To Sir, with Love

by Lauren Layne

all of his attention on me.

I glance once more at The Guy and find he’s studying me as though I’m a puzzle he can’t quite figure out.

At least I still have Sir.

Do you believe in love at first sight?

Where do you fall on serendipity? Fate? Destiny? Or is it all mere coincidence?

Duels are still a thing, right?

Mr. Andrews found this local guy up on Amsterdam.

though I feel him studying me, and the room suddenly becomes… charged?

He hadn’t even hesitated before pointing, as though he’s already scoped it out.

This time I know it’s definitely not my imagination that his eyes track the hem of my dress where it falls just a smidge short of business appropriate,

His lips twitch with the hint of a reluctant smile. “What is it with you and twenty-dollar bills?”

his soft chuckle

he’s her perfect match, and I feel that usual tinge of delight and jealousy at seeing two people who clearly belong together. I want that.

he’d pushed back lunch with his parents. To meet with… me?

There’s something irritatingly irresistible about someone who won’t give you the time of day…

He’s too busy glaring at me, and when his aqua eyes lock with mine, he lifts his glass in a silent, mocking toast.

He says nothing.

There’s someone else—” His eyes flick over to me, just for a second, but it’s unmistakably a tell.

I feel his eyes on my back as I walk away.

And every time, he seems to sense my gaze, because his eyes find mine. The moments of eye contact are brief—a few seconds at most. The butterflies in my stomach last much, much longer.

He turns to face me, and all seems just a little bit more right in the world.

“There’s nobody here but you and me, Ms. Cooper.”

His eyes darken in what seems to be irritation or… jealousy?

The light in his eyes dims. “Forget it. I wasn’t asking for a refund.”

“Sebastian!”

Something warm and wonderful happens to his face that takes my breath away.

“Any more, and I won’t be able to see one without thinking of you,” I say before I can think better of it. Something flits across Sebastian’s face at my words,

Yearning.

“I’m not. But I’ll walk you home. But first…” He points at one of the food stands. “Ice cream.”

I like even less that when he notices me shiver and drops his coat over my shoulders, I stop thinking about Sir altogether.

but are you okay? I haven’t heard from you in a while and wanted to let you know I’m here.

You’re real to me too. You’re important to me.

I just had the strangest sense…” His gaze finds mine. “That you needed something.”

it looks a lot like hurt.

Questioning. Hoping?

“Ah.” His voice is a touch sharp. “Your suitor.”

but instead he’s watching me.

A strange blend that is surprisingly… perfect.

“And this is your right time? Here? With me?” he asks, his voice rough.

Or maybe I needed you.

His eyes gleam with something that looks like satisfaction, and his response knocks everything inside me off balance. “Good.”

“I like to call them spies, though I suppose sources is the socially appropriate term.”

his expression showing a blink-and-you-miss-it flicker of… relief?

“We have your info in the system. I broke company policy, and probably a few laws, by looking it up.”

He steps closer. “You thought what?” His voice is rough, his eyes seeming to plead with mine, and for an insane moment, I want to tell him. I want to tell him to choose me, to feel about me the way I feel about him.

I do know there’s no worse feeling than realizing you’ve hurt the last person on earth you would have wanted to.

“I think the best parts of my life so far have been in my daydreams.”

the person I want to share it with hasn’t been in touch since I basically ordered him out of my apartment and out of my life.

The other is a couple. A man and a woman on a park bench at night, the trees behind them shadowy. They’re turned toward each other, almost reluctantly, as though pulled together by a force neither wants, and neither can resist. Adding a bit of realism to the otherwise dreamy painting is a flash of silver in each hand that any New Yorker would recognize as a spontaneous late-night snack from a food cart.

I like you. I like you very much.