Part of me wonders if he could keep his word. If the desperation would be enough to keep him onside long after he’s paid for whatever he needs the money for.
It would be bliss to return to the happy bubble of normalcy that I’d enjoyed until Tarryn’s party last week. It’s not like I require reparations for the damage Seb caused me. I accept much of it was a response to my actions.
All I ever wanted was for the torment to stop, for things to go back to the way they had been.
The impulse is to agree, let him prove himself trustworthy or otherwise. But it’s the otherwise part of that statement that will haunt me if he reneges. Bad enough if he broke his word. If he did it while gifting himself the use of my money…?
Good luck me ever getting through a night without my brain reminding me of that.
I shake my head. “Whatever new game this is, it’s not happening. You need to leave.”
He stares at me, and I raise my eyes long enough to meet his gaze. Whatever he sees there is enough to convince him I’m serious, that this time my no means no.
“Okay.” He turns to go, and I want to shout after him, to ask what happens now? Does he take this as a licence to treat me as terribly as he wants to?
A tiny smidgeon of self-respect puts a stop to that.
The moment he leaves, I cross to the door and lock it, keeping him out, wondering if I’ve just made an enormous mistake.
* * *
For the next few days,I try to give Seb a wide berth. Rowena acts like a buffer between us when I can’t, inserting herself physically between us even though I haven’t asked her, haven’t told her anything of our dynamic besides the half-confession I gave her on Monday.
When he does talk to me, he’s polite. Sometimes distant. He looks like he has a thousand other worries topmost of his mind, his anxiety such a change from the over-confident boy I left behind that I barely recognise him.
My guilt also grows; not at turning down his peace agreement but at the reasons he might be financially strapped.
What I told him was one hundred percent true. I loved his mother. But I still bowed to the authority of those around me, caved, and caused her harm when she was owed my protection and gratitude.
And maybe that’s why by Thursday, I’ve come up with a different plan. Not the truce, that would leave me wide open for punishment, but a backdoor way to hopefully get us both what we want.
On Friday, I meet with his coach to discuss the scant details that Seb gave me. When I leave his office, I feel a hundred times better, lighter.
Then, on my way back to the common room, I see Joseph and scuttle in the other direction, feeling guilt rising again.
I haven’t told him. I need to.
A few spies from closer to his circle keep me up-to-date with his romantic life. Nothing on that score so far, so I’m not overly concerned. But I should do it soon, if only to lighten the task load on my to-do list.
By next Friday, I promise myself.
Next Friday, when I’ve got a second appointment at the clinic to check before giving me the all-clear. Perfect timing.
“There’s an after-party in town,” Rowena tries to coax me over dinner in the cafeteria. She works behind stage for the Court Theatre on a volunteer basis, getting to know the ropes before she can, as she puts it, disappoint her parents with a fantastically high scoring arts degree. “There’ll be so many fresh faces there. Real men for a change.”
“Half of whom are otherwise inclined,” I say in a sweeping generalisation of the theatre. “You know I’ll only drag you down. Fly my pretty. Be free.”
She gives a reluctant laugh, maybe tinged with a dose of reality in there because she knows it’s true. High school parties I can handle, there are always other acquaintances whose circles I can glob onto. But in a place where I don’t know anyone else?
I’d be a limpet on her arm all night. Hardly the way an extravert wants to navigate a party.
With the evening mine to devour, I choose to lie in bed reading about fantastical monster peens, adding to my ever-broadening knowledge of how their attributes can be put to good use.
I hook Seb’s toy off the bathroom counter after reading a florid introduction to an alien species. It’s been sitting there, charging for a week. Unable to be put to use because of the usual mix of guilt and self-loathing.
But I’ve eased that through my conversation with his coach. I pour myself a glass of wine, only an inch in the base, not medicinally sized, and settle back.
Only two minutes into my lit-based adventure, there’s a buzz from my phone—an incoming text from Seb.
