Right now, all I want is to see a familiar face.
To hug Anne after all this time and hope that, just for one evening, the anxiety stays quiet.
I reach for the door handle, ready to let Remi know I’m coming with him, but just as my fingers brush the metal, I hearthe lock click on the other side. We open the door at the exact same moment, and there he is.
Face to face.
No warning.
No time to brace myself.
REMI
I walk straight into Sebastian’s room without knocking,
and realise, a second too late, what a spectacularly bad idea that was.
Clearly, I’m not quite myself today.
Maddie’s departure hit me harder than I’d care to admit, and now I’m drifting around the flat like I’ve forgotten how basic manners work.
I turn the handle, push the door open, and nearly collide with Sebastian, who, as luck would have it, was just about to step out.
Brilliant.
Of course.
And, because apparently my brain has left the building, I start babbling.
“Uh, sorry, Sebastian. I should’ve knocked. I’m not really used to having guests... I’ll be more careful.”
He gives me a shy little smile and, yep.
There it is again. That ridiculously distracting dimple on his left cheek, flashing like it owns the room and dragging my last coherent thought down with it.
For fuck’s sake.
Why am I so fixated on that bloody dimple?
I must be coming down with something.
It’s the only reasonable explanation for this fog that’s clouded my brain.
Thankfully, Sebastian doesn’t seem to notice. Or if he does, he’s too polite to say anything.
“No problem, Remi. I’ve showered and changed, actually, I was just coming to find you. I’d love to come with you tonight.”
His voice shifts halfway through the sentence, from eager to just a touch unsure, then he adds, more carefully,
“Unless it’s a problem for you?”
“No, no! It’s totally fine!” I say quickly, trying to sound more relaxed than I feel, while my eyes, completely against my will, sweep down the length of him.
He’s changed into tight black jeans and a fitted black T-shirt, the sleeves cut off at the shoulders. And just like that, my brain short-circuits again.
His arms are covered in tattoos, elegant, detailed lines of black ink that wind across his skin in delicate floral patterns.
They suit him. More than suit him. I’ve never really noticed tattoos before. But on him… they’re stunning.
