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

by Amy Vansant

  Sebastian’s smirk switched on a light bulb in Emily’s brain. She realized he didn’t have a horse in this superhero race. He didn’t care about superheroes. He was messing with her. He was arguing for the sake of arguing.

  How had he known she felt so passionately about superheroes? Was she such a dork he could just sense it? Was it dumb luck?

  Emily smiled and saw the corners of Sebastian’s blue eyes wrinkle as he tried, unsuccessfully, to swallow his own grin.

  Does he know I’ve caught him?

  “I’d be Batman,” he repeated.

  “Whatever,” she said, taking a sip from her drink.

  Benny stared at the two of them.

  “So are you two going to flirt all night or are we going to play darts?”

  Sebastian shot Benny a look and returned to his corner seat.

  Benny threw his last dart. He lucked into a bull’s-eye and beat Emily. She grimaced and pushed the two fives on the bar towards him, acknowledging her defeat. Benny retrieved his darts from the board and grabbed one of the fives, leaving the other as the down payment on his next game with Sebastian.

  Sebastian stepped to the line to diddle. As Sebastian aimed his dart, Benny looked at Emily and winked. She widened her eyes and glowered at him to show she didn’t approve of his flirting comment.

  Then she looked away to hide her giddiness.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Sebastian opened a cardboard box and peered inside at his belongings, wondering where they would travel next.

  Greta was late. After the breakup, he’d felt guilty enough to agree to help move her sister, Kimi, into her boyfriend, Brian’s, house. They should have been at Kimi’s apartment at ten a.m., but Greta disappeared that morning and had yet to return. It was nearly eleven.

  Sebastian pulled two mugs from his cardboard suitcase and put them in Greta’s kitchen cabinet. He didn’t like those mugs. No reason to cart them to his next place. He didn’t like having a lot of stuff. Every time he moved he left a little of himself behind.

  He needed his truck empty for Kimi’s move, or he would have shifted his boxes out of the house then. The next time he went to his brother’s he would take them there. Sebastian had become a nomad, spending occasional evenings at his brother’s house; crashing on Greta’s sofa the others. If he stayed more than seven days in a row at Greta’s, she demanded his reinstatement as her boyfriend. Sometimes she cried. Sometimes she walked around half-naked. Sometimes she screamed. Staying at his brother’s was inconvenient; he lived nearly an hour away from work but, sometimes, it was worth it to avoid the drama.

  Sebastian had investigated several possible apartments, but each had problems. The ones he liked were too expensive. The ones he could afford were too depressing. One had crime tape loosely wrapped around the handrail like a forgotten Christmas garland. When Sebastian asked to see the bathroom in that apartment, the landlord glanced at the sealed door and said it was being remodeled. His lips said “remodeled,” but his face said they hadn’t found a cleaner stringent enough to remove the bloodstains from the wall.

  Sebastian felt like an ass. He had to get out of Greta’s house, but most days he worked until five o’clock and driving to his brother’s at rush hour was insane. Instead, he’d go to the Rover and walk back to Greta’s apartment. He wondered now if her location, walking distance to his favorite pub, had weighed more heavily on his decision to move in than he’d realized.

  Sebastian reached into his pocket, searching for his truck keys, and instead pulled out a slip of paper. It was his list of possible apartments. He wadded the paper into a ball and threw it toward the kitchen counter. It missed and fell to the floor.

  Sebastian closed the cardboard box. A white flash caught the corner of his eye, and he turned to find Binker, galloping toward him, the wadded piece of paper in his mouth.

  “What the—”

  Sebastian sat on his heels and took the paper from the dog. Binker panted, his milky gaze bouncing back and forth between the wadded paper and Sebastian.

  Sebastian threw the paper six feet across the room. Binker wheeled and cantered after it. He ran directly to the wadded note, picked it up, and trotted it back to Sebastian, dropping it neatly at his feet.

  “Blind as an eagle,” Sebastian mumbled.

  Sebastian threw the paper several more times before Greta walked in the apartment.

  “Sebby?” she called.

  Sebastian stood from his squatted position behind the sofa, paper in hand.

  “Come here. Check this out.”

  “What are you doing behind the sofa?”

  “Just come here,” he repeated. Greta walked around the furniture.

  “See this?” said Sebastian, holding up the crumpled note.

  “Yes.”

  “See your stupid dog?”

  Greta looked down at Binker, standing before them, panting.

  “Yes.”

  “Watch this.”

  He threw the paper over Binker’s head, just as he had five times previously.

  Binker didn’t flinch. He remained staring at Sebastian’s shins, happily panting.

  “Right, it’s Binker who’s stupid. You’re the one playing fetch with a blind dog.”

  Sebastian sat back down on his heels, face twisted with agitation.

  “Go get it!” he hissed, pointing toward the paper. “Go get it, boy!”

  Binker lay down and rolled on his side, his tongue rolling from the side of his mouth like a red carpet.

  “You little scam artist,” Sebastian said through gritted teeth.

  Greta went to her bedroom.

  “Are you ready to go?” she called.

  Sebastian stood.

  “I’ve been ready, where have you been?”

  “My sister and I went and got our nails done.”

  Sebastian’s eyes widened. “Before we spend the day moving?”

  Greta popped into the doorway, topless, bra hanging from one arm.

  “Oh, I didn’t even think of that!” she said, covering her mouth with her hand. “Ha! I guess we won’t be much help!”

  “Greta!” said Sebastian, executing a quick about-face. “Stop that!”

  “Oh, sorry, I’m getting changed!” she snapped. “Don’t look if you don’t want to see!”

  “I wasn’t looking!”

  Sebastian huffed and glanced at his feet. Binker stared up at him, paper in his mouth.

  Sebastian clenched his fists and released a muffled scream of frustration.

  Moving was hell. Sebastian, Brian and two of Brian’s friends shuffled boxes, sofas, a huge entertainment center and a Foosball table, while Greta and Kimi packed in slow motion, careful to protect their manicures. Greta had taken after her small-framed Japanese mother, but Greta’s sister was big-boned like her German father. Kimi could have been helpful moving the larger items. When Sebastian muttered something about the girls’ ill-timed manicures, Brian tittered and shot a glance at Kimi to see if she had overheard. It seemed best to avoid asking Kimi to do things she didn’t want to do.

  The sisters had some things in common.

  By the time they were done, Sebastian was starving.

  “Let’s stop and get dinner,” said Greta as they headed home in his truck.

  Sebastian nodded. It was rush hour and a bad time to head to his brother’s house. He was tired and wanted to flop on a sofa, but knew there was little to eat at Greta’s. The longer he lingered alone with Greta, the better chance some drama would erupt, so the idea of eating out appealed to him. At a restaurant, he could eat and enjoy the safety of a public place.

  They chose a pub with good, cheap food. Nothing fancy. As they waited for their burgers, Greta relayed to Sebastian her nail salon gossip. One of the nail girls had shaved her head. Another had gained a few pounds. The quality of the gel manicure had plummeted. One rich patron forgot to tip and the whole salon had erupted in Vietnamese chatter. Greta could only imagine what they were saying.

 
; It was riveting stuff.

  Sebastian spotted an adorable dirty blonde enter the restaurant. He froze, his hamburger resting on his bottom lip.

  It was Emily; the girl who had asked him out. The girl he’d had so much fun talking to at the Rover. He put down his burger, grinning, before he noticed a muscular man shadowing Emily. She and the man took a seat near the bar. They laughed like old friends.

  Or lovers.

  Sebastian looked down at his plate. He felt an emotion rising within him like the waves of a tumultuous sea. Was it anger? No...jealousy. He was jealous.

  Weird.

  He glanced back toward the front of the restaurant and the feeling intensified. He knew the guy. Why did that make it so much worse? Sebastian rummaged through his memories. High school. He’d gone to high school with the guy. He hadn’t seen him around in a few years...what was his name?

  Mark.

  That was his name. Mark. His father owned the big trucking business on the outskirts of town.

  Sebastian swallowed, forcing down a surging tide of disquiet. Mark was a good-looking guy. Sebastian felt a little sick, recalling that Mark had been quite the panty-dropper. He was also kind of an idiot. He would use Emily and toss her away.

  What was she doing with him?

  Emily asked Sebastian out, and already she was dating Mark? Sebastian had broken up with Greta. Soon, he’d be out of her house and he’d thought maybe...

  Sebastian hadn’t realized he’d been staring at Emily. Now he could see she was staring back.

  Sebastian stood and walked towards Emily. He didn’t know why, but he couldn’t stop himself. What would he do when he reached her?

  “Where are you going?” Greta asked.

  Her voice sounded miles away.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Emily and Mark sat on her sofa watching movie credits roll. Once again, Mark had stopped by her office and suggested they grab dinner. Again, she’d meant to say no, but agreed.

  Mark didn’t know what fatigue meant, but he was a genius at getting girls to go out with him. It helped that he was nearly always shirtless and had the body of an underwear model. That was like fishing with dynamite.

  Mark asked if Emily had HBO. She admitted she did, and the next thing she knew, they were watching a pre-dinner movie. She’d only meant to stop home long enough to let out the dog.

  “That was pretty good,” Emily said, gesturing to the screen. “When he tore the fifth guy’s head off I thought that might be overkill, but no; totally made sense. I was a fool.”

  Mark looked at Emily.

  “I kind of feel like I should kiss you now,” he said. “But not really, you know?”

  Emily chuckled. His comment sounded like an insult, but instead of miffed, she felt relieved.

  “I know exactly what you mean,” she said.

  Mark tilted his body toward Emily and laid his head in her lap. She stroked his hair as if she’d done it a million times before. It wasn’t sexual; it just felt natural.

  “We’re not ever going to date, are we?”

  “No,” she said after a moment of thought. “I know I’m insane. You’re so freaking hot. I just have this...thing. I can’t shake it.”

  Mark sighed. “That’s cool. I still like hanging out with you.”

  Emily smiled. “Me too. This is nice.”

  “I’m kind of lonely, though,” he added.

  Emily stopped petting and looked down at Mark’s beautiful face.

  “Oh jeez, Mark, you’re so gorgeous. You could get any girl—”

  Mark barked a loud laugh that made Emily jump.

  “Ha! Not that. Shit, Emily I get laid all the time.”

  “Of course you do,” she muttered. “What was I thinking?”

  “I just mean I’d like a real girlfriend. I thought you’d be a good girlfriend, but it’s cool. You’re probably a little too thinky for me, anyway.”

  “Too thinky,” echoed Emily, as she resumed petting his head.

  Mark nodded and closed his eyes.

  “I suppose this means you’re not going to mow my lawn anymore.”

  “Oh hell no. Think of all the other girls whose lawns I have to mow now.”

  Emily smacked Mark lightly on the temple and they both laughed.

  “You want to go grab some dinner, buddy?” he asked.

  Emily nodded. “That sounds like a plan, pal.”

  Mark bounced up. He tilted his head towards Emily and looked out from beneath his brow with piercing green eyes. A lustful thought flew through Emily’s mind and she shut the slider door before it could get into the house. She heard the thud.

  “Just to be clear,” Mark said. “I’m totally good with this friend thing, but if you ever want a quick—” He thrust his hips back and forth. “...just ask.”

  Charming.

  “Oh, don’t worry, sexy. You’ll be the first person I call.”

  Mark and Emily hopped in his truck and drove to a downtown restaurant. Forgetting herself, Emily requested a Chicken Club and then explained what it was to the server. Mark ordered a beer.

  “We have next Friday off,” said Mark scanning the menu.

  “The office is closed?” She didn’t think it was a holiday, but since she usually worked from home, she wasn’t privy to the complicated world of corporate holidays.

  “Supposably,” he said.

  “Supposedly,” she corrected.

  She’d promised herself she wouldn’t correct Mark’s English anymore, but he didn’t seem to mind. Once, after Mark mentioned “the pointy things on top of castles” and she asked, “You mean turrets?” he’d started laughing hysterically and screaming “Asshole! Penis!” She’d explained that Tourrette’s and turrets were two different things, while he shouted, “Shitballs!”

  Emily scanned the restaurant until her gaze passed a pair of eyes staring back at her. The moment didn’t register, until her stomach twisted into a pretzel.

  Wait. Reverse.

  Emily shot back to the peepers trained upon her.

  It was Sebastian.

  “Oof,” she said aloud. It sounded as if she’d been punched in the solar plexus by a small mammal. An otter, perhaps.

  Across the restaurant, Sebastian stood and headed toward her. Emily froze like a store mannequin.

  “Hey,” said Sebastian arriving tableside. He turned to Mark. “Hey, Mark.”

  Ice ran through Emily’s veins and the blood emptied from her face. She knew she was whiter than a girl in yoga pants at a farmers’ market.

  Sebastian and Mark knew each other. Stupid, stupid small town!

  “Hey!” said Mark. “Sebastian, man! I haven’t seen you in, like, years!”

  “No,” said Sebastian, shaking Mark’s hand, but looking at Emily. His face was unreadable. Very kissable, but unreadable.

  Why are you looking at me? Stop that!

  “You guys know each other?” she squeaked.

  “Dude, we went to high school together!”

  Mark called Emily “dude” a lot.

  “I think the last time I saw you, Sebastian... Jeez... Billy HipHop’s summer party? Maybe four, five years ago?”

  “Probably,” said Sebastian, turning towards Mark.

  Mark laughed. “Oh dude, that’s right! I remember because I did that thing where you do a tequila shot, but you snort the salt and squeeze the lemon in your eyes!”

  “Not the best idea you ever had,” said Sebastian.

  “It wasn’t my idea, it was a thing.”

  “Of course,” said Sebastian, with a quick sidelong glance at Emily.

  “By the second or third time it wasn’t too bad,” said Mark.

  “You’d probably just lost all feeling in your head at that point,” said Sebastian.

  Emily groaned. Oh Mark. For the love of...

  Sebastian focused on Emily again. The expression on his face wasn’t as puzzling to her now. He was wondering what she was doing with Mark. The guy he knew from high school. The guy wh
o squeezed lemon in his eyes for fun.

  Oh my god. He thinks I’m dating Mark!

  Mark scratched his chin. “I think I messed up my truck pretty badly, too, by the end of that party. I think I still have a scar on my hand... No, wait, that might have been from playing the knife game...”

  Emily nervously twirled her drink, a tight-lipped smile plastered to her face. Her mind was whirling. Should she find a way to tell Sebastian that she and Mark were just friends? Would he believe her? Was it his business?

  No. She decided. Sebastian had a girlfriend. It wasn’t like she was cheating on him, even if she was dating Mark. She and Sebastian talked at least once a week at the Rover, but every night he went back home to Greta.

  “So you know my girl, Emily?” Mark asked.

  Emily looked up. His girl? Why did he have to phrase it like that?

  “We met at darts,” said Sebastian.

  “Oh right, you play darts on Wednesdays when I’m at softball,” said Mark, pointing at Emily. “Cool. That’s so crazy you guys know each other.”

  Emily stopped herself from slapping her hand to her face. Mark couldn’t have implied they were a couple more, if he’d grabbed her face and shoved his tongue down her throat.

  Something snapped in Emily’s head. She couldn’t think of a way to mention that she wasn’t dating Mark, and she wasn’t sure she should. She felt trapped. Her chest tightened. She wanted to get away. Now.

  “I’ll be back in a second,” she blurted, standing.

  Emily stepped on the foot of the bar table and stumbled. Sebastian caught her arm and helped her right herself.

  “Easy there, Grace,” he said.

  “Emily,” corrected Mark. Emily and Sebastian both looked at him. Mark stared back.

  “Thanks,” Emily mumbled to Sebastian, pulling her arm from his grasp.

  Emily speed-walked to the ladies’ room, discovering the small room blessedly unoccupied. She entered and locked the door behind her.

  The exchange between the two men in her life was unbearable. She pressed her back against the cool tile wall to steady herself. Was she having a heart attack? Why was it so hard to breathe? She inhaled, but it didn’t feel as if any oxygen reached her lungs.