up. It gives Reyn the opportunity to knock the orange ball out of his hands, but then he stops in his tracks, eyes fixed on the driveway. I turn to see what he’s looking at and notice a sleek silver car idling behind Emory’s big truck.
“The fuck is that?” Reyn says, no longer interested in the game. His eyes are glued to the car. “Is that a 911? If that bullshit HOA is on my nuts again, so fucking help me…”
But when the driver’s side door opens, the first thing I see is that trademark blond hair. Bass steps into the light, and he’s almost unrecognizable. He’s wearing a dark gray V-neck sweater with a white collared shirt underneath. My eyes travel down to the well-fitted dark jeans and brown lace-up shoes. It’s all topped off with a black wool coat.
“Damn,” Vandy mutters, voicing exactly what’s lodged in the back of my throat. Prep school Sebastian is pretty. Greasy, unkempt, race car-driving Sebastian is undeniably hot. But this? Date Sebastian? He’s so handsome it fucking hurts.
Micha is going to die.
“Man, where did you get that car?” Emory asks, as both boys approach him—well, approach his car. Sebastian lets them pass, eyes zeroed in on me. Despite the cold, I feel hot, prickly, overwhelmed. He strolls up, gaze raking over me. “Hey V,” he says without looking at her.
“Bass,” she says, sounding a little flustered herself. “I’ve never seen you looking so…”
“Appropriate?”
She gives a wry chuckle. “Sure, we can go with that.”
“You ready?” he asks, bending to pick up my bag for me. “I’m afraid if we wait any longer, McAllister’s drool is going to fuck with the paint on the car.”
He holds out his hand and I take it, glancing over at Vandy once more. “Thanks, again.”
She nods and mouths, “Call me later.”
Bass walks me to the car and opens the door for me. Once I’m inside, he crosses the front of the car, says something to the guys, and bumps their fists. I don’t miss something passing from Sebastian’s hand to Emory’s. Whatever it is, Emory gives a salute and they wander back down the driveway.
When we’re both inside, I ask, “What’s with the car? Where’s the Shelby?”
Sebastian’s jaw moves as he smacks on a piece of gum. “I ran home to get a change of clothes for tonight and figured my other car would be more suitable for the occasion. You know, less noise, a little more comfortable.”
I run my hand down the soft leather. “It’s gorgeous.”
“Nah,” he replies, reaching out to run a warm hand down my thigh, “you’re gorgeous. Fuck, Sugar, how the hell am I going to make it through dinner when you’re going to be sitting next to me like that?”
I breathe through the spike of anxiety that ebbs at his touch, but it’s a brief, mild thing. I don’t tell him, because his ego is already the size of the moon, but the feeling is entirely mutual. “Guess this night is going to be a challenge for both of us.”
“You have no idea,” he replies, pressing a button to start the ignition.
I look over at him in his nice, crisp clothes, hair flawless, jaw clean-shaven, and can’t help but ask, “Hey, could you do me a favor?”
He cocks an eyebrow. “In case I haven’t made it clear, I am completely down with favors.” His smirk is pure obnoxiousness. “Sexual or otherwise.”
Ah, there he is.
I roll my eyes, even though I’m fighting my own grin. “Just stay still for a second.” I twist in the seat to root around in my bag in the back, pulling my chain from the pocket. The thought if it sitting in this car—so far away from me all night—makes my stomach churn in the worst way. Sebastian does as he’s asked, remaining perfectly still as I lower it over his head, even if his eyes drop to watch it fall against his sweater. There’s a question in his eyes that he doesn’t voice. I answer anyway. “I can’t wear it with this fancy get-up. Just… keep it safe?”
He blinks in surprise. “Yeah, I can do that.” Giving me a pointed look, he even lifts it, tucking it securely into his sweater. It’s not the same as it being against my own chest—it’s not the same as always knowing it’s there—but it’s almost as good.
Sebastian protects what’s important.
21
Sebastian
I chose to drive the Porsche on a whim, snagging the keys out of the drawer by the garage on the way