Pink Shades of Words: Walk 2016 (29 page)

Oh, God. There was that warm, confident grin again. The one that made me feel like we were in on a secret together. The one that made me weak in the knees and tingly in places slightly north of there.

"Now, wait just one minute, Miche. Are you trying to tell me that you don't need those glasses? They're just for show?"

"They're an aesthetic choice," I defended, trying to sound unaffected even if it was the furthest thing from the truth.

"So, did they come prepackaged with some vintage tees, Doc Martens, and a selection of beanies in your hipster starter kit? Or were they a one-off purchase?"

"Hey! I'm not a hipster." My voice lacked the conviction I had planned to make that declaration with.

"Oh, really?" he said in his lazy, seductive drawl. "Because, last week, you wore a T-shirt that said 'The things you like, I liked five years ago.' Now, if that's not the very definition of a hipster, I don't know what is."

I smiled. It was nowhere near the full-wattage grin Sebastian regularly lit up the room—and my libido—with, but it was a start. I paused for a moment to absorb the sheer awesomeness of the fact that he noticed what I wore and remembered it.

"Touché,” I said. “I don't really consider myself a hipster, but I concede the point. I do know a joke about hipsters though. Want to hear it?"

He dramatically slapped his palm against his chest as if the shock were giving him a heart attack. "A joke? From
you
, my serious girl? Abso-freaking-lutely. I have to hear this joke. Go for it."

My smile stretched wider. "How many hipsters does it take to screw in a light bulb?"

"How many?"

I leaned back and shrugged, adopting an air of blasé indifference to perform the last line. "Oh, it's, like, this really obscure number. I'm sure you've never heard of it."

Sebastian threw his head back and laughed from deep in his belly. He looked at me and shook his head, his eyes still shining with amusement, as his laughter died down. He took my hand and smiled, looking into my eyes as if he could see right down into the depths of me and liked what he found there.

Warmth and satisfaction spread through me—things I hadn't felt in such a long time that it took me a minute to place the unfamiliar emotions. When I recognized them, I sighed with contentment. What I was feeling was
acceptance
, and it was incredible. I hadn't even understood how deeply my soul had missed it until it flooded through me, making me dizzy and drunk with its sweet intoxication.

Part of me wanted to stay there, bask in the glow of Sebastian's honeyed laugh and shining eyes forever, and savor the way he looked at me like I was a precious treasure. Like I was important. But another part of me simply couldn't handle that. It was too close. Too intimate. Too tempting in its invitation to lower my walls and trust another person, to believe they could see me for who I truly was and value that. That sharp and jagged corner of my soul, though small, was strong and hard to crack. And, in this case, like it had so many times before, it won out.

I opened the truck door and jumped out, slamming it behind me. Then I scurried up the walk as fast as I could. "We'd better go in," I called behind me without even looking back.

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HAPTER SIX

Sebastian

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I
hopped out of the pickup, grabbed the grocery bags from the backseat, and hurried after Michelle. I was stoked with how this was going. A couple of hours ago, I had been getting nowhere with her. Now, I was making her laugh and meeting her family. Sure, it wasn't like that was entirely due to me and my suave debonairness—a broken-down car was in the mix. But what of it? By my way of thinking, that just meant fate was on my side.

Now, my one and only job was to not fuck it up.

We climbed the porch steps, and Michelle raised her hand to knock on the door. Before she could make contact, however, it was violently flung open. Standing on the other side was a woman holding a tumbler full of amber liquid in one hand and a burning cigarette with a long and precariously trembling ash trail at the end of it.

She was in her sixties or seventies, as far as I could tell—but it was difficult to judge because of the heavy layer of makeup covering her face. Her lips were a bright orangey-pink color, and her eyelids were solid blue all the way up to her eyebrows. Her hair, piled high on top of her head, was stiff from all the hairspray holding it firmly in place.

She was wearing a housecoat of brilliant blue to match her eye shadow, and her feet were covered with fuzzy black slippers. When she spoke, her voice was low and whiskey-soaked with a thick East Coast accent.

"There you are! I was starting to think you got eaten by a bear in this godforsaken wilderness. Come in, come in." Michelle's grandmother gestured wildly as she spoke, and I was amazed that the liquid stayed in the glass and the ash didn’t fall off the end of her cigarette. It was mesmerizing to watch.

"Hello, ma'am," I interjected.

She turned, noticing me for the first time. She looked me up and down for a long moment and then nodded decisively, apparently approving of what she saw. "Right. I get it," she said in a wicked tone, swiveling back to face Michelle. "That's why you're late. You're finally having a little fun. Well, good for you, kid. You deserve it." She gave Michelle an affectionate pat on the cheek with the cigarette hand as we walked past her and into the house.

"Grandma!" Michelle sounded scandalized. "Nothing's going on. Sebastian just gave me a ride."

Her grandmother chortled dryly. "I think that's pretty much what I just said."

Michelle's cheeks flamed, and I didn't think I'd ever seen her so embarrassed and uncomfortable. I should have felt bad for her, but I couldn't help it. It was cute as hell, and I loved it.

I set the bags on the counter and extended my hand to her. "Sebastian Winters, ma'am. I sure am pleased to meet you."

Michelle, her face still as bright red as a harvest sunset, said, "Sebastian, this is my grandma, Trudy. Grandma Trudy, Sebastian. He's a friend from class."

Nice. I'd been upgraded to friend! Tonight was turning out to be made of win.

Grandma Trudy set her drink next to the grocery bags and then snuffed out her cigarette in the olive-green, glass ashtray next to the cabinets. She grasped my outstretched hand. "Pleased to meet you, doll. You can call me Grandma Trudy if you like. You be good to my girl, now."

I said, "That's the plan, ma'am," at the same time that Michelle was exclaiming, "Grandma! It's not like that!"

While Trudy laughed, I got the distinct impression that she liked pushing Michelle out of her comfort zone and watching her squirm. I suspected she thought it was just as cute as I did.

Michelle, her voice firm and frustrated, said, "Grandma, seriously. The Chevette wouldn't start. Again. Sebastian saw me in the parking lot, trying futilely to whip its ass into shape, and offered to give me a ride to the grocery store and then here. That's it. I swear."

Her grandmother didn't miss a beat. "Well, what a nice young man. You could do worse, Michelle. And you have." She cackled again in her dry, rattling way.

Michelle closed her eyes and shook her head.

As for me, I couldn't do anything but grin. Grandma Trudy had done more to lay my cards on the table in the last three minutes alone than I'd managed to do over the course of the entire semester. I gave the swell old broad props.

"Come on," Grandma Trudy said. "Let me fix you two kids some dinner."

"Oh, God, no!" Michelle exclaimed in horror, imagining, I was sure, all the ways her grandma could think of to embarrass her if given a full and uninterrupted hour. Then, her face flushing as the harsh words hung in the air, she softened. "I mean...we really need to get back to campus. Like...
really
. But I'll be back on Saturday morning to help with chores. I promise."

"I'm gonna hold you to that, doll. Now, run along. You and your young man go have fun."

Michelle looked like she wanted to die. I, on the other hand, was on top of the world.

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HAPTER SEVEN

Michelle

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"O
kay, girl," Brandy said, taking the book I was holding out of my hands and setting it aside. "You've scanned that book three times now. I think it's safe to say it's well and truly checked in."

I rubbed my fingertips against my temples in a vain attempt to clear my head. "Sorry, Bran. I'm in a fog, I guess."

She winked slyly. "A fog named Sebastian, I'm guessing?"

"Oh, God!" I dropped into one of the creaky, cast-aside office chairs that had been relegated to the back room of the library where the check-ins were processed and categorized for reshelving. I buried my face in my hands.

Brandy sat in the similarly broken-down chair opposite me and eagerly rubbed her palms together. "Wow. If this story requires all of those dramatics, I certainly can't wait to hear it."

I smiled ruefully at her. "No. It's nothing like that. I'm just frustrated. Mostly with myself. Oh, and confused. Don't forget confused."

"I would never," she laughed. "So, what's so frustrating? What's so confusing?"

I took a deep breath. As much as Sebastian had been on my mind, thoughts of him swirling around my brain with dizzying speed, I had yet to try to distill my feelings into words.

"It's just that...he's so...perfect."

"Oh, yeah," Brandy deadpanned. "I can see how that would be a real problem."

"Well, smartass, it is. Or, at least, my reaction to it is. Because everything he's said, everything he's done, has been one hundred percent the stuff of fantasies. Like, I couldn't even dream up a better guy than him."

"Don't forget what he looks like. I could construct a couple of fantasies based on those abs."

"Or those baby blues," I agreed. "I know! He's hot, he's sweet, he's funny, he's..."

"Perfect," Brandy filled in.

"Exactly. I mean, hell. I've read thousands of books in my life. I've probably read every novel on these library shelves. Some of them more than once. And, in every one where the guy was even half as fan-freaking-tastic as Sebastian is, I was mentally screaming at the girl through the whole thing. 'Wise up, bitch! Can't you see what you're missing out on?' But, when it comes to me, I can't seem to relax and trust it. To trust him. What the hell is wrong with me?"

"Well, maybe nothing is. Let's try to figure this thing out," she said pragmatically.

I was grateful. Her no-nonsense, efficient approach to things made her a fantastic coworker and an even better friend.

"So, what's happened in the last couple of days that's made you feel so much more strongly about all of this and about him?"

I gave her a quick rundown of the broken-down-car rescue operation, the grocery shopping, and how wonderfully easy and charming he had been with my grandma, even when she had been saying things that should have, by all rights, embarrassed the shit out of him.

"Wow. That is kind of 'hero material' stuff," she said.

"Oh, and that's not even all!" I continued. "After I hustled him out of there and he took me back to campus, he looked under my hood—"

"Ooooooh la la," Brandy singsonged.

I laughed. "Not like that, perv. I'm talking about my car."

"Well, that's not quite as fun. But very impressive. And it definitely adds to the dreamboat-hero column," she conceded.

"Yeah. He figured out that it was just a dead battery. I must have left my lights on the last time I parked. So he gave me a jump—"

"Rawr," she growled in a low, seductive voice.

"Ohmigod, seriously, stop," I laughed. "He gave my
car
a jump from his truck's battery. And then he rode around with me while I drove it for half an hour to get the battery all juiced up and started it a few times when we got back to make sure it worked."

"Seriously, Michelle? That's amazing. He's obviously a stand-up guy. And you're clearly head-over-heels attracted to him. So, why aren't you, like, ready to marry him?"

"Yeah...I know. That's the problem right there. I have no fricking idea what's holding me back. It's nothing to do with him, and it's nothing to do with my feelings for him. It's something to do with me. And I don't know what that is."

"You know what we need?"

”I wish I did. But, nope.”

"More brains trying to solve the problem. You're coming to ATB on Sunday night, right?"

I nodded. "ATB" was short for "Around the Bend," the nickname we had given the study group that consisted of me, Brandy, Sandy, and their roommates Evelyn and Cat. Well, it had started out as a study group, at any rate, and we still called it that to make ourselves feel more productive. But, early on, it had evolved into a regularly scheduled "hang and gossip" sesh, and I loved it.

"I'll be there."

"Well, maybe the girls will be able to succeed where we've failed. Maybe they can help unsnarl this problem."

I breathed a sigh of relief, the slightest ray of hope breaking through the fog in my brain. "I hope so. I feel like, by not being able to relax and accept what's happening with Sebastian, there's a possibility that I'm missing out on something really great. Like, maybe the greatest thing that will ever happen to me. But I just can't make myself do it. My subconscious is holding something back and I don't know why. So, if the girls can help me whip my brain into shape in time to not lose out on the best guy I've ever met—or even read about, for that matter—that would be freaking amazing."

Brandy slipped her arm around my shoulder. "Absolutely! Don't give up hope. All's not lost, babe. Never underestimate the problem-solving power of a group of motivated girls with an unlimited supply of snacks and wine coolers."

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HAPTER EIGHT

Michelle

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I
pulled up to Grandma Trudy's house on Saturday morning, my mind still buzzing with thoughts of Sebastian. I wondered if he thought about me a fraction of as much as I thought about him, and I was surprised at the powerful ache that blossomed in my chest. It was melancholy hope, the combination of desire for it to be true that he was as wrapped up in me as I was in him—and the simultaneous doubt that it could possibly
be
true.