Page 63 of Peak of Love
He didn’t know her very well, but he knew enough about her temperament to guess that Jaya pulled a muscle in her effort to smile back at that man. It was difficult for Sebastian to watch her fierceness tamped down, tamed into bland pleasantry, to mollify the donor crowd.
When it was Jaya’s turn to take the podium, she cued the presentation and dimmed the lights so that attention turned towards the screen. She was articulate and professional when she explained mundane statistics about programming benefits for kids and inclusion efforts and diversity goals and all kinds of important yet boring information. The lame graphs made people groan before they tuned out. She was up there for no more than a few minutes. Still, Mr. Watson could not have looked more relieved when she finally said, “Any questions?” The audience perked up when they realized she was done.
“Thank you, everyone, for helping us kick off this campaign,” Mr. Watson announced as part of his concluding remarks. “Now let’s enjoy the music and this wonderful evening.”
People mingled again. A few hockey fans congregated around Sebastian. He realized he was still nursing that first drink since much of his attention was drawn to watching Jaya from across the room. She was doing her job of chatting up donors. During each conversation, though, she seemed to creep closer to the exit.
She didn’t have a drink, so he turned around to get her another glass of wine. When he looked back, she was gone. A quick sweep of his eyes confirmed that she wasn’t in the room.
Sebastian didn’t know why, didn’t analyze his motives or anything, but felt compelled to bring her that glass of wine. He told himself that it was hisjob, as representative of this campaign, to ensure the youth coordinator didn’t feel like shit because she had to kowtow to a bunch of middle-aged bourgeoisie elites who didn’t think her presentation was important. It was for the good of the campaign and not at all about watching her relish that first sip.
He found her outside, sitting on a bench. Jaya was huddled in her winter jacket and looking at her phone. He approached and held out the glass of wine.
Her surprise morphed into confusion. “You didn’t have to do that, Sebastian.”
“Get you a drink? If anyone needs one, it’s you.”
She cackled slightly and then groaned. “It was pretty bad, wasn’t it?”
He shrugged and made himself comfortable beside her. “That depends on what you mean by bad. Maybe most people don’t go out on Saturday nights to learn statistics on gang involvement and preteen drug use. But I know I do. Compelling stuff,” he droned, straight-faced serious.
“Shut up,” she retorted, though with no hostility. “I’m terrible at standing in front of people and basically asking for money. Working with kids is one thing. That other stuff is yuck. Not everyone can get people to do their bidding by bulldozing them with charm, you know.”
He snorted. “Onlyyouwould characterize charm as something as aggressive as a bulldozer.”
She elbowed him good-naturedly. “You know what I mean.”
“So you think I’m charming?” he asked slyly. In response, she shook her head and narrowed her eyes over the rim of the glass.
“Did I tell you how stunning you look tonight?” His voice was husky and strained.
She choked and some of the wine seemed to go up her nose because her face contorted. “Ugh, not you, too!” Jaya declared.
“What?! Can’t I give you a compliment?”
“I don’t have the chance to wear a sari often, so I forget that in places like this I tend to get treated like a fucking mascot. If someone saysPrincess Jasmineone more time, I swear I’m gonna punch them in the throat.”
It was his turn to choke at the image of Jaya’s vehemence. When he looked over, she wasn’t actually angry though seemed vindicated by the chance to say her thoughts out loud.
“Fuck, I’d pay to see that,” he said. They both laughed, probably at the same image of those Botox-filled faces frozen into permanent expressions of shock.
Sebastian watched her shoulders relax and he was suddenly acutely aware of her proximity. The January night, though clear and mild, compelled their bodies closer. He felt her thigh against his and realized that their fingers were inches apart. He looked down at her hand, which seemed to twitch when his eyes landed on it. A breeze carried her fruity, feminine smell and lifted the strands of hair away from her face. He studied her profile and noticed, for the first time, a sweet little mole at the peak of her high cheekbone.
She wasn’t looking at him when she said, “Thanks for the drink. I was about to call a cab. I’ll see you around.”
Jaya put her empty wine glass at the side of the bench, beside his beer. Abruptly, she stood.
It happened quickly. The teetering over high heels and the awkward twist of her upper body. She wobbled and then a sharp hiss came out of her as one side of her body seemed to crumple.
Swear words that would make a pirate proud exploded from Jaya’s pretty mouth when she tried to regain balance. “My ankle,” she shrieked while trying to stand on one leg.
“Oh, crap,” he said and reached over to help her stabilize. “Sit down before you make it worse.” He didn’t wait for her to obey. Sebastian pulled her over his lap.
“What are you doing?” she complained.
“Helping you, woman,” he answered irritably because the cozy weight over his lap and the sharp belligerence of her tone were both grating his nerves. “I can tell you if you need to go to a doctor or if you just need to ice it tonight. I’ve had ankle issues for years.”
She harrumphed although didn’t contest his expertise. Her body slipped off his lap and settled beside him while her legs laid out over his thighs. As he moved the long skirt up her smooth calf, Sebastian tamped down the effect of that silky fabric against his touch. He slipped off the offending stiletto to have better access to her ankle.
