I knew he felt somethingfor me—his blatant concern lately made that obvious. He was denying himself in a sick and twisted form of self-sabotage that I wished he would give up so he could admit he liked me, too.
Oh well, I guess. I was too drunk to care.
That’s a lie. I do really care. Way too much.
I sat up right, my feet dangling over the edge of my bed. This was ridiculous. At this point, being angry at Sebastian was a waste of energy. It'd been over two months of silence, when it could have been two months of us being together or at least being friends.
Maybe the alcohol was altering my thinking, or maybe I’d just finally had enough. Either way, I was going to talk to him.
I crept out of my room and down the hall, stopping in front of his door. I raised my fist to knock, then dropped it. I lifted my hand again, only for it to fall back at my side. It was late and he was probably sleeping. This could wait.
Pivoting on my heel, I began to walk away. But then, my courage grabbed me by the throat, and against my better judgment, I took a deep breath and banged on his door.
I realized my mistake as soon as I retracted my fist.
Fuck.
I should have ran back to my room. Locked myself in it and never allowed myself freedom again. This was stupid. I was stupid and drunk.
I was ready to make a run for it when the door pulled open with such force that it startled me.
Sebastian’s hair was disheveled and his abs…Focus on his face, Maeve, not the fact that he's not wearing a shirt.
“Everything okay?” he questioned, his voice rough from sleep and his eyebrows raised.
I should have lied, said yes, and turned around. But I already made it this far. “No,Crown Prince Hawthorne.Everything's not okay.”
His eyes scanned me up and down. “Are you hurt?”
“No.” I pushed by him, inviting myself into his room.
He closed the door and leaned against it, folding his arms over his chest. “Then what are you doing here?”
I copied his movement, crossing my arms over my own chest. “I'm here because I'm mad.”
“Shocking,” he quipped.
My brows furrowed at him.
He sighed, pushing off of the door and moving towards me. “Why are you mad?”
“I'm mad atyou.” I pointed a finger at him.
“Yeah, I've gathered that from how you've been avoiding me for two months.”
“It's been longer than that.”
“Oh, I’m well aware. Seventy-nine days, to be exact.”
“Woah…That’s a lot of days,” I slurred, tottering a little where I stood.
“Are you drunk?”
“A little, but that's beside the point.”
Sebastian pulled the chair out from his desk. “Sit down,” he instructed, then brought me a glass of water as I pulled my legs up into my chest.
He sat down on the edge of his bed, leaning back on his arms, watching me with a slight smile on his face.
