It confused Sebastian that Remington could be so different when there wasn’t a screen between them. It almost seemed like Allan, who displayed a painfully arousing level of competence, wasn’t Remington at all. But Sebastian knew it was true. Knew that he’d been exchanging messages with Remington for the past two weeks.
Worse, or better… he knew that Remington was the one who’d brought his entire life into a stunning level of clarity that he hadn’t had before. And he knew Remington wished he hadn’t been the one. He could tell by the way Remington had reacted. The wide-eyed fear that bordered on panic.
“Of course he doesn’t want you,” Sebastian muttered under his breath, spinning on his heel to head back into the kitchen.
This was nothing a bottle of vodka couldn’t cure.
“Yes, I do.”
Remington was there, his slender frame filling the doorway, blocking Sebastian’s escape.
“You don’t have to lie.”
“I’m not,” Remington said. “Before anything else, I need to apologize.”
Sebastian swallowed, steeling himself against Remington’s words. “For what?” he asked.
“The way I acted.”
“Which was?”
Remington sighed. “Indefensible.”
“Alright.” Sebastian pushed past him, padding into the kitchen without a backward glance. Remington’s shoes clicked against his floor as he followed behind, stalling out a few steps away from the kitchen.
Sebastian pulled a bottle out of the freezer and twisted the cap. The teeth of the screw cap dislodged, the sound normally so small, echoing around the silence between them. He tossed the cap onto the counter and flipped over a tumbler.
“Really?” Remington asked as Sebastian poured.
Sebastian’s lashes fluttered, and he flicked his stare upward, glowering at Remington as he filled the glass.
“Are you telling me no?” Sebastian set the bottle on the counter and flattened his hands against the white marble, hoping it hid his tremble.
“Would you listen?”
Sebastian raised the glass to his lips and took a sip, returning it to the counter with a quiet clink.
Remington let out a breath and tucked his hands into his pockets.
“I’m sorry,” Remington said, “for the things I said at Callahan’s. I’m sorry I misled you. I’m sorry for how I reacted when you called me out on the lie.”
“I knew Allan wasn’t your real name.” Sebastian looked down at his drink. “Just like you knew George wasn’t mine.”
“Isn’t it?” Remington pursed his lips in sort of a half-smile. “Sebastian St. George.”
“Where did you get Allan from?”
“I’m surprised you don’t know.” Remington shrugged. “Edgar Allan Poe.Tamerlane and Other Poems. I know you donated it, remember?”
“It was in a box at the college,” he said. “Inconsequential.”
“Not to me.”
Sebastian took another drink. “Tell me more what you’re sorry for.”
He knew he had his own things to apologize for, even if they were things Remington didn’t know about. Sebastian was a little buzzed, but he wasn’t an asshole.
“Dismissing you,” Remington said, quickly and without thought.
