SLEEPSONG (BoyxBoy)✔️

Chapter 31

Chapter Thirty-One

My sister once told me that the things we say in passing are the things we truly mean. Offhanded comments can tell you a lot about a person since they have no time to filter what's really on their mind; a prepared speech can be over thought, twisted, and manipulated until it barely resembles the speaker's original opinion, but unfiltered responses were the truest of truths.

I hadn't prepared myself for any of this. Hell, singing Sebastian song after stupid song wasn't on the agenda either, no sir, but that hadn't stopped the music from reflecting what I was feeling in those earlier moments down to every last nuance of my twisted-up emotions.

Did that mean my thoughts—the unscripted, unfiltered, and uninhibited ramblings of my imperfect, drunken, brave brain—were also reflective of what I was really feeling? My eyes stayed locked on the door, staring over his shoulder without blinking once.

Did I really care about what he thought of me?

Why did I care?

When had it even started?

I couldn't place it, so, was it because I was drunk that I—that I had—

I had little to no peripheral vision, I noticed in a detached way, and the edges of my sight were woolly, dark, inconsistent... but the door in front of me, it was closed but I could reach out and open it if I wanted, if I only just... but no, I couldn't just run.

Sebastian had gone stock-still, eyes open their widest as he stared at me. With a pang of misplaced wonder I remembered what he was: powerful and strong, a man of himself and worlds I had never seen, and here I was, arguing with him the way I would with someone I...

No.

I knew why his opinion mattered to me.

It was because he'd always been looking down on me. My view of him had warped, I'd somehow gained the desire to prove him wrong, that I wasn't a bad person, that I was worth more than what he seemed to think. I had been struggling to prove that I was good for so long that... my feelings had changed, and his opinion really did matter to me.

Which could only mean... that he...

My thoughts halted in their tracks when his eyes twitched. In that moment something seemed to dawn on him, I could see the realization form behind his eyes before I even knew what it was.

"You don't care what people think," he growled, deep, low, gravelly, his tone making my blood run hot and cold in turn. "You care what I think."

A stab went through me and fear slid into my stomach because he was right, I'd literally just realized the same thing myself.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about," I stammered, unable to say anything else.

"Your behavior earlier," he continued, eyeing me. "Your actions, kissing me, seducing me... even the way you look at me. You're the kind of man who'll latch onto anyone or anything that shows you interest, aren't you? You're easy. When I kissed you, it set you off, brought down that wall."

I blinked, staring at him with an open mouth, but then, fire flooded through my cheeks.

"I'm not easy," I angrily seethed; he stared at me, head tilting to the side; sopping brown curls covered one eye, then he turned and walked over to his closet. I heard him yank open the door, but since it was impossible for me to move I just let him rustle around behind my back.

I jumped when something soft settled around my shoulders. My hands went up on reflex fingers twisting desperately into the towel he'd smoothed across my back with one languid motion. His enormous hands pressed down onto my shoulders through the cloth, heavy and hot and real.