Chapter 7: Drawn to him again

SEBASTIAN’S POV

"So you are a football player too, and you are still in high school?"Kai asked me as he leaned further into me. I let my arm drape loosely around his shoulder.

I grinned, looking down at him."Yeah. What? Does me being a high schooler turn you off?"

"What? No. I don't care if you are still in high school, not when you look like this."

"And how do I look?"

Kai dragged his eyes over my chest before licking his lips. "Dude have you seen yourself?"

I chuckled, feigning to acknowledge that I was actually a fucking gorgeous guy. I was never one to brag. "I mean, I ain't too bad."

"Ain't too bad? Boy, are you kidding me?"

I laughed, my eyes involuntarily falling across the room where Zaire was pressed in between the girl he had been with this whole party and a guy I recognized from his team on a long worn brown couch. Since the minute I arrived there at Caleb's and saw that he was there too, my eyes had never stopped trying to find him though I had been very subtle about it.

What surprised me was how Zaire kept looking my way. Usually, I would have just assumed that he was probably plotting my murder in his head, hence why he kept his eyes on me, but this time, his stare was different. Though I couldn't quite explain it but it wasn't the same hateful stare he always gave me. This one felt much different, or maybe it was just the alcohol starting to take some effect.

I couldn't be sure.

But something inside told me that it I wasn't imagining things. I couldn't have been because I could feel his damn eyes on me this whole time boring holes, and though I chose to stay oblivious, I felt every damn stare, and it made my insides tingle with delight. It was really pathetic how easily this boy had me wrapped around his fingers without him even knowing about it. Just a little attention from him, and I felt like a stupid teenage girl who had a boy she likes talk to her for the first time.

It was embarrassing.

But did I care? No

Did it bother me? Maybe a little

Would I change that feeling for anything? Absolutely fucking not

I was honestly proud and happy about the way Zaire Gibson made me feel. Although I meant shit to him but he meant the world to me. And I was going to cherish every bit of rare attention I got from him. Otherwise, I was going to die waiting for Zaire to genuinely care about me because let's be real that was never going to happen, at least not in this lifetime.

My eyes furrowed as I stared at Zaire. There was something too sharp about him now. The way his fingers gripped the rim of the cup. The way he tried to laugh at something his teammate said, but his eyes fell flat, unfocused. Something was suddenly off about him. He looked like he was battling with himself. Something was bothering him too much by the lookes of it.

He tipped the red cup to his mouth and chuncked the remains down his throat. I noticed how his had shook as he threw the empty cup away. My grip around Kai's shoulder loosened without me even realizing it. All the noise in the apartment-the music, the shouting, the laughter-blurred into a dull hum behind the heavy pounding in my chest.

What the hell was wrong with him?

Zaire wasn't the type to lose composure. He was always firm, grounded, stubbornly steady even when he was pissed off or drunk or ready to throw punches. But right now, he looked... rattled. Like the room was spinning faster for him than everyone else.

"Seb?" Kai tugged at the hem of my shirt, drawing my attention back. "You listening?"

"Uh-yeah," I said automatically, though my eyes had already drifted back to Zaire again.

Kai pouted. "You're totally not. Who are you looking at-"

"Nobody," I cut in quickly.

Kai blinked at me, confused. But he didn't press, just nodded, brushing his fingers over my arm in that slow, flirtatious way guys do when they think they're your entire world for the night. Except he wasn't. No one ever fucking was. Not when Zaire existed.

My gaze went back to him again just in time to see Zaire lean toward the girl beside him. He said something low in her ear. The girl frowned, confused, probably asking where he was going, but Zaire didn't wait for her reply. He just stood up from the couch and walked right out the door. Before I could even think, breathe, or talk myself out of it-I stepped away from Kai.

"Where are you going?" Kai asked, grabbing my wrist lightly.

"I'll be back," I said, already pulling my arm and walking away.

With every step I took toward the front door, I told myself not to follow him.

Don't! Don't! Don't!

But my body didn't listen to any of that shit.

I pushed through a group of drunk girls taking pictures, muttered apologies, shoved past two guys wrestling near the hallway door, and stepped into the narrow corridor outside. Cold air slapped me in the face. I quickly scanned around, but Zaire was nowhere in sight.

Fuck.

I moved down the corridor, passing a couple making out against the wall. Still nothing. My chest tightened with something close to panic.

Why?

Why the fuck was I panicking?

I reached the outdoor stairway-the steel one that overlooked the parking lot and wrapped around the building like a motel structure.

I still couldn't see him.

Where the fuck did he go?

I took the stairs two at a time, my boots clanking against the steel , breath coming faster than it should've. The cold night air bit at my skin as I looked around the ground level.

Empty.

Nobody.

My heart was hammering-loud, anxious, frantic.

Like something inside me was screaming to find him.

Then-

"Are you fucking following me?"His voice was calm as he spoke startling the shit out of me.

"Oh f-fuck."

He snickered before muttering under his breath."Pussy"

Slowly, I turned toward the shadows beneath the stairwell. Zaire stood there, half-hidden in the dark, his back leaned against the concrete wall, one foot kicked up behind him, the faint orange glow of a burning blunt lighting up the sharp edge of his cheekbone. Smoke curled from his lips in long, slow tendrils. He looked unreal in the shadows and entirely too beautiful for someone who hated me.

I swallowed hard. "Zaire..."

He let out a humorless laugh-low, bitter. He took another drag, the tip flaring bright, then tilted his head back against the wall.

"So?" he said, blowing smoke sideways. "Are you?"

My throat went dry. "Uh---nah, I wasn't following you."

I lied.

He only shrugged and took another drag of his joint. I stood there for a long moment, not entirely sure what I was supposed to do. I had not thought of what I was going to say when I found him ,I just acted on impulse.

"Well why the fuck are you still here?"Zaire said, as he realized I hadn't moved."Beat it! Unless you want me to curve in that stupid face of yours. "

I clenched my jaw, hating the way he talked to me.

Someone remind me why I was in love with this dickhead again?

"Yeah, sure."I said, turning around to leave. I suddenly felt so pissed.

I didn't know why I even bothered. What did I expect from this dude anyway.

"Um, quick question before you fuck off . Are you gay?"

I stopped, turning back to him.

"What?" I repeated, even though I'd heard him perfectly fine.

"Are. You. Gay?" His tone was flat.

I clenched my jaw. "I don't see how that's any of your business."

"Just answer the fucking question, Burkhart."

I exhaled, annoyed as hell but unable to walk away. Not from him.

"No, I'm bi, Zaire."

"Hmm." He took a long drag, the blunt glowing bright. "So you suck dick?"

My face heated instantly. "Yeah, I'm not answering that."

Zaire scoffed. "So all the time you were all over me, annoying me with your shit, you weren't trying to be my friend after all. You actually wanted me?"

This rude ass prick.

"No," I said, lying so hard it physically hurt. "Don't flatter yourself. You are not even my type."

"Bullshit. I'm everyone's type."

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, keep telling yourself that."

He took another drag, eyes narrowing as smoke drifted out slowly.

"I can't believe it," He muttered.

"What?" I asked, annoyed.

"That you like dick."

I groaned, dragging a hand over my face.

"I like pussy too, you know."

"Yeah? But you still like dick," he said, pointing at me with the joint like he'd just discovered some dark secret of mine.

The thing was, this was never a secret. I never hid who I was, just that I did not like to parade my business for everyone else to see. Everyone closed to me, and my mom and sister knew that I was bisexual. My teammates, too.

I just liked to keep my shit private.

Zaire shook his head lightly, letting the joint rest between his fingers again. His gaze dragged over me-slow, assessing, almost confused. Like he was trying to make sense of something he didn't understand and didn't want to.

He took another hit, eyes never leaving mine.

"So..." he said slowly, voice lower now. "Does that mean you... like... guys like that? Like that dude you were with?"

"Kai?" I frowned. "Yeah. I mean, sometimes. Depends."

Zaire snorted. "Depends on what? Shit, I just can't imagine a guy turning me on?"

He added suddenly. "You? You feel shit when a guy touches you?"

"Yeah," I shrugged. "Sometimes. If I like him."

Zaire's jaw flexed. He took one last drag, then exhaled slowly, smoke pooling around us.

"And that ugly-ass-shit-nigga in there?" he asked again, bitterness creeping back into his voice. "You like him?"

I shoved my hands into my pockets. "Why does that bother you so much?"

"It doesn't," he snapped too quickly.

Bullshit.

"You sure about that?" I asked softly.

"Yeah," he said, staring at the ground. "I don't give a fuck who you like."

I stepped a little closer, lowering my voice.

"Zai."

"What man, fuck!?" he barked, looking up sharply.

"I think you're jealous."

He froze like I had just slapped him. His eyes narrowed into lethal slits.

"The fuck you just say to me?" he asked, voice low and dangerous.

"You heard me," I said, holding his stare.

"I'm not fucking jealous," he hissed.

"You literally left the party because you saw Kai kiss me."

"No," he growled. "I left because-because-"

He shut his mouth, muscles tightening.

"Because what?" I insisted.

Zaire turned on his heel, jaw clenched, shoulders tight-like he was running from something he didn't know how to fight.

"I'm fucking leaving," he muttered, already stalking away from me.

Before he could take another step, my hand shot out on instinct. I grabbed his wrist hard enough that he stopped but soft enough not to hurt him. Zaire whipped around, startled, eyes wide for a split second before he masked it with anger.

"The fuck are you-"

I pulled him toward me hard. He stumbled right into my chest, the impact knocking a breath out of both of us. His palms pressed against me automatically, like his body was trying to catch itself before his mind could catch up.

"Sebastian.." he snapped, trying to twist free but I didn't let him.

I stepped forward, crowding him. He stepped back by reflex until his back hit the wall. I planted one hand next to his head and the other around his wrist still trapped in my grip, completely caging him in. Zaire stilled, the night air around us suddenly feeling too thin.

"Get-off-" Zaire growled, but it came out shaky, breathless, not nearly as sharp as he wanted it to be. He pushed at me weakly.

His scent hit me first-his cologne, warm and clean and unmistakably him. It slipped straight into my bloodstream, turning my thoughts to static. Then the weed on his breath, thick and sweet, wrapping around my senses and pulling me closer without permission. My head spun.

Fuck.

He looked unreal up close like this. The shadows cut along his jaw, highlighting every angle I'd spent years pretending not to stare at. His eyelashes were long, almost annoyingly pretty. And his lips-

God.

Those fucking lips.

They were full, pink, and I could tell by just looking at them that they were soft. I'd been craving them since forever.

Zaire swallowed hard, and the movement drew my eyes to his mouth.

"Burkhart..." he warned, voice dropping low. "I swear to God, if you don't fucking let me-"

I didn't let him finish.

Something in me snapped, shattered, exploded-whatever the fuck it was, I didn't care anymore. I leaned in and crashed my mouth onto his. Hard. Desperate. Hungry. His lips were warm from the blunt, soft against mine, tasting like smoke and mint and Zaire, and the second I touched him, something electric shot through me so fast it made my knees weak.

He went still-completely, utterly still-like his brain short-circuited.

And I kissed him deeper, holding him exactly where I'd wanted him for years: right against me.