Agoraphobia - CharlieandEm (the first e reader TXT) 📗

whisked through her mind every so often. As Sebastian stepped out of the double French doors into the garden I began my study of him. Firstly, as his paper had stated, much is learned about a person from background study and the way they present themselves; tying in their stance, manner and dress with the knowledge of their probable previous engagements was key to designing your apparent demeanour to suit them. Sebastian had his hair brushed neatly to the side, across his face, rather than the scruffy manner I knew that he preferred and was more comfortable with. From my memory of his appearance at the library he had seemed relatively neat, but not as neat. The motivation behind his neatness, where his pale blue shirt and black dress shoes matched his hair, threw me and took too much time to decipher. He was not wasting anytime as he approached me, obviously suspecting my motivation in setting myself so far from his entry.
“I ask you to meet me and you don’t wear a tie?” I addressed him, hoping to gain some information from his answer. As I was in the shade and he in the sun, walking towards me rendered half-blind by the change from the inside of the house, I hoped that I had the advantage of extensive examination.
“You ask me to meet you and you don’t wear shoes?” he deflected neatly. I halted my smile at his skill and stared up at him, as he stood at the edge of the picnic blanket, flashing a girlish look of ‘come and get me’. He smiled back; which meant that my tack was dead on, or that he had the upper hand. “May I sit down?” he inquired suavely, but sat down immediately without waiting for a reply. I shimmied closer to where he sat, at the very end of the blanket, and nestled my forehead into the curve of his neck.
“You know the box,” I began, knowing that he would follow my thought pattern, “Do you still have it?” Sebastian sighed, out of relief or reluctance.
“I like to think so,” he murmured. He sounded calm and uncommitted to any specific emotion.
“Well,” I triangled my legs over his, out-stretched and the perfect image of control, leaning back to let him see my face, “The conservation for that box is the cornerstone to my decision.”
“You’d rather have the box Sebastian than the one I’ve made just for you?” he teased, brushing my fringe out of my eyes, playing the same game I was.
“No, I want the box because, if you can keep him in there, I can do the same to Olivia.”
“How will you know that I’m telling the truth?” he tested.
“You have this theory, I want this theory. You want me, I have you. Trust is the only thread that will tie those things together.” I said. Nerves collected in my stomach, my finger and my back; his acceptance of this was, actually, what would tie these together but if he had not already known that he would not have given himself the choice.
“Fair enough.” He laughed gently.
“What?” I asked.
“You are much better at this than I thought you would be.” He grinned again. “I think that, with a little bit of training, I may have met my match.” I studied him carefully, unsure of whether or not he was sincere or simply duping me. “I slip up more than I like to admit,’ he said, “Some emotion has to be real; even if it is just the indulgence of success.”
“So, you’ll teach me?” I ventured, flicking on the female charm once more.
“I didn’t realise this was an interview, maybe I should’ve worn a tie.” He waited for my pithy reply, but I mirrored his nonchalance and pulled a Robin-Sebastian wait on him. He rolled his eyes away from me and tossed his head as if making a difficult decision. “On one condition; we can call for the boxes and they must be legit.”
“A pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Wren.” I stuck out my hand to shake his.
“And with you Miss. Vaughn.” Sebastian gazed at me, in a way that I guessed came from his box, and said, “You know, all the great deals are sealed with a kiss.”

“I suppose you’ll want to start immediately,” Sebastian whispered into my ear. We sat on the couch, pretending to want TV, but in truth we were studying the relationship between Ron and Robin. Sebastian was used to this set up, though I doubt that he had often included an apprentice in his vigil. Before they had come in, he had positioned himself so that I sat under his arm, within neck-craning distance to his ear. This way we could exchange information in a seemingly innocent way. Nevertheless this plan was flawed in that Robin was my brother and whispering between ‘lovers’ as he called us was not seen as innocent. By luck, though I would scarcely doubt it was not by design, Ron took our interaction as competition. She could not bear to see me happier than she was, or so I presumed by the look of rivalry that soured her face.
“You watch her and I’ll watch him.” Sebastian continued. I swivelled my head to give him a look of disgust, but he simply raised his eyebrows in a distinctly teacher-like challenge. I ground my teeth, but unwillingly eyed Ron every so often. She noticed this, subtlety was a learned gift, and look as badly as she could have. In a stomach-turning twist she pulled herself up and started to kiss Robin’s neck. I looked away, frankly repulsed. Robin, who had been sleeping, woke up suddenly and, embarrassed by her impropriety, excused himself. As much as he tried to be gentle about it, there was no way to avoid the blatant rejection.
“Stupidity comes at a price.” I whispered to Sebastian.
“Reserve all judgement, until its over.” He reminded me. At this exchange the heat in Ron’s face exploded out of her mouth in an outraged shriek.
“How dare you whisper about me?!” she screamed. Sebastian and I were shocked, because neither of us had been looking at her since Robin left.
“We weren’t,” Sebastian purred, pulling me closer to him and kissing my cheek to reinforce his alibi.
“She was.” Ron hissed.
“I wasn’t,” I looked at her wide-eyed, “I just asked if he wanted to go upstairs.” I blushed, genuinely as Sebastian shifted uncomfortably underneath my legs. He had warned about relating a situation back to yourself was a dangerous method, simply because maintaining the farce took effort, but I had failed to think of anything else in the time I had had. It worked, Ron’s fury dissipated abruptly in diffusion of a fight she craved.
“Oh…” she muttered and walked away. Once she had left I could not help feeling elation at the outcome of the last section of the event. Of course, I had done everything completely wrong, but it was especially exhilarating to have done something other than fight with Ron.
“That was terrible,” Sebastian chuckled.
“It wasn’t terrible,” I protested, “Only moderately unproductive.”
“Whatever you say.” He teased, twisting my hair.
“Um,” I felt my hands dampen a little and my cheeks blush again, “I wasn’t kidding about the upstairs part.” I said under my breath, “I mean, if you want to.” I added hastily.
“It depends,” he looked at me without smiling, “If ‘upstairs’ is a euphemism for something else.” The bravery that I felt before melted slightly and pooled as insecurity. I moved out of his arms and sat next to him, facing the TV.
“If you don’t want to just say so; yes or no would suffice.” I snapped, louder than I had planned to. He had put my out on a limb and was shaking the tree, so I thought that opening the box was justified.
“Oh I do,” he assured me, a smile flickering across his lips. He stared past me and added rather wistfully, “I really do.”
“Except there’s a ‘but’.” I interjected.
“Yes; I don’t know how comfortable I am with the student-teacher relationship.” He chuckled, but I was smarting and had not intention of joining in. “Okay, honestly…”
“From the box?” I felt like a child, but ridicule does that to you.
“Yes, from the box;” he sighed and swivelled to face me. His face flickered with the blue, green and white of the TV on one side and gave his face a serious look; probably less serious than he intended though. “I only know a few things about you; nothing very in depth though. I want you; simply, because you’re attractive and smart, but I don’t just want to want you simply. You aren’t simple, and I’m not simple so our relationship shouldn’t be simple. As horrendously offensive as this is to the guy code; I want to know you better before we have sex.” He was uncomfortable in the box, but he appeared to be willing to persevere because he looked me in the eye once more. “I mean, you know my theory so it’s not like I can charm you with something fool-proof. I let that chance slip, because… I think that I knew that, amongst the girls that set themselves up for easy picking, you weren’t, because you’ve held my attention the longest.”
“What, so I’m worth the effort because I don’t bore you?” I asked him.
“No, that’s not what I mean.” He was frustrated, his fists balled slightly and he ruffled his hair. “You know, it’s addictive; boxing reality.” He said fervently, “I’m not trying to excuse myself; I’m just saying that it’s difficult, to get back to the box. Maybe I haven’t been honest, not with what I’ve said, but with how I’ve acted. I want you, but it’s easier to be a nice, polite boy and make girls think that it’s their idea. I don’t want to be like that to you, but that has already passed; so,” he took my hand and squeezed it, “I’ll try to be, admittedly, not what I think you want, but what I owe you to be. You amaze me; you forgave me for this and you are willing to support me in it.” Sebastian smiled, his charm precipitating from his awkwardness, “The least I can do is be a bit of an arse.”
“Thank you.” I smiled up at him and kissed him. The only part about this moment that I regretted was that I too would have to start being honest. Maybe all people have a box that they store themselves in but not consciously. Sebastian sighed and look a deep breath, expressing the literal ‘weight off his chest’ and kissed my hand.
“I’d better be going.” He said. He got up and the slant of the couch changed ever so slightly. I followed, tiptoeing, nervous about the night. “Tell your parents that I say bye.” He murmured.
“Um,” he turned on his heels to face me as I caught his attention. I kissed him, more severely and intensely than I had ever ventured before. I needed him to stay just a fraction longer until I worked up the nerve to tell him what I had been planning to tell me the whole week.
“I know what I promised,” he whispered gently, “But sometimes the virtue of Box Sebastian is staying boxed.” He swallowed.
“I have something to tell you.”
“What is it?” he asked, sensing the unease in my voice – which was an inconvenience. I wanted to be strong and direct with the clumsiness and the frustration that he had had when I gave my revelation speech. It irritated me that Box Olivia was just a