Page 30 of Bid For Me

We walk a few paces, the dogs tugging at their leashes, and the silence between us isn’t quite as heavy now. I’m not sure if it’s the dogs or the unexpected ease between us, but something has shifted, and I’m grateful for it, even if I don’t know how to handle it.

And then, just as I’m beginning to let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, things are getting a little easier, Seb reaches for me. His hand lands on my arm, gentle but firm, and before I can react, he steps closer.

The next thing I know, his lips are on mine – soft, warm, and insistent. The world around us seems to still. For a moment, there’s no noise, no dogs pulling at the leashes, no weight of everything unsaid between us. There’s only Seb. Only the feel of his mouth on mine, the warmth of his breath, the way his hand slides up my arm and rests at the back of my neck, holding me steady.

I freeze, my body unsure whether to pull away or sink into it. But then, almost as if my body has made the decision for me, I relax into the kiss. I don’t know why. I don’t know how, but it feels like everything else falls away – the confusion, the years of distance, the arguments we’ve had. For a moment, it’s just him, just us, and the world feels a little bit less complicated.

When he pulls away, my breath is unsteady. My heart is pounding. I don’t know what to say.

But Seb, he just looks at me, his expression unreadable.

“I’m not trying to make things harder, Elle,” he says quietly, his voice a little hoarse. “But I can’t pretend I don’t feel this. Not anymore.”

I can’t even look at him. Instead, I stare down at the dogs, the leashes still tangled around his legs. “You’re right,” I whisper. “This is complicated. But we’ll see.”

I don’t know what that means. I don’t know what will happen next. But I know that this kiss…it changes something.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Elle

It’sa quiet day at the boutique. No customers, no pressing tasks – just me and the ticking clock on the wall, counting the minutes until I can close up shop. I’m mindlessly scrolling through my phone, pretending to organise the jewellery display, but barely paying attention. My thumb flicks over the screen, refreshing, swiping. Until I stop. Right there, in the corner of my screen, a photo catches my eye, accompanied by a hashtag that sends a chill down my spine.

#SterlingNightOut

A knot tightens in my stomach as I swipe to the next post. And there he is – Seb. There’s no mistaking him, dressed in that signature bad boy leather jacket, hair just the way I like it. But what I don’t like, not one bit, are the two women clinging to him. They’re practically draped over his shoulders, laughing, their faces blurred in the background lighting, but it’s enough. I can see his arm around one of them, his hand resting low on her hip.

My hand tightens around my phone. It must be an old photo, I tell myself, even though I know that would be impossible.He was supposed to be in Edinburgh last week for business. I thought he’d been distant since our dog walking kiss, but he assured me his father had sent him away for work and that he’d be back soon. His final message last night had said he’d gone straight to his hotel after dinner with the board. So how could this even be happening?

I keep scrolling. There’s more – so much more. The hashtag is trending, plastered over dozens of posts. Everyone seems to have an opinion, a joke, a comment about Seb’s ‘night out.’ People are posting blurry videos from different angles, tagging every gossip account they can think of.

This can’t be real, I tell myself, but my pulse races as I read one post, then another. The captions are full of assumptions and innuendo, with some commenting on Seb’s ‘wild lifestyle’ and others claiming this is the real reason he doesn’t settle down. I click on a short video, which shows him laughing, surrounded by three women this time. He’s holding a glass, raising it as the camera flashes. He looks as if he’s having the time of his life.

Is this why he’s been so distant since we kissed?

The realisation stings. I’ve been waiting all this time, hoping for him to open up, to bring me into his life beyond the late dinners and exclusive clubs. But instead, it looks like he’s living a life without me, like I’m just a small, insignificant part of his world. I bite my lip, hard, to keep the anger and hurt from boiling over.

My heart pounds as I decide to look up the actual article that’s trending. Maybe this is all a big misunderstanding. Maybe this is all gossip, I try to tell myself. I type Seb’s name and, sure enough, the first headline I see reads, “Sterling-Knight’s Wild Night: Exclusive Photos Inside London’s Hottest Club!”

I swallow, feeling my pulse throb in my throat. As I scroll down, my vision blurs as I read the words, each line sending a fresh wave of hurt and frustration through me.

Sebastian Sterling-Knight, known for his elusive private life and billion-pound business ventures, was spotted in Soho’s hottest club last night, flanked by two unknown women, one of whom he was later seen escorting to a cab. This sighting comes amid rumours of a budding relationship with an unnamed partner. Looks like the bachelor isn’t ready to give up his party days just yet.

I can hardly process the words. I feel exposed, as if the spotlight were on me and not on Seb. I glance around the empty boutique, almost paranoid that someone might see my reaction, but of course, there’s no one here. Just me, sitting alone, replaying every lie, every excuse he’s ever given me. He knew I was waiting, that I’d been putting my heart into something I thought was building into…something real. But if this is how he spends his nights, what does that say about what I mean to him?

My stomach turns as I see more headlines, each with a different spin but the same glaring message: Seb is very much single and enjoying himself.

The doorbell chimes as a customer walks in, forcing me to quickly lock my phone and paste on a smile. “Hello! Let me know if you need anything,” I say, trying to keep my tone cheerful.

“Just browsing, thanks,” the woman replies, hardly looking up from her inspection of the display case.

I take a deep breath, pretending to reorganise the necklaces as my mind spins. I keep glancing at my phone, debating whether to check if Seb has messaged me, hoping for an explanation, a reason that will somehow make sense. But there’s nothing. No new notifications, no unread messages. Just an empty inbox that matches the hollow feeling inside me.

The woman leaves after a few minutes, without buying anything, and as soon as she’s out the door, I reach for my phoneagain, heart pounding. If Seb wants to party without me, if he’s really that flippant about what we have, then maybe I’ve been wasting my time.

Without thinking, I pull up Candy’s contact and press the call button. It rings once, twice.

“Elle! What’s up?” Candy’s warm voice greets me, and for a moment, it’s like a balm to the hurt that’s been clawing at me. But my voice cracks when I try to respond, and she immediately picks up on it. “What’s wrong, babe?”

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