Slightly Stalky: He's the One, He Just Doesn't Know it Yet (Slightly Series Book 1)

by Amy Vansant

  It was her brown-haired cutie.

  Emily tapped Kady on the shoulder.

  “Hey, what’s that guy’s name?” she asked.

  Kady turned. “Who?”

  Emily pointed with her eyes.

  “The guy in the spotlight.”

  Emily’s pupils repeatedly jerked to the right until Kady noticed and looked in that direction.

  “Your eyes are going to fall out of your head,” said Kady, “but I don’t see anyone in a spotlight.”

  “At three o’clock,” Emily said through gritted teeth.

  “I don’t know what that means. I never know what that clock thing means. Am I facing twelve o’clock or are you?”

  Emily huffed and turned. The one bright light had dimmed, and the brown-haired man had fallen into shadow again with the rest of the patrons.

  “Oh,” she said, looking from the light to the man and back again.

  That was weird.

  Emily decided she couldn’t depend upon lights and continued to point Kady toward the subject of her interest.

  “See the guy with the brunette at the two top in the back?” she asked.

  Emily had been a server for a summer in high school. All she’d taken from the experience was a habit of calling tables by their number of seats and a strong desire to never waitress again.

  “Oh, that’s Sebastian. He plays darts.”

  “Sebastian?” She’d been expecting something a little more like “John” or “Bob.”

  “Is he British or something?” she asked. What a bonus; a British accent!

  Kady shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

  “Is that his girlfriend?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her. She’s tiny, isn’t she? But...” Kady cocked her head. “Her boobs are...”

  Emily grimaced and nodded.

  “That’s just not fair.”

  “Nope,” said Emily. “I don’t know whether to be jealous or concerned that when she stands she’ll topple over and hurt herself.”

  “I’ll ask Joe who she is. He used to come here a lot.”

  “Uh...” Emily panicked. She didn’t want to draw attention to her obsession with the man at the back table, but she did want to know more about him. She waited a moment too long and by the time she’d resolved to stop Kady, her friend was halfway to the front of the bar.

  Emily watched as Kady disappeared in the direction of the front snug. A moment later, both Joe and Kady’s faces popped around the corner, peering toward the mysterious Sebastian’s table. Emily groaned again. She hadn’t meant to cause such a scene.

  Joe and Kady disappeared. Emily took a deep breath and pretended to concentrate on her dart points. A minute later, Kady was back.

  “He doesn’t know anything about Sebastian, but he doesn’t think that’s his girlfriend,” said Kady. “And he left.”

  “Who? Sebastian?” Emily looked back to the table. Sebastian remained in his seat.

  “No, Joe left. He said he didn’t feel good. I wish he’d told me he wasn’t feeling well before I paid his entry fee.”

  Kady demonstrated how to sharpen the point of a dart by swirling it in the top divot of a small cylindrical sharpening stone. Emily mimicked her. The motion felt like angrily stirring a tiny cup of coffee.

  Dart points gleaming, Emily threw a few, the muscles in her arm twitching with every attempt to aim. It took everything in her power to not spazz and fling her darts into someone’s face. She had never been so aware of her own arm before. The thought of throwing in a competition had her running for another drink.

  After a few practice rounds, the leprechaun called for everyone’s attention as he slipped papers featuring the dart players’ names into a coffee can. Emily’s stomach tightened into Celtic knots as she realized her fate sat in a can of Folger’s Dark Roast. Kady should be her teammate, not a randomly selected victim. No one would want to get the new girl, especially on her first night. Emily was the kiss of death, the Crusher of Dreams.

  On the upside, Dolly Parton Jr. had left and Sebastian joined the dart group. He was tall. Emily loved tall. Maybe Hooters O’Houlahan was not his girlfriend. Maybe she was just a friend, distant cousin, or particularly friendly dental hygienist. Anything was possible.

  Emily considered bribing Sean to team her with the tall man but realized that losing the hottie’s money might leave a poor first impression. Especially if she threw a dart into his head. Better, that he should remain safely on the other side of the room.

  Sean pulled names from the coffee can. Sebastian was the first name. Someone named Peter was second.

  “Wait, I’m two?” said a voice behind Emily. “Who’s one?”

  Sean pointed at Sebastian. “Sebastian’s the one.”

  Emily looked at Sean. The leprechaun looked at her.

  “Sebastian’s the one,” he repeated.

  Emily’s eyes widened. “Are you talking to me?” she asked, pointing at her chest.

  Someone pushed past Emily. She fell forward, barely catching her balance against the back of the man in front of her. She righted in time to see the oaf who had knocked into her was now shaking hands with Sebastian.

  Ah, Peter.

  Sean hadn’t been speaking to her; he’d been looking at Peter, Sebastian’s teammate for the evening. Peter had been standing directly behind her.

  Sean pulled Emily’s name from the coffee can, followed by “Jack.” Emily saw an older man she’d seen practicing earlier raise his hand. She waved back like an over-excited stage mom spotting her daughter at a dance recital.

  Calm down, dork.

  She felt lucky to be paired with a mature partner; one more likely to be a gentleman about the albatross placed around his neck. Emily hoped he had a strong back; he’d be carrying her all night.

  Kady proved a much better dart player than Emily, but both girls fell out of the running for the cash during early rounds. When Jack and Emily lost, Emily headed straight to the bar to buy Jack a drink in return for his good humor and patience.

  “Martini,” said a voice to her right as she approached the bar.

  Emily turned. Sebastian stood five stools away. She had lost track of him during the rounds. Tall, clean, thin; this man was Emily’s type. An adorable hybrid dimple/laugh line capped the right side of his mouth. If Emily built him online like a car, he would appear just as he did now, sitting on the lot. Now that he stood so near, Emily could see he was more than cute. He was gorgeous.

  Sebastian’s head swiveled and he caught her staring a second time.

  “Hi,” said Emily.

  “Hey,” said Sebastian.

  Emily looked away.

  Wendy the bartender delivered Sebastian’s martini and then turned her focus to Emily. Emily ordered herself vodka and lemonade and a beer for Jack.

  “Hey.”

  Emily turned. It was Sebastian again. He was looking directly at her, mouthing something she could not decipher. She squinted, trying to read his lips.

  It looked as if he said, “I love you.”

  Emily’s face grew warm.

  This couldn’t be happening.

  “What?” she asked, ending her question with a nervous giggle.

  Sebastian held up his martini. Then he mouthed the words again.

  “I love you.”

  Emily froze.

  What should she do?

  She slid from her stool, pulled toward Sebastian’s silent love call. Going to him seemed the polite thing to do...

  The thud of a cocktail and a beer hitting the bar made Emily jump and nearly slip ass-first to the floor. She caught her balance and righted herself on the stool as gracefully as possible.

  Wendy had returned. Emily worried the giantess would scare Sebastian away. Couldn’t she see they were having a moment?

  “Oh, he wants it dirty,” said Wendy.

  Emily swallowed. “What? Who?”

  “Sebastian.”

  Emily whirled back to f
ace Sebastian.

  Really?

  Sebastian nodded at his drink again and mouthed those magic words.

  “I love you,” read Emily, whispering the words under her breath.

  “Olive juice,” said Wendy holding her thumbs up. “Gotcha!”

  Olive juice?

  Emily silently lipped the words “olive juice” to herself followed by “I love you.” They felt the same.

  I am a total spaz.

  Sebastian looked at Emily. Her one butt cheek still clung to her seat, still locked in half-dismount. She flashed a quick smile, tucked her other cheek on the stool and faced the bar.

  Emily pretended to be fascinated by the bottles on the speed rack as Wendy grabbed a jar of olives. She walked over and poured a splash of olive juice in Sebastian’s martini.

  “How’s that?” she asked. “Dirty enough?”

  “Good, I guess. It’s not for me; I owe Peter a drink. He’s the dirty martini drinker.”

  Sebastian glared at the glass, his upper lip raised in revulsion.

  “Disgusting,” he added before walking back to his partner, the over-filled martini glass sloshing.

  Wendy caught Emily’s eye.

  “You okay?” she asked.

  Emily took a quick sip from her straw.

  “I’m good,” she said to Wendy. “Thanks.”

  Emily stayed at the Irish Rover for another hour, meeting more of the regular dart players. People congregated in the front snug as they fell out of the competition. Everyone seemed friendly, and she had fun, even if she wasn’t very good.

  Emily watched Sebastian talk, laugh and throw darts from afar, but his true personality remained an enigma. Sebastian and his partner were strong contenders, and they remained in the running to the end, finishing second. Emily was happy for Sebastian, but his success in the competition made it impossible to introduce herself. She was also embarrassed she’d nearly run to him in slow motion, arms outstretched, because he’d asked for olive juice.

  There was something about Sebastian. Emily couldn’t shake it. Or stir it, for that matter.

  By the end of the night, all Emily really knew about Sebastian was that he hated dirty martinis and hung out in a dart bar.

  A proclivity for dart bars wasn’t something Emily desired in a potential boyfriend, but she couldn't hold it against him, lest she be skewered by the shards falling from her own glass house.

  After all, she was a dart player now.

  Chapter Three

  Sebastian moved the top cardboard box from his stack and opened the one beneath it.

  “What are you looking for?” asked Greta.

  Sebastian watched Greta rise from the sofa and walk into the kitchen. He hoped that meant she was making dinner. He was starving. She had left the bar before the dart tournament with a promise to go food shopping.

  “I thought I had another pair of brown shoes,” Sebastian mumbled, rummaging through the box.

  He’d been wondering about shoes during his final dart game, and that’s probably why he and Pete had finished second. Instead of concentrating, he’d been thinking about missing shoes, his work schedule, and the blonde at the bar he’d met when he went to get Pete a martini. She was a little squirrelly, that blonde, but cute. He didn’t so much meet her, as see her. For a moment, Sebastian thought she was poised to join him, and then she turned away. He didn’t know what she was thinking, but he remembered liking the idea of her approach. At the time, he couldn’t think of anything to say to her. What would they talk about? He wasn’t sure he remembered how to small talk a girl. He wasn’t sure he ever had. Somehow, they always ended up talking to him. He just answered.

  Sebastian heard a low growl and glanced down to see Greta’s Shih Tzu, Binker, staring up at him. The dog’s googly eyes were milky with age. His lower teeth protruded from his flat face in a crooked row. Binker was blind, but somehow he always managed to find Sebastian.

  “You really should have gotten this dog braces,” said Sebastian. “A retainer or something.”

  “When are you going to move those boxes out of the living room? I gave you some room in my closet. You’ve been here for months and you still have most of your stuff in boxes.”

  Sebastian sighed. His old roommate had accepted a job out of state and sold his townhouse, leaving Sebastian homeless. Sebastian and Greta had been seeing each other for a few months, and she’d offered to let him move in with her. His gut had told him it was a bad idea, but she’d begged him to stay and her small apartment was near his work. It had all happened too quickly.

  That was two months ago. His boxes had been sitting against the wall at the back of the living room since the day he moved in. Sebastian hadn’t felt the urge to unpack. Something about having his life neatly stacked near the door gave him comfort.

  “I’ll move them. Sorry.”

  Sebastian doubted there was room in Greta’s closet for even his few boxes. She had given him four inches of space to hang his shirts and suits for work, and every day they squished a little further to the right.

  Sebastian abandoned his shoe search and stood, stretching his back. Bending was unkind to his six-foot-two frame. He could hear Greta rustling in the kitchen. At the sound of the refrigerator opening, Binker waddled away from Sebastian, plowing headlong into the leg of a table. He shook his moppy head, shifted three inches to the left, and continued on his way.

  “Hey, did you stop and get food like you said you would?” Sebastian called.

  “Oh, no, babe,” said Greta, re-entering the living room with a bowl. She made a beeline for the short, plaid sofa in front of the television and flopped into it.

  “Seriously?”

  Greta wore sweat shorts and a tee. He knew her comfortable clothes meant no chance she’d go out for food.

  “I stopped at my sister’s and then I had to rush back for this vampire show.”

  Sebastian scowled. He’d rather chew off his own arm than watch a vampire soap opera.

  His stomach growled.

  “What are you eating?” he asked.

  “Ice cream.”

  “For dinner?”

  She shrugged.

  Sebastian heard another growl, lower and angrier than his stomach’s. Binker had returned. The gremlin-faced dog stared up at Sebastian.

  “I thought this dog was blind.” Sebastian put his hands on his hips, a move that elicited another growl from Binker.

  “Totally blind,” said Greta.

  “Then he uses his sheer hate for me as some sort of echo-location system. I guess I’ll order a pizza?”

  Greta shrugged.

  “Maybe I’ll just go out.”

  “No!” said Greta whirling to face him. “I want you to stay and keep me company! This is our night!”

  Sebastian glowered at the television.

  “How is it our night if you’re watching vampires? Can’t you just record it and we’ll get some food? Or at least watch something we both like?”

  “I can’t,” Greta said, making a pouty face, her voice high and whiney. “I would, but the girls at work are going to be talking about it tomorrow and I have to be able to share.”

  Sebastian rubbed his eyes. He couldn’t stand the baby-voice Greta adopted whenever she wanted her way.

  “Look, I’ll go out— ”

  “Topless!” said Greta, cutting him off.

  Sebastian dropped his hands from his face. “Who? The vampires?”

  “What if I watched it topless? Would you stay then?”

  Sebastian winced.

  “Are you serious?” he asked. “That’s so—I don’t know... I’d rather you grabbed food like you promised. If I’d known you weren’t going, I would have stopped.”

  Greta pouted again. “Come on, baby. Come sit next to me. My boobies want to watch TV with you.”

  “Oh god. You’re going to make me throw up.”

  Greta put her bowl on the table and pulled off her t-shirt. She twirled it around her head and release
d it so that it landed at Sebastian’s feet. She jumped to her knees and leaned over the back of the sofa so Sebastian had the grandstand view of her large breasts.

  “Well maybe throw up is the wrong word,” he said.

  Greta returned to her seated position and peered over her naked shoulder. She patted the sofa beside her.

  “Come sit next to Maxy,” she purred.

  Greta’s middle name was Maxine. She hated her first name and waged a never-ending campaign encouraging people to call her Max. It never stuck.

  Sebastian walked around the sofa. Greta stretched her arms behind her head and shimmied.

  She did have amazing breasts. He knew it, almost as well as she did.

  Sebastian sat down on the sofa. Greta smiled and glued her gaze to the television.

  Sebastian knew his presence didn’t inspire her happiness. That honor went to the pretty man with the fangs on the screen; the man who used a tremendous amount of hair gel for a night creature.

  Sebastian began to move closer to Greta, only to have his attempt blocked by the Shih Tzu, who jumped between them.

  “Hey, if you think you’re staying—”

  “It’s on!” said Greta, shushing him. She leaned forward and grabbed her bowl. Sitting back, eyes locked on the television, she rested the ice cream in the center of her chest, her arms now blocking Sebastian’s view of either breast.

  “Oh it’s on, all right,” mumbled Sebastian to the dog.

  Binker grunted.

  As an experiment, Sebastian moved his hand toward Greta.

  The Shih Tzu growled.

  Binker’s alabaster eyes swiveled towards Sebastian. When Sebastian pulled back his hand, the dog flopped his moppy head between his paws.

  Sebastian waited a minute, and then again reached toward Greta.

  The dog growled.

  “This dog is not blind!” exclaimed Sebastian. “And if he is, he’s like, Daredevil blind.”

  “Ssshhh,” hissed Greta.

  On the television, a naked girl writhed on a bed of silken sheets. The fanged pretty-boy stood nearby, shrouded in darkness.