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eleven

“You told me to go out with them! Why would you say that if you—oh, walk away real mature!”

The voices carried through my closed door, a constant background noise to my homework.

I’d already tried moving three times—first, the living room.

Nope, all I could hear was them stomping up and down the hallway, right over my head.

Then to the kitchen table, since that was under the guest room and they weren’t in there.

But there were more vents in the kitchen, making every sound echo through the place.

Finally, I tried moving out to the backyard, because my parents refused to argue with the windows open, but the people who lived behind us were having a party, complete with a stereo blasting some of the worst music I’d ever heard.

At that point, I gave up and laid on the ground for a good five minutes before deciding I couldn’t live like this, collecting my books into my backpack and walking out the front door.

Dean had left a while ago, so it was only me left with the parents, and I wasn’t sure if they even realized I was here or if they just didn’t care.

It was always hard to know with them, because their feelings on us knowing if they were fighting changed day to day.

Sometimes, Mom claimed it was healthy for us to see that marriages had issues and that relationships could withstand fights.

Other times, I heard her shouting at Dad to keep his voice down so he didn’t ‘upset the kids.’

I swung my backpack on my shoulder and started down the street, not really sure where I was going, but knowing I needed to be anywhere but here.

I started down the street towards the elementary school in our neighbourhood.

It was seven p.m. now and though the sun was still low in the sky, the school grounds were deserted, with any kids that would have played here after dinner already home by now.

But as I came around the back of the school grounds, where I knew there were picnic tables I could sit at to do work, I realized that the school grounds weren’t entirely deserted like I’d originally thought.

There was one other person here, running on the soccer field.

From this distance, I couldn’t make out anything about him, but I did find it somewhat reassuring that I wasn’t out here completely alone.

I found a table that still had enough light on it for me to be able to read and sat down with my textbooks.

The only occasional sounds from the field weren’t nearly as distracting as my parents had been, so I barely even noticed it as I got through my work.

But even my homework couldn’t keep my attention for that long and soon, my mind drifted back to my parents—and then to the Novak’s parents.

How long would it take before my parents had that big fight?

The one that drove them apart permanently.

Would it ever happen? Or were they too focused on maintaining the perfect image in front of everyone else that they couldn’t even see the solution in front of them?

I was still staring at my textbook, not taking any of the words in, when a distant voice called, “Heads!” It took me a little bit longer than it should have to realize that I was the only person here, so they were probably screaming at me.

I immediately ducked, but then caught sight of the soccer ball, which bounced off the ground about ten feet from me, then rolled across the cement until it hit my shoes with a small thud.

I bent over to pick it up for him and when I sat back up, he was only a few feet away from me, walking toward me with a smirk on his face. It was only then that I realized he wasn’t just some random person from the neighborhood—it was Sebastian.

“Well, well, well,” he said, putting his hands on his hips as he took the last couple steps toward me.

Unlike the times I’d seen him at school, he wasn’t wearing his soccer uniform.

He was just dressed in a pair of black pants and no shirt, like he’d been working hard enough to keep himself warm in the cool evening air.

It was everything I could do to keep my eyes on his face instead of letting them drift a little lower. “What are you doing here, Nellie?”

“Just homework,” I said, then mentally facepalmed at my stupid answer. But it was the truth. What else was I supposed to say, when he could clearly see the textbook laid out in front of me? “Anyway, here’s your ball.”

“Thanks,” he said. He took it from me and sort of passed it between each of his hands as he looked at my books curiously. “Why are you out here instead of at home?”

I wondered if he came out here enough to know that I was never here, because I really wanted to say that I came out here all the time instead of admitting the truth.

But now that I thought about it, this was the closest soccer field in the area, so it wouldn’t be any surprise to me that Sebastian—the most soccer-obsessed person to walk this earth—would come out here most nights.

“My house was just too loud,” I said, hoping it was vague enough that he wouldn’t catch on exactly. I didn’t want to outright lie to him, but I also didn’t want to admit the truth. “So, I thought I’d come here and get a change of scenery.”

His eyes flicked up from the books to my face and the sympathetic look in his eyes was enough to tell me that he knew exactly what I was saying.

I should have figured that, with how his family life had been and how much he must have heard my parents arguing when he was hanging out with Dean, even if they tried to keep quiet in front of guests.

“Why don’t you take a break from your homework and come hang out?” he suggested. He threw the ball in the air and caught it again. “It would be fun to have someone to play with.”

I wanted to say yes. I wanted to say it so badly that it made my chest hurt.

How long had I been waiting for Sebastian to notice me as a person, instead of just Dean’s little sister?

Besides, I needed an in if I wanted to talk to him about the kiss.

I couldn’t just bring it up out of nowhere, I needed to work it into a casual conversation and this could be my chance.

But then Tiffany’s face flashed in my mind and I knew that I couldn’t do that.

“I have a lot of work to do,” I said, gesturing at the books in front of me. Sebastian raised an eyebrow, looking unimpressed. I got the sense he was really judging my choice.

“Seriously? You’re turning down soccer for... history?”

“AP Chem,” I muttered, because for some reason that felt important.

He gave me a look. “That makes it worse.”

I gulped and then added the words I didn’t want to have to say but knew I should. “Plus, I’m not sure your girlfriend would like it.”

Sebastian frowned a little. “You an expert on what Tiffany likes?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugged with one shoulder. “Nothing. Just that you seem to make a lot of assumptions about what she would and wouldn’t be okay with.”

What did that mean? I wasn’t even making an assumption here, not really. I’d heard the way Tiffany spoke about me yesterday. If that was how she felt about him giving me a ride home, I didn’t even want to imagine what she would think of this.

“I’m not making assumptions,” I said, sitting up straighter.

He narrowed his eyes slightly. “Why does it matter so much to you anyway?”

I hesitated. “It doesn’t. I just—I don’t want to cause problems. ”

He laughed under his breath, and it wasn’t exactly a kind sound. “You think you’re the problem?”

“Isn’t that what she thinks?” I snapped before I could stop myself. I got to my feet and started shoving books in my bag. “You really think she’d be okay with us hanging out?”

“She doesn’t get to control who I hang out with.”

“Doesn’t she?”

“Excuse me?” Sebastian asked, his voice low.

He took a step toward me and I resisted the urge to take a step back.

It wasn’t that I was scared of him, but rather that I was scared of being so close to him.

Scared that I wouldn’t be able to control myself if he came close enough for me to touch.

Even now, I could smell his cologne so strongly that it almost made me woozy, because it was so him.

“Don’t act like I’m being ridiculous,” I said. “Everyone knows what the two of you are like. How many times now has she broken up with you out of jealousy over another girl?”

Sebastian’s jaw ticked. “You think you know everything about my relationship?”

“I think your break-ups have been all over school enough times that I can get what makes your girlfriend angry. Forgive me if I don’t want to be targeted by her.”

He took a step closer. “You’re making this a bigger deal than it is.”

“No,” I said, heat rising in my face. “You’re pretending it’s not a big deal because that’s easier. But it is. I have to assume Tiffany doesn’t know what happened between us and?—”

“What happened between us?” Sebastian echoed, raising an eyebrow. “What exactly happened that you’re so worried about her finding out?”

I gaped at him, trying to figure if he really didn’t remember the kiss or if he was trying to pretend it didn’t happen.

I knew that I was just the first of many kisses he must have had that night.

But I couldn’t help the piece of me that had hoped that out of all of them, I would be the one he remembered.

He was probably drinking that night, though, so maybe he really had forgotten.

Maybe in his memory, I was just some random brunette in a jean skirt, just another prompt checked off on a page.

Maybe him getting back with Tiffany two days later wasn’t a reflection on me and how awful of a kisser I was, but just the natural order of things.

Sebastian and Tiffany had yet to stay broken up for more than a week and a half in one go.

They were bound to get back together at some point soon after the party.

It was just unlucky timing for me that I hadn’t gotten the chance to ask him about the kiss before then.

Or maybe it was lucky timing. Because him getting back together with Tiffany spared me the embarrassment of asking about the kiss and him admitting that he didn’t even remember it at all. At least this way, I only had to be embarrassed in my mind.

I stepped away from him, taking a deep breath of clean air. When exactly had Sebastian’s cologne begun to have such a dizzying effect on me?

“I don’t play soccer,” I said. I dropped back down onto the bench, feeling a little stupid for packing up my books in such a hurry only to stay. But I wasn’t going to let him drive me away now. “And I really do have a lot of homework, so… ”

Sebastian stared at me for so long that I started to wonder if he was trying to do some weird mind control trick on me.

I wasn’t sure why he was so convinced he wanted to play soccer with me when I was a horrendous soccer player, although I supposed there was no way for him to know that, and because my argument about Tiffany hadn’t been wrong.

I had to assume he was only so defensive over it because he didn’t want to admit the truth that Tiffany was actually just as possessive and jealous as I was saying she was.

I couldn’t say for certain how much she controlled who he spent time with, but it was obvious from the conversation I’d overheard the other day that she tried to regardless.

Finally, Sebastian nodded and stepped back. “Next time then.”

“Definitely,” I promised, even though I knew there wasn’t going to be a next time for us. There couldn’t be any next times for us.

Even though I told him I had to work, I watched him as he walked back to the field and started playing again, dribbling the ball around as if he had an opponent.

And a half hour later, when I got up to leave, I found myself walking towards the field instead of away from it.

I didn’t want to get in the middle of his game, so I went around the side to the net that he wasn’t playing with, wrapped my fingers in the netting, and watched him.

Watched the way he moved, how his muscles flexed with every step, the dark hair that stuck to his forehead.

When he spun around with the ball and saw me, he fumbled so hard that he almost fell over.

I stifled a smile. I let myself pretend it was because he was excited to see me there, instead of surprised.

I told myself that it was because he liked me so much that he couldn’t believe that I’d been watching him that whole time.

Maybe he was starting to psychoanalyze what he had looked like if he’d been playing well if I would be impressed.

I let go of the netting, and stepped back, offering him a dainty wave while walking off. I swore I felt his eyes on me the whole time I walked away, but I didn’t let myself look back.