“Sebastian!” he almost bellows, his voice deep and boisterous, before pulling me in for a hug and slapping my back. “Good to see you.” He immediately turns to Halle and gives her a tight smile, and I’m instantly defensive as to why he isn’t exhibiting the same enthusiasm.
“And you must be Halle,” he says with a curt nod, while looking at her from over the tops of his glasses.
“Yes, it’s very nice to meet you. Congratulations.” She looks at my mom before looking back to him. “To you both.”
“Well, thank you for coming to celebrate with us. It’s been awfully hard to get you down here. I’m glad you had some time,” he says, and while I don’t think he meant it to be sarcastic, I speak up anyway.
“Halle is in graduate school in a very rigorous program, so she’s always very busy.”
“That’s right. Business school at NYU, correct?” He pans his gaze to me. “I’m glad you’ve both gone on to make more pragmatic choices in your lives.” He raises his glass to us like a toast, and before I can say anything,because what is that supposed to mean?my mother interjects. “This is Mike’s son, Dylan,” she says, waving him over from the other side of the circle.
He moves toward us and nods at me without saying anything. Remembering my mother’s comment about him being a “free spirit,” I figure he might be shy or a little socially awkward, so I speak up. “Sebastian.” I hold out my hand, and he gives it a look like he’s not sure he wants to before sliding his hand into mine and giving it a shake.Okay, that’s strange.
I briefly remember what it was like meeting my only other future stepsibling, and it was nothing like this. The memories are faint, but I remember Halle’s pigtails and pink overalls and excitement over not being an only child anymore. I remember her wanting to show me her room and asking if I wanted to play with her Barbies and giving me the Ken doll. I also remember her telling her dad that we were hungry, even though it was only me who was, because she heard my stomach growling.
It’s different when you’re kids, I guess.
“I’m Halle.” Halle speaks up a moment later.
He turns his gaze to hers, and I don’t like that he stares at her a beat too long with a smile pulling at his lips. She doesn’t holdher hand out to shake, probably because she noticed his obvious discomfort with shaking mine, butof fucking course, he extends his hand toward her.
“It’s nice to meet you. ” His voice is deep and rugged, and I hate that it bothers me that he’s objectively good looking. His hair is slicked back and styled neatly in a low bun, and the need to stake my claim over Saint is making me feel a little unhinged if he doesn’t let go of her hand right the fuck now.
She pulls away. “Likewise,” she says before looking up at me immediately. “We should get a drink.”
“The ginger pear old-fashioned is delicious if you’re into whiskey,” Dylan suggests.Who asked you?
“I don’t drink a ton of whiskey, but maybe I’ll try it,” Saint says before turning to walk away. I fall into step with her, grateful that he didn’t try to tag along.
“He’s weird,” I say once we’re out of earshot.
“And what the fuck was with Mike’s comment?” Saint asks. We aren’t looking at each other as we continue to make our way toward the bar, but I already know the annoyed expression she’s got on her face, complete with pursed lips and pinched eyebrows.
“You noticed that too?”
“You probably went on to make more pragmatic decisions,” she imitates. “Fuck off. I’m already ready to go,” she says as we get in the short line for the bar. “I can only imagine what your mom has told him about us.”
“Maybe he didn’t mean it the way we’re taking it?” I don’t know what other way he could mean, but I also know Saint knew how to go from zero to one hundred when it came to people’s judgment.
I’m about to attempt to change the subject when a voice cuts through our conversation to stand next to us in line. “There’s the dynamic duo.” I look over to see Brant smiling with a drink inhis hand. He looks about the same, with more grown-out hair and a dusting of stubble along his jaw. He has significantly more muscle than he did in high school, which makes me wonder what he does for a living or if he just spends every day in the gym.
“Hi, Brant,” Saint says with a smile, and although I know she’s just being polite, I’m irritated, remembering the feelings he definitely had for her when we were growing up.
“Halle St. John, I swear you get more beautiful every time I see you.” He smiles, and I push down the growl moving up my throat. “Hey, Sebastian,” he says with barely a nod in my direction before turning back to Saint.
“It’s good to see you. What have you been up to?” she asks.
“Well, I live in Nashville now, and I’m a tax attorney, and yes, it’s absolutely as boring as that sounds.” He chuckles, and I can’t believe this joker is actually flirting with Saint in front of me. Iknowhe knows by now that she is fucking off-limits. Even if he doesn’t think we are still together, he has to know that we were at one time. “I actually just came home for this. I hoped you’d be here and thought maybe we could go out for a drink?”
“We’re drinking here.” I chuckle as we move to the front of the line. “What are you thinking, Saint?” I’m glad that Brant approached us on my side, allowing me to be between them and for me to turn my back to him slightly while I talk to her.
“A glass of the Cabernet Sauvignon, please.” She nods toward the bartender, and I order the same. I open our circlea littlebit more after we’ve placed our orders.
“Yeah, but I was thinking after this? Sebastian, you can… come if you want?” he says in that way that tells me he absolutely does not want that, but there’s no way Saint is going anywhere alone with him.
“Maybe,” I say. “Depends on what Saint wants to do.”
“We’ll see. I’m a little tired from classes all week and then traveling,” she answers as I hand her the glass of wine.
