Sebastien shrugged as though it wasn’t an issue. Turning back to the bar, he placed an order, but I couldn’t really hear what he said. He handed over a twenty and got hardly any change, but that didn’t mean anything; I wasn’t kidding about being expensive. When we came here we usually bought a bottle early in the night and refilled it from the taps in the ladies. At least until we got drunk enough to put it down somewhere and lose track of it.
Once you did that in a club you didn’t even bother looking for it; any drink that had been out of your hands and out of sight was dead to you. Nobody would mess with my drinks, or me, for that matter, where Jay and the other boys were known, but Nikki’s was East side. The address meant the furniture was a bit more flash and the prices a lot more expensive, but it didn’t make it any safer.
Reminded, I slid the strap of my bag so it swung around to sit in front, rather than on my hip. I didn’t have much in there; apart from my twenty dollar drinks allowance and another twenty pinned inside the lining for emergency cab fare home, there was just my Learner’s Driver’s Licence (for ID purposes only, I couldn’t afford a car), lip salve, tissues, and my busted up phone. But I wouldn’t like to lose any of it or the bag itself, and not just because I couldn’t really afford to buy replacements. I didn’t have much stuff, but what I did have I took care of. I’d bought the bag as a gift to myself when the manager at work, Seth, told me I’d passed my trial period, allowing myself that one luxury purchase. I had my money direct deposited into my account and I got all my bank statements sent to Gmail. If my mother ever got her hands on my money she’d put it though the pokies or spend it on booze or pot.
Some drunk guy cannoned off someone and into me, sending me flying just as Sebastien swung around from the bar. But I didn’t end up with drinks tipped all over me or go sprawling. Sebastien stuck his arms out and caught me before I could fall, and even as I dangled with his arms under mine, I could recognise the two objects pressed into my back as water bottles. A non-drinker all the time or just tonight? I wondered randomly.
I struggled upright, trying not to stomp on Sebastien’s expensive, shiny black shoes. He’d come with us to Anna’s car as he was, dressed in the white shirt and black trousers and shoes he’d played the concert in. He’d convinced Anna to wait long enough for him to duck backstage and grab a fleecy-lined jacket and his wallet and phone, I assumed, for surely even cello-playing prodigies still needed a mobile, leaving his beautiful tails jacket with his mother. Anna had made it quite plain that he had five minutes or he could drive himself, which I thought was harsh, even for Anna. But hey, I did get the whole sibling thing; you could treat them with a disdain you’d never show your friends.
‘Sorry,’ I said, arching my body away from his. Such a stupid thing; he probably thought I’d faked that just as an excuse to fall all over him. He was worth falling over, that’s for sure. The long legs in those fancy pants were as hard as rocks. And the arms he’d caught me with were ropey with muscle.
‘Here,’ he said, handing me a bottle.
‘Thanks.’
‘So, what now?’ Sebastien asked, looking around uncertainly, and some of the tension unwound from within my chest. He wasn’t as sure as himself as he seemed. My confidence level rose just a bit in response.
‘We go get a table while we still can.’
‘OK. Over that way alright with you?’
I looked where he’d pointed and nodded. Any empty table was good with me. Well, except for the ones just outside the guys’ dunnies. You had to put up with a lot of grab-arsing if you stood over there.
I cracked the lid of my water and chugged about half of it in long, greedy swallows, only stopping because I had to breathe, gasping with the icy-cold after-shock. Pressing the back of my hand to my mouth I blocked a burp (I didn’t want him to think I was a total pig), then put the lid back on and drew a deep breath. The cold was like a spike in my forehead, but I could practically feel the water flowing through my body, revitalising every parched, abused cell it flowed through. I still felt fluttery in the stomach and light headed, and I figured water was going to be my beverage of choice for the evening. I didn’t really feel up to drinking, I didn’t want to make a worse idiot of myself in front of Sebastien than I’d already managed to do stone cold sober and anyway I shouldn’t spend that kind of money.
But as I followed Sebastien towards an empty table, I acknowledged that I’d had that thought on other nights, but only until one of my friends had handed me a bourbon.
‘How long have you known my sister?’
I swallowed the last mouthful of my second bottle of water (I’d bought that one; I knew what guys expected if they bought you drinks all night even if it was just water) and frowned, trying to work it out. ‘A few months maybe?’
‘Where’d you meet her?’
I looked at Sebastien, trying to read his expression in the occasional flashing lights from the dance floor. God, he really was the most beautiful guy I’d ever seen. I’d taken enough sneaky peeks at him to realise my first impression, as smack-up-the-side-of-the-head as it had seemed, really hadn’t done him justice. He had massively broad shoulders and long, leanly muscled arms and legs, and the way his black pants clung to his thigh muscles kept making my stomach do weird little skitter-leaps.
And his face really was model-gorgeous. Dark hair waved back from a strong forehead, dark eyebrows and eyelashes framing those gorgeous blue-smoked-with-grey eyes. He had the most amazing bone structure I’d ever seen, a bold, clean jaw, high cheekbones, a wide mouth, surprisingly full lips. Yeah, OK, I tended to think in structural terms, consider it a dream-occupational hazard. But he sure was beautifully designed and constructed. He’d be perfectly cast as Superman, with that face and body. Or I could totally picture him in that male stripper movie, on stage alongside Channing Tatum. Uh, yeah.
With some effort, I dragged my mind back from cataloguing Sebastien’s admirable physical qualities and concentrated on what he’d said. I wondered why he was asking, if this was some kind of test, and I was afraid to answer without knowing what Anna had told him. I mean, Anna hadn’t told me not to say anything about her and Jay. But my brother wasn’t the only one who thought Anna was just slumming, and Jay was happy to go along with it while she was happy to do what he wanted and splash her money around. Apparently, she never said no to anything. Yes, way more information than I ever wanted to know.
It made me sick to think Jay might talk that way about me. I’d never heard anything like that and my brothers wouldn’t like it, so I was probably safe from that, at least. Not that probably was any comfort when I was down on myself or having an insecurity attack.
Regardless of what she had or hadn’t said to Sebastien, it was doubtful Anna wanted them to know she was hanging out on the edges of a genuine bad crowd, and I thought it was safer not to say anything. I shrugged, trying to shake off the unwelcome thoughts as much as the unwelcome question.
‘We have the same hairdresser,’ I said, sticking to the truth and hoping he wouldn’t notice I hadn’t actually answered him.
Sebastien paused with his bottle half way to his lips (oh, those lips) and his eyes travelled upwards, to my hair.
‘Really?’
Self-consciously, I raised my hand to the hair piled up on top of my head before I could stop myself.
‘Yeah. This isn’t a mistake or anything, you know. Michelle did it like this on purpose.’
‘Really?’ he said again, and the way he kept his face so carefully expressionless gave it away. He hated my hair, obviously.
‘You think it looks stupid?’ I was trying not to sound defensive or angry, although that was tricky when you had to lean close to someone and practically yell to be heard. And of course, when you totally were on the defensive.
‘No, not at all.’
‘I like it.’ I said firmly.
‘Me too.’
‘You do not,’ I snorted, wanting to believe him.
‘I do,’ he said,
and laughed.
I looked down at the bottle I held loosely in my hands. Damn, and for a minute I’d almost believed him.
His hand appeared, reaching in to touch my wrist.
‘Hey,’ he said, and I looked up. Straight into those smoky eyes. He moved closer, and raised his hand to touch one of the long locks of hair accidentally-on-purpose hanging free of my swept up ’do.
‘I really do like your hair, it’s hot.’
I had to grin at that. Flame-coloured hair, ha ha. It was lame, sure, but still.
‘And so are you, Jess.’
Wait up. Had I heard that right?
I glanced at him swiftly, and he took the bottle out of my hand and set it on the table behind him.
‘Come and dance.’
‘But my water,’ I protested.
‘I’ll buy you another one,’ he said, drawing me up off my seat. He dumped his polar fleece on my chair and started leading me towards the dance floor. I hung back, horrified.
‘You can’t leave that there, someone will steal it.’
‘I can buy another one,’ he said, laughing.
‘But I hate dancing, I suck at it.’
‘I bet you don’t.’
‘Bet I do.’
‘Never known a girl so unwilling to get on the dance floor.’
‘Maybe I’m not like the girls you know,’ I said, recovering enough for a rare flash of flirt.
‘I already know that,’ he said warmly, and I stopped resisting and followed him. It was probably a line, but it was by far the best one any guy had tried on me. I just hoped he’d still think I was special in a good way after dancing with me. At least I didn’t have to worry that I was about to cut a genuine prodigy’s career short. He didn’t need his feet to play his cello.
Chapter 4
OK, so I’d managed not to break any toes, Sebastien’s or any innocent bystanders’, and so far he hadn’t run away either laughing or screaming. And it was just another example of life heaping all the good stuff onto one person, but Sebastien could really move. Most guys look awkward when they dance but not him. I was definitely in no danger of laughing or running away.
And most surprising of all, I was having fun. Crammed onto the dance floor with the music pounding out so loud you could feel it in your heart and your bones as much as hear it, utterly sober, less than a foot from the most amazing guy I had seen in my life, I should have been practically zombified with nerves. But Sebastien was such a good dancer, I almost felt like I could dance better just by trying to copy what he was doing.
A song came on with a slower, heavy beat, and I hesitated, leaned in close to Sebastien, and shouted, ‘Do you want to go and get a drink or something?’
Sebastien put his arm around my waist and pulled me closer, bending down to close the gap until his mouth was almost touching my ear. ‘Or something,’ he said, and snugged my body right up against his. I shuddered, my skin spiking into goose-bumps. My brain shut down.
Sebastien reached for my other hand, curling his fingers through mine, and started leading me in a slow, swaying shuffle that didn’t seem to go anywhere but involved a whole lot of movement. Movement I have to say I tended to associate more with sex than dancing. Not that I really knew all that much about the best way to go about either of those activities.
Michelle and now Anna liked to go clubbing and sure, I’d had sex with three different guys including Jay by the time I was sixteen, but I could admit to myself that I still didn’t get it. I didn’t understand the attraction with nightclubs either; it was loud, the drinks were expensive and usually not very good, and the only guys that ever seemed to hit on me were drunk and obnoxious or drunk and charming because they thought this gave them a better chance at getting into my pants. As for sex, well, overrated, in my opinion. I mean, despite my rep I was no expert, but in my experience, the best bits were before it happened, and after it was over.
I’d wanted to be good at sex when I started seeing Jay when I was fifteen. Everyone told me I’d never hold him, and that seemed like the best way to prove them wrong. I’d had nobody to ask so I’d gone to the public library and read some books, keeping them hidden behind a Vogue magazine or something, but convinced everybody who walked past knew what I was up to, judging by the heat I could feel scorching my face.
Now, with Sebastien’s hips pushing mine around in lazy figure eights, I was beginning to wish I’d kept up my reading. Just thinking about that had the blood rushing to my skin, but not in a sexy way. I’d managed to embarrass myself just thinking about being so inadequate and ignorant I had to read books on the subject. But hey, I was a big believer in fake it till you make it. With my reputation, earned or not, guys assumed I was a red-hot shag.
But then, as the hand Sebastien was resting against the small of my back started to move in slow circles up and down the length of my spine, I started to feel something else. Some little quiver of fear deep in my belly. My heart sped up and my mouth went dry. My muscles stiffened and I was aware of how tall Sebastien was, the long lean hardness of the legs brushing against mine and the strength of the arms holding me, and I almost broke away from him.
Sebastien broke from me first, sending me away from him with a gentle push against my hip, then lifted my arm to twirl me around, before reeling me back in close again. I wondered if he’d sensed I was getting a little closed in and panicky, but I couldn’t tell from a quick glance up at him.
He grinned, and twirled me again, and this time I laughed, giddy and relieved. Then he drew me back to him, ran his hand from the back of my neck to the curve of my bottom, before settling it on my waist, leaving me breathless and sweating for so many reasons. I finally looked up at him, trying to get some hint of what he was thinking or feeling, and yes, almost aching for him to kiss me.
But he didn’t. He pushed my sweaty hair back from my face and then returned his hand to my waist, holding me then as without expectation as my cousin did when he danced with me at his sister’s wedding. All duty and no desire.
Anna appeared suddenly at Sebastien’s elbow, speaking of sisters.
‘This blows,’ she said loudly. ‘I’m going, you coming?’
I stopped moving, and looked up at Sebastien. Despite my earlier wish to go home to a hot chocolate and warm PJs, my heart skipped a little quicker as I waited for his answer. If he was happy to stay on, so was I. And maybe I would have a bourbon, or two.
‘I reckon it’s pretty good,’ Sebastien said, and hope rose with my pulse, only to crash back to reality as he added, ‘But I’m whacked after playing for that long, and I know Jess said she wasn’t feeling too great, so yeah, let’s do it.’
‘Yeah, OK,’ I echoed, hoping the disappointed sinking sensations weren’t written all over my face, making me look as much an idiot as I felt. Anna and I followed Sebastien back to our table where, amazingly, his fleecy jacket was still hanging over my chair, and then we started the slow wriggle towards the exit, through the crowd, which was mostly moving in the opposite direction at this time of night.
I was abruptly as wiped out and over it all as Sebastien had suggested, and for about the hundredth time I cursed myself and swore off drinking for ever. This time, though, I really was pissed at my stupidity. If I hadn’t been so seedy maybe I would have been a bit sharper and made a better impression on Sebastien. If he was as tired as he said, there’d be no help for me if I ever saw him at 100% on his game.
Not that it seemed likely, after tonight’s performance.
Outside the night air was like a slap, and the skin on my arms immediately went painfully goose bumpy. Shivering as I stomped along to keep up with their longer legs, I wished in vain for the jacket I’d been too lazy to get before I left home.
‘You’re freezing,’ Sebastien commented, and draped his polar fleece over my shoulders. Wow, smooth move, and he made it with no sign that he even knew it was a move.
‘Thanks,’ I managed to say, remembering my manners a bit late, but in my defence this
guy had me so bent out of shape I didn’t know which way was up. He put his arm around me as though we’d known each other for years and shortened his step to mine as we turned the corner into the street where Anna’s car was parked. Speaking of Anna’s car, I really hoped Anna was in a better mood. I didn’t think I could handle her driving again if she wasn’t.
Well, I half got my wish. Anna wasn’t in a good mood but she didn’t drive like a kamikaze pilot, at least. Although I had a heart-stopping few minutes when Sebastien found out I was planning to get the bus home from near their house and spent five minutes hanging over the front seat, arguing with both Anna and myself, insisting they give me a lift. I gave in and shut my mouth when Sebastien changed tack and told Anna to go to their place and he’d get out his car and drive me home himself. I didn’t really think he’d do that but by then I was distracted by an increasing urge to pee (shouldn’t have gulped two bottles of water with such abandon, even if I was dehydrated) and an increasing fear that Anna was, again, looking likely to end the argument by driving into the back of a parked car or worse.
Sebastien finally got his way, and settled back in his seat, as Anna gave in with a bad tempered ‘Fine’ and turned right at the next set of lights.
I sat quietly in the front seat, not wanting her to turn her irritation on me.
When Anna pulled the car up outside my house I mumbled my thanks and leaped out like my pants were on fire. I was tired, busting for the loo and overheated thanks to the combination of Anna running the heater full blast and the snuggly weight of Sebastien’s jacket. Shit.
I stopped and turned back to the car, struggling to get my arms out of the jacket, not even realising until that moment that I had wriggled properly into it.
Sebastien, about to change back seat for front, slammed the rear door and came over. ‘Here,’ he said, reaching for the front of the jacket, ‘It usually helps if you undo the zip first. Unless you want to keep it? It’s bloody freezing and you can give it to Anna another time.’
‘I’m good,’ I said quickly and reached to undo the zipper myself. My fingers brushed his and I jumped as though someone had zapped me with an electric shock. Sebastien wrapped his hands around mine, and again I noticed that they were strong and a bit rough, where I would expect a guy like him to have hands that were firm, sure, with all that cello playing, but smooth. Not hands that had done work, like these.
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