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

by Amy Vansant

  A woman exited the store and politely held the door open for Emily. She glared at the woman. Where did she get off being so damn helpful? Where was the rude woman from the coffee shop when I need her?

  Emily wasn’t ready. She stood, frozen, the air conditioning from the store wafting over her. The woman cocked her head, making it clear she wouldn’t hold the door all day.

  Fine.

  Emily offered the polite woman the best smile she could muster with all the muscles in her face frozen in fear.

  She stepped inside.

  The store was freezing. Terrified the cold would cause her nipples to rip free from their chains, Emily covered her chest with her elbows under the guise of scratching both temples. She realized the awkward maneuver made her look like a comic book telepath attempting to read someone’s mind, so she crossed her arms across her chest.

  She spotted Sebastian. He stood behind the payment counter, looking down at something.

  Sebastian’s tall, square frame made Emily swallow, but she had no saliva available to aid the gesture. What little saliva she possessed shot down the wrong pipe and she began to cough. It wasn’t a polite, Jane Eyre, sort of cough; more the hacking, desperate-for-breath bark of a tuberculosis victim in the last throes of a long battle to survive.

  Sebastian looked up from his desk. Emily saw his face twitch with recognition. At least she thought it was recognition; it might have been disgust. He may have needed to sneeze. It could have been anything; really, it was hard for her to tell because she was busy hacking up a lung. She stifled her gagging, but that turned her barks into sputtery lip explosions. She sounded like a racehorse with croup.

  Emily steadied herself on a sofa back and turned away from Sebastian, hoping she could stay conscious long enough to crawl out of the store and back to the safety of her car. She had a brief image of herself lying on the floor of the store, surrounded by paramedics.

  She reaches out a dainty hand to touch Sebastian’s cheek.

  “I’ll always love you,” she whispers.

  “We never had our time,” sobs Sebastian, kneeling at her side. “Why? Whyyyyyyyy?”

  She turns her head to the side, so as not to see his pain, and lets the darkness take her.

  I’m so cold. I’m so—

  “Are you okay?”

  Emily refused to look at Sebastian. She sat on the sofa she’d been using to steady herself. She cleared her throat. If she concentrated, she could keep from coughing. She could be silent; now, she just had to figure out how to be invisible.

  Don’t notice me. I’m not here.

  “Emily? Is that right?” asked Sebastian. “Are you okay?”

  Emily nodded.

  “Oh, I know. Hold on...”

  Sebastian jogged to his desk and returned a moment later with a handful of tissues, which he offered to Emily. She nodded to acknowledge his kindness and then waved him away. He stood straight and took a step back. Emily cleared her throat again, blew her nose, and then inhaled like a canary testing mineshaft air. The tickle in her throat disappeared.

  She looked up at Sebastian.

  “Hey,” she said, offering her most winning post-near-death-experience smile. “Thank you so much.”

  “Hey,” he echoed. “Got it now?”

  “I am so sorry,” she croaked, pointing to her throat. “Wrong pipe.”

  “Oh, I hate that. Don’t worry about it. Was I right with the name? Emily? Irish Rover girl with the house?”

  “That’s me.” She offered a hand to shake and then just as quickly thought better of it. Her hands were full of used tissues.

  “I just came from my house, in fact,” she added.

  “Show off.”

  Emily laughed. She felt like her head was vibrating. She had to hurry and complete her mission before her skull spun, Exorcist-style.

  “So what’s up? Can I interest you in a lovely divan?” he made an exaggerated sweeping gesture with his hand.

  Emily glanced around the store.

  Should I buy a sofa?

  No. She just needed this to be over.

  “I...uh...I was wondering if, I dunno, maybe sometime you'd be interested in going to lunch?” she asked, trying to hold Sebastian’s gaze as long as her quivering head would allow. Her cheek twitched.

  He is definitely going to ask if I need an ambulance.

  Emily stood there for three or four days, waiting for Sebastian to answer. He blinked and pulled his head back in surprise, or shock, or horror. She wasn’t getting any better at deciphering his expressions now that she wasn’t suffocating to death.

  “Oh,” he said. “ I...I can’t.”

  “Or coffee, or a drink. It doesn’t have to be a whole lunch or anything.”

  “No, it’s not that. I—”

  “That’s cool, okay, just a thought,” she said, cutting him short and shrugging to imply she hadn’t even meant to ask him out.

  Did I just ask you out? This damn Tourette’s. I’m so sorry.

  “I have a girlfriend.” He said “girlfriend” in the same tone a person might mention having a debilitating disease, like, “I’m sorry, sir, but I’m afraid you have girlfriend.”

  Emily realized she’d ceased breathing and took a sharp, shaky breath. Smiling, her hands flailing, she said: NobiggiesorryseeyouatdartsokwellIguessIbetterletyougetbacktoworkbye!

  Sebastian stared at her, speechless.

  Emily darted around him to scurry out of the store, her face as red as the throw pillows on the $999 pullout couch behind her.

  As she reached the door, she heard a voice.

  “Don’t forget me!”

  Emily froze, her fingers resting on the handle of the exit. She turned and looked at Sebastian. He seemed as surprised as she did, his hand raised, half covering his mouth as if she had caught him in mid-sneeze.

  “Okay,” she said, and bolted from the store.

  Emily sat in her car until the sweat began to bead on her forehead. She started the ignition and turned up the air.

  Don’t forget me?

  Emily shifted her car into reverse.

  What the hell am I supposed to do with that?

  Chapter Ten

  Sebastian opened the door to his apartment and walked inside. Binker the Shih Tzu raised his head from the sofa and growled.

  “Don’t even start with me,” said Sebastian, throwing his keys on the kitchen table.

  The dog’s head flopped back to the cushion.

  Sebastian changed from work clothes to sweat shorts and a tee. He felt tired, and vaguely sad. His mind kept wandering to the girl in his store. Emily. He couldn’t believe she’d come to his work to ask him out. Part of him wondered if she was a little nuts. He’d never heard about a girl asking a guy out like that before. How did she know where he worked? Had he mentioned it at the bar? He couldn’t remember.

  As strange as the experience had been, a smile crept to his lips as he recalled the nervous way she’d made her pitch. To think he could make someone that nervous surprised him. It was flattering. She was cute, really cute, and something about her had put him at ease, like he’d known her for years.

  Sebastian’s gaze drifted to Greta’s side of the bed and the collection of frames arranged there; photo after photo of Greta and her friends, smiling, posing, frozen in time at one party or the next. He’d never really noticed them before. He stared at Greta’s grinning face. She was stunning, but when he looked at her now, all he felt was dread. Dread of their inevitable breakup. Dread that they would never break up. He wanted their relationship to be a distant memory, but he couldn’t stand the idea of living through the drama of a breakup.

  As one thing or the other delayed his plans to leave Greta, he’d never considered that he was missing a chance to date other people. He was so unhappy in his current relationship, the idea of starting another seemed like a hassle; a lesson in futility that would end with him in the same position he was in now. Maybe that was another reason he never found the courage
to leave.

  Sebastian didn’t know anything about Emily. He might never see her again. But he’d hated telling her he couldn’t go out for a drink when, in his heart, he had left Greta months earlier. Something about that girl in his store made him smile; gave him a tiny hope for happiness. He was, at best, romantically lazy; possibly depressed. Someone had appeared to kick his miserable ass into gear, and he had turned her away.

  Sebastian heard a thud that shook him from his thoughts. He wandered back into the living room to search for the source.

  Another dull thump. Sebastian walked to the front door and opened it.

  “Oh, you’re home,” said Greta, nearly falling into the apartment. She’d been trying to balance a box of wine against the door while she fished for her keys.

  “Here.” She handed him the box.

  Sebastian took the box and moved it to the kitchen counter.

  “You’re home early. What’s this?”

  “Free wine! I have a bottle from each supplier vying for the beverage contract at the stadium. My homework is to taste test them all.”

  Sebastian opened the box and peered inside. “They’re all open.”

  “I might have started already,” said Greta, smirking.

  “If you drank them at work, why did you bring them home?”

  “I tried them with a girl from work. Not at work.” Greta threw her arms around Sebastian’s neck. “Now I get to try them again with you!”

  Greta offered Sebastian a kiss, but he pulled away. Any time Greta threw herself at him, she was up to no good, and he wasn’t in a playful mood.

  “I thought you seemed in an unusually good mood,” he mumbled.

  “I am!” she said, heading back into the living room.

  “So you still like your new job?”

  “Oh, I love it.”

  “Good. And your sister? How is she handling the pregnancy?”

  “The preg—” Greta turned, her face twisted with confusion. She met eyes with Sebastian and her features relaxed into a perfectly unreadable mask.

  “Oh, I must have forgotten to tell you. She isn’t pregnant anymore. Lucky, I guess. I mean, a shame in one way, but definitely lucky in her case. False alarm.”

  “Oh. So work is good, sis is good...how are your parents?”

  “Good,” said Greta, flopping beside Binker on the sofa. “What’s with all the questions, Sebby? Go pour us our first taste test!”

  “So, you’re in a good mood, and nothing is wrong with the world today, huh?” Sebastian said, moving to the cabinet where they kept their wine glasses.

  “Yep! All is great with the world!”

  Sebastian grabbed two glasses and pulled the first bottle from the case. He poured two inches of wine into each glass and carried them to Greta.

  “Here you go,” he said, handing her a glass.

  Greta took the glass and held it up. “What should we toast to?”

  Sebastian held his glass a few inches from hers.

  “To the end of our relationship.” Sebastian stifled a laugh, suddenly feeling giddy. He knew laughing was an inappropriate response to his comment, but he’d surprised himself by saying his thoughts out loud.

  Greta rolled her eyes. “Very funny.”

  Sebastian stared at her, questioning his courage to forge ahead.

  No sense stopping now.

  “I’m not kidding. Let’s toast to our future; our independent futures.”

  Greta’s smile disappeared.

  “What?”

  “Don’t pretend to be shocked. You know we’re done. We’ve been done. You’ve moved on and I’ve tried to end this three times now.”

  Sebastian considered voicing his suspicion that Greta was seeing someone else, but decided against it. Greta fighting a break-up was one thing; Greta insisting she wasn’t cheating was a whole other mess. She’d shift into martyrdom mode, he’d be on the defensive with no proof. That diversion would shove the breakup itself to the back burner.

  If she was cheating, it didn’t matter. He wasn’t jealous; he didn’t care enough to be jealous. That, if nothing else, was a huge clue that the relationship was doomed.

  “What are you talking about, three times?’” asked Greta.

  “Every time you hear the tone in my voice and know what’s coming you throw out some new tragedy to stop me. This time, no tragedy. I double checked.”

  “But Sebby!” said Greta, her eyes welling with tears. “I love you! You can’t!”

  “Stop it,” said Sebastian. He sat on the sofa beside her. “Please. The only time you get upset, the only time you throw yourself at me, is when I tell you I need to leave or you’re not getting your way.”

  Greta shook her head, her lips pursed so hard they turned white. Her eyes screwed shut. She looked like a two-year-old throwing a tantrum.

  “You’re still here. You could have moved out by now. You want to stay with me.”

  “I just hate change. But you’re right, it’s my fault. I should have left a long time ago. Come on, we’ve only been dating like four months...”

  “Six.”

  “Six,” corrected Sebastian. “And it’s not like it was ever a wild love affair. We just sort of fell together.”

  “Then why did you move in?”

  “I—” Sebastian stalled. “You offered, and it seemed like a good solution, and I liked you—”

  “Liked? Past tense?”

  “You know what I mean. Look, I feel like we’re getting off the point. The point is we’re no longer girlfriend and boyfriend.”

  “No!” said Greta, pounding her fist into his thigh. “We’re not broken up! You’re just in a bad mood!”

  “Ow!” said Sebastian, jerking his leg away. “Cut it out. I’m not in a bad mood.”

  “You just pulled away from me when I tried to kiss you. You’re in a bad mood.”

  “No. I just didn’t feel like kissing you. I know you can’t imagine a world where someone doesn’t want to kiss you, but it happens. Have you not heard what I’m saying?”

  “Pssh,” said Greta, rolling her eyes. “We made love a few days ago.”

  “That was a mistake,” mumbled Sebastian, embarrassed he hadn’t been stronger.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “What do you get out of trying to make me stay? You don’t want me here. Not really. You’re as afraid to be alone as I am of change.”

  Greta looked away. “That’s not true.”

  “Look, I’m going to really start looking for a place tomorrow.”

  “You don’t have one already?”

  “No. I’ll go to my brother’s for now.”

  “All the way there?” Greta’s glare softened. “You don’t have to go; you can stay here.”

  Greta’s arm moved. Sebastian winced, but this time she placed her hand gently on his leg

  “Greta...” said Sebastian as her fingers ran along his inner thigh.

  “Stay until you find a place,” said Greta, her voice low, her eyes brimming with tears. “We’ll just be friends. I promise.”

  Sebastian looked away. He thought about the long drive back and forth from work to his brother’s house. He was happy he’d finally found the perfect time to break up with Greta, but wished he’d first arranged an apartment of his own to escape to, post-breakup.

  “Please,” Greta pleaded.

  “Fine. I’ll stay until I find a new place. But we’re just roommates now.”

  Greta squealed and hugged Sebastian, sloshing his wine on the sofa. He held his hands over his head, protecting his drink and waiting for the hug to end. Greta pulled away and stared into his eyes, a sweet smile on her lips. Sebastian stared back at her. They remained that way for too long.

  “You’re freaking me out,” said Sebastian.

  Greta laughed. She stood and headed for the bedroom.

  “I’m going to change. I’m so glad you’re staying, no matter what we are!”

  As the echo from the closing bedroo
m door faded, Greta’s last words registered with Sebastian.

  “We’re friends!” he called after her. “Roommates!”

  Sebastian shifted to sit properly on the sofa and allowed his head to flop against the backrest, his eyes closed. He felt Binker waddle across the cushions and collapse onto his legs.

  “Not you, too.” He lifted a hand and petted the dog, which snuggled deeper into his lap.

  A few minutes later, Sebastian heard the bedroom door open.

  “What do you want for dinner?” asked Greta. “Do you want to still try the white wine? Should we have chicken then?”

  Sebastian followed her voice as it moved behind him and turned to see her walk into the kitchen. She was wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt that barely covered her rear end.

  “Seriously, Greta?” he asked.

  “What?”

  “Just a tee?”

  Greta huffed. “Oh, so now we’re broken up and I’m supposed to be uncomfortable in my own house until you move out?”

  Sebastian rubbed his face with his hand.

  He really had to find an apartment.

  Chapter Eleven

  Emily lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.

  She’d asked Sebastian out, in the hopes of either jumpstarting a romance or nipping one in the bud. Instead, Sebastian managed to turn her down and give her hope.

  Don’t forget me.

  Who says that?

  Sebastian had a girlfriend. He was unavailable. End of story, no matter what nonsense he called to her as she left Über Home. He wasn’t available.

  Done.

  Right?

  Now she could get out of bed.

  Emily remained in bed for another hour, unsatisfied with how her Sebastian thought process had concluded. Maybe there were other possibilities. She ran through the facts several more times, each time arriving at the same conclusion: Sebastian wasn’t available.

  Emily released a long, exaggerated sigh, dramatically pantomiming her frustrations for an invisible audience.

  She slipped out of bed and padded to the shower to get ready for a rare morning client meeting.