Page 62 of After Midnight

A tingle goes through me.

My tech comes over to start working on my feet, so I don’t respond, but my heart whispers, I’ll never get tired of you, Sebastian.

And that scares me.

Sebastian lets the nail techs tease him into getting his toes polished, so he looks absolutely and beautifully silly as we leave together, wearing the little flip-flops the salon provided, our toenails a matching shade of coral.

“What’s next, boss?” he asks as we climb into the Jeep.

“Grocery shopping,” I say. “Then meal prep when we get home, and—”

I must’ve said something he likes, because his lips immediately lift into a smile, revealing his dimples.

I play my words back in my head, and my cheeks go warm. When we get home . . .

Before Sebastian or I can say anything, though, his phone buzzes again.

It’s been going off all morning, and he’s yet to answer it.

He fishes it out of his pocket, smile dimming as he looks at the name on the screen. I can see it from here: Dad.

“Do you think something’s wrong?” I ask him.

His shoulders and chest rise and fall on a sigh. “No. But I don’t think he’s gonna stop until I answer.” He stares at the screen for a moment longer, then tosses me an apologetic look. “I’ll make it fast.”

I don’t have a chance to respond before he’s sliding the screen to answer the call.

“Hey, Dad.”

He steps out of the Jeep and closes the door, then walks back toward the salon, where there’s an overhang on the building that provides shade from the scalding Vegas sun.

As I wait, I turn on some music, run lip balm over my lips, and wonder what his dad is talking to him about. Whatever it is, it doesn’t make Sebastian smile. His mouth remains pulled into a downward curve, one of his hands buried in his jeans pocket, his shoulders hunching over a bit, like talking to his father puts a physical pressure on him.

It makes me frown, my brow crinkling, and a weird sense of defensiveness rises up in me, even if I know I have no right to feel this way; it’s not like Sebastian is mine. But still, I hate seeing that look on his face, hate how small he appears when just a few minutes ago he was larger than life.

After only a couple minutes, Sebastian ends the call, but he stands there on the sidewalk for a minute longer, thumbs tapping away at his phone screen. Then he takes a deep breath, puts his phone back into his pocket, and returns to the Jeep.

When he slides into the passenger’s seat and closes the door, his aura feels different, like rain clouds just moved in to dim his sunshine.

“Is everything okay?” I ask.

Sebastian runs his palms along his jeans and gives me a small nod. “Yeah. My dad’s been having trouble with his truck again, I guess.” One of his shoulders rises in a shrug. “He asked if I could help out.”

“Like, financially?” I ask, though I want to tread carefully; this really isn’t any of my business.

“Yeah.” He doesn’t sound angry about it—more like he’s weary, disappointed.

“That’s nice of you,” I say. But my words come out sounding almost like a question, and I think I’m trying to determine how he feels about it. Because looking at him right now, I wouldn’t think he just did something nice to help out his family. He looks like he just got kicked down and spit on.

A flicker of a smile goes across his mouth, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Thanks. It’s not that I don’t want to help him out, it’s just . . .” He chews his bottom lip, then casts his gaze out the window, watching a group of girls walk by with smoothies from the shop on the corner. “Sometimes I feel like that’s all I’m good for.”

His words make my chest constrict, and for a moment, I wish I could reach through his phone and slap his dad. But I take a breath, calming myself, then ease my hand onto Sebastian’s shoulder, then around the back of his neck, which is warm from the heat outside. He turns his head to look at me as my fingers brush his nape.

“That’s not all you’re good for, Seb.” I lean toward him, pressing my forehead to his. We remain like that for a moment, my fingers still wrapped around his neck. I wish he could see that he’s worth so much more than the money in his pocket.

I shift, bringing my mouth to his in a gentle kiss. When our lips touch, it ignites a simmering heat inside me, immediately making me want more. Sebastian must feel it too, because he makes a low sound in his throat and reaches up to wrap his hand around the back of my head, deepening the kiss.

When we pull apart, he rests his forehead against mine again and says, “What else am I good for, then?”