Chapter Two #2
There's never been anyone else for me. How could there be when they never compared?
When I never stopped thinking about him long enough?
No one smiled like him or laughed like him.
No one pushed my buttons like him or made my stomach clench like him.
No one gave me butterflies or high blood pressure like him.
I gave up trying to wish away my feelings a long damn time ago and accepted that I'll probably die a spinster virgin, living off fantasies and battery-operated bliss.
A thump sounds from the other side of the door.
I jump, my heart slamming against my ribcage so hard it startles me as I try to imagine what's happening on the other side…
his dark blond hair all messed up, every muscle in his big body tense, and his head thumping against the wall as his long, rough fingers wrap around his cock.
He probably squeezes tight, his Adam's apple working as he pants for breath.
God, I'd kill to see that in reality.
"Chloe," he growls suddenly. "Ah, Jesus, Chloe."
For a second, I think he's caught me. And then I realize that is not what's happening. That sound is pure ecstasy.
Holy shit.
He's coming with my name on his lips.
My hand tightens on the handle, the urge to storm into the bathroom ripping through me. Except, I don't even know what I'd say.
Take me, I'm yours?
You're an asshole?
I'm in love with you?
I can't say any of that.
I can't tell him that I was eavesdropping, either. He'll be furious.
"Jesus," he mutters from the other side of the door. "Get it together, man. She doesn't want you."
Except…she does. She always has.
I am so confused.
I stumble away from the door as silently as possible, not sure what the hell just happened, what it means, or what I'm even going to do about it. But I do know one thing for sure: Trystan Goodson is far more complicated than I thought.
I'm not sure what to expect from him after what I heard in the bathroom.
Honestly, I think maybe I'm an idiot for expecting anything, because when I finally materialize from the guest room, there is no new and improved Trystan waiting for me.
He's the same cranky, domineering jerk who drives me nuts.
"You're still here," he says, gorgeous gray eyes narrowed as he stares at me over the kitchen island.
"And you didn't drown in the shower." I pluck a banana from the bowl in the center of the island, holding his gaze. "You were in there long enough. I was sure you'd died naked. Pity."
I slowly peel the banana, watching every shift of emotion across his face.
He tenses slightly, a tiny flicker of guilt flaring in his eyes before he manages to school his expression, shutting it away behind that infuriating mask he always wears around me.
The one that's all irritating self-possession and dominance.
"Sorry to disappoint, princess," he says, voice rough. "But if being here with me bothers you so much, you're welcome to go back to San Francisco."
"You'd love that, wouldn't you?" I scowl at him.
He shrugs, which frustrates me.
"Of course you would. Your life is complete when I'm someone else's problem." I take a big bite of the banana, but it tastes like sawdust in my mouth. He is so damn confusing. An hour ago, he was getting himself off with my name on his lips. Now, he's as irritatingly standoffish as ever.
"You don't know anything about my life, Chloe," he says, leaning against the cabinet across from me. "You stopped wanting to know anything about it a long goddamn time ago."
"Uh, no. That was you," I remind him. "You're the one who decided you didn't want to be friends with me anymore.
You preferred telling me what to do, instead.
And when I didn't just bow to your demands, you decided I wasn't worth the effort.
" I stomp to the trash before tossing the banana in. "Don't rewrite history now, Tryst."
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
"Oh my god." I whirl to face him. "You don't even remember, do you?"
"Remember what?" His eyes scan across my face.
"The day we stopped being friends."
His brows furrow in confusion, and a little part of me wants to cry. Or scream. Or maybe I want to strangle him. He doesn't remember the day he broke my heart.
"You know what?" I shake my head, reaching around him to grab the leash for Thanos. "It doesn't even matter now. We can coexist without speaking to each other for a few days."
He grabs my arm before I can pull away. "Tell me."
"Let me go."
"Not until you tell me what day you're talking about."
"Prom, you idiot." I roll my eyes at him before yanking my arm from his. "I was so excited to show you the dress I picked out. You know what you said to me?"
"Fuck," he growls, jaw clenching, and I know he remembers.
"You told me that prom was stupid, and no one cared about it. That I'd be better off if I skipped it. And when I said no, you didn't talk to me for two weeks." I tilt my head back, meeting his gaze.
"What the fuck?" He gapes at me. "That isn't what happened, Chloe."
"Yes, it is!" I growl, stomping away from him. "You didn't get your way, and you couldn't stand it, so you just decided not to bother with me anymore."
He's silent for a long moment, processing. And then he mutters a curse. "That isn't what happened."
"Yeah, it is," I say sadly.
"It isn't. You were the one who stopped talking to me. I tried over and over again, but you were pissed and wouldn't give an inch. Everything I said to you was the wrong thing. It still is."
"Sounds like a you problem," I sniff, bending to clip the leash to Thanos's collar. He's just glancing between us like he's watching a ping-pong match and isn't sure which side he should be cheering for. But he's a smart dog. He chooses me, obviously.
"Fuck," Trystan growls. "You're so goddam infuriating. You know that?"
"Yeah, well, you suck."
His lips quirk into a panty-melting grin. "Is that the best you can do, princess? I'm disappointed. Your insults usually sting a little more than that."
"I don't insult you."
"Bullshit."
"Whatever." I roll my eyes at him, turned on, annoyed, and just frustrated in general. "Go back to Santa Maria."
"Hell, no. You go back to San Francisco."
"No."
"Why'd you quit your job?"
"Oh, now you want to know? I thought it was a mess I was running from?"
He tips his head back, staring up at the ceiling. I see the muscle in his jaw tick. He doesn't say a word, but his silence is loud. He's counting. Definitely to five. Probably to ten.
Something about that makes me smile.
"What happened, Chloe?" he finally growls, tipping his head down. When he meets my gaze, his expression is fierce, all stubborn determination and command.
And, like usual, I find myself desperate to do the exact opposite of what he's demanding. Not because I don't want him to know what happened, but simply because that look makes me weak. And one thing I can't afford to be around this man is weak.
"I stole a million dollars and skipped town."
He mutters a curse, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I'm not sure what concerns me more," he mutters. "The fact that you're lying to me, or the fact that it wouldn't surprise me a single goddamn bit to find out that you aren't."
"Worried you won't have anyone to boss around if I go to prison?"
He meets my gaze again, his expression severe. "We both know hell will freeze over before I let you go to prison."
My smile slips, my heart slamming against my ribcage. He means it. I know him well enough to know that much. And I don't even know what to say about that. This whole day has been too damn confusing.
"I'm going to walk Thanos," I mutter instead of addressing the elephant-sized issue. Better to ignore it than to try to figure out why he cares. That way lies madness…and I've had more than enough of that today.
"Don't take him to the park."
I narrow my eyes at him, but before I can even say anything, he holds up a hand. "That's not me telling you what to do. That's me telling you that the Chihuahua next door is a bully, and a cat at the park scared the shit out of him this morning."
I glance down at Thanos, my expression softening. "Was Tom mean to you again, buddy?"
"Tom?" Trystan asks.
"The Chihuahua next door."
"Jesus Christ," he mutters. "The old lady named the dog Tom?"
"He chases mice," I say, shrugging.
"He's a terrorist," Trystan growls, glancing down at Thanos. "Every time we walk by, he loses his shit."
"Huh. He likes me and Thanos just fine." I bat my lashes at him, sashaying toward the door. "Must be you. Can't really say I blame him for wanting to murder you. You seem to have that effect on me, too."
"Fucking hell," Trystan mutters behind me. I don't think I'm supposed to hear him, but I laugh anyway.