Page 90 of In the Net
Every hour is a conspicuous reminder that the thought of another girl winning a date with Sebastian lit such a blaze of jealousy inside me that I gave up forty hours of my time to keep it from happening, even with research papers piling up, Sophia’s wedding to get ready for, and finals season almost around the corner.
It’s concerning. Because once we’re back from my cousin’s wedding, and all the conditions of this relationship we’ve been faking expire, there’s nothing I’ll be able to do about seeing Sebastian with other girls.
I’m sure the first thing he’ll want to do is make up for lost time. His date schedule will be full and his bedroom might as well turn into a revolving door.
The thought immediately has a corrosive feeling churning in my chest.
I don’t know how I’m going to be okay with seeing Sebastian with other girls when this deal of ours ends.
As a matter of fact, I don’t know how I’m going to be okay with …
“How about this?”
It’s probably a good thing that thought gets interrupted by the student I’m tutoring. We’re working on writing effective conclusions, and I just gave her some tips to rewrite the final paragraph of the essay she has due in a couple days.
I read through, nodding. She did well. Honestly, I enjoy tutoring. It’s fun and fulfilling using my skills to help others. I just wish I didn’t have to do forty hours of it.
Our session is over, so I give her positive feedback along with a couple tiny suggestions on how she could do even better. A nice, positive feeling buzzes through me when she smiles and tells me that our session helped her a lot, and that she’s much more confident about submitting this essay.
When she leaves, I start to gather my stuff to head home. I put in three hours of tutoring today. When I finally get home, it’ll be more than twelve hours since I left for classes this morning.
A quiet knock sounds against the open door of the tutoring room, like someone trying to get my attention.
“Sorry, I’m just heading out,” I start to say, but when I turn around, my breath hitches.
Sebastian is stepping into the tutoring room. The temperature of the small space already feels about twenty degrees higher. Surprise rolls through me, along with a pleasant buzz. It’s embarrassing how quickly the smile takes over my lips.
To add to the surprise, he’s dressed … really nice. A crisp blue button-up shirt and a pair of black jeans that look like they were ironed. His thick, jet-black hair is a little damp, like he just stepped out of the shower before coming here. When he takesa step closer to me, the clean, soapy scent wafting from him confirms that impression.
“Sebastian? What are you doing here?” It’s concerning how warm and fuzzy my chest feels just from seeing my fake boyfriend unexpectedly.
Sebastian’s blue eyes are bright, his gaze resting on me with appreciation that only makes the buzz stronger.
“If I’m not mistaken,” he says, taking a step closer, “I believe I owe you a date.”
Sebastianand I are still laughing at something he just said about an overrated writer we both dislike when we step inside my house.
I let out one of those satisfied, post-laughter sighs as I close the door behind us. It’s a sound I shouldn’t be making around Sebastian. My defenses should be higher than that. But those defenses have been dangerously low for a while now.
At least I’m still scolding myself about it. When that stops, I’m in real trouble.
But when Sebastian turns to me in the dark, empty living room and our gazes catch, I have to ask myself who I’m kidding. I’m already in real trouble.
For our “date” tonight, Sebastian took me to the cocktail bar where we had our first fake date.
That night feels like a million years ago, even though it hasn’t even been two months.
We only had one cocktail each, with food, and not even any of the strong ones, since we have classes tomorrow, but we’ve still been laughing all evening like we’re tipsy.
As I look up into Sebastian’s eyes, suddenly, something in them sharpens. His jaw sets harder, his nostrils flare, and intense immediacy seeps into his gaze. A charge enters the air around us, and the lighthearted mood that we’ve been in since we arrived at the cocktail bar changes.
With his long legs, it only takes him one stride to eat up the distance between us. He’s so big, so broad while still being leanly muscled, that his sheer presence overwhelms my senses.
“Remember how I said that these dates are always platonic?” he says, an arch tone to his voice, referring to when he explained how the dates won at the auctions go.
“Yeah?” I say, an answer crossed with a question.
A grin pulls on his lips. “This one won’t be.”
