Calling Clare was at the top of my very long list of things to do, but first I had to finish cooking for Sebastian's birthday and decorate the house.
Every year we tried to do something special for his birthday. Birthdays were big with his family, and I tried to keep the tradition alive since his siblings hadn't, and he didn't do anything for himself.
"Are you sure you're okay, Hill?" I asked. Sebastian and Griffin were both…away, and Hillary had come over at five this morning to bring me to the store for the stuff I needed. She didn't foresee any trouble, so I risked it—that was to say, I was terrified the whole time.
Last night, the boys went off to handle their feelings the manly way—which involved fists and superpowers in an undisclosed location that couldn't harm anyone but themselves. I was truly worried Sebastian would turn Griffin into smithereens—not that I minded, of course. Griffin had pissed me off.
She waved off my concern. "Of course I'm okay. We make up in about two weeks," she said brightly, but her eyes were downcast, and the bags under her eyes worried me. "Okay, I'm very upset about it, but it won't matter anyway if the world is ending."
I frowned. The world was on its way to hell, and my life was quickly coming to an end, but I wouldn't die a horrible friend. "We can talk about it," I told her, pausing in blowing up the balloons. "We were talking about clothes earlier, and Sebastian before that. Let's talk about you."
Her cheeks turned red before she burst into tears. Little sobs shook her tiny body, and her strawberry blonde tresses shook as she covered her face. "Teena, I miss him so much," she said, as I dropped the ballon and walked over to her. It flew around the room, whistling as the air I had blown into whooshed out.
Hillary tucked her head into my shoulder. I rubbed her back as she cried, needing the release after days of bottling it up. "Cry or talk?" I asked, resting my cheek on the top of her head. He was her soulmate, her best friend, the love of her life. He had been the only person not related and not supernatural to her to know her secret.
She hiccuped as she tried to settle herself. "Cry," she whimpered.
We sat like that for minutes as she cried into me. The kitchen smelled like the red velvet cake that was currently cooling off. I made it from scratch, not using a box mix. I would top it with homemade cream cheese frosting—his favorite—and some walnuts. Breakfast had been made already and was still warm in the oven.
Truthfully, I almost felt like a bad friend. I had been trying to get her to talk to me about Ricky since they broke up, but I should've been asking her about her life, too. I was so worried about myself, about my life ending, that I had forgotten to check on my best friend. My sister.
Hillary wiped her nose. "I'm so thankful for you, Athena," she said, wrapping her arms around me and giving me a squeeze.
Tears arrived at the front of my eyes. "Of course you are," I replied, hugging her back. "I'm glad to have you in my life. You're like… the sun or something."
"Or something," she said, giggling. She took a deep breath, hands shaking and face splotched with redness. "The cake is cool now."
I gave her a look to make sure she was really okay, but she gave me a genuine smile in return. She would be okay. She just needed a cry and a best friend. "You know, it's okay to talk to me. No matter what's going on in my life."
She grabbed some balloons to blow them up. "I know, but, truthfully, I've been too busy making sure the world doesn't end." She blew a few breaths into the balloon before adding, "Sebastian will be here in a few minutes. You should ice the cake."
He's your soulmate.
The intrusive thought had been appearing randomly since yesterday. I didn't mind at all. As far as soulmates went, Sebastian was perfect. But… I didn���t believe in soulmates. I never did, and even when I was younger and the thought was cute, finding mine seemed impossible. But so did demons. Life had changed, and I needed to change with it. These outdated patterns of thought no longer fit where I was.
But, as Hillary explained, everybody was different. No soulmates are alike or walk the same path.
"Is Griffin gonna be with him?" I asked, giving her a look as I slapped icing over the first layer of cake. I had totally let her have it this morning. She found the whole situation hilarious—especially since she knew Griffin genuinely thought he was in love with me.
I still needed to talk to Sebastian about what Griffin told me. I couldn't move on without knowing what he did.
Hillary laughed. "No, it'll just be your beloved buddy." She tied the balloon up and stood. "Anyway, his car just pulled up. I'll see you later, honey bun."
I blew her a kiss, drizzling walnuts around the cake. "Call me if you need me."
"Enjoy your day." She winked, and I wondered what today had in store for me.
The smell of bacon wafted in the air as I placed the cake in the middle of the table. I started fixing his plate of breakfast as I heard Hillary open the door and hold him in birthday conversation. "Let me get out of your way so you can come in," she said, and the door closed behind her.
I heard footsteps, just as I drop the last pieces of bacon on his plate. A second later, Sebastian popped his head into the kitchen. "Athena?"
"Happy birthday!" I exclaimed, putting his plate on the table and grinning.
He entered the kitchen with a big smile. "Thank you, baby girl." He came around the table and kissed my forehead. He used his thumb to wipe powdered sugar off my cheek. "Is that red velvet cake?"
"Duh." I unhooked my apron. "Mimosa or regular juice?"
"Mimosa."
I leaned over and poured one fourth of the orange juice we had bought and filled the rest of the glass up with champagne. "Eat up," I announced. I grabbed my plate from the counter—which was just eggs and toast with strawberry jelly slathered onto them—and sat across from him.
Sebastian wasn't eating, though—or drinking. He was staring out into the distance, a sad look on his face.
I frowned. Had something gone wrong last night? "Is everything okay? Was this too much? I just wanted—"
He smiled, stopping me mid-sentence. "This is perfect." He ran his fingers through his hair, and I saw his muscles ripple, the small tattoo on his arm move. His chest was fantastic, but I wondered why it was out at the dinner table, especially when it was freezing outside. "I just had a weird dream last night."
Oh. I sighed internally. Good. The last thing I had wanted to do was upset him. "Wanna talk about it?"
"It wasn't important. This Mother situation is getting to me," he answered. "Like I said, it wasn't much. Just felt real."
It sounded like much, but I knew he'd talk if he was ready, so I let it go. He dug into his food, the look gone and replaced by satisfaction. "The cake looks so good."
I nodded. "I didn't use a box mix, but eat your breakfast first." It had gone through hell to make that cake, but it was done, and it wasn't lopsided. This was the most effort I had ever given for cooking anything for anybody, including myself.
He rolled his eyes at me. "Yes, Mom."
I laughed, biting into my toast. "I just want to see someone seriously eat beans for breakfast."
He dug into the beans, making a show of slowly bringing them to his mouth and devouring them. He closed his eyes and moaned around the food. "So good. Did you grow these beans yourself?"
The light in his eyes made me smile despite myself. "Grew'em out the can."
He did a chef's kiss, grinning at me. "I would love to see what else you have planned for today."
"Breakfast and cake isn't enough?" I narrowed my eyes. "You slave in front of a stove all day for a man, and instead of thanking you—"
"I expressed my gratitude."
"—he wants to know what else you have planned." I shook my head as I forked some scrambled eggs. "I have no idea why I even bother."
He watched me with an amused grin. "Are you done?"
"Are you?"
He flicked a bean at me, chuckling. "I was only asking because there's something I wanted to do today."
I loved birthdays, especially other people's. I enjoyed throwing other people huge, extravagant events and parties or trips. My mom had been to a different city every year for her birthday since I was thirteen. My father had signed copies of his favorite athletes and singers, front row tickets to concerns and sporting games.
Technically, I could've planned something or Sebastian's birthday. I usually did. But this year was different. I wanted to avoid all demon attacks on his birthday. "I'm listening." I poured some more orange juice. "Although, I feel like you didn't appreciate me using my god breath to blow up fifteen balloons." Fifteen, for the day he was born. "In lieu of my failure to plan an actual thing, what would you like to do?"
He pursed his lips, thinking.
A whole day with Sebastian seemed great. Especially outside of this place.
I wanted to know about his past. Why didn't use his Dark Weapon. Why he didn't tell me about the legend of us as soulmates? At some point we had to talk about it. Tomorrow, though. We would have a good day today, and I'd bring it up tomorrow.
I was surprised at his good mood. Before they left the house, Griffin and Sebastian had engaged in a conversation that would make the devil blush it was so insulting.
"I want to go to England," Sebastian said. "We can leave tonight, since it'll be morning there. I can show you my old neighborhood. We can even buy some stuff while we're there."
He hated shopping, but I didn't point that out since I loved it. He seemed excited about going back, too. I knew he didn't go back often.
"My passport is in Alabama." I barely had enough money to go shopping, but what little did remain in my account would go to buying me some nice souvenirs.
He grinned. "We're teleporting there, which means you won't need it." He drowned the rest of his mimosa. "I've been practicing to see how far I can teleport myself and others."
In case I need to get far away, fast.
He didn't say it, but he didn't need to. It hung in the air, silent and awkward. We both let it simmer for a few seconds. The very idea made me feel a little sick to my stomach.
"How far can you go?" I asked, cutting through the tension.
"With someone? No father then Germany." He stood up, pushing his chair back and grabbing a knife. "Did you want to sing me the happy birthday song, or should I just cut the cake?"
Since he had the knife already poised over the cake, only millimeters from slicing it, I gave him the go ahead to cut it. I finished the rest of my food while he cut two slices of cake—one huge piece for him, and one much smaller, but still pretty big piece for me. "Do we have to train this morning? We can sleep all day before we leave. Or watch a movie marathon. Go shopping for an outfit maybe. I mean, truly, it's your birthday."
"Right." He grabbed the empty plate from in front of me and replaced it with the cake slice. "And all I want for my birthday is to train with you."
"I thought you wanted to go back home."
"That's a close second." He winked.
We dug into our cake, returning to silence. I tried to think of everything but Mother—despite yesterday's drama, it was a welcome relief from thinking about my impending possible death—but then I felt guilty for not thinking about it. I had to save the world. I couldn't do that if I didn't figure this out, and I couldn't figure this out without thinking about it.
Sebastian finished his cake first and got another piece while I was still on my first piece. Despite the smile on his face, a crease remained in his eyebrows. His dream had done something to him, and I hoped he worked through whatever had happened.
Life had become so stressful for us. I missed the days of knowing demons existed but from a distance. I missed wanted to dress up for class everyday. Now I wore sweatpants and leggings, hoodies and oversized sweaters. What was I looking cute for? I needed to hide weapons and be comfortable enough to defend myself at every turn.
"You look worried."
"So do you." I put my fork down on my half-eaten cake. I was sleepy and full, in no mood to go upstairs and pick up my saber or use my fists. "If you talk, I will."
He smirked. "I have no secrets from you, Athena. I'm thinking about my dream."
"Is that why you want to go to England?" I had had some real dreams before—three of them. One involved Mother when I was younger, and she told me she would kill me when I grew up, and I cried for two months straight (I was eight). The other two involved Clare and I fighting each other with swords (well, I now knew they were called 'sabers'). I had that one when I was eleven, although we looked older in the dream, in our early twenties. The last one was about these two people, who said they were 'trapped' and needed me to save them. They were twins, a guy and a girl. I was seventeen. "What happened in the dream?"
"Not particularly. I miss home. I haven't been there in near a hundred years." He looked out into the distance for some time, eating more cake. "My dream—I just remember snippets of it, like being tied up and beaten. My mom screaming that I was evil. My sister trying to burn me. They were nothing like that, though."
I knew little of Sebastian's family, but what he had told me, they sounded like great people. "You know it isn't true, though." I gave him a gentle smile. "Sometimes nightmares are just that—nightmares. They're just a scary reflection of your subconscious."
"What am I reflecting by thinking that?"
I shrugged. "Well, it involves your family, who loved you more than anybody else ever. You also changed the way they treated you, so maybe you think the people you love find you evil? Or maybe you find yourself evil and you're projecting?"
His smirk grew more pronounced. "I know I'm evil."
Rolling my eyes, I started gathering the dishes to put them up. He was joking but not really. I knew Sebastian struggled with being good sometimes, and, in light of what Griffin had told me about him, I could understand why he felt that way. "Be serious."
"I am being serious. I'm a demon. I was born evil." He waved off my concern "Anyway, what's bothering you?"
I gave him a look. I didn't appreciate him blowing off what was wrong, especially since it seemed like it was really bothering him. Again, since it was his birthday, I let it slide, but I would definitely bring it up later. "I was thinking about how easier life was when I first got to college," I explained, putting the dishes into the sink and turning the water on. Behind me, Sebastian started cleaning up, too.
"Do you regret it?" He stopped whatever he was doing, then walked over to me. "I'll dry."
I knew what 'it' was. Him. He was the 'it' in question. No matter what happened, even if I died, I wouldn't regret it. "Not at all." I handed him the cup, which he dried quickly. "I got you out of it, even if you do lie to me, keep secrets, withhold information, hit me, and make me workout when I don't want to—"
"Wow."
"—I wouldn't trade having you in my life for a thousand years of ignorance and peace," I finished, looking at the plate. As much as I hated to let him off the hook that easily for lying to me, I couldn't lie to him. And that, that was as close as I would ever get to admitting my feelings for Sebastian to Sebastian. First anyway.
He became quiet. I could feel him looking at me, even as I continued to scrub the already clean plate with vigor, just to avoid eye contact. Just when his silence was about to cross the threshold of too quiet, he spoke. It was quiet and revealed nothing of how he felt. "Let's skip training today. You've earned it."
Sebastian teleported us to the inside of a storage bin that held a box full of old journals, notebooks, and photos, another box full of books, a box full of clothing, and a black motorcycle, complete with a helmet.
There was little sunlight in the room, just enough to see the outline of his face and what few items he had. My eyes adjusted to the dimness, and I loosened my strangle-hold on his neck slightly.
"Take your time," Sebastian commanded gently, although the underlying elation in his voice told me he wanted me to do anything but that. "Every body part still attached?"
I took a second to wiggle my toes and fingers, since I knew my limbs were attached. "Yep," I announced, leaning back and looking at him with my arms and legs still wrapped around him. The possible side effects was nausea, dizziness, momentary blindness/deafness, and phantom pain (only if limbs were lost, though). So far, with the exception of a little queasiness, I felt fine.
He grinned in the darkness, bright white teeth striking against his skin. It was about eleven in the morning here, and the air slipping through the cracks was chilly, but it wasn't freezing like back in Missouri. "Good." His breath, minty, fanned out across my cheeks. He glanced down, briefly, at my lips, and back up at me. "You ready to get the day started?"
I nodded, unable to speak. I unwrapped my legs first, and, with his hands resting on my hips, he set me down gently. I removed my arms from around his neck, wriggling my body from the stiffness of teleporting. It didn't feel like I was across the world. It had only taken us a few seconds to get here. "You know, I still can't believe when I walk out, I'll be in London," I told him, taking the helmet he handed me. "This is gonna mess up my hair."
"You aren't riding without it."
I put the helmet on.
He pulled a pair of keys out of his leather jacket—Sebastian had actually put on something besides a hoodie and joggers today—and jingled them, a wide grin on his face. He motioned me forward, and I swung my leg onto the motorcycle. He got on in front of me, putting the keys in the ignition and starting it up. The motorcycle roared to life, thrumming underneath me. I gripped the sides of it tightly.
Somehow, it seemed like riding a motorcycle was going to be worse than teleporting.
Sebastian reached back and wrapped my arms around his waist. I saw his mouth move, but I couldn't hear him over the engine—or my heartbeat in my ears. "Are we gonna go through the door?" I asked.
He shook his head once, and the door came up.
I held on tightly as he took off, shooting through the now open storage room and through the aisles. I looked back and saw that the door was closing. As if he knew what I was looking for, he opened his left hand, showing me a remote, which I assumed was to the storage room. The world blurred past me as he drove, much faster than the speed limit I was sure, through the gate and down the street.
Buildings rose on either side of us as he sped through the narrow streets, on the opposite of what I was used to. Few people walking, most of them disappearing into bakeries and cafes or office buildings. No one batted an eyelash at Sebastian and me, nor the cars zipping past us as well. Sebastian turned a corner, and I was greeted by a flower shop covered in vines and other greenery. Next to it was a red building, closed, but it had the word 'pub' on it. Then a restaurant, with big open windows and gold lettering I couldn't read.
Sebastian took a sharp turn, one so fast the motorcycle leaned dangerously close onto the ground. I shrieked, but it quickly turned to delighted laughter as Sebastian righted us. I could feel the grin on his face, his warm skin under my palms, the steady beat of his heart. The adventure hadn't really begun yet, but I still wanted more.
I felt the motorcycle begin to slow down and, with it, my heartbeat slowly returned to normal. We were in the residential part of a neighborhood. Pale blue homes were set up feet away from each other, each one an exact replica of the one before it. The white trimming was fresh painted, and the doors had numbers over them. Sebastian pulled over to the side, parking the motorcycle and sitting on it for a few seconds. I took the helmet off. "You okay?" I asked, wanting to get down and start exploring.
The air smelled crisp, exactly what I expected winter to smell like. The sky was gray, like it was threatening to rain, but it really wasn't going to do more than drizzle. A guy walked by, whistling at the motorcycle. Sebastian nodded at him, his expression serious.
"Glad to be back," he responded quietly, swinging his legs across and getting off. "It looks so different."
"Well, it's been almost a century." I took the hand he stretched out, and Sebastian pulled me off in one easy motion. I planted my feet onto the ground. "Does it feel different?"
He locked the helmet around the handle, then grabbed my hand. His hand was bare; I had on gloves. "A little." He paused, looking around as he led me down the street, then elaborated. "It had less people, but times were different. More people would've been outside by now. Less phones, more newspapers. People were still hanging laundry outside.
"On this corner, during the summer, there was a man who would sell baked goods his wife made to raise money so his kids could get new clothes." He smiled at the memory, pausing at the corner. Someone rushed by us on the phone. "He didn't like handouts, so everybody sent their kids there once a week at the very least to buy cookies.
"This was a rich neighborhood. The guy fell on hard times when he got sick and got fired. He did odd jobs to make sure his family was okay. There were three of us, so we always brought home two cookies."
I frowned. "Why two?"
"I didn't get one." His voice was simple, matter-of-fact, but also distant, like he wasn't all there either. "My parents didn't think I deserved one because I was special. I stood out from my siblings, so they only gave them cookies. To make it fair."
It didn't seem fair to me at all.
I let him drag me a few more blocks. This street had lavender homes with white trimming, still way too close together. He stopped about midway through the street.
This street was empty, except for an older lady on the opposite side walking her dog. It was quiet outside, so quiet I could hear someone playing music in the house behind me. There was also music drifting toward me from a few blocs away—soft rock, modern not classic. I could hear the melody but not the words.
"This was the block I grew up in," he murmured quietly. We stood in front of a house with a 'for sale' sign in front of it. "This spot is where my house used to be. It was much smaller, three bedrooms."
I looked at it, trying to see a way younger Sebastian. I pictured him in tweed pants and a white t-shirt, boots. I didn't know what he would've worn during the winter. I could see the small grin, a missing baby tooth at the bottom, pale green eyes sparkling playfully, his hair a wild tousle over his head. Long, skinny limbs.
"My parents had the big bedroom, and they would wake up at the same time, but my umi would leave first. She would make breakfast and then wake us up. My baba would come down the hall seconds after we arrived at the table, just when we swore we would die from hunger from waiting on him." He chuckled.
I could see the young Sebastian running down the hall in his pajamas, yawning with that look on his face he got when he first woke up—like a grumpy old man, except adorable and less cranky. "Tell me more," I urged. This was the closest I had come to knowing anything about how he grew up. He didn't talk about his family too much, said their death hurt him.
He glanced down at me. "When you first walked in, there was the dining room to the left, the kitchen to the right. The walls were this ugly canary yellow that my umi loved. The chairs and table were this dark wooden color that Baba had made the summer before I turned two. They were stiff and huge, and my feet didn't touch the floor until I was nine. I didn't eat there often, only when I could sneak downstairs."
My frown deepened. "Huh?"
He didn't seem to hear me as he continued. "Our bathroom had the deepest claw foot tub I've ever seen—Baba used to tell his friends that ours was deeper than the Queen's, but he never said it where anyone important could hear it. Across from it was a vanity set, and when everybody was gone, I would sometimes teleport down there to see what I looked like. The bruises and cuts interested me, especially how they came in the shape of whatever they used against me."
Something was seriously wrong. "Bash, I think your dream is getting to you," I cut in, not wanting to hear more. Well, I did, but I wanted to hear the truth, not this distorted version he was telling me. Something wasn't right. He didn't even seem to know what he was saying. "Are you okay?"
"Of course." His tone was flippant. "There were three bedrooms—one for my parents, my sister, and my brother."
"Where did you stay?"
"The attic. At first, there was a cage, but it got really cold during the winter, so they put blankets in it as a pallet." Again, his tone was matter-of-fact, like he was talking about the leak in a faucet or a creaky step. "When I got older, bigger, they used chains to hold me there, not that it mattered. I could teleport out of them and back in when they got home."
I resisted the urge to look at him like he had gone insane. I was worried that he was losing his marble, and, at the first chance I got, I would text Griffin. "That sounds… horrible."
He looked confused. "No, it was wonderful. Even when they starved me and said I was evil." His tone had taken on a dream-like state.
"I thought you said your parents were kind to you."
He tilted his head to the side, looking confused. "They were. Haven't you been listening to me?" He shook his head as if I was the crazy one. "Our home wasn't the biggest one, not by far, but my umi used to say it was fit for a queen. She grew up poor. Her mother was from France, her father from Saudi Arabia. Her parents, knowing they couldn't get married in either France or Saudi Arabia, ran away to London to start a family here. It was a struggle, especially when her father died when she was seven. She met my father when she was fifteen, though, and he worked hard to provide for her."
"How did they meet? Your mom's parents?"
He shrugged. "No idea. I never overheard that part of the story." He sighed, staring off into the distance for a few more seconds. A soft wind whipped at my cheeks. I had foregone the beanie so I could let my hair go wild and free. It was better than the messy bun I had been wearing. I had on heels today. "You ready to go on the real adventure?"
I nodded, reaching for his hand again.
I followed him back to the motorcycle in silence. I was worried about him, but I pushed it to the back of my head since he seemed like everything else was okay. Could demons even get sick? I knew he sneezed sometimes and even coughed. Maybe he had caught some brain-altering illness. Maybe he had left some brain cells back in Missouri.
We climbed aboard the motorcycle, and I stuck the helmet on my head, wrapping my arms back around him. The adventurous spirit was still there, but it had been subdued by my worry for him, even though I tried to ignore it.
He zipped through the streets once again, but it was a much shorter ride this time. He made a few turns, then the smell of baked goods hit me. He veered off suddenly, and we entered a parking lot.
"You drive crazy," I mumbled as we got off again.
"No crazier than you."
I wanted to dispute that, but it was true. I often had my car on two wheels. The worst thing my parents had done was get me a sports car. I hadn't had a wreck yet, but I had paid enough speeding tickets to personally fund the police department's Christmas bonus. "Where are we?"
"A shopping market. C'mon."
As we walked closer to a building, more smells wafted toward me. My stomach grumbled, and my mouth watered in anticipation. I could smell fresh muffins and orange chicken. Curry and jasmine rice. Other spices and foods I hadn't heard of it or been around before. I followed him through the door, and the colors/smells assaulted my senses.
I inhaled deeply. To the left were food stalls—at least a dozen of them and some change with food ranging from Thai to desserts. I saw a man dishing out a plate of rice covered in some kind of sauce on it. A bowl of some orange-yellow soup looking thing. To the right were stalls filled with clothes, shoes, dolls, plates, and everything I could think of. A colorful stall filled with shoes and clothes caught my attention—and also offered a chance for me to call Griffin. "Hey, I'm going look at those clothes over there," I told Sebastian, not having to feign the excitement or interest on my face. "Wanna get me some hot chocolate? I'm freezing."
"Of course." He pushed away my hand. "I'll be right back."
Not too soon, though, the line for the hot chocolate was long. I pulled my phone out and texted Griffin. Something is wrong with Sebastian.
His response was immediate. I'll be over in ten minutes.
We're in London.
I won't be over in ten minutes then.
I smiled to myself, walking up to the small. The woman, an older lady in about her late sixties smiled at me.
I started rifling through the clothes, only halfway looking at them as I texted Griffin. He was telling me about home, and he kept talking about having bruises, being locked in a cage. But he didn't seem bothered by it. He had a weird dream about his parents telling him he was evil, too. It sucked as an explanation, but it was the best I could do.
Griffin waited a minute or two to text back. In the meantime, I picked out a bright red sweater with the flag on it and two vintage dresses made with plenty of lace and frills. I put the blue one against me, looking down at the text. I'll handle it, just let me know when you two get back. He wasn't done, though. The three dots appeared, then disappeared. Then: I need to apologize to you. In person.
I shoved my phone into my pocket. I hadn't forgiven him just because I needed his help. My love for Sebastian just outweighed my anger at Griffin.
Out the corner of my eye, I saw Sebastian walking toward me. He had my hot chocolate in one hand, a bag of something in his other hand. "Found something you liked?" he asked, nodding towards the clothes I held.
I smiled at him. "Yeah. I did."
He smiled back, despite the quizzical look in his eyes. "You mind ringing that up for her?" he asked the woman, pulling his card out of his pocket. He swiped, and the woman thanked us. We walked away, toward the rest of our adventure.
In my pocket, my phone buzzed.
I looked over at my phone, not wanting to answer the text. I had had maybe three hours of sleep before I had to leave for class again, but now I was back at his house, exhausted. There were shopping bags all around the guest room, waiting for me to take pictures to show Hillary, and also half-eaten plates of food. Any food I looked at, Sebastian had bought, which resulted in almost a shopping bag filled with to-go plates.
Sebastian had fallen asleep on the sofa. I had one more thing to do before I went to sleep, though.
I pressed the 'call' button. It rang four times, and just when I was getting ready to hang up and go to sleep, she answered. "Hello?"
"Hey, Clare. It's me, Athena."