Wash

Chapter Four

Sebastian
Charity

Zoey is beautiful, so beautiful I'm having a hard time eating my pancakes. Occasionally, she smiles at my little brother and I forget how to chew or swallow. Zoey doesn't eat with us, though, and that's when I notice her white tee.

Really notice it.

It's the one she always wears to volleyball practice—practice she went to before the attack. It has a little more room than it once did...I guess I can't blame her for not wanting to eat. Since that night, my appetite has diminished too.

I swallow the last bite of my first pancake and lower my fork. This doesn't feel...right. Being in her house when I've told her to leave me alone for years now. I can't let her unfortunate attack change the trajectory of our relationship. We aren't friends. I wish we were, but there are some paths that shouldn't cross and the evidence to support that just keeps on stacking up. My home life—my family—would crush her soul. My parents don't know how to love like hers do.

Let's not forget the fact she'll forever remember the night of her attack whenever she looks at me because I'm the only other person that was there. She doesn't see peace in my face. 

She relives her nightmare.

We're not friends and we can never be friends. I want her too much. I want to hold her close and comfort her. I want to go to sleep with her every night and wake up with her beside me every morning...but I'm not worthy. I can't give her what she deserves.

My muscles prickle with the pressure of a million needles. The fact my fantasy of us being together will never happen causes me all sorts of pain. I shift uncomfortably in my chair, pushing my plate away. Zoey glances at the two remaining pancakes then flicks her nervous stare over my face.

"You don't like them?" Swiping at a loose lock that has fallen over her forehead, she chuckles. "I'm sorry. I'm not much of a cook...not like my mom is."

"Oh, no. No. Your pancakes are fine it's just...we gotta go. Jonathan is already late for school."

My wrist is still hot from where she touched it, clenching it tightly in her soft, little hand. I don't know how many times I've imagined how her hands might feel. Her touch was everything and more.

Soft, yet strong.

Allowing, yet stubborn.

It was better than I could ever have fathomed...which makes this meal all the more difficult.

"Who cares?" Jonathan spits over a mouthful of pancake, maple syrup dripping down his chin. "School is boring. I want to hang with Zoey all day."

Zoey smiles, victoriously. Pinching the edge of my plate between her fingers, she pulls it over to Jonathan and nudges it close. He beams at her, his eyes glistening. I can't help the smile that tugs at my lips. I gotta give it to him. The kid has a happy spirit.

"Ahhh!" Zoey's robust mother coos as she enters the kitchen. "Zoey, you didn't tell me we had visitors. I wouldn't have locked myself up in the office otherwise. Who is this?"

Her bright, red lips pull into an excited grin as she locks Jonathan in her sights. In this moment, as her heart visibly swells in her face at the sight of my brother, I can tell she already loves him more than his own mother does.

"This is Jonathan. Sebastian's brother." Zoey tells her, leaning back in her chair.

Mrs. Monroe's eyebrows shoot up as she looks at me. "You finally decided to come in?"

Heat blooms up the back of my neck and I scratch at it. "Zoey bribed us with pancakes."

Zoey's mom laughs, pressing her hand to her stomach. "She got her pancake cooking skills from her mama." She leans in. "I always tell her that a sure way to a man's heart is through his stomach."