Page 22 of The Boy Who Loved Wicked
Mason couldn’t be seen from the direction that Sebastian’s voice came from, and technically, only my body’s profile should’ve been visible to him. I softened instantly and every part of me grew hot. I shuffled to my left, my eyes meeting Mason’s, his reflected what I was feeling. After zipping up my fly, I stepped from behind the tree and came face to face with a confused Sebastian. “Hi,” I said, but my voice failed me. I placed a palm at my throat and tried again.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, his words falling over a cliff as Mason stepped from behind the tree. Bash regarded the both of us, and I prayed the ground would open up right then and swallow me whole. “Oh,” he said. The strain in his jaw sharpened the already sharp edges enough to cut through steel. After an unbearable amount of silence, he said, “If you’ll excuse me. I need to be getting home.” With that he left, and my gaze fell to the grass at my feet. I’d never been more humiliated in my life. And also so confused. Why did he seem upset? Maybe he felt lied to after inviting me and then discovering I’d been at the show. But I didn’t know Mason would be bringing me here.Damn it.
“Well, that was awkward. And weird,” Mason supplied oh-so-helpfully. In lieu of a response, I made my way around the shrubs and toward the parking lot. I suddenly didn’t feel so well.
I got home and rushed past my mom, throwing a greeting over my shoulder, and bee-lined straight for my room. My jacket landed on the bed, and I went to the window without turning on my lights. Out of breath, I scanned his pool area, every window, but there was no sign of Sebastian. My heart rate evened out, and I’d resigned myself to tossing and turning all night when movement from the kitchen caught my eye.
Sebastian exited the sliding doors holding a heavy bag and after chucking it to the ground, he went back inside for the freestanding rack.
For the next hour he pounded relentlessly on the boxing bag. I flinched on occasion when a particular strike nearly sent the rack and bag flying into the pool. What had him on edge? I couldn’t help but think it was my fault. Had I hurt his feelings by being at the park? Did he believe I hadn’t wanted to go with him?
He wore tight black athletic pants, and he’d removed his sweat-soaked t-shirt. His hair curled when wet, and the tattoo on his back glistened.
He paused with his gloved hands on his hips when the upstairs bedroom light came on. With a raised head, he blew harsh breaths, and then the pacing began. He threw a few more glares at the bedroom window, where Emily could be seen moving about. “Fuck,” he all but yelled, and I jumped back from the impact of that one word.
He removed the gloves and threw each of them to the concrete. Then removed his hand wraps before storming back inside—leaving the sliding door to rebound and then only slide closed halfway.
My heart beat at my ribcage, looking for a way out, and my breathing turned slight. I inched backward on my knees, my eyes bobbing from the partially open door to the bedroom. Sebastian burst in, immediately shouting from what I could tell with their window closed. Flailing his arms, agitated. Emily paused in the middle of unbuttoning her silk top to throw him an incredulous glare before turning her back on him. Sebastian tugged at his hair before grabbing her by the arm and wheeling her around. She raised a hand intending to slap him, but he caught her wrist, and she struggled to free herself from his grasp, exposing her lace bra in the process. She said something to him, and I muttered in frustration because I couldn’t hear. I grabbed my binoculars. Maybe I’d be able to read their lips.
Sebastian released her hand to rip open her shirt, and she gasped. And then things changed. They tore into each other like chained dogs finally let off their leash. Like if they didn’t release their rage they might die. Like one of them had to go in order for the other to live.
He was rough with her, used her like she wasn’t even human, his eyes squeezed shut, head turned away the entire time. And through the binoculars, I read the word that repeatedly fell from her lips.More.
The binoculars fell from my limp hands, and I sat stunned.
It was over as fast as it began. And an hour later, after she’d showered and gone to bed alone, and Sebastian sat by his pool with a bottle of booze in his hand, I remained there on my knees, experiencing a rage I’d never thought possible. I seared him with my laser-hot glare, my fists balled and planted onto the tops of my thighs. I hated what had happened between them. I hated myself even more for the reasons why. For wondering,why couldn’t it have been me?I uncurled my lips and gazed down with disgust at the sticky wet spot in my khakis.
We were on day fourteen since my run-in with Bash at the park. Ever since that night, he abandoned sitting by the pool, and he never left the light on signaling that I could come inside. In class, he didn’t make eye-contact, and refused to call on me when I raised my hand.
The former left me confused, the latter, pissed.
I’d been in a sour mood and avoiding Theory, Danny, and even Mason as much as possible. In class, I ignored the weight of Theory’s stares that scorched my cheek, shooting up from my seat to exit the room as soon as the bell rang.
So I’d ended up at the performance in the park after I’d told him I couldn’t go. Big deal. That didn’t excuse his behavior. I’d made up my mind to go to his office after school and confront him about it.
“Come in,” came his brusque tone from the other side of the office door, and some of my earlier bravado faded. With my hand on the doorknob, I gave myself an internal pep-talk, and then entered. He wasn’t alone this time, but Mr. Terry, one of the teachers he shared the office with, was on his way out. I shut the door behind him.
Sebastian dropped the red pen he held and sat back, eyeing me with a stern expression and a tick in the hinge of his jaw. “How can I help you, Mr. Michaelson?”
“It’s Phoenix,” I said frustrated. Why was he being this way? It felt like losing a friend. One I hadn’t realized I’d had until now.
“Not within these walls, Mr. Michaelson.”
He was forced to look up at me as standing in front of his desk gave me an advantage I needed. “It’s just us in here,” I whispered, with a touch of unintentional fragility. His firm mouth softened. I slid my hands into my pockets to hide the slight tremble. “You revert to formality when trying to gain distance. Or regain control. Or when you try to maintain it.” The jagged knot in my gut loosened a notch with that small purge.
Sebastian gestured for me to sit. After a brief hesitation, afraid of losing my imagined upperhand, I sighed, removing my bookbag and taking the seat offered. “That’s quite the observation. It also sounds like I’m perpetually in one of those three scenarios.”
“You have your moments,” I muttered, readjusting my bag on the floor near my feet.
“And what would those be?” The question seemed torn from him. Like the last thing he wanted to do was ask it, but his need to know was stronger.
“When your guard falls away and the kind, playful part of you moves to the forefront.” I’d become a sort of expert on the man in front of me. A side effect of spending my time—spare or stolen—observing him. My answer had the opposite effect of my intentions.
“It’s not my job to be playful. I’m here to educate you. It’s my fault that our relationship has become confusing. I’m the adult here—”
“—I’m not a child,” I all but yelled, causing his eyes to swell. “Why are you upset with me?” I got to the point of my visit, determined not to allow his burst of temper to intimidate me. “Are you punishing me for being at the park after I’d told you I couldn’t go with you?”
“No—”
