I recognized the crude joke for what it was—a classic Sebastian deflection, him trying to lighten a moment that was becoming too heavy. But his expression—sweeter than the words coming out of his mouth—gave him away.
Before I could call him out on it, his eyes softened further, his voice dipping low. “You used to be my best friend, Tay. I don’t want to lose that again.”
I bit my lip to keep myself from blurting out everything I was feeling.
One night together, I was experiencing the same overwhelming emotions I had ten years earlier. The ones I hadn’t been mature enough or smart enough or even self-aware enough to name.
But I knew what they werenow.
Sebastian Carruthers was my everything.
“Fuck, I missed you, Seb. So damn much.”
His throat worked, his jaw twitching. “I missed you, too, Taylor.”
Neither of us mentioned the sheen of tears that shone in the other’s eyes.
CHAPTER 11
SEBASTIAN
I spentthe cab ride to the airport on hold with the airline, then waited for what felt like an eternity in line at adifferentairline to speak with a ticketing agent. By the time I held an honest-to-god printed ticket for the same flight Taylor was on, our departure was less than thirty minutes away, and westillhad to go through security.
Of course, the TSA Pre-Check line was closed, and the grooming kit in my carry-on bag set off the x-ray machine’s sensors. Once my stuff had been thoroughly searched and re-scanned, Taylor and I raced through the terminal, dodging travelers who’d stopped randomly in the middle of the walkway, finally making it to the gate as the final boarding call was being issued.
Boarding the plane, I was slick with sweat and fantasizing about a nice hot shower.
Which yanked me straight back to this morning.
I slammed the door shut on that memory fast. The last thing I needed right now was to get hard sitting between him and some stranger in the very last row of economy. Instead, I forced myself to focus on the next logistical nightmares of my hastilyscheduled trip: finding a hotel room in Kennebunkport during peak tourist season.
I scrolled through the limited available options, trying to decide how many nights to book. The meeting with Hector was on Thursday, but Taylor had seemed excited about showing me around. Perhaps I could stay through the weekend—assuming he even wanted that. We hadn’t really discussed it since I first sprang the idea on him. Hadn’t had time to in all the chaos of just getting on a plane together.
The plane hit a patch of turbulence, and Taylor’s hands clamped down on the armrests, his knuckles white against the plastic, his bottom lip caught between his teeth.
“Hey,” I whispered, slotting my iPad into the seat pocket in front of me.
Without thinking, I reached out, tugging his bottom lip free with my thumb. The second my skin made contact with his, the world narrowed to that single point of connection and the soft give of flesh.
I felt the catch of his breath as I dragged my thumb away.
His eyes went wide, and he stared at me like he couldn’t believe I’d just done that.
Frankly, neither could I. We were on a plane, surrounded by strangers, and I’d touched him like we were alone. Like I could keep going.
Before either of us could acknowledge it, the pilot’s voice crackled over the intercom with an announcement about seeking a higher cruising altitude.
Taylor’s shoulders sagged with relief.
“It’s okay,” I said under my breath, though I wasn’t sure if I was talking about the turbulence or what I’d just done.
He scrubbed a hand over his face, letting out a rough laugh. “I fucking hate flying.”
“Really?”
My knee banged against the seat back in front of me as I turned to face him fully. The man sitting there muttered something about idiot dipshits, while the little old lady next to me harrumphed and jabbed me in the back with her elbow. I shot her a glare over my shoulder, and she snorted.
I rolled my eyes and turned back to Taylor, who was choking back a laugh. And God, I’d take being the butt of the joke if it meant he wasn’t pale with fear anymore.
