2. Sebastian

2

SEBASTIAN

"Could you at least look like you're happy to be here?" Hannah gave me her best puppy eyes.

"Nice try, kiddo." I toasted my sister with my drink. "Those don't work on me anymore."

She swiped the cup out of my hand and downed a few swallows of the mediocre lemonade-like cocktail I'd been sipping.

"It's so weird seeing you drink. You're a baby."

She finished guzzling my drink and pinned me with a look. "I'm legal. Not a baby anymore."

"You'll always be a little kid to me." I grabbed my empty cup back. "You too," I said as Adam came to stand with us.

"Me too what?" He looked between us.

"I was just telling my sister that I'll always see you two as little kids. Doesn't matter if you're legal or not. It's weird to see you drink."

Adam smirked. "Jesse always freaks out when I have a drink in front of him too."

The mention of Adam's older brother soured my temporary good mood.

"Sebastian!" a booming voice called. "How are you doing, son?"

I pasted on my "fake it til you make it" smile as a familiar man ambled toward us. "Doing well, Mr. Dawson. How have you been?"

"Good. That's good. Hello, Hannah." He nodded to her.

"Hi, Mr. Dawson," Hannah said in her customer service voice. She wasn't a fan of his either.

"How are you finding things now that you're back?" Mr. Dawson asked me.

"Things are good." I made sure to keep my smile and voice neutral. Wallace Dawson was one of my father's oldest friends and a giant gossip. I'd spent the better part of my youth dodging him and his equally nosy wife. The less I said around him, the easier my life was.

"That's good." He rocked on his feet like he was trying to appear breezy and carefree, but his piercing look made it clear this was a fact-finding mission. "Your father told us you're taking a bit of a break now that you're not chasing the spotlight. Any idea of what you want to do when you're ready to get back to the real world?"

I forced another smile. "My father was mistaken. I'm not taking a break."

His forehead wrinkled in confusion.

"I work at a tattoo shop." I stuck my hands in my pockets because I knew it would piss him off.

He grimaced, or maybe it was supposed to be a smile. I couldn't be sure. Either way, it was similar to the face babies made the first time they tried lemon. "Of course, of course. But what are you going to do when you're ready to start your career?" He flicked his gaze to Hannah. "Are you reconsidering your father's offer?"

I shook my head. "I'm happy where I am."

He folded his lips into a tight line, obviously unhappy with my vague answers. "Well, it was good to see you again. I've got some people to talk to."

"Enjoy the party."

"I'm sticking with you," Adam said when he was gone.

"Why's that?" I asked.

"Because everyone is so curious about you, they forget to grill us about our five-year plans or when we're getting engaged."

I glanced between them. Hannah and Adam had been together since they were sixteen, but they'd been friends since kindergarten. They'd been fielding questions about their future marriage plans for years. I didn't blame them for being over it.

"So you're our deflector shield today," Adam finished with a grin.

"Why is everyone so old?" I asked, looking around the yard. "I only recognize a handful of people, but no one here looks like they're from your guest list."

Hannah laughed. "Guest list? You've been gone for too long, big brother. None of this is for us." She swept her hand in front of her. "It's just another excuse for a summer garden party."

"Good to know they haven't changed."

Our parents loved to entertain, and they were known for their lavish parties. Unfortunately for Hannah and me, that meant the milestones in our lives had been overshadowed by our parents' pathological need to show off.

Every birthday party, graduation, or accomplishment had been celebrated with a lavish affair neither of us wanted or asked for.

Adam's eyes lit up as he focused on something behind me.

Instinctively, I glanced over my shoulder. My gaze landed on Jesse, Adam's older brother, as he strode toward us with all the confidence of a king.

I raked my eyes over him, checking him out.

Of course he was even hotter than the last time I'd seen him two years ago. He still had broad shoulders and a wide chest that tapered into a slender waist and thick thighs. His artfully messy, dark blond hair gleamed in the sunlight, and his dress pants and short-sleeved shirt fit him like a glove.

Jesse had always been hot and had never gone through that awkward teenage stage the rest of us mere mortals did.

While I'd bumbled my way through puberty like every other guy in our class, he'd gone from gangly teen to cover model seemingly overnight.

Between his classic good looks, his natural athleticism, and his ability to make friends with everyone, Jesse had always been one of those guys who didn't have to work for anything. People adored him, and he knew how to use that to his advantage.

The pang of dislike that hit me wasn't unexpected, but it was stronger than I'd anticipated.

Two years wasn't enough to erase the animosity between us, and the way his smirk faltered when he came to stand with us told me he still felt it too.

"You're late," Adam announced.

"I got here as soon as I could." Jesse handed the bag he was carrying to his brother. "Why did you need these? You look fine."

Adam extended the bag to me. "They're not for me."

I looked at the bag, my expression probably the same as it would be if someone offered me a sack of dog shit. "What's in it?"

"A tie and dress shoes." Adam wiggled the bag at me.

"I'm good, thanks."

The black, long-sleeved shirt I had on wasn't the most practical choice for an outdoor party in June, but it covered my tattoos and saved me from being stared at like I was a circus performer, so I'd gone with it.

I'd also skipped a tie and finished the outfit off with a pair of black Converse because I knew it would piss my parents off.

"Just put them on." Hannah made begging hands at me. "Please."

"Put what on?" I took the bag. As much as I pretended my sister didn't have me wrapped around her little finger, she did, and she knew it. I peeked into it to find a pair of dress shoes and an ice-blue tie with little swirls of silver embroidered on it. "Yeah, I'm good. These aren't my style." I tried to give them to Hannah.

"Pretty please." She gave me the puppy eyes again. "I'm too stressed out to deal with Mom's passive-aggressive crap right now. Do you have any idea how many times she's bitched about what you're wearing to me? My blood pressure is spiking again just thinking about it."

"Fine." I pulled out the tie and put the bag on the ground so I could put it on. "But only because you asked."

"Thank you." She beamed a big smile at me.

"What size are your feet?" Jesse asked as I flipped up the collar of my black dress shirt. "We wouldn't want them to look like clown shoes if they're too big."

I shot him some side-eye. "I wear an eleven."

"Really?" Jesse pulled off his aviator sunglasses and glanced down at my feet. "They look so tiny." He met my eyes with a smirk-smile that set my nerves on edge, and not in a good way.

"Not everyone can be blessed with platypus feet," I said, keeping my tone light and playful as I finished knotting the tie.

"Platypus feet? That's an oddly specific reference." Jesse slipped his sunglasses back on.

Some of the tension in my shoulders melted away. I'd forgotten how magnetic his eyes were and how intense his stare could be.

I much preferred looking at him when he had his sunglasses on.

"Too specific for you? How about not everyone has duck feet?"

"Did you know that platypuses, or is it platypusi?" Adam's eyes rounded as Hannah and I snickered. "I really hope that's not the plural of platypus, but anyway, did you know they have a spike on their back legs they use to stab predators and inject them with venom?"

"Venom?" Jesse asked. "Platypuses are venomous?"

"Apparently." Adam nodded. "I saw a video about it the other day on TikTok and went on a deep dive. Nature is crazy."

I kicked off one of my sneakers and shoved my foot into a dress shoe. It was a bit loose, but they'd do.

"I have no idea what happened." Hannah looked between us with a grin. "One minute we're talking about shoes, and the next we're learning that platypuses are venomous." She fixed her gaze on something over my shoulder, her smile falling. "Ugh."

"What?" I started to turn around.

"Don't look!" she hissed. "It's Aunt Meredith."

I winced and spun right back around. Our mother's older sister was my least favorite relative, and that said a lot. Nothing Hannah or I did was ever good enough, and she had no concept of boundaries.

The last family event I'd attended was our father's fiftieth birthday, and I'd stayed for less than an hour because Aunt Meredith had cornered me and spent twenty minutes berating me for ruining my family's plans and not taking over the family business like I was supposed to.

"I'll intercept her," Hannah said, pasting a fake smile on her face and waving exaggeratedly. "Please don't leave." She shot me a pleading look.

"I won't," I assured her as she hurried past me to run interference, the same as she had since we were kids.

Hannah got her share of lectures, but those were mostly about her wanting an education and planning a career instead of locking a suitable man down and starting a family.

Wait until she found out Hannah didn't want kids.

"I'll be right back." Adam patted Jesse on the shoulder and strode away.

Jesse glanced after his brother, then at me, his face blank under his sunglasses.

"So," he started awkwardly. "How have you been?"

"Are we really going to do the small talk thing?" Using my foot, I pushed the bag with my shoes in it under a nearby table so they were out of the way.

"You'd rather stand in silence?"

"Is that really worse than pointless small talk?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Whatever."

"Whatever?" I smirked. "Are we twelve?"

He crossed his arms, the material of his shirt pulling tight over his biceps and chest.

I'd always had a thing for bigger, confident guys, and Jesse was exactly my type with his powerful body and cocky attitude that made me want to wipe those stupid smirks off his face with my fist.

And it wasn't like I was specifically attracted to assholes. Confidence was hot. Arrogance was an instant turnoff.

Except when it came to Jesse.

He'd been confusing the hell out of my dick since we were teenagers, even before I'd realized I was bi.

Thank fuck I was wearing sunglasses. The last thing I needed was for him to catch me checking him out, especially since no one in town knew I was into men.

"If we were twelve, then you'd be a foot shorter and seventy pounds lighter." He smirked.

The reminder that I'd been a late bloomer and hadn't caught up to him until high school didn't sting as much now as it did when we were kids.

Jesse would always be more muscular and taller than me. He'd been the star shortstop on our high school baseball team, and he'd obviously kept his athletic habits because he was even bigger now than when we graduated.

I wasn't small by any standard, but I was about an inch shorter than him and probably twenty pounds lighter. It didn't matter what I did or what I ate; I couldn't bulk up and had been around the same weight for most of my adult life.

That used to bother the hell out of me. Not so much anymore.

"Resorting to ad hominem attacks?" I asked, keeping my tone light.

"Nope, just stating facts." He shot me a tight-lipped smile. "Not my fault you took them as an attack."

"You always have to have the last word," I said before I could stop myself.

Jesse was the only person who could crack through my ironclad control and make me lose my shit. Well, him and Aunt Meredith.

"Not always." Another crooked grin.

An uneasy feeling settled over me. I tore my gaze from Jesse's stupidly handsome face and looked to my left.

"Fuck," I muttered.

My mother and Aunt Meredith were headed toward us, with Hannah trailing behind them like she was on her way to her own execution.

The urge to run hit, but I stood my ground. I'd known I'd have to talk to them eventually when I'd shown up. I just wished it wasn't in front of Jesse.

"Sebastian," Aunt Meredith said, giving me an appraising look. It always amazed me how someone almost a foot shorter than me could literally look down their nose at me, but my mother and aunt had that talent. "I'm surprised you're here."

"It's nice to see you again, Aunt Meredith." I smiled politely. "Mom."

"Sebastian." Mom leaned in so I could air kiss her cheeks. "So glad you could find time in your busy schedule to support your sister. And see your parents."

"Great party." I didn't take her bait. I wasn't about to start a fight with either of them. "I love the rustic theme."

Hannah folded her lips like she was hiding a smile. To our mother, rustic was the same as cheap.

"What?" I asked, feigning innocence at Mom's sour expression. "I've heard it's all the rage right now. Live, laugh, love, and all that."

Hannah's face went a little red as she stifled her laugh.

Mom's look said she wasn't amused.

"Still the same Sebastian as always. Everything is a joke to you, isn't it?" Aunt Meredith pinned me with a look. Too bad for her that shit didn't work on me anymore. I'd grown up a lot in the six years I'd gone low-contact with my family.

I didn't answer. Arguing with her would just prolong things.

"You're twenty-five, Sebastian," she continued. "And what do you have to show for it? Nothing. Your parents sacrificed everything for you. They worked themselves to the bone to give you the kind of opportunities most people would kill for. And you've repaid them by spending the last six years doing drugs and having sex with every groupie who throws herself at you."

"Is that what you think I was doing?" I asked conversationally. Two years ago, she would have been able to goad me into an argument with those remarks, but not anymore.

Getting angry would only make me look like the bad guy. I was done playing into their head games.

"What else would you have been doing?" She looked between me and Mom. "You have no idea what your behavior, your choices , have done to your parents. To the whole family."

Jesse lifted his hand, saving me from having to answer. Moments later, a server came up to us, their tray filled with cups of that god-awful lemonade cocktail.

Suspicion filled me as Jesse took a cup from the tray and tipped his face toward mine. "Need a refill?" he asked.

"Yeah." I swapped my empty cup for a fresh one. Why was Jesse giving me a break? Or was he just thirsty and his timing was a coincidence?

"Your father and I need to speak to you after the party." Mom shifted her attention to Hannah. "Come on. You need to say hello to the McCarthys."

Hannah shot me an exasperated look and hurried after her and Aunt Meredith.

"Why not red?" Jesse sipped his lemonade, his face angled away from me.

"Huh?" I was having a bit of trouble switching gears and following the shift in conversation and his attitude.

"Why not a red tie?" He didn't look at me, but his tone was conversational.

"A red tie?"

"Adam told me to bring any color but red." He tipped his face toward mine, but with his sunglasses on, it was impossible to tell if he was actually looking at me. "Why not red?"

"Because red is a hostile color."

"A hostile color?" He sipped his drink.

My gaze fell to his Adam's apple as he swallowed.

"Yeah." I tore my gaze from his throat. "Red, orange, and bright yellow are hostile colors. Blues, greens, and soft yellows are welcoming."

"You say that like it's a thing." Jesse turned to face me, one corner of his mouth curling up. "You sure you haven't been hitting the sauce?"

"Not with the swill my parents are serving." I swirled the contents of my cup. "It's a bit pedestrian for me. I'm glad you like it." I shot him a fake smile.

He rolled his eyes. How I could tell with his sunglasses obscuring half his face, I had no idea, but I could. "Right, because your tastes are so mature. Weren't you the one who used to mix bourbon and orange juice?"

"Weren't you the guy who used to crush beer cans on his forehead?" I asked innocently.

"That was one time." His tone was cold.

"More times than I've done it." I sipped my drink. "But back to your colors question."

"My what?" Jesse asked.

"Your question about hostile colors. Those are my mother's guidelines."

Why the fuck was I continuing this conversation? Silence was better than whatever the hell we were doing.

"Didn't you wear a red shirt to your dad's fiftieth?" he asked.

I cracked a smile. "Yup. Figured I might as well make the night memorable for her and Dad."

"Your dad cares what color shirt you wear?"

"No, but he has to listen to my mother bitch about it, so it's a gift for both of them."

"I aspire to be that level of petty." He toasted me with his cup, but his tone was mocking. "Too bad I matured past sixteen."

"Oh, you sweet summer child," I said patronizingly. "You think adults aren't petty?"

"Real ones aren't."

"They aren't?"

"No."

"And what are real adults, if not petty?" Did that even make sense?

I was already losing the thread of our conversation, and most of what I'd said had been reactionary, like how I used to argue with Hannah and just say the first thing that came to mind that would piss her off.

Jesse was the only other person who could make me lose control like that. And I had no fucking clue why.

"Petty is a pointless emotion." He shot me a lazy grin, obviously following the conversation. "What separates a kid from an adult is their ability to reframe pointless emotions into purposeful ones."

"That sounds like something a therapist would say."

"It was."

"I don't buy into that toxic positivity shit." I dumped the contents of my cup out and put it on the closest table. Whoever mixed it went a little crazy with the sugar, and it was way too sweet for my tastes.

"Toxic positivity?" Jesse put his cup next to mine, some of the liquid sloshing over the edge.

"Yeah. That ‘everything is awesome' and ‘love yourself no matter what' crap."

"That has nothing to do with what I just said."

"It's literally the same thing."

"How?" he asked.

"You said adults don't feel negative emotions. That they reframe them and turn them into something positive."

"I didn't say positive. I said purposeful."

"Same thing."

"No, it isn't."

"Isn't it?" I shot back.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because it's…"

"What?"

"You're trying to distract me." His tone was accusing. "You're the one who said positive is the same as purposeful. It's on you to prove it."

"Negative emotions can be purposeful. They just can't be positive."

"What?" Jesse shook his head slightly like he was trying to clear the cobwebs. "Are you being obtuse on purpose?"

"Just pointing out the semantic flaw in your assessment." I smirked at his confused expression.

"Now you're just throwing words out to try and confuse me."

"It's okay if you don't understand." I went to pat him on the shoulder but pulled back before I'd lifted my hand more than a few inches. What the fuck? We weren't casual touch people. I couldn't remember the last time we had any sort of physical contact. "Words are hard."

His ire was obvious, even with his sunglasses obscuring his eyes. "This is why no one likes you."

"What is?" I asked lightly, even as my gut churned with something uncomfortable. It wasn't a secret that I'd never been one to have a lot—or any—friends, but the reminder from Jesse, who'd always been surrounded by admirers, cut deep.

"You can't just have a normal conversation with people. It's like you go out of your way to be an asshole."

"Only to you, sweetheart."

"Did you forget I've known you since we were eight? You've always been like this."

I shrugged. He wasn't wrong. I was an asshole, but not this kind. I wasn't the type to snipe or argue over stupid shit. I was more the resting bitch face, stay-the-fuck-away-from-me type. "All I meant was that not all negative emotions are bad."

"How do you figure?" he asked, picking up our conversation.

"Sometimes they can be helpful. Anger can motivate you. So can pettiness."

"What about sadness? How is that positive?"

"It stops you from being angry." I shrugged. "It sucks, but sometimes you just have to feel what you're feeling. If that's sadness, then be sad. It's the only way to process and actually deal with the problem and not just cover it up."

"Now who's quoting their therapist?"

"You don't agree?"

"I think sadness is a slippery slope, and it's easy to get trapped there."

"Better to be trapped in sadness and deal with it than be trapped in real life."

"You'd know all about that, wouldn't you?" he asked innocently. "Being trapped in real life."

"You think I'm trapped?" I spluttered. "I'm the one who got out of here, remember?"

"Maybe, but you're also the one who came back." He tossed me a smug smile that made my blood boil. "Which is worse, not leaving and being okay with that? Or leaving and having to come back and admit defeat?"

I drew in a shaky breath. I refused to punch him in his stupid face in the middle of my little sister's party. "You think me coming back is the same as me admitting defeat?"

"Isn't it?" He turned his face like he was looking at something off in the distance. "Unless your plan was always to come back, then it seems like a pretty epic defeat to me." He waved at someone, a bright smile splitting his lips. "Excuse me. I need to say hi to my dads."

He slipped away, striding across the yard toward where his parents and Adam were huddled together.

The rage that had filled me at his remarks melted away in a rush, leaving a sense of quiet resentment.

Jesse and I were always going to be like oil and water—or gasoline and a flamethrower. Time to go back to avoiding him so neither one of us ended up in jail.