Sebastian groaned. “Great. I'm sure he had a lot to say.”
“He did.”
His hands found his hair, ruffling its waves. “What do you want, Maeve?”
I took a few steps towards him. “Are you okay?” I pried, worry coating my tongue.
He didn't look at me. Nor did he make a sound.
Gently, my palm cupped his shoulder. “Listen. I know that you have things you don't talk about with anyone, but?—”
His head whipped around, making me jump as my arm fell back to my side. “You don't know anything about me,” he snarled with a tic of his jaw.
I didn't let his tone faze me. I stayed calm as we locked eyes.
“I know you better than you think,” I retaliated. “And I know this feeling all too well. I might not understand exactly how you're feeling, but after what Sawyer said…I’m worried about you and?—”
“Please,” he scoffed, turning his head back to his desk. “If this is why you came here, then please. Just. Get. Out.” He punctuated each word to show how much he meant them.
A fire fueled by frustration lit inside of me. I wasn't taking this from him right now.
“No,” I said sternly. “You're not doing this to me again. You don't get to just shut down, and I won't let you shut me out.”
My arms crossed as I stood still, observing him. His head was back in his hands and I swore that I saw his body shudder.
“Seb, please just talk to me.” My voice softened with each syllable that I spoke. It was bizarre to me how natural the urge to comfort him came.
“Why are you even here?”
“I told you why.”
“And I told you to leave.”
“Yeah. AndItoldyou, no.”
“Gods, are you always this damn stubborn?” He finally looked up at me with glossed over eyes. No tears were falling, but I suspected that they would be soon.
I tapped my chin in false contemplation. “Yeah, I can be.”
He scoffed. “I’m not talking about this with you.”
“And why not?”
Neglecting me an answer, he reiterated his question from before. “What do you want from me, Maeve?”
How did I answer that? There was so much I wanted from him. I wanted him to open up to me—to tell me the things about him that he thought I didn't want to know. I wanted him to tell me about his trauma—I could handle it. I wanted to know what book he was currently reading, and which was the worst that he'd ever read. I wanted him to desire me in the same way I desired him. For him to crave my touch on his skin in the way I craved his. I wanted him to kiss me passionately and to never stop. I wanted every single thing that he had to offer.
“Do you want me to split myself open like a journal and spill you all the deep, dark secrets that are written in smudged ink? Do you want me to cry on your shoulder and be all,woe is me? Do you want to sit there and watch me throw a damn pity party over my life?”
“If that's what you need, then sure.” Itwaswhat he needed, but I wasn’t sure he realized that.
Sebastian’s eyes widened, as if he was surprised that I would actually want him to confide in me. “Well I’m not going to do that,” he snarled, dismissing my gaze and looking back at his desk.
I was beginning to think Sawyer was right. There was no getting through to him while he felt like this. Maybe it wasn't really my place, anyway. Plus, he was kind of being an ass. Not that it surprised me.
My teeth scraped against my lip. “I’ll go,” I said with a shrug of defeat. I really thought I could help him.
The doorknob was already in my clutch when he spoke.
