Ray's POV
I was silent for exactly thirty seconds.
Which is, by the way, a record.
Sebastian opened the car door for me like it was normal. Like he always does that. And I climbed in like I wasn't about to combust. The door closed with a soft click, and the city noise faded away, leaving just me, him, and the sound of my pulse screaming in my ears.
I glanced at him. Just a peek.
He was leaning back like nothing happened. One arm slung across the back of the seat. One leg crossed casually. Looking like he didn't just publicly declare that I belong to him. Like he wasn't the reason I was seconds away from curling into a very flustered ball.
So, of course, I had to speak. Or explode.
"So…that whole thing back there?" I asked, voice about five octaves higher than usual.
He didn't answer immediately. Just turned his head toward me, those cold eyes flickering with something unreadable.
"I don't like being ignored," he said simply. "Especially by what's mine."
Mine.
My brain short-circuited.
I laughed. It came out weird and shaky and so not cool. "Right. Sure. Super casual. Just…casually throwing around possessive declarations in public cafés. That's…normal. Totally normal. Do you do that with all your—your people?"
His gaze didn't move. "There are no others."
Oh.
Okay.
Well.
I think I forgot how lungs work?
I looked away quickly, turning to the window like it suddenly became the most fascinating thing in the universe. "Well, that's…good to know," I mumbled, hugging my bag like it could protect me from spontaneous combustion. "Because—um—you know, for the record, I'm not blushing. That's just the lighting. Bad car lighting."
"I see," he said.
He was smirking.
He saw everything.
I'm going to die.
And I'm pretty sure I'll still be blushing in the afterlife.