I pulled out two bottles from the fridge and tossed him one, then drifted over to the counter, putting the island between us.
“Thanks.” He twisted the cap off and drank half the bottle in one go.
I stood there with mine unopened, staring off into space, not really seeing much of anything. My focus was still on that charged kiss, and the way he’d acted after.
But it wasn’t just the kiss. He’d been acting strangely ever since we landed. Like maybe he was having second thoughtsabout being here. Like maybe now that he was in my home, he regretted asking to come.
“Taylor?”
I blinked, and shook away the thought. “Hmm?”
“I asked if the kitchen was like this when you moved in.”
“Oh. Sorry. No, it was gutted down to the studs. Leaky pipe, apparently.” I finally opened my water and took a drink, telling myself I was reading into things. Overreacting.
“Hey. Where’d you go to just now?” he asked, his voice low.
“What do you mean?”
“When I asked about the kitchen, you looked like you were somewhere else entirely.” He set his bottle down on the island. “Talk to me.”
“It’s nothing. I’m just tired.” I turned toward the window, giving myself something else to focus on.
Sebastian moved around the island to stand behind me, his hands braced on either side of my hips on the counter, caging me in. He nuzzled into my neck. “Want to try that again, but this time, with the truth?”
I dropped my head forward to give him better access, and he placed a few light kisses across my nape. I shuddered when he nipped at the spot where my neck met my shoulder. “I’m just trying to figure out what the next two weeks look like.”
That wasn’t the whole truth, but it was better than blurting out, “Please don’t regret this. Don’t regret me.”
His lips stilled, and he dropped his hands away.
I spun to face him, tilting my head back to meet his eyes. “When you said this has to stay ‘private,’ what exactly does that mean?”
Surprise flickered across his face, then guilt … and maybe annoyance. He took half a step back, his hand coming up to scratch his jaw. “I’m sorry. I know this isn’t fair to you.”
“I’m not looking for an apology. I just need to know what I’m working with.” I crossed my arms over my chest.
He didn't answer right away, his eyes flicking to the window. His jaw tensed before he dragged his attention back to me. “We can go out,” he said finally. “But no touching in public. Nothing that would look like we’re more than friends.”
I nodded slowly. “Okay. Anything else?”
“If someone approaches you—a fan or whoever—I’ll try to fade into the background.”
“And if they ask who you are?”
“I don’t know why anyone would, but if they do, we tell them the truth: I’m your college roommate, in town for a couple of weeks for work.” He offered me a slight smile. “Since, technically, it’s not a lie, it shouldn’t raise any suspicions.”
“So we’re just old friends catching up?”
“Does that work for you?”
I stared at him for a beat, taking in the worry lines between his brows and the tension in his shoulders.
“Yeah,” I said quietly. “It works.”
His shoulders dropped slightly, relief softening his features. “Thank you,” he said. “For understanding. For being willing to?—”
“Don’t.” I shook my head. “We don’t need to make it a thing. I already said it works.”
