Page 35 of Strings
Sebastian places his hand on the small of my back. “That’s why I’m glad Talia isn’t in the ensemble. I’d never get anything done. I wouldn’t be able to take my eyes off of her.” He gazes down at me and grins.
I gaze up into his eyes adoringly. “I really don’t deserve you.”
“No, you don’t,” he says sarcastically, and he and Lorenzo both laugh. I’m sure Lorenzo thinks he’s kidding. He’s not. I instantly regret my words.
“We practice now? Come, Natalia. I insist.”
I smile. “I need one second. Sebastian, may I speak to you?”
“Of course. Scusami.”
We step to the side. “What?” he asks dryly, all that loving feeling gone.
“Boy, you’re like a faucet. On, off—on, off.”
“Is there a point you want to make?”
“Yes. I’m not staying. I want to go home.”
“You are staying because Lorenzo asked you to. He’ll be offended if you don’t.”
“I’m going to hear all this crap tomorrow and Friday. Isn’t that enough torture for one person?”
“Wow. Crap? Glad to hear our new events manager believes in us so much.”
I sigh. “I do. I mean… I’m tired, Bash.” I shift my weight from one foot to the other and stick out my bottom lip like a child.
His eyebrows lift in amusement. “Are you pouting?”
“If I say yes, will you let me go?”
“Talia, please. We have one more set.”
I let out a fake moan. “But… the bus takes forever and by the time I get home, it’ll be like midnight.”
“The bus? You’re taking public transportation?”
“Well, yeah. How the fuck else does someone with no car get around?”
“Jesus, Talia. I’ll drive you home. Please don’t tell anyone you’re taking the bus!”
“I don’t want you to take me home. I just want togohome.”
“I will not have a girlfriend of mine, fake or not, riding drug-infested public transportation.” He runs his fingers through his hair then removes his glasses and cleans them on his shirt.
I roll my eyes. “I’m not interested in what you look like to people, Bash. I can take care of myself. Obviously, you’ve never ridden the bus. It’s quite enjoyable.”
He places his glasses back on his nose and tilts his head to the side. “Is it? You’re a horrible liar. Go sit down in front. You’re not leaving.”
He walks away from me before I can say another word. I want to scream after him to not tell me what to do, but I can’t because I’ll make myself look bad. I’m not a horrible liar. I’m amazing. If there was an Oscar for lying I’d have them all.Horrible liarmy ass. Feeling frustrated, I cross my arms over my chest and gaze around. Looks like I’m stuck here. Now what do I do?
As soon as we get to the parking garage, I remove my heels.
“So, what did you think?” he asks.
“About what?”
He stops walking and stares at me. “The elevator ride. The music! I’m asking you how you liked the music.”
