Page 65 of Until the Ribbon Breaks

He splits off, and I slowly graze my shoes along the blades of grass before eventually settling down against the fence. With my knees tucked against my chest, I lift my chin and wait for the sun to reappear through an opening in the clouds. I close my eyes, and seconds later, my skin warms for a moment, illuminating the darkness behind my lids to a murky red. When the color vanishes, I open my eyes to find Sebastian standing over me, blocking the sun.

“Hey,” he says, and I notice a light bruise staining the crest of his cheek.

“Hey.”

“Are you okay?”

Slightly confused as to how he got out of trouble so swiftly, I nod and don’t protest when he sits next to me. He looks toward the court where the guys are playing. I stare at him, at his bruise, and ponder why he’s asking if I’m okay when I should be asking him.

I should ask him.

Ask him, Harlow.

“Areyouokay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. That guy’s an asshole.”

“He’s that way with everyone,” I say. “You didn’t have to stick up for me.”

He turns and looks at me as if I’m crazy. “No one should be talking shit like that to you.”

I shrug. “I’m used to people teasing me.”

The anger quickly drops from his expression.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that against you.”

“You don’t have to lie to me.” He drapes his arms over his knees. “I deserve to feel like shit.”

He does and he doesn’t, and I don’t fully trust that the version of him sitting next to me is the genuine one. Still, there’s a tug pulling me away from wanting to be a jerk to him. The thing is, he didn’t have to go after Kevin today, but he did. Why he did it is a mystery. It could have been because he felt guilty for treating me like a whipping post for the last few years, in which case his actions were to make himself feel better, and ultimately selfish. Or it could have been because he didn’t think I would stand up for myself since I’ve never stood up to him. Or he did it because defending people when they are being attacked is the right thing to do.

Whatever his reason was, I’m grateful he did it.

“Thank you.”

He shakes his head as if he’s undeserving of the gratitude.

“I know this is going to sound really weird, but”—my eyes meet his—“I’m glad you’re here.”

He squints slightly at my bizarre comment, and it gets a grin out of me.

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, in a weird way, I do. I’m not going to lie, I was nervous as shit when I first got here. Seeing you made some of that go away.”

“Why?”

“I kind of felt like, if you could do it, how frightening could it be?”

“It isn’t as if I have a choice, you know?”

He nods. “Yeah, I know.”

We go quiet for a moment, but when curiosity rears its head, I break the silence. “Can I ask you something?”

“You’re giving me a choice?” He grins, and I match it.

“Whyareyou here?”

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