Page 26 of Brick Wall
“What’s your drink of choice?” I hear that familiar deep voice over the loud crowd, and I turn to see a small smile on his handsome face.
“Pink lemonade margarita,” I reply to both him and the bartender, who is awaiting my reply.
“Make that two,” Sebastian says while putting two fingers in the air to the bartender as he turns to make our drinks. “Happy birthday,” he adds, turning his attention to me.
“Thank you,” I say with a smile.
“Is it today or is the celebration today?”
“Oh, it’s today!” I proudly announce while I look down at my watch. “I was born exactly twenty-eight minutes ago. Oh wow, I walked through the doors right when I was born, when you all wished me a happy birthday!” How fun. I bet that was Goldie’s idea.
I’m surprised to see that Sebastian came. I’m pretty sure that detail was Ryan’s touch. It’s a happy surprise.
I haven’t seen or talked to him since last Friday, his last day of summer camp.
It was weird seeing him at camp for the week, and not this past one. It wasn’t even a long period of time, but I feel like I’m having Sebastian withdrawals. I miss seeing his face often, even when he’s a little grumpy from a distance.
“How did camp go this week?” Sebastian asks as the bartender slides two gorgeous pink lemonade margaritas toward us with floral straws, big umbrellas, and an array of fruit.
I take a sip—yum!—and try to remember his question. “Good, we had a lot of new kids this week, and it was such a great group. How was your week? Minicamp, right?”
“Yeah. Great, busy but good.”
An older gentleman, I think my aunt’s latest boyfriend, approaches us by the bar. Randy, I think his name is. He orders a generic beer and then looks over at us while he’s waiting.
“Don’t you worry about your masculinity drinking that thing?” Randy curls his lips into a snarl and wrinkles his nose. He is not impressed.
“Nah, the way I see it, the most masculine thing you can do is the thing you actually want to do regardless of what other guys think. And what I want to do is drink this super tasty drink,” Sebastian says, taking a giant sip of his frilly pink margarita.
“God bless you,” Randy says, quickly walking away from us with his beer in hand and his eyes on the floor..
We say nothing to each other, but we do share a brief, amused look.
How have I missed this man, and we aren’t even dating? I’m not sure if we are even friends. Friends of friends for sure, but are we considered friends? I’d like to think so.
“How’s the gal—” I start to say, but a teammate slaps him on the back to say hello, and a family member steals me away at the same time, which is fine. We can talk later.
* * *
We don’t talk later.
In fact, I only saw him for a short time. I think he must have ducked out within an hour of arriving, because I had a hard time finding him again. He’s usually an easy man to find, even in a large crowd, but he left without saying goodbye.
That fact still bugs me the next morning as I lay hungover in bed.
I should be happy that he came and stopped by to say hello. I shouldn’t be upset that he didn’t tell me he was leaving. It was great he was there. I wasn’t expecting it.
I don’t know why I keep obsessing about Sebastian. He’s not even my type.
He’s exactly my type.
Dammit, he is. I wish I was his type in return. If I was his type, wouldn’t he already have made a move? We’ve seen each other so much in the last week and even months.
I grab my phone off the end table by my bed and see I have a few different messages, including a group text message with my brothers.
There are many texts from last night and I scroll through to see if there’s anything relevant in that chat when I notice this:
Ryan: Scarlett said all the tables for the gala are now sold
