Page 83 of After Midnight

I lift a brow. “How?”

Seb pauses playing to take my hand, and he sets it gently on the keys. “See these two keys?” He presses on my fingers, and the keys give way beneath my touch. “Every three four, press these keys, okay?”

I nod once. “Okay.”

He starts playing again, and he counts me in. “One, two, three, four.”

I press the keys, a little slow at first, but the next three and four, I’m on time. My keys don’t add a lot to the song, but it makes me smile, and Seb looks happier for it too, his smile wide, his gaze fixed on the white and black keys as he plays.

We play the whole song together that way, and when the song ends, Seb lets his hands slide slowly from the keys, then turns on the bench to look at me. “You didn’t tell me you can play the piano,” he says, jostling me lightly with his big shoulder.

My lips lift in the corner. “I’m a fast learner.”

He opens his mouth to reply, but he’s interrupted when his phone rings in his pocket. His smile falters, and when he pulls it out, I see the name on the screen: Dad.

I start to stand. “I can give you some privacy.”

But Seb catches me by the wrist and guides me back down onto the piano bench beside him. “No. It’s fine.” He hits the Reject button, silences the phone, and then sets it onto the table beside the piano, face down.

For a moment, we don’t speak.

Then I say, “I can’t believe your dad hates your music.”

Seb’s brown gaze flicks up to meet mine, eyes widening. “What?”

“At the show tonight, I started thinking about what you told me: how your dad hates your music and thinks it’s just a phase.”

“Oh.” His brows pull together, and his gaze drops. “Yeah.”

I reach out to take his hand, weaving my fingers through his. “And I don’t mean to sound like an asshole, but I thinks that’s super shitty of him.” With my other hand, I touch Seb’s chin, tipping his head up so he’ll meet my eyes. “You’re amazing. I’m serious. Watching you tonight . . . It’s obvious how much you love your music. And your dad is missing out by not seeing that too.”

He stares into my eyes, and I get the feeling he’s trying to look into my soul, trying to determine if what I’m saying is true. He must find what he’s looking for, because he lets out the tight breath he was holding, his shoulders softening.

“Yeah, it sucks. And the only time he calls me”—he glances toward the phone on the side table—“is when he wants money.”

“It seems like he calls you a lot,” I say. When Seb stayed with me in Vegas, his dad blew his phone up all day until he finally answered.

“It’s been more often lately. And when I don’t answer, he has my mom call me. He knows I hate when he involves her, so . . .”

“So, he does it to control you,” I say.

Seb nods.

“How do you feel about it?” I ask softly, running my thumb over his knuckles. “About him wanting money all the time?”

Seb’s jaw flexes, like he’s chewing on his words before letting them out. “I don’t mind helping them; I make a fuck ton of money—like, way more than anyone needs. It’s kind of stupid.” A brief bashful smile catches his lips, but it vanishes quickly. “It’s more like . . . I wish he saw me as more than that. I think if I didn’t have money, I’d probably never hear from him again.”

“What about your mom?”

His shoulders rise and fall in a shrug. “She’s not as bad as my dad, but she does what he wants. He controls her too. So, if I stopped paying him, he might not want her talking to me either.” His gaze flicks up to meet mine. “I’ve thought about cutting him off, but I don’t want to lose her too.”

My lips press into a firm line.

I’ve always had a problem with men who control their girlfriends and wives and daughters, who treat them more like objects than individuals. And I know the objectification well; I see it at Caliber every night I work. I’ve learned how to turn that objectification into my own sort of power, but that’s not easy when it’s people you love who’re controlling and using you.

“Even if you go broke,” I say, offering him a light smile, trying to lift his mood, “I’ll still be here. Though I’d definitely make you go get a job.”

His lips start to pull up in one corner. “Can’t I just move in with you and skateboard all day?”