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“Sorry. I…I should have asked.”
I stop at the passenger’s side, turning to face him. “I liked that you didn’t. No, you aren’t the most…communicatively thoughtful person I’ve ever met, Sebastian, but it gives me a chance to speak up for myself in ways I suck at. You don’t have to feel bad about that. I could have suggested we get where we needed some other way, but I wanted to try driving. This is all part of the plan. I’m trying to be brave.”
Sebastian stares down at the ground, brow furrowed as he pops the trunk and sits on its ledge, changing from boot to shoe. He seems distracted as he opens the passenger door for me, then shuts it after I’m settled in.
The drive is quiet as he pulls out and accelerates gradually down the road.
I’m trying to piece together a puzzle whose picture I don’t know. Is Sebastian upset? Why has he withdrawn? As he drives, I almost ask him a dozen times, but I keep reminding myself what this is—pretend friendship. I have no right, no reason, to ask him to open up to me, not when none of this is real.
And yet, when I see him making the turn to take us to my place, panic sets in. I don’t want to leave him alone like this. I don’t want to be left alone like this, either.
“I don’t want to go home,” I blurt.
He frowns at the road. “Why not?”
I stare at him, biting my lip.
Because I just did something wild and brave tonight. Because while I loved how empowered it made me feel, I think I loved the minutes with you that took me there a little bit more. Because I think you’re sad, and I don’t want to leave you alone in that.
Because I’m still reeling from what just happened, and I don’t want to be alone in that either.
I don’t say any of that. My bravery has its limits and this moment is one of them. Instead, I lean across the console, my fingertips sliding over his rings, playing with them as they shine in the streetlights overhead. “I just…need some time to process tonight. I don’t want to be by myself while I do that.”
Sebastian slows the car, as if he’s deliberating, before he speeds up and takes the turn back toward Manhattan Beach and his house. I slump in my seat, sighing with relief.
“What do you need to process?” he asks. “Did something happen with Sofie?”
I glance his way, my head swiveling against the headrest. “Nothing bad. Just…a lot. What about you, where did you disappear to?”
He sighs heavily. “A skeleton fell out of my closet. And I had to deal with it.”
“That…sounds super sinister.”
“It was. Or at least, it started out that way. I bumped into someone I’d hurt in the past. They got upset with me. We talked it through. I…apologized. They actually forgave me.” He sighs moodily. “It sucked.”
I turn in my seat, facing him. “Sebastian, that sounds like it turned out well.”
He shakes his head. “This is my life. Everywhere I go, there’s someone I fucked over or fucked up with. This is who I am, what I’ve done. I haven’t cared about other people or the impact of my actions on them.”
“Sebastian, you’ve told me this. I understand.”
“No, you don’t!” His eyes are wide, his hands tight on the steering wheel. “Because I barely understand it myself.”
“Understand what? I’m so confused.”
“Makes two of us,” he mutters, flicking on his turn signal. “I swear to you, Sigrid, up until now, I could have told you without blinking that I didn’t give a good goddamn about my past.” He makes the turn down his street, hitting the button inside the car for his garage.
“Didn’t? Meaning…you do now?”
“Christ,” he grits out. “Yes. I feel sick to my stomach. I…” He shakes his head, like he’s in shock. “I wish I could undo it. I fucking care that I can’t undo it. I care.”
“You sound angry about that.”
“Of course I am!”
I stare at him, heart pounding. “Why?”
Sebastian’s silent, his jaw clenching as he pulls into the garage. He kills the engine, then slumps back in his seat, scrubbing his face. For a long silent moment, I wait, hoping for an answer.
