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When Daisy asked if Sebastian and I wanted to grab dinner after class, we shared a look and luckily both of us were on the same page.
Sebastian firmly declined on our behalf and the man practically carried me to the car. I was dead on my feet from all the excitement of the day and, of course, the night. When we reached the Tesla, Sebastian didn’t leave me at the door, instead lifting me onto the passenger seat, reaching over to buckle me in. In my delirium, I inhaled the pine from his aftershave and barely restrained myself from moaning. The man smelled delicious, and I became aware of the ache between my thighs.
Sebastian drove away from the library and placed an order for food. “I’m getting us something to eat for the drive back.”
I mumbled my assent, drifting in and out of sleep.
I awoke to a car shutting and whispered words from Sebastian. “I have a sandwich here for you and a large cold brew, so we have energy to get home.”
My stomach grumbled, my hunger cues firing off to tell me to eat. I unwrapped the sandwich and took a giant bite. The avocado and hummus hit the spot. “That’s so good,” I mumbled.
Sebastian chuckled. “Glad you approve. I got us some chips too.”
We ate in companionable silence and the food gave me energy to think.
“Why security?" I asked out of the blue. He’d shared a bit about his work, but not much. Certainly not the why behind it and secretly I'd wondered about it since I’d met him all those years ago. But it wasn't exactly like he was an open book, willing to share his story. He preferred to be the grump in the corner. The man that left the circle of friends whenever I approached.
Perhaps now that I had him trapped in the car—and he’d been inside me—he’d feel different about indulging me in my interrogation. With it so dark outside, and warm in the car, it felt like we were in our own secluded bubble.
Sebastian expelled a breath, the sound of uncertainty stinging the edges. With the world dark around us, save for a few random lights, it felt like we were alone. Back in our own little bubble. It created an intimacy that rivaled how I felt when we were lying in bed, wrapped in each other’s arms. I couldn't quite make out the expression on his face, and yet he sent every one of my nerves tingling in anticipation of his answer.
He reached over and squeezed my thigh, as if seeking reassurance. I placed a hand on his arm, a silent acknowledgment that I was here and listening.
“Security is a funny thing. So many people don’t realize they have it. But for those of us who don’t have it, it’s a state of being. A constant reminder that things are unstable—that they could change at a moment’s notice. Security isn’t guaranteed and yet it's something I was always searching for. So at a young age I decided that it would be my quest to protect and to do so in a way that made me money. That provided the financial security to protect me and my mom, just in the way she provided security to me in other ways."
"What ways?"
"The ways that moms do. The little things that make you feel loved and cared for. Even if we barely had food in the house and we were getting ready to eat pasta with red sauce for the sixth night in a row, Mom would try to make it special. She'd have me sprinkle some basil we got from the Dollar Tree into the pot, let me stir it all together. It made it fancy, she would tell me. That pasta filled my belly and kept me feeling safe, even when the heat wouldn't work, or when Mom had to work an extra shift because someone didn't show up for their shift, so she made me a soft sleeping nook under the reception desk."
"She's incredible."
He nodded, his hand tightening momentarily around my thigh before easing up. "She is incredible and I'm the person that gets to protect her now."
Noble…but I also knew Constance was stronger than that. "Does she need your protection?"
"It doesn't matter if she does or doesn't, she has it anyway. Unconditionally. Forever."
I ran my fingers across his arm and felt goosebumps rise underneath. "Is that what she wants from you?"
He didn't answer right away. "She never had anyone to take care of her. The man who helped make me ditched her the second he learned she was pregnant. Her parents hated that she was pregnant out of wedlock, as if that made it okay to disown their child. I'm all she has and I will do a million little things to lift any remaining burden on her shoulders because she's had to carry so much for so long."
"You're a good son."
"Well, it's easy when my mom is awesome."
"You're lucky to have each other."
"Well, sometimes, and you'll love this, she calls me serious."
"No. You don't say," I deadpanned.
"Har har.”
“You are lucky to have each other. Even if you can be serious at times.” It was my turn to squeeze his arm to let him know I was only joking.
“How often do you think about your mom?”
I dropped his arm like a hot potato.
