by Emily Mayer
I flicked my eyes up to take in his face, lingering on those eyes that couldn’t quite decide if they wanted to be blue or green, before focusing on a spot by his left ear.
I read a study on what makes a person beautiful. One of the main theories is that we find symmetry beautiful. The more symmetry present in the facial features, the more pleasing we find it to be. Sebastian was the physical manifestation of this theory. His face was a study in symmetry except for a small scar dissecting the edge of his left eyebrow and a slight bump in an otherwise perfect nose. And yet, these slight deviations somehow added to his attractiveness.
I knew what he saw when he looked at me. Rebellious auburn hair that refused to be tamed—neither straight nor curly, just a mess. Green eyes that were a little too large and partially obscured by black-framed glasses. Freckles sprinkled across a too-small nose. Not a single hint of symmetry to be found.
I licked my lips, trying to find some words to offer like a normal human being would. I could hear my heart pounding wildly and felt the familiar somersault movement of my stomach that always came just before a full-blown panic attack. I closed my eyes for a minute, trying to focus on my breathing like Paige had taught me when I’d confessed that I still struggled with anxiety.
“It’s good.” I finally managed to force the words out on a rushed breath. “Maybe even one of the best. It’s actually kind of a deconstruction of superheroes, so it’s not like the Marvel universe really. Marvel only explores the flaws of its characters on a superficial level, and the good guys are still good despite their flaws. It’s sometimes hard to distinguish between the heroes and villains in The Watchmen. But I like Marvel too. Paige will only see the Marvel movies with Chris Hemsworth in them.”
Sebastian chuckled. I braved eye contact and noticed the way his eyes crinkled in the corners when he smiled. The effect was disorienting.
“That sounds like Paige. Mind if I take a look?” He held up the issue, one eyebrow canted upward.
“National Geographic has been in publication since 1888. It has a global circulation of over six million readers,” I blurted out. I felt my checks turning red at an alarming rate. My eyes returned to the safe spot by his ear. I cleared my throat before trying again. “You can read it, but it’s not the first issue. The storyline won’t make sense.”
“I promise not to judge it this first go around, yeah?” I could hear the teasing in his voice, but I didn’t move my eyes to verify that he was in fact smiling.
I gave a brief nod, turning my attention back to the magazine I was gripping so hard in my hands that the pages were getting crumpled. I loosened my hold and tried to focus on the story I had been reading pre-Sebastian, but it was nearly impossible to focus on the words now. My eyes kept darting away from the pages to Sebastian. Taking in the way he drank his tea and watching his facial expressions every time he moved to a new frame. It had been at least ten minutes and I hadn’t moved onto a new paragraph. When I wasn’t being a creep, my mind was busy trying to solve riddles. Why is Sebastian here? Did he know I would be here? Why is he still here? What are we doing? Is there such a thing as drinking tea in a masculine way? Why is watching him drink tea making me squirm?
I finally gave up the guise of reading and put my magazine down. He was mid-sip, still focused on the graphic novel, so I took the opportunity to openly study him. I tried to decipher some of the tattoos on the arm holding his mug, tilting my head to one side a little to get a better look at the words hidden in between some geometric pattern.
“What’s caught your attention?” he asked, angling his arm to get a better look at the spot I was examining.
I swallowed. The frayed piece of string that tethered me to what little was left of my sanity snapped. I started gathering up my things. “I should get going. It was nice seeing you. You can finish that if you want. Give it to Paige next time you see her at yoga or wherever.”
I groaned inwardly at the realization that I had just lent a stranger my favorite graphic novel. I shot out of my chair, in an even bigger rush to leave before I offered to loan him a kidney too. I tripped over my shoelaces, bumping into the table and toppling sideways. Sebastian leapt out of his chair with the grace of an athlete and reached out a hand to steady me.
“Whoa, slow down there. Are you—?”
“I have to go now. Have a nice night.” I practically yelled it in his face, tearing out of his grip and bolting for the door. I promised myself I would put extra money in the tip jar next time for not picking up my cup, and breathed a sigh of relief when I looked back and didn’t see Sebastian following me.
If karma was real, I must have done something seriously messed up in my previous life.
10.
When I couldn’t solve a problem, I found it helped to focus my mind on a task that didn’t utilize the same areas of my brain. If I was stuck on some type of equation, for example, I would read a book or color in one of those adult coloring books.
Today, I found myself at a complete and total loss. I had two very different problems and my attention was annoyingly divided. I’d spent all morning inputting data into a simulator program trying to figure out where our original algorithm had gone wrong. I kept coming up with exactly no solutions, which—considering the other half of my brain was fixated on why Sebastian Kincaid had shown up at Spout last night—was not that surprising. I even walked down the street to get another latte to clear my head, but I was too distracted and nothing seemed to help.
I groaned and grabbed my phone. I was tired of being frustrated and there was one problem I could easily solve with a little backup. Pulling up an empty text, I added Paige, Kay, and Janie’s contact information to the ‘to’ line.
Me: Anybody available for dinner tonight?
I set my phone down and tried to refocus on the numbers dancing across my screen. A series of dings had me reaching for my phone.
Paige: Sure! I’m free after 5:30.
Janie: I’m down! What were you thinking?
Kay: Boo, you whores, I am booked solid tonight. Don’t have too much fun without me.
Paige: You get to look at Harrison all night so don’t expect me to feel bad for you.
Janie: We are accepting stealth photos though. Either end will do. Back and front both work for my spank bank ;o)
Paige: I’m super weirded out by the spank bank part, not gonna lie, butttt if you want to send pictures…..
Kay: I love you perverts but no.
I gagged. I didn’t want to hear about Harrison as an object of sexual attraction, and I absolutely did not want to hear about Janie’s spank bank reserve. My fingers flew across the screen.
Me: OMG STOP BEFORE I VOMIT.
Me: How about Fusion at 6:30? Does that give you enough time after class, Paige?
Paige: Yep! It’s a date.
Janie: Can I ride with you, boo?
Me: As long as you promise not to say the words spank bank ever again.
Janie: No promises. I know where you park your car so I’m not even worried about it.
Me: Stalker.
Paige: Creep.
Kay: You guys are weird.
I smiled and set my phone back on my desk, flipping it over so the screen wasn’t visible. The last thing I needed was for a coworker to accidentally get an eyeful of an unsolicited penis. I smiled to myself. I might not be excelling at the dating portion of my life, but I had made a pretty great group of friends.
I tried—really, really tried—to focus on work the rest of the day. I did. But less than an hour later, I found myself typing ‘Sebastian Kincaid’ into the search bar and anxiously waiting for the results to load. Picture after picture appeared at the top of the page, followed by videos of him on the field. I clicked on a few of the pictures even though I already knew what he looked like. I felt heat creep up my chest and into my cheeks as I took in the picture of him running toward the ball, face serious, as if all his concentration was focused on the ball just out of his reach. His elbow was raised
to fend off an opposing player; the motion had twisted his body so that his damp uniform was pulled tightly across his chest, revealing pectoral muscles that had me panting. Every muscle was visible in his legs as they moved him toward his goal. I fanned myself and took a gulp from my water bottle.
“You’re worse than Janie,” I mumbled. Seeing Sebastian in street clothes was an experience, but seeing him on the soccer field… Holy. Freaking. Crap.
For the sake of my cardiovascular system, I decided to move on to the news links listed below the pictures and videos. The first article that caught my eye was titled “Why Sebastian Kincaid Is a Legend.” I clicked on the link and started reading. One paragraph in particular grabbed my attention:
The Man Utd. star might not be the first choice for a football ambassador, considering his bad boy reputation both on and off the field, but he’s about to fulfill the role of superhero for the sport in America. Is he up to the task? At 33, Kincaid isn’t close to slowing down—quite the opposite, in fact. So it comes as a surprise that Man Utd. would be willing to part with its star midfielder and team captain. Rumors of contract negotiations have been going on for months now, and no one doubted that Man Utd. would do whatever it took to keep Kincaid in Manchester. It came as a complete shock when FIFA announced that Kincaid would be among the players traded with the MLS to help raise the game’s profile in America. Kincaid was without question the best player to be involved in the trade on either side of the pond. The MLS sent ten of its own players to the Premier League…
I read several more articles, all claiming he was one of the best soccer players ever, and stored away all the facts I was learning. Why? I had no logical explanation. I told myself that I just didn’t understand him. His behavior was confusing, and I didn’t like not understanding things. After I found a way to get my issue of The Watchmen back, I didn’t see any reason for further interaction with him. But a not-so-insignificant part of me knew I was full of it. That part of me knew I was a big old liar, and also knew that, for some unexplained reason, not seeing him again would be… disappointing.
A series of dings from my phone forced me to reluctantly pause my research.
Unknown: I can’t tell if this Ozymandias character is good guy or a bad guy? Seems like a bit of a prat. Thoughts?
My brow furrowed in confusion as I read the messages.
Unknown: The guy at the comic book store was no help. I’m on Issue 2. The jury’s still out.
Unknown: This is Sebastian by the way. Paige gave me your number, hope you don’t mind.
My head whipped up and I glanced around my office. It was like he knew I was stalking him on the internet and caught me red-handed. I cautiously opened my desk drawer and deposited my phone on top of the folders before shutting it. I scolded myself for being so ridiculous, but made no move to retrieve my phone. I closed the browser filled with information about Sebastian Kincaid and returned to work, reassuring myself that answers were just a few hours away.
11.
Janie and I found Paige waiting for us, already sipping on a glass of wine. She waved when she saw us coming, a wide smile in place.
“Hey ladies!” she greeted us. “This was such a good idea, Lennon.”
“Thanks.” I returned her smile, sliding into one of the open chairs and picking up a menu. “I thought sushi would be a good choice since there are vegan options, and I know we all like it.”
Paige laughed, reaching for her glass of wine. “I meant it was a good idea for us all to get dinner, but the sushi was a good call too.”
I blushed, a little embarrassed that I had misunderstood her statement. The waitress came by and took our drink orders, and we spent the next couple of minutes debating what to order. After our wine was delivered and we had placed our orders, I decided it was time to get down to business.
I took a gulp of wine for courage and cleared my throat. “So, I actually invited you guys to dinner because I need help.”
Paige’s and Janie’s smiles instantly dropped. Both women set their glasses down and gave me their full attention.
“What’s going on, Lennon?” Janie’s voice was filled with concern.
“Well, you know I’m not the best with… people. And I’m having a problem with one. A person, I mean.” I sighed, frustrated with myself for not being able to articulate the Sebastian situation. “Sebastian showed up at Spout last night, and he sat at my table.”
“Whoa, plot twist.” Janie’s eyebrows shot up. “What was he doing there?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. He asked me a couple questions and I got nervous. I kind of just grabbed my stuff and ran out. I may also have yelled goodbye at him. Loudly.”
Paige visibly cringed. “God, Lennon, I’m so sorry. I keep trying to help, but I just make everything worse. I told him to look for you at Spout. It was just a guess, but it wasn’t a yoga night and you weren’t home, so I figured there was a pretty good chance you were there. He told me he wanted to apologize for being such a jerk. I thought it would be better if I didn’t warn you he might show up; that way you wouldn’t have time to worry about it or leave. Do you hate me?”
I reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “Of course I don’t hate you! I actually thought you probably told him where to find me. He wanted to apologize?”
“He did,” Paige confirmed, nodding her head. “He showed up at one of my yoga classes, and I was about to smack him with a rolled-up mat until he explained why he was there. He seemed really sorry, so I told him where to look for you. You deserved an apology from him, too.”
“I guess we can cancel Operation Ride or Die,” Janie grumbled, taking a drink of her wine.
“Operation Ride or Die?” Paige asked.
“Don’t ask,” I warned her. “But also, it would probably be a good idea not to make Janie mad. Thank you for clearing this up for me, Paige. I couldn’t stop thinking about him. Now I can text him back and let him know it’s fine.”
Janie and Paige both stared. Paige opened and closed her mouth a couple of times like she wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.
“I don’t know where to start with all that,” she finally managed.
“I do!” Janie exclaimed. “What do you mean, text him back? Have you two been texting?”
I shook my head. “No, he’s been texting me.”
I reached into my purse and pulled out my phone. I pulled up the text thread—which now read Sebastian instead of Unknown—and handed my phone to Janie. She scrolled through the unanswered messages before passing my phone to Paige.
“Why didn’t you answer him back? And who is Ozymandias?” Paige asked, sliding the phone back to me.
“I didn’t understand why he was being nice to me all of a sudden. I wasn’t sure how to respond.” I shrugged. “I thought it would be a good idea to get your opinions before I did anything. Now I can text him back and stop thinking about him.”
I tapped out a reply and hit ‘send,’ confident this text would be the end of the entire situation. No more talking to Sebastian. No more internet-stalking Sebastian. No more thinking about Sebastian. No more wondering what Sebastian looked like without a shirt. I nodded my head and took another big drink of wine, suddenly a little less confident in my plan.
Janie grabbed my phone, pulled up the text I had just sent, and read it out loud.
“Hello Sebastian. Paige said you wanted to apologize for Saturday when you came to Spout last night. Obviously, I left before you had the chance to get around to the apology part. I just wanted to let you know that you don’t have to feel bad. If you are feeling bad, that is, which I suppose is a prerequisite for a genuine apology. Anyway, apology accepted. You don’t need to worry about talking to me anymore. Ozymandias is a critical examination of superheroes. Kind of like Thanos in the new Marvel movies. I hope you enjoy The Watchmen. You can return my copy to Paige when you’re done with it. Good luck with your soccer!”
“Good luck with your soccer?” Janie repea
ted, and then again louder. “Good luck with your soccer?”
Paige covered her face with her hands and groaned, then huffed out a breath. “Okay, well, that was… it was… gosh. What was it?”
“Was it bad? I don’t understand. I accepted his apology so he doesn’t have to feel guilty anymore. I answered his question, and I wished him luck with his career. I even used an exclamation point to clearly indicate enthusiasm, because it’s difficult to properly communicate tone through text. Those are all good things,” I pointed out defensively.
Our waitress interrupted. “Can I get you ladies another drink while you’re waiting? Your entrees should be out in a little bit.”
We all ordered another glass of wine. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one who felt like she needed reinforcements for the rest of this conversation.
Paige turned her attention back to me. “Okay, so, technically that response was fine. You covered all the topics. It just sounded maybe a little… final? Like you were foreclosing the idea of friendship?”
“Exactly!” Paige chimed in. “I think he might have been trying to be friends with you. It seems like he went out of his way to get those comic books and talk to you about them.”
I scrunched up my nose in thought. “No, I don’t think that can be right. He was just feeling guilty. Apologizing makes the most sense.”
“Being friends with you also makes sense,” Paige insisted, leaning back to allow the waitress to place her drink on the table. “Thank you.”
“Why would he want to be friends with me?” I asked, genuinely confused by the idea. “We don’t have anything in common. He’s an international soccer star, ‘soccer’s bad boy on and off the field.’ I’m a nerd with poor social skills who falls up the stairs at least twice a week.” I took a gulp of wine, ignoring the voice warning me to pace myself. I cringed a little as the alcohol burned a path down my throat.
Janie nodded her head. “It’s true. You went down like the Titanic the other day. That being said, there’s nothing wrong with being a nerd, thank you very much.”
