Page 45 of Sebastian

“What happened? What’s wrong?” Christian’s voice is laced with worry and concern.

A part of my brain is telling me that everything’s okay now that he’s here, now that I’m in his arms. But another part is running around screaming that everything is wrong, that it’s all about to come crumbling down around me, and I don’t have enough hands to keep things in place.

“Sebastian, babe, breathe. Come on, breathe with me.” He walks me through my breathing exercise, and with each cycle of inhales and exhales, my pulse slows a fraction or two.

“What’s that exercise you told me about? The numbers one?”

“Five things I see?” I manage to squeak out.

“Yeah, that’s it. What are five things you see?”

I force myself to open my eyes and list off the first five things they land on. Then four things I can feel—the heat of Christian’s body, the callouses on his palms. Three things I can hear—Christian’s deep, steady breathing, the rumble in his chest as he hums. Two things I can smell—the sweat on Christian’s skin. And one thing I can taste—the lingering acidity from the mimosa at brunch.

The goddamn brunch.

“Good. Feel better?”

I nod, but I don’t draw away from Christian.

“Do you need your medication?”

I shake my head. “I don’t have it on me anyway.”

“Do you want to go home to get it? I’ve got a break between clients. I can come with you.”

I do want to go home. Not for my meds though. I want to drag Christian into bed with me and cuddle away the rest of the day. But he needs to work. And honestly, so do I.

“No, I’ll be okay.” For now, anyway. I might have narrowly avoided a full-blown anxiety attack, but the real problem is still looming over me like a thick, heavy cloud.

I sigh and force myself to pull away from Christian, just enough so I don’t look like I’m trying to crawl into his lap, even though in his lap is where I want to be.

“So, uh, I was talking to the guys at brunch this morning.” I stare at our clasped hands where Christian’s thumb is brushing back and forth against my palm. Do I really want to bring this up? Maybe I should wait another week or so to see how things play out between us. I might be imagining our connection, or it’ll start fading as the hype around us starts dying down.

“Yeah?”

I look up into Christian’s eyes and let myself get caught up in them for a few seconds. I’m greedy for this feeling I get whenever I’m around him. That everything is going to be okay. That anything is possible. It makes me want to take the leap, to throw caution to the wind.

“They asked if we’re going to do another video.”

His thumb falters for a second, then picks back up. My stomach churns and my pulse stutters.

“What did you say?”

“That we hadn’t talked about it.” My voice is tight.

He nods but doesn’t say anything. He looks surprised, but only like, a little. Like he was expecting this to come up at some point. And I suppose that makes sense. He is a professional. He’d know these things.

“They only asked because this one’s doing so well, and normally I’d want to capitalize on the momentum and put another one out there quickly. But I know we only ever discussed one video, so I don’t expect you to say yes. I mean, I don’t even know if I want to. So yeah, never mind, sorry, forg—”

Christian’s arm tightens around me and cuts short my rambling. “Hey, hey, slow down. Breathe.”

I breathe. Once. Then again.

“Better?”

I nod. “Sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” Christian says in that gruff voice of his that means I shouldn’t try to argue with him. Christian extricates his hand from mine and cups my cheek. He swipes his thumb across it and stares into my eyes. His gaze is so strong, so intense, it sucks me in until I’m lost in it.

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