Page 42 of Your Pace Or Mine

“I’m fine, thanks, but don’t you have to get back to Cal?”

I didn’t mean for that to sound bitter, but I hear her sharp intake of breath.

“Ash, it’s a four-hour drive, and we’re only halfway through. I’m sure Cal can manage without my scintillating conversation for a while.”

“Especially since you’ve been asleep for most of it,” Cal says in the background.

I can’t help but crack a smile at that. Laurel really can sleep anywhere.

“Listen, it was a late night. It’s not my fault your friends drink like fish.”

“I’m okay, I promise.” It feels almost true this time. “I don’t want to talk about it on the phone. It was a rough night, but Sebastian took care of things. I’m good.”

There’s a pause, then she says in a small voice, “Oh, you called Sebastian.”

I try to play it cool, like it was no big deal that Bash came over, hoping Laurel won’t stress about what I’m not telling her. “I knew you were out with Cal’s friends, and I didn’t want to bother you. Plus, I had to loop him in since the social media accounts were sure to get tagged.”

“Of course,” she says with a hint of false cheerfulness. “Anyway, do you want to talk tomorrow, then? We could run together, or you could come over and hang out.”

“Sure, let’s touch base tomorrow. I’ll let you get back to driving. Or sleeping.”

Laurel chuckles, then hangs up. I try to distract myself with more television, but nothing quiets the buzz in my mind. Even though I go to bed early, it takes me a long time to fall asleep.

The following afternoon, Laurel pulls me into a hug, looking me over appraisingly like she can tell I’m barely holding it together. I’m at her apartment after work, or I guess I should think of it as her and Cal’s place. It’s still weird to wrap my head around.

“You’re okay?” Laurel asks, and I shrug. I’ve tried not to look at social media, but it’s unsettling having something so difficult and personal up online, even if people don’t know it’s about me. No matter how much I try to forget Saturday, I can’t stop thinking about what could have happened if Clint and I hadn’t been in a crowded club.

Laurel and I drink herbal tea on her couch since she’s detoxing from the weekend, and I tell her the whole story, up until the point where Sebastian and I kissed. She lets out a set of curses that would make my grandmother drop dead. I place a hand on her mug before she throws it across the room.

“I cannot believe what a fucker he is. Ash, I’m so sorry. I should have been here.”

Her eyes are filled with tears, and I’m touched but also a little angry. Logically, it’s not her fault she was out of town when this happened, but I’m still hurt that when I needed her, she was out with Cal’s friends. Like they came first in her life somehow.

I shake it off. I’m being stupid. There was no way to know how the weekend would go down.

“I’m fine,” I assure her, even though I’m not. She looks at me with her big green eyes, not fully believing my assurance but letting me lie. We sit in silence, sipping our tea. I don’t know how to put all the emotions of the past two days into words. It’s not only the disappointment and fear from what happened with Clint, but everything with Sebastian too—the way he’s been protecting me, how our friendship feels different.

Before I can start talking, Laurel pulls me up and says, “Come see our random haul of items from Cal’s parents’ house.”

Maybe she wants to distract me, but it feels like a brush off. I don’t particularly care about Cal’s stuff. Still, I follow her to the corner of the living room where they’ve stacked some boxes. There are photo albums—okay, maybe I’m a little curious to see photos of baby Cal toddling around—next to vinyl records and a guitar.

On the small table, I spot what looks like a decent turntable, not that I’m an expert. I say the first thing that pops into my brain and immediately regret it. “Oh wow, Sebastian would love this.”

Laurel’s eyebrows raise as she looks at me with a knowing expression. “Oh. My. God. You slept with Sebastian again.”

I almost drop a framed high school graduation photo of Cal. I wasn’t sure how to tell her, but I guess there’s no hiding it. “How did you know?”

“The way you looked when you said his name just now spoke volumes.”

“It’s no big deal. He came back with me on Saturday night to make sure I was okay, and I sort of threw myself at him.”

Her mouth opens—I cut her off because I know what she’s going to say. “I swear, it was my idea. He didn’t want to take advantage of me, but I guess I’m, er, persuasive. We’re doing a sort of friends-with-benefits thing.”

I can see she’s biting her tongue, not wanting to seem judgmental. “And you’re fine with this?”

“Sure,” I reply in a blasé tone, like I haven’t been overanalyzing the situation for twenty-four hours already. “We’re good. He doesn’t want a relationship, and I’m still looking for something more permanent, but I’m not in the mood to date anyone in the short term.”

“I get that,” she says, enveloping me in another hug. “Don’t rush yourself.”