“I’ll take her,” Sebastian steps up next to us, close but not touching.
I sag, defeated. Why the fuck is this so hard? It didn’t need to be but when you’ve been pushing and pulling with the same guy with no end for months, it gets tiring. It tugs on strings and emotions that I have no right to feel.
“I’ve got her,” Olivia says sternly, the protective best friend knowing when she needs to step in.
“It’s okay,” I whisper, too tired to fight, “He can take me.”
“Are you sure?” She whispers, only for me, “I can kick him in the balls, and we can make a run for it.”
“Malakai would be pissed,” I tell her with a watery laugh.
“He would but he’d forgive me.”
“Sebastian is your friend too.” I remind her.
“You were my friend first.” She says gently.
“It’s okay,” I assure her, “I’m fine. Just tired.”
She purses her lips, not believing a word but she knows when to fight me and when not to, that happens when you’ve been best friends most of your life. We may not be blood, but we are sisters.
“Okay.” She relents. “Text me when you get home.”
“Always.”
Sebastian’s hand is warm against my back as he guides me to the exit.
Just because spring is around the corner doesn’t mean the weather is any warmer. A chill chases down my spine the moment I’m away from the heat of the club and Sebastian tucks me in close, trying to shelter me from the worst of it. We walk around to the main strip, my feet aching, head pounding. I’m just tired.
Just tired.
“Let me call us a cab,” He tells me gently before he releases me and steps toward the road, throwing out his arm to flag down a car.
I shiver against the wind but within seconds the car is rolling to a stop at the sidewalk and Bast is opening the back door, letting me inside. He gives the driver my address and pulls me in close, tucking me to his side.
“I’m sorry,” He whispers.
The city lights pass in a blur beyond the windows, the tires moving over wet tarmac.
“I forget you’re not mine sometimes.” He admits.
“I’m not yours,” I agree. “We’re friends.”
He grunts, a non-committal sound and then the cab falls into silence. Thing is, I know being close to him is wrong, letting him hold me, touch me, comfort me the way he does but it’s so hard to stop. He’s like a drug I can’t get enough of. And I know it only adds to the pain of not being able to have him and yet I still want more. There is no cure to my addiction of him, no remedy and even when I try to resist, I fall straight back into him. I am a glutton for punishment, it hurts and yet I willingly place my hand in the flames knowing it’ll burn.
Ten minutes later the car rolls to a stop outside my apartment building and before I can dig into my purse to pay, Sebastian has already covered it and is climbing out. He holds out his hand for me which I take, and he guides me from the car. He immediately starts moving us into the building, waving at the doorman who knows him by face and name and lets him through, calling for the private elevator that’ll take us up to my penthouse.
We stand in silence once we’re inside, the cart taking us up the floors until it dings loudly when we reach the top. The doors slide open into my foyer, the warmth and smell of my home wrapping comfort around me like a blanket. Sebastian follows, knowing this apartment probably like he knows his own.
“I need to get changed,” I tell him, holding myself together, “Can you make coffee?”
“It’s two A.M,” He points out.
“Coffee.” I grumble, disappearing down the hall to my bedroom.
When I’m changed, my body now covered with fleecy pajamas and feet cushioned by my slippers, I walk back out to the aroma of fresh brew, accepting the mug Sebastian holds out for me.
I wrap my hands around it, soaking the warmth in through my palms and inhaling the bitter scent.
