Let's Do This 1: Stormi and Sebastian

Chapter 5

Stormi POV

     Over the last three months, Sebastian and I grew closer to each other while working hard on my book. He'd come over and we'd work up in the loft, or at the coffee shop in town for hours. If we were at my house, we usually ordered a bunch of takeout. We always talked, not just about the book, but about our lives, what other things I was thinking about doing for book two, making lists. He even asked if he could join me on a few of my adventures. He called it 'fieldwork'. I laughed at him when he said that. 

     "If you wanna be my friend, all you have to do is ask Sebastian," I smiled at him and he just blushed, quickly putting his nose back in my book. 

     After that, he did, slowly, start becoming a good friend, someone I could talk to with ease. I still had walls up from being so betrayed by my family and Jason, the only people in my life I thought I could count on without needing to think twice, but I was slowly getting better. It had been close to nine months of having no contact with them. And I was much better than when it first happened.

     My therapist and I talked about how nervous I was about the book release that was coming up this Friday. We decided to use my pen name and keep my photo out of the back of the book. We also cited all the photos in the book as being taken by my pen name, again, not wanting to draw any kind of attention towards me. I wanted to give zero heads-up that this was about my family, at all! I felt this could be a huge relief, or a step forward of mine in the healing process to get it out in the open and to possibly help others who'd been wronged by their families or loved ones. 

     This was a healing journey for me also. Not just going to therapy, but writing, cooking classes, photography classes, poetry readings, finding the local live music, traveling; everything I had done so far and would continue to do.

     My therapist has helped me see, I'm doing this for myself. Finally standing up for me. Giving myself a voice. Working through all the anger I have towards Story and my parents for always putting her first. For not being there for me because 'Story needs us' or 'Story needed this, can't you understand?' When you've been conditioned to think one way for so long, it takes a lot of mental fortitude to work on changing your thought process, and being successful at it could take years, but I was working really hard on me. I was hoping the tips and tricks my therapist had taught me, and also the affordable things I tried on my own, would help someone else in this or similar situations. 

     Because, let's be honest, who else has a twin sister that's been fucking their fiancé, and when it comes out, their family backs the cheaters?

     Friday rolled around. I was sitting on the loft porch, drinking a cup of coffee as the spring rain came pouring down around me. I loved sitting on this little covered porch, listening to the rain and all the other sounds of nature. It fixed something in me. Sebastian's car pulled up in my driveway. I saw an umbrella pop out of the car, and he came up to the front door. He tilted the umbrella to see me sitting on one of the chairs I thrifted this winter. I waved him up, and he hurried inside. A few minutes later, he was sitting next to me on the little outside couch I'd found at a discounted price at the thrift store last month. I stayed quiet, not sure what I was waiting for or what I wanted to know. 

     "It's already available. It went on sale at midnight, and it's being advertised to everyone who's searched self-help or 'how-to' books," he handed me a slice of lemon pound cake, "You've already sold two hundred copies and it's only been," he paused, looking at his watch, "nine hours." He smiled at me. That smile made my heart melt a little each time I saw it. 

     Each time I got it, I knew instinctively that he saved that smile just for me. I'd notice when we were at the café one day. If someone called him on the phone, he'd have a very stern expression on. If a woman approached him, he kept a respectable distance from them, not giving away many expressions, and turning them down flat. 

     He was a very attractive man. He was tall, probably 6'3", with long blonde hair that came down past his shoulders. He usually wore it in a low ponytail at the nape of his neck when we worked. If we were taking a class together, he pulled it up into a higher ponytail. And he wore wire-framed, round glasses when he did his editing or computer work. He looked so Chris Hemsworth in Thor, but with glasses. He says they 'have the blue lens' to protect his eyes, but I think they just make him look sexy, and he knows it and is hell-bent on torturing everyone within viewing distance of him. 

     I'd never tell him that though. We're just friends, and if we weren't, I don't know that I could trust him yet. I don't think I'm ready to trust him as more than just my friend. It's only been three months. That aside, he smiles at me. Or whenever his parents and little brother called.

     "I think this book is going to blow up. I think it's going to be insanely popular. We might even get requests for interviews!" He exclaimed, excitedly as he watched me, as I looked from him, back out to the landscape in front of us. 

     I needed a break from his handsome face and relaxed attire. It didn't matter what he wore, he filled it out properly. I'd gotten used to him in trousers and a button-down shirt, but I had yet to see him in this look. My heart wasn't sure I could handle it. He graced my presence with boot-cut jeans and a cream-colored henley shirt that hugged every muscle on his body. I wasn't sure my heart could handle it. He looked so good. I took a sip of my coffee, trying to calm my racing heart. Ha! 

     Racing only from the number of sales I'd gotten so far. And, probably largely due to, the thought of possibly doing interviews. "What does Alex think of doing interviews?" I asked, curious what our legal representation thinks of this. 

     "He said as long as we go by your pen name, it shouldn't be a problem." Alex was his lawyer and best friend. They'd gone to college together and met there. He was very nice, and also very protective of Sebastian. The first time I met him, he kept giving me the stink eye like I was some kind of a leech looking to make a profit off him. Which, I guess technically I was. I was looking to have him publish my book and make me lots of money. But I wasn't trying for anything else, no matter how handsome he was, or how my heart always raced around him. I would just tell myself it's being cause he's my editor and publisher. I'm in no condition to try anything with anyone.

     Maybe one day. But, first things first, let's make this book, and the next, a success.

     "When do you want to start on book two?" He asked, leaning his elbows on his knees to talk to me. His tongue peeked out and quickly wet his lips. Mine subconsciously followed. 

     "I've already started a list of things I want to try. Things to help me keep finding me. To help me move past the betrayal." I said, forcing myself to focus on the conversation. Words. Talking words. I can do this. 

     "Let's hear this list," he sounds way too chipper for nine in the morning. Getting up, I reach just inside the door to my desk, grabbing a composition notebook off the top of the stack. There are at least five there. One for short stories, one for smutty stories, a blank one, and two for my 'Finding myself' ideas.

     "Let's see," I open the most recent one, "I have, hiking in Oregon and seeing a waterfall. Going whale watching, getting a piercing. I want to go to a renaissance fair. Go horseback riding, zip lining, take a cruise," I'm cut off by his snickering. "What? What's so funny?"

     "I can't see you at a renaissance fair," he tried stifling his laughter again, "milady." He threw his head back, belly laughing. It was a beautiful thing to see. A man who was always composed, losing himself in laughter. I smiled back at him, then laughed at myself, imagining myself and him dressed up in proper clothing for a fair and using the old-timey language that I was not confident in at all. I couldn't see Sebastian dressed up in the puffy shirts or the tights and high heels. That thought just made me laugh harder.

     "Now," I tried to get out through the laughter, "now we have to do it! I need to see if you look as ridiculous in tights as I think you would." We both laughed, just enjoying spending time together and making plans. As friends.

     Let's do this.