Page 71 of The Arrangement

"Fuck, this is stupid," I whispered to myself. How long had it been since I’d cried over a boy? How long had it been since I’d cried at all?

I was stronger than this. It was all just a distraction. So I swallowed the hurt and the sorrow like I had trained myself to do when I was younger. When my father yelled, his face was red, and spit flew from his mouth. I remembered it so vividly: I pushed into a corner as a much larger and older man yelled at me for dropping my plastic cup of milk. That's when I learned that crying helps no one. And that no one comes to save you.

Except for my grandma: she saved me. And I would rather lose everything than allow that woman to lose the comfortable living she has now.

To this day, I couldn't help but push down the panic when a manscreamed or raised his voice. My instincts were constantly on guard, and my expectations were low.

It was better that way, because I refused to become my mother.

A sharp beep behind me reminded me I was still at a red light, my gaze unfocused and looking past the road into nothing. Jerking out of my reverie, I pulled into the coffee shop's employee parking lot behind the shop, the dark alcove dimly lit by a single streetlight.

All but running into the tiny shop, I was immediately greeted by the lingering smell of roasted coffee beans and vanilla scones. It was therapeutic in a way, stocking the shelves and sweeping the floors. My hands knew how to do this work on autopilot, and it gave my brain a break. I clocked in and out in a haze, my eyes still blurry as I pressed back the tears that threatened to fall.

Fuck.

I’d fucked it all up.

I'd never had a one-night stand or a casual thing; how was I supposed to know that I would catch feelings for him? Especially him! Sure, he was hot, but that wasn't everything. Sebastian Quinn was rich, loud, and annoying. But he was also kind, an extremely giving person in and out of the bedroom.

Our time together had made him into a three-dimensional person, not just the pompous ass I’d known in school who drove a car nicer than most adults I knew. I wished desperately that I could go back to not thinking of him as a regular person, but just as my asshole neighbor—someone to simply pass in the hallway and, once in a while, grab my packages. Or fix my water. Or let me use his shower. Or maybe give me the most mind-blowing orgasm I’d ever had in my life.

It was like something snapped within me, and I was out of the coffee shop, the cold air hitting my face and stinging my streaming eyes as I locked the door behind me. I felt like I couldn’t breathe, like something had broken inside of me. Ideally, I would’ve gone to my car, but a man was passing through the parking lot; the only thing visible about him was the red dot of a lit cigarette hanging from his fingers as he whistled a low tune.

Immediately, I turned into the bookstore, the two doors being sideby side, and locked myself in. The familiar warmth of my favorite place washed over me, and everything happened at once. The tears that had started in the coffee shop trailed down my face as I tried unsuccessfully to reign in my sobs.

It wasn’t until I saw the sign hanging in the window that I paused. Its back was toward me, the red letters illuminated backwards in the streetlights.

“No. No.No,” I stammered as I stumbled to the door and ripped the sign from the tape that held it there.

For Sale by Owner. Inquire within.

The sign fell from my hands and onto the ground. Everything was falling apart around me. I had ruined everything with Sebastian, and now I wouldn’t even have a job. I hadn’t finished my novel, and I could barely keep a roof over my grandmother’s head without fucking for money. I had a worthless degree that was gathering dust while I paid on it monthly, the final balance never changing despite the thousands of dollars I poured into it.

Tipping my head up, I made myself glance up towards the loft. The string lights cast a gentle glow over the carefully curated bookshelves that I used to curl up under on my breaks, where Sebastian had pushed my favorite book into my hand while he took apart my body one orgasm at a time.

It was where I knew I had messed up, seeing his messy black hair under those stupid lights in my bookstore with his face buried between my thighs. I knew then. I fucking knew then, and I still was too weak to resist it. To resist him. Because I knew then that I was falling for him.

The words drifted through my mind as quickly as I pushed them back. I didn’t have time for Sebastian. I didn’t have time to mourn, and I definitely didn’t have time for love.

I was fine.

Chapter 33

Sebastian

The drive home was a blur; there was something off about that paperwork. About the whole thing, really. Throughout the rest of dinner, my grandfather and that James guy sat and talked like I wasn’t even there. My stomach still pinched with anxiety as I pulled into the parking lot and let myself into my loft.

I hadn’t been inside for more than five minutes when my phone rang. It was late at this point, and my mind immediately went to a dark place where maybe my sister was hurt, I hadn’t heard from her in a week or so. But it was Fletcher’s name that graced my phone screen. He never called me, especially this late. Sure, he was my best friend, but we mainly expressed our deep friendship in memes and random lunch outings. We didn’t really call each other.

I’m sure I sounded hesitant when I picked up the phone.

“Hello?”

“We need to talk.”

I paused, my mind immediately racing with the possibilities, noticing the tense tone in his voice. “About what?”

Silence fell on his end as if he was contemplating what to tell me, even though he had been the one to call me.

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