill after what happened with Dylan. I just couldn’t stand to be here anymore, with the looks and the whispers and the constant reminders of him. And IthoughtI was running toward something when I left, but now… I’m not so sure.”

I chew my lip, staring down at the plate. My thoughts feel a little jumbled, and I don’t really know how to express what I’m trying to say.

“I think we’re all running from something, shortcake.” Sebastian’s voice is unusually serious, and when I look back up, his blue-green eyes are fixed on me. “Even those of us who didn’t leave town like you did are running in our own ways.”

“What are you running from?” I ask quietly.

He pauses before he answers, a contemplative look entering his expression. Then he lets out a quiet breath. “The same thing you are, I guess. The past. Who I was. Who people still see me as.”

“What do you mean?”

He swallows, a look of pain entering his eyes. “Sometimes I feel like my life has stood still ever since my parents died. I took over our dad’s shop, and that gave me something to focus on, something to do. And don’t get me wrong, I fucking love workingwith cars. I love being a mechanic. But I feel like… I dunno. I guess I feel like I’m always walking in my father’s shoes, and I never quite measure up.”

There’s something so vulnerable in his expression that I can’t stop myself from scooting a little closer to him. I rest my hand on his upper arm, feeling the hard muscles just beneath the skin.

“Of course you measure up. Sebastian, if your dad could see you now, he’d be so proud.”

“Thanks.” He reaches up to put his hand over mine. “I hope he would be. And I’m proud to carry on his legacy. It just feels like everyone has an expectation of me that I’ll never live up to.”

“I don’t,” I say firmly. “You’re an incredible guy. You can always make me laugh, and you keep both of your brothers from getting too lost in their own heads. You’re amazing with cars, and even if you say you’re not a gentleman, you’re something better. You’re agoodman. If anyone else doesn’t see how amazing you are—as your own person, not as a reflection of your father—then that’s their loss.”

His eyes soften, something warm passing through them.

“Damn, shortcake. You’re gonna give me a big head.”

I chuckle, but the humor fades from his eyes as he lifts his hand and brushes his thumb over my lip. He leans forward and kisses me, this time slowly and with a sort of deliberation that I can feel all the way down to my toes.

When our kiss finally breaks, he tucks a lock of hair behind my ear, trailing his fingertips along the curve of my jaw.

“You know,” he murmurs. “Maybe we should stop caring so much about what everyone else around us thinks and just start embracing what we really want.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” I say, grinning as his featherlight touch makes goosebumps scatter down my neck.

But as we finally clamber to our feet and get back to doing the last few closing tasks before leaving the diner, a little thought keeps pricking at the back of my mind.

What if the thing I want is something I can never have?

30

---