Shards of Us Page 3

  "I really think this is a bad idea," I finally whisper out, but she's already gone.

  If only I'd listened to my instincts.

  * * *

  The next week is painfully slow. I spend my days going to my job at Starbucks, talking to Ash, eating, sleeping, and then repeating it all over again.

  That's what my life has become: a never-ending repetition. I'm just living to get over the next day, and then the next day, and then the next day, until it's Wednesday and I'm with Sebastian again. I don't know what I'd do if I didn't have him to look forward to. I don't know how I'd manage to keep going.

  So as the week goes on, all I can think about is Sebastian and when I get to see him again. I think about what he's going to do for me next time, what he's going to say, how he's going to alleviate the pain in my heart that hasn't left since my parents died and I lost my one true passion in dance. I wonder how he's going to touch me, kiss me, hold me. I wonder what he's going to say. And then, just like that, I wonder about his laugh. He doesn't laugh much, which is unfortunate, because when he does, it's the most beautiful sound in the world. All thick and masculine, but genuine too. Warm, almost. Sebastian isn't exactly a warm person, but his laugh is. It's like his laugh doesn't even belong to him, or maybe it's a window, a look into a warm and scared and tortured soul he's kept hidden for so long that maybe he doesn't even remember it exists. I don't know. But one thing is for sure: his life has been worse than just losing his parents. I know, from the hurt that never seems to leave his eyes, that he's been through a lot. I know he wants to love me, wants to fix me like I want to fix him, but he can't.

  I just know these things about Sebastian. I don't know why or how.

  The rest of the week drags on until finally, it's Wednesday night. I wear a black dress as I enter Hotel de Galaxias, and my heart pounds as soon as I step inside. Music sounds throughout the lobby, and well-dressed business people laugh and dance and sing, happy in their own little worlds. I keep my head down like always, and I walk all the way up to room 364 in my heels, knock twice, and then enter when a deep voice coos, "Come in, my angel."

  I smile as soon as I lock eyes on Sebastian. The room is bright this time, all of the overhead lights turned on, and I can make out everything about Sebastian tonight. I notice the way he runs his hand through his wavy dark hair, notice the little dimples at the corners of his mouth, notice the deep tan on his skin from years of… whatever job he does. He smiles when he sees me in the ball gown I decided to wear, adjusts his suit, and steps forward. He touches a finger to the skin beneath my lips slowly, softly, and then he leans in and kisses me. His kiss is slow and meaningful. My lips feel hot and electric, and my body buzzes with the same energy I get whenever Sebastian touches me.

  "You came," he whispers as soon as he pulls back, but his lips hover there, in front of mine, as if begging to be kissed more.

  I resist the urge to wrap my arms around him and kiss him harder, fiercer. Sebastian has this way of teasing me, nipping at my lips and chest and skin and leaving me wanting so much more. He says it's his way of keeping me on my toes, and holy hell does it work. All I can think about is the next moment we're kissing, or touching, or our clothes are off and he goes inside of me.

  "Always," I say. My lips are still tingling as I close the door behind me and step fully inside.

  The chandeliers hanging from the ceiling above twinkle in the light, and a soft melody plays from a speaker in the corner of the room, sounding like a kind of lullaby. The whole suite is rich and expensive, polished and smelling of fresh clean, and it's magical, really, dark and haunting and magical, to be here with him. It's an addiction, this room, this night, this man. It's an addiction and I don't want to stop.

  Slowly, Sebastian makes his way over to the dresser, where two red wine glasses sit, picks them up, and then takes a seat at the edge of our bed. He pats the space beside him, motioning for me to join him. I obey.

  "Today, I want to tell you a story," he says as I sit down. Sebastian's voice is rough and soft all at once, and it sounds so nice that if it were a song, I would play it on repeat. "Come into my arms," he says, and I do. I sit on the edge of his thigh and let him wrap his arms around me. He shifts me to the right so that I'm in his lap, and his arms are across my stomach. Sebastian's body is so hot against mine, and I let myself relax in his arms, pooling away in the strength in security his presence brings.

  He rests his chin on my shoulder, whispering, "I'm so glad you're here," into my ear, and then he kisses me softly at the end of my earlobes, nipping at my skin, and it feels so, so right. My body tingles in anticipation of where he might kiss next.

  "Do you like that, angel?" he whispers, his tongue moving along my earlobe.

  "Yes," I say in between breaths, wanting nothing more than for him to drag his lips down to my mouth, then my breasts, and then lower still.

  He smiles, but stops kissing me. "Good," he whispers. "Now are you ready for my story?"

  "Always, Sebastian," I whisper, closing my eyes and savoring his touch, the feel of him beside me. His breath is warm and soft, and I can feel the curl of his lips as he smiles, his mouth still so close to my ear.

  "Once upon a time, there was a boy." Sebastian's voice is rough in my ear, rough and sexy, and I have to close my eyes, listening to him, letting everything else fade away. "His alcoholic dad beat him when he was only ten and his mom was too cocaine-addicted to do anything about it. He had a brother, too. A little brother, who was only eight at the time, and soon his dad started beating the little brother too. But the boy knew his brother was too young to take it, and so he stood in front of his brother to keep him safe." His voice quiets with each word, dragging them out slowly. His eyes focus sadly on the empty wall in front of him, and suddenly I realize this story is more than just fiction. "The father was enraged by this, and so he took to hitting the boy extra hard, and the boy sucked it all up to save his brother, to keep his brother alive. But then one day, it became too much." My heart starts beating faster. "And the boy… well, the boy died at the hands of his father. The beating became so much that the boy's body couldn't take it. It wasn't until the father realized what he'd done that he started sobbing, trying to save his son, but it was too late. And then he took his own life out of pure desperation, and the little brother who the boy saved was shaking and scared, and he didn't know what to do, so he ran. He left the boy who had saved him, left his mother, left his family. The brother was a coward, but he just didn't know what to do. He ran and ran until a woman he didn't know found him by a pair of dumpsters and took him in as her own son, as she couldn't have one of her own. For ten years she cared for him, loved him, and nurtured him. She homeschooled instead of enrolling him in school, gave him lessons on how to defend himself and how to treat woman and how to make it in the world. And then when he turned eighteen, he left to find a job elsewhere, telling the woman who raised him he'd return soon. But he lied, because he never spoke to the woman again. He always had a way of leaving the people he cared about." Sebastian sighs. His eyes are distant, and he is the closest I've ever seen him to crying. "That brother was me, angel," he says quietly. "I don't have anyone left. Anyone," he whispers into my ear, "but you."

  I stiffen up at the tenderness in his words. It takes me a minute to realize that Sebastian just opened up to me--like, really opened up to me. For the first time. Ever. The only time I'd ever opened up to him was to tell him about my parents, and my suicide, and my loss of my dance career, and that's all he knows about me.

  "I'm sorry," I say quietly, not knowing what else to tell him. Then, I look up to meet his eyes. They look fragile and strong all at once, a fierce blue holding back a deep secret.

  "Don't be," he whispers. "Don't ever be sorry." He starts kissing me again, holding me close and letting his warmth wrap around me as he kisses my nose, then my cheek, then, suddenly, my lips. The tension in my body relaxes at his kiss, and I close my eyes and kiss him back, fierce and passionate, moving my body ont
o his, my breasts against his chest.

  I need Sebastian like I need to breathe. I need his kiss to heal me. And he needs me back.

  That's the thing about our relationship: we're just there for each other. No questions asked. No worries needed. No drama. No nothing but each other and our feelings and our broken pasts.

  "Sebastian?" I ask as he starts nipping at the bottom of my mouth with his lips, sending a wave of tingles throughout my body.

  He stops kissing me, but he keeps his lips on mine. "Yes?" he breathes.

  I hesitate. "Why did you never talk to the woman again?"

  He doesn't answer right away. Just looks away, his stomach heaving, his eyes on the snow-covered window. His face looks distant, and I know he's in deep thought, remembering all everyone did for him and all he left behind. For a while, I just let myself enjoy his warmth, the coziness of his presence, listening to each of his steady breaths, feeling his stomach move up and down and up and down beneath me. I could fall asleep here if I wanted to, I realize. I could stay here forever. I could spend eternity in Sebastian's arms, and I would never be hurt again. He would protect me; he would save me.

  My heart aches for him, like physically aches, and all I want to do is to put my lips back on his, to kiss him until everything is okay again. I want to save Sebastian like he saves me.

  "Rule number two, angel," he says at last. "No personal questions." He sighs. "Now kiss me to make the pain go away."

  I nod, and then our lips lock, and I feel nothing but the tingling in my skin and the numb pleasure of kissing him all night long.

  Chapter Three

  The next week is all a blur. As hard as I try, I can't stop thinking about what Sebastian told me. It occurs to me numerous times that he's even more damaged than I thought. He's hurt in ways no one can ever understand. Or maybe that's wrong. Maybe the point is, and the reason why he said what he said, is because only I can understand his hurt. Only I know the ache of true loneliness as well as he does. Only I know what it's like to leave everything behind for a future that bears nothing positive. Only I know, and only he knows, and so only we have the power to make each other better.

  On Monday, Ash starts putting together our plan for figuring out Sebastian's identity at the end of our shift at Starbucks. I'm wiping down the tables when she comes over to me, wearing a dark green apron, and says, "Wednesday night is the night!" with a big smile on her face.

  I grimace. "I know."

  She gives me a playful shove. "C'mon, Crystal! Aren't you excited? Finally you get to know who this man of your dreams is!"

  "Yeah," I say tiredly, although a part of me I kind of is excited. I want to know who Sebastian is. I really, really want to. I wonder if he owns his own corporation or something, if he's a businessman--he sure dresses like one--or if he's a lawyer, or what. I want to know what else happened to make him so painfully alone. I want to know how he got to be who he is--so strong and rough and controlling, and yet, beneath it all, so tender and hurt. I want to know Sebastian, really know him, and then I want to be with him.

  Still, a nagging part of me can't help but think that something is going to go very, very wrong.

  "Just yeah?" Ash asks as she joins me in wiping down the table.

  I sigh. "Are you sure you're going to be okay? Following him, I mean."

  She rolls her eyes. "You worry too much. You know that?"

  "And maybe you don't worry enough," I say with a small smile, moving onto another table.

  She shrugs. "Fair enough. But seriously, everything is going to be just fine. I'll wait in the lobby when you two leave, and then I'll follow him from a good distance until he goes to a house or business or something that will help us find out who he is. And then I'll leave before he can notice. I watch crime dramas," she adds. "I know how this shit is done."

  "Whatever," I say, throwing the cloth I was using in the trash and taking off my green apron. "Just don't get hurt, okay?"

  "Okay," Ash says.

  She follows me into the bathroom, where I wash my hands. "Trust me," she adds, smiling. "Come Wednesday night, you'll be thanking me for finding out who he is."

  "I trust you," I say weakly, turning off the water and wiping my hands with a towel. "I know you'll stay safe."

  She smiles at me. "Thanks, Crystal," she says. "I know for a fact nothing will go wrong."

  How wrong she was.

  * * *

  How are you supposed to act when you're about to deceive the one person you care about? The only thing I know about deception is which poses and music you use to represent it in dance, which doesn't exactly help in this situation. I stare at myself in the mirror for the longest time Wednesday night before leaving for the hotel, thinking about Sebastian and what Ash is going to find out about him and how I'm possibly going to come clean about breaking his trust without making him hate me, and also, a little, worrying I won't like what I find out about him.

  I dismiss the thought immediately, telling myself Sebastian means so much to me that it doesn't matter who he is or what he does; I'll always care about him. No exceptions. And anyway, I have more important things to worry about. Like how I'm going to break rule number two tonight without Sebastian even knowing. He trusts me--I can see it in his eyes--and I'm still deceiving him. My heart hurts at the thought. I'm deceiving the one person I care about, and for what? For my own curiosity? It's like losing everything I care about all over again, except this time it will be my fault.

  I look at myself in the mirror more closely, shaking my head. A pair of sad brown eyes stare back at me, remains of the happy person I once was. My dark hair cascades onto my shoulder, and two cheekbones poke out of my pale face. The red lipstick and mascara brings the rest of me together, but I feel off wearing it today, like everything about this outfit is wrong. My gaze drops down to the black dress snug against my body, and suddenly something about this dress seems especially wrong to me. It's the dress I always wear to my meetings with Sebastian, yes, but today isn't like the other night, and it feels like another level of betrayal to pretend as if it is. So not knowing what else to do, I change from my black dress to a red one.

  That was the first sign.

  Finally, at about 10 p.m., I hear a knock at my front door. "Come in!" I call. The door clicks open a minute later, and the door swings open.

  I spin around to see Ash rushing inside, wearing a fancy white dress and smiling at me. "You ready?" she asks.

  "Not a bit." It's the truth.

  She sighs. "You don't have to do anything but act normal. I'll do the rest, don't worry. Okay?"

  I bite my lip. I can act normal, right? I can do that. Yes. I can do that. "Okay," I manage to say. "I… I'll try.

  Her face lights up. "Good. Now," she says, taking my hand and dragging me away from the mirror. "Let's go. You have a sexy man waiting for you in a certain little hotel room."

  The thought of Sebastian sitting there, not knowing I'm going to break one of his rules the next morning makes me feel sick. I can't hurt someone I care so much about. I can't. But I also need to know who he is. I need to make sure I'm safe with him, and more than that, I want to be able to take our relationship to another level.

  I barely have time to mutter, "Fine" before Ash drags me out of my crappy apartment and into the icy winter air. Snow comes down little by little, white spots amid the night sky. Everything is dark, so dark, and the air feels too thick, kind of, or maybe too hazy. I'm not sure what it is, but right then I know with every bone in my body that something about tonight is off. But still, I say nothing.

  That was the second sign.

  Ash drives us to Hotel de Galaxia in her red Jeep. It's not a pleasant trip, to say the least. She speeds down the streets and slams on the brakes at every stop sign, jerking me forward against the seatbelt and then soon after, when she hits the accelerator, throwing me back against the seat. Rinse. Repeat.

  My heart is in my throat the whole drive there, and not just from her poor driving. Everythi
ng about this plan feels so wrong, sends all kinds of alarm throughout my body, but I grit my teeth and tell myself I'm just being paranoid. I tell myself I'll be okay. It's not like one little thing will matter that much, right?

  A few minutes later, we arrive at the hotel with a jolt as Ash slams on the brakes. She lets me out of her car with a smile and a blown kiss after that, watching me go. "I'll just park the car in the lot here and will wait either in the lobby or outside your room for when he comes out in the morning," she assures me. "You have nothing to worry about. Now you two lovebirds have a good time."

  I force a smile. It's amazing how fake it suddenly feels. "Okay. Thank you."

  "Night, Crystal," she calls as she hits the accelerator and starts driving toward the parking lot.

  "Night, Ash," I call back, but my voice gets carried off with the wind.

  For a minute, I just stand at the steps in front of the hotel, closing my eyes and letting the night air clear my head. I don't want to do this. I really don't want to do this. But I want to know who Sebastian is too badly, and Ash is right--it's not like anything could go wrong. The worst that can happen is he catches her following him and tells her to leave. Sighing, I turn back around and step into the hotel.

  The same warm air greets me as soon as I'm inside. The hotel lobby is not as it always is. A red carpet stretches the length of the floor, chandeliers hang overhead, a small fire is positioned in the corner where a pianist plays Beethoven, and a few people in business suits sitting beside her, whispering something in hushed voices over glasses of wine. But other than that, the place is empty. Not a single person sits in the dining room, or on one of the couches, or seems to be waiting in the stairwell. No one. At all.

  And if there's one thing I know about this hotel, it's that it's almost always packed.