Page 129 of My Dark Prince
When I graduated undergrad, I thought maybe if we moved somewhere else, somewhere no one knew us, it’d be easier for him to open up. I got into a master’s program at Cambridge and brought him to England with me. We rented a house in the countryside, far away from civilization. Sebastian enjoyed the outdoors, but he still refused to meet people.
After those two years, I returned home to Dark Prince Road and dragged him with me, kicking and screaming. He wanted to stay in England. To live on his own. To have someone deliver food and supplies to his door and never have a single human interaction for the rest of his life.
I wouldn’t have it.
I insisted he join me.
I was so desperate to save him, I forgot to save myself.
Sebastian ended up resenting me, not only for his tarnished face, but also for dragging him out of England, the only place he managed to tolerate.
It didn’t help that I occasionally threw wild parties in the guest house, just to tempt him with the proximity of people. Maybe convince him to relive his favorite pastime.
Sebastian didn’t answer my question. Instead, he squinted at the lake, gathering a handful of rocks and feeling for the smoothest, flattest one with his thumb before hurling it. It skipped across the water a few times.
I shot up. “I almost lost my fucking mind.” Rage ignited inside of me, spreading across my limbs and chest like a network of tumors.
Seb chuckled, his back to me. “Please. You never had it to begin with.”
“You haven’t left the house in a decade. Not since we got back from Cambridge.” I took the three stairs down, advancing toward him. “Where did you go?”
“We ran out of milk.” Sebastian swung his elbow backward, throwing another rock. It danced across the water in the dark.
“Be serious.” I grabbed his shoulder and swiveled him to me, getting in his face. “Where the fuck were you?”
Sebastian laughed, shoving me away with force. “Fuck off, Ollie. It’s not me you’re mad at. It’s yourself for losing her again. Ever heard of the word accountability?”
He wasn’t wrong, but it felt good to be mad at him. To show him an emotion that wasn’t pity. More than anything – it felt good to roughen each other up a little. We used to throw fists well past our adolescence.
This was how the accident happened.
This was a glimpse of the old us.
“Tell me where you were,” I demanded. No,pleaded.
What made him get out of the house? What made him take that risk? I was desperate to know so I could dangle it in front of him. Use it to help him.
Seb laughed, fisting the collar of my shirt. “Believe it or not – pussy.”
He yanked me toward him, then tossed me on the grass. I let myself fall, knowing he’d get on his knees to try to punch me. When he did, I grabbed his elbow and pounded him beneath me, pinning him to the grass.
“To desire pussy, you need to not be one,” I taunted, seething. “And you are too much of a scaredy cat to get out in the world.”
He threw a sucker punch straight to my jaw, making me bite my tongue. It drew blood. The alcohol in my system blurred out the pain. I punched his good cheek, lolling his head back on the grass with a thump.
“Look who’s talking. At least I’m not still hung up on the girl I dated before my balls dropped.” Seb full-on cackled now, despite his bleeding lip. It was the first time I’d seenhim laugh –reallylaugh – in almost fifteen years. “It’s not romantic, Oliver. It’s sad.”
We rolled on the grass, punching each other in the chest, arms, stomach. Finally, we reached the edge of the lake. I was pinned beneath him, my hair touching the freezing water. We both panted hard. His face was so close to mine, I could feel his hot breath shooting down my nose and cheeks.
“You know, brother, I could kill you right now.” He gripped my shirt just beneath the collar. “Dunk that untarnished head of yours in the water and never let you out.”
He could. We were certainly at the right angle for it.
I swallowed hard but didn’t say a word. It would be ironic if I died the way Sebastian was supposed to lose his life before I saved him.
“The police would deem it an accident,” he continued, pinning my arms to my side with his incredible strength. “High levels of alcohol in your blood. Mistakes happen. Especially to rich playboys who can’t handle their drinks.”
“Do it,” I said, resolute.
