Impossible and terrifying and absolutely not happening.
I spend Friday afternoon and evening trying not to think about tomorrow's cooking class.
Trying not to think about Sebastian at all.
I fail spectacularly.
By Friday night, I'm lying in bed, staring at my phone, reading and rereading his text from Thursday.
Thank you for teaching me. I know you didn't have to.
Why did he send that? What does he want from me? Is this all part of some elaborate game? Some new way to hurt me?
Or is it possible, even remotely possible, that he's being genuine?
My phone buzzes with a new text.
Sebastian:Quick question about tomorrow. Do I need to bring anything? Ingredients? A fire extinguisher?
Despite myself, I smile.
Me:Just yourself. And maybe lower your expectations. I'm not great at baking either.
Sebastian:So we'll burn things together. Sounds romantic.
Me:Nothing about this is romantic.
Sebastian:Not yet.
I stare at those two words for a full minute.
Not yet.
What the hell does that mean?
Before I can overthink it or respond another text comes through.
Sebastian:Kidding. Mostly. See you tomorrow, Monroe.
I throw my phone across the bed and pull my pillow over my face.
Four more dates.
I can survive four more dates.
I survived two years of his cruelty. I can survive two weeks of whatever this is.
Even if "whatever this is" is starting to feel like something I can't define. Something that doesn't fit into the neat boxes I've built around Sebastian Thornhill.
Something that, against all logic and self-preservation, feels almost like possibility.
And that might be the scariest thing I've faced since the day I arrived at Thornhill University and realized I didn't belong.
The difference is, I'm not sure I want to run away from this.
Not yet.
Chapter 6
