Lunch
Sebastian swallowed, eyes still wider than he meant them to be, and forced himself to hold her gaze, hold her hands, for just a moment, before pulling back, pulling away. He glanced at her once more, trying to work out just why exactly her thumbs against his palms had been so instantly soothing, before calling the waiter over.
“I’m good for food,” he said. “Get whatever you want though, really. My treat.”
He managed a small smile before fixing his eyes determinedly on the table in front of him and not looking up or speaking at all as she ordered. He should have known this was a bad idea. Men like him didn’t just do lunch. They avoided all bloody friendly contact they could and there was a damn good reason for that. He was just dragging her down into something he wouldn’t be able to get her out of again.
Mary could still see the panic in his eyes, try as he might to hide it, and for that small moment he let her hold his hands, she felt an overwhelming and very sudden need to take care of him. She just wanted to wrap him up in her arms and stroke his hair with her fingertips and let him know that he didn't have to tell her what was wrong, he just needed to know she was there.
"Sebastian..." she began to say something, but realised that there was nothing she could say that would help other than "Okay. Thank you so much."
When the waiter arrived, she ordered a burger, figuring that if she couldn't finish it, maybe he would. Once he walked away from the table, she looked over at Sebastian again. She realised he wouldn't open up to her about what was going on- not right now anyway- so she reached for her glass of water and settled for a diversion tactic.
"One of my students shoved a crayon up his nose today," she told him, pausing to wrap her lips around her straw and take a sip. "I almost had to take him to the hospital. When I asked him why he did it, do you know what he told me?"
