Page 2 of In the Net
Sebastian slants his eyes from my cousin and locks them with mine. For a second, my brain feels discombobulated. All I can do is gaze at those crisp, clear blues behind the lenses of his black-rimmed glasses. He must not have had a haircut for a while, because his scruffy, jet-black hair sits curling on the top of his frames.
Then it clicks in my head.
Sorry I’m late.
He directed those words at me.
Right after calling mebabe.
Is Sebastian giving me a lifeline to act like I wasn’t stood up? So I can save face in front of my cousin? And is that lifeline in the form ofhimpretending to be my date?
Everything inside me revolts at the thought of even pretending to be on a single date with Sebastian.
We’ve known each other since elementary school. Since before he became a hot-shot jock who everyone fawns over. Since before he let that role go to his head and turned into someone I can’t stand.
Sitting down at an intimate window-side table with him at a romantic cocktail bar is about as appealing to me as sitting down in the dentist’s chair for a double root canal.
But right now, giving Mackenzie one more opportunity to feel superior to me is even less appealing.
It isn’t Sebastian’s style to do me a favor, so I’m not sure exactly what his game is right now, but desperate times call for desperate measures. I swallow down my pride in one big gulp and grab onto the lifeline that the one guy I can’t stand just threw my way.
“No problem,” I say, forcing a smile. “I wasn’t waiting long. I actually ran a little bit late myself.”
A wry, knowing gleam flashes in Sebastian’s eyes, as if he knows the whole story of tonight. Has he been here for a while and I just didn’t notice him?
His lips slant into a smirk. “That’s good. I usually pride myself on my punctuality, but I lost track of time taking an extra-long shower before leaving the house. Got sweatier than usual from my workout today.”
Right in the middle of this upscale cocktail bar, Sebastian busts out a very bro-y double arm flex, making sure to angle his arms high enough for the loose sleeves of his t-shirt to ride up and expose his obnoxiously round, sculpted biceps.
I suppress an eyeroll. I also suppress the desire to quip that the only way Sebastian would lose track of time in the shower is if he happened to spot his own reflection and couldn’t resist jerking off to it.
But that’s not exactly what I’d say to a guy I was on a date with, is it?
And when Mackenzie swings her gaze from Sebastian back to me, and I detect a gleam of envy in her eyes, I decide that this is one opportunity I don’t want to throw away just to make a quip about Sebastian’s ego, as tempting as that is.
It’s not like there won’t be plenty of other opportunities.
“Well, I’m glad you could make it,” I say, forcing a smile. Really forcing.
“Same here,” Sebastian says, rounding Mackenzie and pulling out the chair on the other side of my table. “I mean, we’ve been planning this one for a while, right? I know how disappointed you were when you had to cancel our scheduled date last week because of …” he lowers his voice a bit, but not enough to keep Mackenzie and Liam from hearing when he says, “your bowel thing.”
Mackenzie’s brow leaps, and she takes a quick step back. “Well, we’ll leave you two alone, then. Have a nice night!”
After pushing out those words, she hurries away with Liam following a pace behind her, like she’s worried she’ll catch thatbowel thingSebastian mentioned if she spends any more time in my proximity.
My eyes narrow into unamused slices as I drill Sebastian with a glare. “Bowel thing, huh?”
His face is lit up with amusement, an impish smile tugging at the edges of his lips. He reclines back in his chair, the pose accentuating the breadth of his chest. “Had to get rid of her somehow.”
“Another genius idea of yours, Sebastian,” I deadpan sarcastically.
He props his elbows on the table, leaning toward me and staring into my eyes with a dreamy expression on his face. I tell myself that the liquid, twisty feeling in my stomach is just because my brain has no idea how to process all this.
“I bet you compliment all your dates like that,” he says, his voice suddenly low and smooth like he’s laying down vocals for an R&B track.
“What are you doing?” I ask, inching back in my chair, away from the dreamy eyes and flirty expression that just lookwrongon him.
He tracks my backward movement by leaning even closer toward me over the table. “What do you mean?”
