Page 8 of Flipping the Script
The urge to run hit, but I stood my ground. I’d known I’d have to talk to them eventually when I’d shown up. I just wished it wasn’t in front of Jesse.
“Sebastian,” Aunt Meredith said, giving me an appraising look. It always amazed me how someone almost a foot shorterthan me could literally look down their nose at me, but my mother and aunt had that talent. “I’m surprised you’re here.”
“It’s nice to see you again, Aunt Meredith.” I smiled politely. “Mom.”
“Sebastian.” Mom leaned in so I could air kiss her cheeks. “So glad you could find time in your busy schedule to support your sister. And see your parents.”
“Great party.” I didn’t take her bait. I wasn’t about to start a fight with either of them. “I love the rustic theme.”
Hannah folded her lips like she was hiding a smile. To our mother, rustic was the same as cheap.
“What?” I asked, feigning innocence at Mom’s sour expression. “I’ve heard it’s all the rage right now. Live, laugh, love, and all that.”
Hannah’s face went a little red as she stifled her laugh.
Mom’s look said she wasn’t amused.
“Still the same Sebastian as always. Everything is a joke to you, isn’t it?” Aunt Meredith pinned me with a look. Too bad for her that shit didn’t work on me anymore. I’d grown up a lot in the six years I’d gone low-contact with my family.
I didn’t answer. Arguing with her would just prolong things.
“You’re twenty-five, Sebastian,” she continued. “And what do you have to show for it? Nothing. Your parents sacrificed everything for you. They worked themselves to the bone to give you the kind of opportunities most people would kill for. And you’ve repaid them by spending the last six years doing drugs and having sex with every groupie who throws herself at you.”
“Is that what you think I was doing?” I asked conversationally. Two years ago, she would have been able to goad me into an argument with those remarks, but not anymore.
Getting angry would only make me look like the bad guy. I was done playing into their head games.
“What else would you have been doing?” She looked between me and Mom. “You have no idea what your behavior, yourchoices, have done to your parents. To the whole family.”
Jesse lifted his hand, saving me from having to answer. Moments later, a server came up to us, their tray filled with cups of that god-awful lemonade cocktail.
Suspicion filled me as Jesse took a cup from the tray and tipped his face toward mine. “Need a refill?” he asked.
“Yeah.” I swapped my empty cup for a fresh one. Why was Jesse giving me a break? Or was he just thirsty and his timing was a coincidence?
“Your father and I need to speak to you after the party.” Mom shifted her attention to Hannah. “Come on. You need to say hello to the McCarthys.”
Hannah shot me an exasperated look and hurried after her and Aunt Meredith.
“Why not red?” Jesse sipped his lemonade, his face angled away from me.
“Huh?” I was having a bit of trouble switching gears and following the shift in conversation and his attitude.
“Why not a red tie?” He didn’t look at me, but his tone was conversational.
“A red tie?”
“Adam told me to bring any color but red.” He tipped his face toward mine, but with his sunglasses on, it was impossible to tell if he was actually looking at me. “Why not red?”
“Because red is a hostile color.”
“A hostile color?” He sipped his drink.
My gaze fell to his Adam’s apple as he swallowed.
“Yeah.” I tore my gaze from his throat. “Red, orange, and bright yellow are hostile colors. Blues, greens, and soft yellows are welcoming.”
“You say that like it’s a thing.” Jesse turned to face me, one corner of his mouth curling up. “You sure you haven’t been hitting the sauce?”