Chapter 8
Amy
When the door to my dorm room shuts with a soft click, I rush over to my laptop.
My fanfic is the only solace I can have right now.
It seems like such a blur—his hard arms wrapped around me, his warm breath against my cheek.
Amelia.
After grabbing my laptop, I kick off my shoes and curl up on my bed. It takes only a moment to immerse myself in Rosings Park, and before I know it, my fingers are flying over the keyboard.
Mr. Darcy is approaching Elizabeth in the drawing room of the parsonage with his usual stoic face, but there’s a hint of wickedness in his eyes. Dominance. He sits beside her. Close. Too close for propriety. Especially since he called on her knowing Mr. Collins and Charlotte would be out.
Elizabeth pulls back.
“Lizzy,” Mr. Darcy whispers, and Elizabeth’s face flames at the use of her Christian name. “It will not do…”
Elizabeth frowns. “Pardon?”
“My feelings will not be repressed,” he says, and a wicked smile spreads over his face. Elizabeth hardly thought him capable of smiling in such a way. He looks dangerous.
“I have struggled in vain, and I can bear it no longer,” Mr. Darcy continues, his hand edging closer to Elizabeth’s. “I love you, Elizabeth.”
Elizabeth’s heart flutters. The way he looks at her sends shivers down her spine. With a sudden burst of courage, she leans in closer to Mr. Darcy. Her lips brush against his ear as she whispers, “And what do you plan to do about it, Mr. Darcy?”
Suddenly, Mr. Darcy stands and pulls Elizabeth to her feet. He presses her against the wall and kisses her fiercely on the lips.
Elizabeth moans into his mouth, her hands knotting in his hair. She feels the hard length of him pressing against her thigh.
“Oh, Lizzy. I’ve wanted this for so long.”
My fingers halt on the keyboard.
Oh holy shit.
No.
No, no, no.
Tristan is infiltrating my mind. I can’t even see Mr. Darcy anymore.
I see Tristan.
He doesn’t even look like Mr. Darcy. Not the Mr. Darcy in my mind, at least. He looks like Mr. Wickham.
The charmer.
The fraud.
I slam my laptop shut. When I press my hands against my face, heat radiates into my palms. Oh fuck this. Now I’m turned on.
Thinking about Tristan, not Darcy.
He’s taken everything from me. Even my fanfic.
Hours later, I’m tossing and turning in my bed, the dorm room dark except for a sliver of moonlight peeking through the window. It’s useless. Sleep eludes me, and my thoughts are consumed by Tristan. I need a distraction.
I pull out my phone and bring up Serena’s name.
Me: Can you come over? I’m freaking the fuck out.
Serena: I’ll be right there.
“He’s smitten,” Serena says.
I walk in another tiny circle in my cramped dorm room.
Fuck, I need air.
After rushing over to my desk, I lean across it to grab the window latch. This dorm is ancient, so it swings open as soon as I press on the rusty metal.
“No, he’s not,” I say, relishing the breeze as it drifts over my face. “He’s fucking with me.”
“No,” she says immediately. “I could see it all over his face. It was how Nick used to look at me.”
“He’s an actor,” I say. “You’ve seen him turn on for the cameras.”
She arches one of her dark brows. “He doesn’t turn on like that for me. Or for any of the other girls. I watched Ainsley’s recent one-on-one, and he barely even talked to her. She had to carry the whole conversation.”
Thoughts race like electricity through my mind. Why is he doing this? Why me? He can’t be this cruel. Why would he expend this much energy?
“It doesn’t make any sense,” I say.
“It does if he’s smitten.”
I groan as I free fall back onto my bed. “Please don’t say that anymore. It’s confusing me. I can’t start liking Tristan. It would be dangerous. Think of what he did.”
She sighs. “You’re right. I wouldn’t trust him either if I were you.”
“Of course you wouldn’t,” I say. “You’d never speak to him again. Even spineless Nick is unforgivable to you.”
“I wouldn’t say unforgivable.” There’s a wistful quality to her voice. “If Nick apologized, I might…”
I lift my head to look at her. Those big brown eyes are thoughtful.
“You’d take him back?”
“I’m not sure. I might.” She meets my gaze. “Keep an open mind with Tristan, especially if you could see yourself liking him too. It doesn’t mean you need to let your guard down. Be as aloof as ever, but…” She closes her mouth.
“But what?”
She’s quiet for a moment. “Remember that the opposite of love is indifference. And he’s obviously not indifferent toward you.”
I groan. “Cody said the same thing. I hate that quote. It’s not even true. Jane would never say that.”
Serena giggles. “Amelia Harrington, I’m disappointed in you. She wrote an entire book about it.”
I shake my head sharply. “Elizabeth didn’t love Mr. Darcy when she hated him. She really hated him.”
“But she realized she hated him too much for one little insult. It made her believe things about Mr. Darcy that weren’t true. Maybe you’re doing the same thing with Tristan.”
“No way. Tristan didn’t just call me tolerable. He ridiculed me for something that brings meaning to my life.”
“You mean Harper did.”
“She wouldn’t have been able to do it if he hadn’t told her about it.”
She purses her lips. “I wonder why he did that.”
I don’t get a chance to respond. My phone chimes, and I groan when I see the name on the screen.
Tristan: Prepare yourself for our date tomorrow. I have a fun surprise for you :)
I toss my phone on the bed, and it lands face up. When Serena’s eyes land on the screen, a big grin spreads over her face. “He never texts me.”
“He knows you wouldn’t give a shit.”
She scoffs. “Are you kidding me? He’s Tristan Wolfe. I’d be giddy if he showed me the kind of attention he shows you. Even given my history with Nick.”
I roll my eyes. “Well, you can have him.”
“You sure?” she asks with a teasing lilt.
I let out a long, exaggerated sigh and roll my eyes. “If he reads my fanfic live on the date, I’m blaming you.”
She crosses her arms over her chest. “If he does that, I’ll take him out. He won’t know what hit him.”
Crisp sea air brushes over my face. My heart races with anticipation. What does Tristan have planned for this date?
We arrived at the destination early, because Tristan told me he has something to talk to me about.
My nerves have been as taut as guitar strings since he told me.
“Here we are,” Tristan says as we approach a blanket with a fancy picnic basket. “I set it all up just for you.”
I roll my eyes, straining for nonchalance. “You mean the film crew set it up for you?”
He smirks. “Yes, but I told them exactly what I wanted.”
After sitting down on the blanket, he opens up the basket. “Yes,” he says as he pulls out a dark-red bottle. “They even broke the no-alcohol policy. We have to drink it off camera, though.”
My lips pucker. “I hate wine.”
He smiles softly. “I think you should have at least one glass. It’ll help you with our performance.”
My stomach does a little turn. “Performance?”
He flashes me a wicked grin. “I have something special planned.”
A shiver of unease creeps up my spine, but I can’t deny the thrill that comes with it. Tristan’s blue eyes hold a smile, and his excitement is infectious.
“Alright, I’m intrigued.” I fold my arms across my chest. “What do you have planned?”
“Patience, beautiful.” He scoots closer to me. The warmth of his body radiates against mine, sending goosebumps across my skin. His fingers brush against my cheek, tender and possessive.
His gaze is so hot it could melt me right here. He leans forward and parts his lips.
“Save it for the camera,” the director shouts, and I jerk back.
It’s only now that I’m out of my head that I see the crew is surrounding us and setting up.
“Damn.” Tristan sighs. “I guess we’ll have to wait.” He winks before turning his attention to the director.
The director explains that we’re going to spend the next hour chatting and watching the sunset. A moment later, he calls action, and Tristan’s intense blue eyes settle on my face.
For the first half hour of our date, we make small talk, but I hardly hear it. I’m bad at small talk anyway, and I’m too in my head to make an effort. Tristan must notice my absentmindedness, because he periodically tilts his head and assesses me with those intense blue eyes.
“Amelia.” His voice is tender. “I want to tell you something important, something I’ve been holding back for far too long.”
He takes a deep breath, as if gathering the courage to continue, and I find myself unable to look away.
This must be it. This is the introduction to his performance.
“I’ve wanted you since the moment I laid eyes on you,” he says.
“I never really… I never saw you in high school before Harper and I started hanging out. You were around, but we never really talked. It wasn’t until I was dating her that I really saw you.
And when I did…” He shakes his head. “I couldn’t look away. ”
I have to keep myself from gasping. I know what he’s saying isn’t true, but fuck…
It sounds so real.
He’s a good actor.
“You are…” He shakes his head. “You’re like no one I’ve ever met before.
You’re so sincere and…the way your eyes light up when you talk about things you love.
” He smiles, and his gaze grows unfocused.
“You make me laugh like no one else.” His smile fades, and his eyes lock on my face.
“But you don’t feel that way about me. I bore you. ”
I swallow, trying to maintain my composure. My cheeks are as hot as the sun, and I hate myself for it. I don’t want him to see how much his performance is affecting me.
“Only sometimes,” I mutter.