Page 47 of Sounds Like Love

A shadow slid up to the side of the bar and asked, “Too late to order a drink, I guess?”

Startled out of my thoughts, I glanced over my shoulder at—

Sebastian.

I deflated a little, and put the last glass on the shelf. “Last call was ten minutes ago,” I said, turning to him, my hands on my hips, because I could make myself a little taller, and that was all the clearance I needed to meet him at eye level. It didn’t matter, though, he still held himself like he was a giant. Or, maybe, he held himself like he didn’t care about the histrionics of tall men.

And I hate that it kinda turns me on, I thought bitterly.

The edge of his mouth twitched up in a smirk.“Does it now?”

I blanched. “No. Not—it wasn’t—that—whatever. We’re closed,” I quickly added, coming out from behind the bar to show him to the door.I walked fast, but damn his gait, because he caught up with me in two strides.

“So, when are we going to talk about this?”

“Talk about what?” I led him into the lobby.

“This,”Sebastian said.

“It’s late,” I said, tugging on my braid. The curtains were closed on the box office window, so at least I knew my brother wouldn’t be able to see us.

I’d kept my professional life and my personal one so distant, so carefully distant, that this sudden merger felt like a head-on collision. A small, egotistical part of me was afraid of showing a peer that I was burnt out, but a bigger part of me was simply cautious of a stranger seeing this private, imperfect life of mine. I was afraid that he would judge it. I was afraid he wouldn’t like it.

Why did I care so much what he thought?

He massaged the bridge of his nose, his eyes tightly closed, like he’d just been hit with a sharp headache. “Your head’s so busy I can’t understand anything,” he murmured, eyebrows furrowing. Then he frowned, a thought occurring in his head. I heard it echo in mine before he said it aloud: “You’re scared of me.”

No—no, that sounded wrong. I shook my head. “Not you, promise,” I clarified, twisting my fingers around my braid nervously. “I just—this is—”

I don’t know how to talk to you, I admitted.

That caught him by surprise. Then, in relief, his tense shoulders melted, and he barked a laugh. “Then don’t,” he said.“Luckily, I’m in your head.”

Despite myself, I felt a smile crawl across my mouth. I couldn’t stop it, even as I bit the inside of my cheek. “I’ve got to help Dad finish closing up while Mitch does the money,but give me ten? Anddon’ttalk to anyone, especially not an old guy in an ascot,” I warned, leaving him in the lobby. I’d hate for Dad to embarrass me by regaling Sebastian with stories of when Roman Fell played at the Rev.

Or any stories, really.

Especiallyif they involved me.

“What—what’s an ascot?” he called after me, but if I could intercept my dad on his way to locking the front doors, hopefully he’d never learn.

Chapter19(Stranger Than Your) Sympathy

LATE NIGHTS ONthe beach were always my favorite. They were quiet, tourists were asleep, and the stars were so bright they looked like glitter on midnight tulle. Sebastian and I walked along the shoreline, the humid wind picking up specks of sand that stung our skin. The ocean was a soft, constant rumble. I had my shoes in one hand, my bare feet leaving prints in the shore beside his shoe prints.

When I’d found Sebastian in the lobby again, after I’d finished closing up the bar, he was in the far corner, staring at one of the hundreds of photographs on the walls. When I got closer, I realized that he’d found his dad’s photo. He stared at it intensely, frowning.

I cleared my throat loudly. He glanced over at me. I felt on edge. Nervous—why was Inervous? I didn’t like it, though I knew what would put me at ease.

I nudged my head out the door. “I guess we should talk. Let’s take a walk?”

So we went to the beach.

I stooped and picked up a pale seashell. There was a chip in the side of it. Most shells that washed up here were broken. The noise of the waves rushed in and back out to sea. The tide was low, so the water was a distant, dark rumble. It was soothing. My head always felt clearer with my feet in the sand.

“So …” I hesitated, not knowing what to say. Why had it been so much easier to talk to astranger?

“This is weird, isn’t it?”He glanced over at me.

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