Page 75 of Unlovable Player

Mom’s laugh is strained while I drink the rest of my champagne and half of Austin’s.

“Ladies, you remember my son, Sebastian-”

“Nice to see you again ladies, but if you’ll excuse me.” I take Austin’s hand and lead him through the room, out into the hallway and into the kitchen. I open the fridge, a couple of waiters giving me the side-eye like they’re not sure if I’m supposed to be doing this.

“Don’t worry, I live here.” I wink and they go back to doing what they were doing. My face is flooding with heat and I mentally tell myself to get over it. So what if Austin is seeing the real me, isn’t that what I brought him here for? To get it out of the way before I get too attached?Yeah, like that hasn’t already happened.

I take out a bottle of Dom Perignon, grab the corkscrew from the top drawer and drag Austin out of the room and up the stairs.

He starts to protest weakly once we’re stalking along the upper floor where only the odd servant is rushing about.

“What are you doing?” he asks when I pull him into the library and close the door.

“Thank god for that.”

I lean against the door as I pop the cork and take a drink while bubbles froth over the side.

“Did you want to stay out there being ogled by my mother’s Daughters of America Society?”

He swallows and I see him softening.

“Here?” I hand him the bottle

“How are we gonna drive back to campus?”

I shrug. “We’ll get a cab, don’t worry about it.” He still hesitates for a second before taking the bottle from me.

I walk around him, looking for the speaker I know is in here somewhere.

“What shall we have?” I start hooking my phone up, scrolling through my playlists. Ignoring the ones Austin has been sending me over the past few weeks. Those weeks were an interlude. A lie. It’s time for the truth.

While I flip through my phone for the right playlist, Austin walks around, looking at the spines of all my dad’s limited edition classics, the bottle of Dom Perignon dangling by his side. If I didn’t know him, I could mistake him for a silver spoon boy at this very moment. In his well-fitted Armani suit and the way he’s holding that bottle. All except for the wide-eyed naivety in his eyes as he takes in the sheer volume of my father’s library.

I take the bottle from him and sip while looking him in the eye. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows.

“Won’t someone hear this music?”

“Not over that crap down there.”

I run my fingers over his tie and pull him closer, dancing to the music. He laughs and drops his eyes. “You’re crazy.”

“I bet that’s not the worst thing you’ve thought about me.”

“Yeah well,” he leans in to nuzzle my neck. “I didn’t know you properly yet.”

Fuck, stop being so nice to me.

I dance backwards, swigging from the bottle before passing it back to Austin.

“Are you feeling buzzed yet?”

“I’m not used to drinking champagne,” he admits. His cheeks are flushed and he messes his hair up when he runs a hand through it.

“Hey is this Mazzy Star?”

Fuck, so maybe I added a few of his songs to my more permanent playlists.

I lead him by the hand to the armchair and he lets me guide him into it. The champagne bottle still in his hand, dangling over the arm while I kneel between his legs and unzip his fly.

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