Rotten Apples: a forbidden romance (Forbidden Fruit) by Eve Cates

Author:Eve Cates [Cates, Eve]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-03-05T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Adults Don’t Do Sleepovers

We open our eyes at the same time. We’re still leaning against my bed, still sitting, but we’re facing each other. My heart surges at the sight of her, and in this sleepy state, I want to forget all of my promises. I want to kiss her until neither of us can breathe anymore.

“Are you leaving today?” she whispers.

I reach up and brush her hair away from her face, running my fingers gently down the smooth skin of her cheek, slowly, the distance between us decreasing, both of us moving in, our lips almost touching. “Perhaps I’ll go tomorrow instead.”

“Sebastian? Are you up?” We pull away from each other, startled, suddenly wide-awake. I hear Chelsea through the door, and I realize she must have been the reason we both woke up in the first place.

“Oh crap,” Abigail says, scrambling to stand up.

“Sebastian?” Chelsea knocks again.

“Um, yeah. I’m up. Hang on.” I look at a wide-eyed Abigail.

“She can’t see me, Seb,” she whispers urgently. “It’s one thing to be seen visiting your room. But leaving in the morning in the same clothes as last night? That doesn’t look good. What am I going to do?”

I press my lips together, realizing she’s right. Even if I were her blood brother this would look bad. Adults don’t do sleepovers.

“Just…trust me OK? Chelsea can help.”

“Seb!” she hisses as I open the door and quickly pull Chelsea inside.

“Whoa!” she yelps, stumbling a little as I close the door behind her. Then she sees Abi. “Whoa,” she says again. “You know they’re looking for you? You didn’t show up at breakfast and your bed wasn’t slept in.”

“Oh god,” she moans, clutching her stomach, a sour look on her face as she runs for the bathroom.

I move to go after her but Chelsea grabs my arm. “What have you done, Sebastian?” she whispers harshly. “You can’t go doing this. She’s about to get married!”

“I’ve done absolutely nothing. She’s my sister, Chelsea. We were watching TV and we fell asleep.”

“You expect me to believe that? She’s not your sister by blood, she’s your stepsister, who happens to look a hell of a lot like Snow White.” She pokes my shoulder where my poison apple tattoo is. “And when you look at her, it’s like you want to eat her for breakfast. I know you, Sebastian. I know she’s the girl you’ve been hung up on all these years.”

“Nothing has happened, Chelsea,” I argue, then I gesture at my half-dressed state. “Look at me. I have clothes on. So does she. Nothing happened.”

She raises her brow. “Nothing happened?”

I shake my head. “No. I swear it to you.”

The door to the bathroom opens and closes and Abigail comes out looking unwell with worry. “What am I going to do? I can’t go out there looking like this.” She gestures to her cocktail dress.

Chelsea looks between us, her face set with worry for the predicament we’ve found ourselves in.

She lets out her breath. “Come with me,” she says.

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