Now I was slowly turning the podcast over to my younger sister, January, who was a freshman BA fashion student this year, along with her high school friend, Aiysha. While I’d still be attending Edinburgh for my postgrad next year, I knew I wouldn’t have the same time to dedicate to the show. Introducing Jan and Aiysha now was smart. Plus, it meant freeing up some of our time this year so we could concentrate on our dissertations.
“I can’t wait for Jan to start.” Maddie had a mischievous glint in her eyes. “She’s such a riot.”
It was true. My wee sister could not be more opposite to me. While I was generally quiet and reserved, Jan was loud, brimming over with confidence, and she was a bit of a nutter, to be perfectly honest. I’d grown up with the girl and even I sometimes didn’t know what she’d say or do next. Though I knew it would never be boring.
The audience was going to love her brash, no-filter fearlessness.
I opened my mouth to tell Maddie not to encourage my little sister’s crazy but was stopped when a shadow cast over our booth and a deep, familiar voice drawled, “Lily Sawyer, just the person I was hoping to see.”
My heart skipped a beat.
Such a cliché, I know.
But it really did.
Clamping my mouth shut, I looked up at the owner of said shadow and drawl, and a crushing hurt squeezed my chest.
He was as beautiful as I remembered.
Sebastian Thorne.
His name was apt. Considering he was a thorn in my side.
My friends grew quiet. All I could hear was the drone of voices chatting over the music, glasses clinking, chairs scraping against the floor. Strangers’ laughter was suddenly too shrill.
Sebastian stared openly at me, his dreamy blue-green gaze washing over my face as if he hadn’t seen me in years. The tall, broad-shouldered Englishman was too good-looking to be true. He was Theo James, Max Irons, Lucas Bravo, and whatever other Adonis celebrity you could think of rolled into one. With his sun-bleached dark blond hair and a pouty mouth at odds with the sharp angles of his jaw and nose … he was … he was perfect.
Physically.
Internally, he was a lying arsehole.
Movement at his back thankfully unlocked our gazes. Two blokes stood behind him. Blokes I recognized. Harry and Zac. Zac met my stare with one of sympathy and remorse.
Sebastian flicked them a glance and turned back to me. He had a posh, plummy Etonian English accent that had once upon a time made my belly flutter uncontrollably. “How are you? How was your summer?”
Really?
He thought after what he’d done, we could pretend like we were friends? Like all was well and good?
My indignation and anger were unfamiliar but potent.
It surprised everyone at the table when I answered uncharacteristically, “Fuck off, Sebastian.”
CHAPTER TWO
SEBASTIAN
Ihad never heard Lily Sawyer swear. Had never heard that cool but biting tone pass between her plump lips before. My eyes blurred, glazing over the computer screen as I heard her cutting “Fuck off, Sebastian” over and over in my mind. It was driving me to distraction.
What had I expected? For her to smile and announce all was forgiven and invite me and the lads to sit at her booth?
Okay, yes, a small part of me had hoped for that exact response.
Lily was good and kind, and I’d expected that with time she would have forgiven me.
I was so stunned by her response in the bar that I had, in fact, fucked off. Without another word. Zac lingered behind, saying something to Lily and her friends, but he caught up with me and Harry outside.
“I thought you were going to apologize?” Harry asked as he and Zac hurried to keep up with me. I strode quickly down the Cowgate and turned through the dark cluster of buildings, climbing my way up toward South Bridge, a straight shot to our apartment on the Royal Mile.
