Contractual Obligations

Christmas was upon us, and so was Sebastian’s birthday.

It was always so hard to plan both a Christmas and a birthday post on social media. This year, I had plenty of ammunition from the party at Carol’s house, so I could schedule another picture of us in front of her Christmas tree and be done with it.

I wanted things to be different, though. Before, we never celebrated birthdays; considering our newfound friendship, I wanted to do something special for him.

Surprisingly, I knew a lot about him. I knew his favorite food, his interests, and I’d found a pair of hiking boots in his closet that gave me the perfect plan for his day.

I got up early, making coffee and waffles in our small kitchen. Sebastian was up at eight, looking confused.

“What’s all this?” he asked, looking at the setup on the dining room table.

I had bought a balloon, a small cake, and positioned a card in the front. The card was cheesy, but it featured a quote from Game of Thrones that he’d laughed at when we watched it, so I knew it was perfect.

I came out of the kitchen smiling.

“It’s for your birthday.”

Sebastian’s face turned a bright shade of red, and for a moment, he looked guilty. “But . . . I didn’t do anything for your birthday.”

My birthday had been before we were in Nashville, and Jessie and I had spent the day together. I had planned my own party to post on Instagram and said it was from Sebastian.

“It’s fine. It was before . . . this,” I said. “And I just wanted to do something nice. Sit down.”

Sebastian looked almost uncomfortable, and I wondered if maybe I had gone too far. But I got the food ready anyway and sat across from him.

“Here you go,” I said. “Birthday breakfast!”

“You don’t have to—I don’t want you to feel like—”

“Do you not like it?” I asked, my stomach in my throat.

“No!” Sebastian said. “This is all so nice, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this.”

“I don’t,” I said, shaking my head. “I just . . . want us to do something nice.”

Sebastian blinked. “Really?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Is that okay? You didn’t have other plans, did you?”

“No,” he replied. “We just don’t usually do anything for birthdays.”

“I know, but we’re changing,” I told him. “I want to try something different.”

The hesitancy faded from Sebastian’s eyes. He nodded. “Okay.”

Breakfast was fun. Sebastian and I talked about anything and everything, and by the time midday came around, he looked loose and content. I could tell he didn’t expect anything else, so when I grabbed my keys and told him to put activewear on, he looked shocked.

I drove him to the spot Amy told me about: near a lake and a dam with decent hiking trails. A few people were out, but not many.

“What are we doing?” he asked.

“A hike,” I replied. “I found your hiking boots.”

“I . . . I have never been hiking.”

“Shit,” I muttered.

“But I got them because I wanted to try it,” he said, smiling. “Where are we going?”

It was warm for a winter day, and I was grateful that I wouldn’t be spending this hike in freezing weather.

We hiked for a mile and a half, going along the shoreline and then into the trees. This was the kind of working out I loved. I was pleasantly surprised to hear birds in the distance, even though it was technically winter.

Sebastian took everything in, leaving us in a comfortable, intimate silence. There was something so comforting about being silent with someone you liked. It wasn’t heavy or dull. It was peaceful and rewarding.

It didn’t help that Sebastian looked good in his jeans. He was walking in front of me, and I got a view of his amazing ass as we walked.

God, I wanted to touch it.

It had been too long since we’d slept together. If we kept up this dry streak, maybe I’d break out that old vibrator I’d kept around. It didn’t do the job quite like he did, but I could always pretend it was him.

I was so lost in my lustful thoughts that I collided with his back when he stopped.

“S-sorry,” I said, trying to get my mind out of the gutter. It didn’t work.

“It was all me,” he said, giving me more distance than I wanted. “I was just admiring this. Maybe I am a guy who likes hiking.”

“Maybe,” I replied, my eyes taking him in.

Did he look at me like this? Did he see me and think about me in bed with him? Did he ever glance at my ass and think, God, I’d love to grab that?

Because if he did, he didn’t show it.

We’d gone to bed every night in separate rooms. I realized it had only been me kissing him. While he touched me when we were around people, in private . . . we felt like friends.

Whatever calm I’d found on this hike evaporated. I looked down at myself, wondering if my slight weight gain was where I’d gone wrong. Maybe it was my baggy T-shirt  or the messy bun of hair piled on my head.

Or maybe it was just me.

“Ready to head back?” he asked, looking over at me.

“Yeah,” I said, smiling at him, though it hurt a little to do.

He began walking again, but he reached out his hand to me. “I think I should hold this,” he said. “In case you fall.”

I hadn’t fallen on the way over here, but the idea of his hand in mine made me blush. A little of my pain went away. Maybe I was wrong.

He laughed. “I love that I can see your blush when you don’t wear makeup.”

“I don’t,” I muttered, taking his hand.

The feel of his palm in mine along with our intertwined fingers made my blush grow hotter. His eyes were stuck on my darkening cheeks.

But, I still loved it. This warm, delicate feeling was so soft in the quiet of nature. It felt delicate, like a newly hatched butterfly, fresh from its cocoon.

It was more addicting than I’d ever like to admit.

Holding hands shouldn’t feel this way—especially not with the man I was contractually bound to.

But I couldn’t bring myself to stop.

When we were near the car, he pulled me to him and kissed me on the temple. The heat, which had finally been receding, flooded back to my cheeks the moment my body was pressed against his.

“Thank you,” he said, his lips moving against my skin, “for doing all of this for me.”

I turned to him, a measly “You’re welcome” on the tip of my tongue, but the words were lost when I realized how close his face was to mine.

I captured him, pushing my lips to his. My heart raced, and I silently begged him not to pull away. I wanted this strange physical distance to be a figment of my imagination.

Instead, he met my kiss with the same force, his hands sliding down to my hips and then lower back to keep me pressed against him.

My body came alive, ready for something, anything, from the man kissing me.

I wanted to go home. I wanted to open the car door and have my way with him in there, but just as I thought I was safe, and I was finally going to get what I needed, he pulled away.

The air, colder than his body heat, was the hard awakening I needed.

“We should go home,” he said, his voice rushed, as if he wanted to get away from me as fast as possible.

My heart nearly stopped. “Okay,” I said. “Let’s go home then.”

We rode in silence, and I sifted through my memories trying to decide if I was imagining this or not.

When we got to the privacy of our living room, I kissed him again. My body throbbing with lust, I tried to gently move him toward his room.

But he pulled away.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, “but I can’t.”

I looked at him, my stomach rolling as I took in his words.

He can’t . . . have sex with me?

“Is it . . . is it me?” The answer could easily kill me, but I had to know.

“No,” he said, “of course not.”

I didn’t know if I believed him, but I nodded anyway. He gave me a guilty look, and then went to his own room without me.

For a traitorous second, I wondered if he was going back to his room to call someone else.

I didn’t want to go down that path again. I didn’t want to assume anything.

But it still hurt.

I went to my own room and looked at my body in the mirror, wondering if it was my weight gain, or my lack of makeup that was the problem. The idea that it was made my heart break a little. I wanted to believe hid words, but his actions spoke louder.

I shook off my thoughts and went to my laptop to write, but when I did, no words came out. I sighed, frustrated, and decided to read instead.

It didn’t help.

I put a post on Instagram and spent my time scheduling others. It soured my mood even further, but it passed the time. I didn’t have many of Sebastian and me, but I used more photos from the internet to hopefully satiate people so I could breathe.

By the time I fell asleep, I was in a worse mood than before.

Photo: another in front of a Christmas tree. This time, Lily and Sebastian are holding each other.

LilyRMiller: Happy birthday honey! Can’t wait to spend the day with you!

RealBarbaraRoberts: I can’t wait to have grandkids from you two!

SebandLily4ever: YES TO LITTLE LILYS AND SEBASTIANS

User82720484: I can give you babies instead…