Chapter 13
Amy
“He’s disgusting,” Cody says, a scowl marring his face.
I take a deep inhale, enjoying the scent of freshly brewed coffee and hot pastries. I invited Cody here to tell him everything that happened last night. His reaction is exactly what I expected, and yet it annoys me.
I must be fucked up deep down, because Tristan’s possessiveness last night turned me on a little.
“Tristan is a caveman,” I say, fiddling with the sleeve of my cappuccino cup. “It’s not surprising he would mark his territory.”
Cody’s lips press into a thin line. “I hate that he thinks he owns you.”
“It’s good for me that he thinks he does. It’ll be a big shock when I sleep with him and sneak out of his bed in the middle of the night.”
Cody’s jaw ticks. “I hate that you’re planning on sleeping with him. I think it’s too much.”
The warmth of the coffee cup seeps through to my fingers, grounding me in the moment. It seems like Cody’s a bit of a territorial caveman, too.
I reach out and touch his hand. “What’s wrong? Are you afraid I’m going to become part of his friend group and ditch you? You should know I’d never do that.”
He wraps his hand around mine but keeps his gaze fixed on his coffee cup. “I know you wouldn’t.” The words are clipped.
“Then why do you seem upset?”
His brow furrows. “I don’t like any of this. I wish you would just ignore him.”
“I can’t. I need to do this.” I withdraw my hand from his. “If you’re going to grumble about him every time we talk, I’ll just vent to Serena from now on.”
He shuts his eyes for a moment. “I’ll support you.”
“Good,” I say quickly, not giving him a chance to give me a “but”. “Tomorrow is my next one-on-one date with him, and Tristan won’t tell me what we’re doing. He says it’s a surprise. I need you to help me figure out how to use this opportunity to seduce him.”
He looks like he wants to roll his eyes, but he wisely stops himself. “You should be mean to him. That’s what you’ve been doing, and it’s clearly working.”
I shake my head sharply. “If I’m going to sleep with him, I need to start getting more touchy.”
Cody’s nostrils flare. “I’m going to be sick.”
I shoot him a stern look. “What did I just say, Cody? Keep it to yourself, or I tell you nothing.”
He stands up from the table and tosses his coffee cup in the trash. “I can’t do this. I need space from you for a little while. At least until this whole Tristan thing is over.”
My stomach hollows out. Cody has never asked for space before.
“What’s going on?” I ask, my voice shaky. “Is there something…”
Fuck, I can’t ask him if there’s something he wants to tell me.
What if he tells me that there’s something to my suspicions that he has feelings for me?
But it doesn’t really make sense. Why would this thing with Tristan be the catalyst after three years of close friendship?
He was cool with Derek—my boyfriend of about a month during freshman year.
Or was he? He never really liked Derek, though he didn’t loathe him like he does Tristan. But he did seem a little…relieved when I broke it off.
Cody stares at me with his jaw set, and I try to push the words from my mouth, but they won’t come out.
I hate that I’m such a coward. If he has feelings for me, we need to talk about it. Even if it means the end of our friendship. If he does have tender feelings for me, I can’t return them. He’s like family to me.
“You’ll be okay without me for a while,” he says. “You have Serena. You have…” His nostrils flare. “You have Tristan.”
With that, he turns around and walks out of the coffee shop.
Tears hover behind my eyes. Fuck, this is hard.
I have two weeks left of this damn game. I wish it were all over now. Except I don’t want that. I like spending time with Tristan, and I hate myself for it.
I lower my head, and a tear falls from my chin to the wooden table.
Why did I decide to go through with my revenge plan? I knew it would wreak havoc on my emotions? What makes me so determined to take Tristan down?
It’s been six years since Harper rejected me, and here I am still acting like a teenage girl trying to prove that I’m invincible. That I don’t have feelings.
I don’t know how to make it stop. The thought of letting Tristan see that I’m soft makes me want to curl into a ball and hide away from the whole world.
Tristan
The camera crew follows us as we walk through the glass double doors. Amy’s little hand is locked in mine, and exhilaration pumps through my veins. She’s going to love this date. She’s going to feel how special she is compared to the other contestants.
I’ll make sure of it.
The scent of leather and perfume hits my nose as we walk through the department store. My heart races as we step into the elevator.
“Are we going to a restaurant?” she asks, her brow furrowed.
I smile. “Nope. The top floor has a private shop. You’re going to give me a fashion show and pick anything you want to buy.”
She tucks a strand of dark hair behind her ear, and I find myself missing the purple. This color is gorgeous on her, of course. Any color would look gorgeous on her. But I miss the days when she felt like she belonged to only me.
No other guys seemed to notice her before—other than that dirtbag Cody—but now her style is what most people find conventionally attractive.
She’s started wearing clothes that show off her body, like the tank top she’s wearing now, when she used to wear baggy T-shirts and sweaters.
Her eyes are huge and prominent now, when her big glasses used to take up her whole face.
She looks beautiful, but she was beautiful before. I must be a possessive dick. I should be happy that other people now see what I always saw.
Instead, it makes me anxious.
I chose this date to ward off the anxiety. I don’t want her to think I’m trying to hide her away. Once she’s mine—which she will be by the end of the game, damn it—I’ll have no reason to be anxious.
“That sounds expensive,” Amy says. “What kind of sponsor did they get for this date?”
I lean in and kiss her soft cheek. She doesn’t pull away, which makes my stomach flip over.
She’s warming up to me.
“My mom’s agency sponsored this one. Since they don’t really do advertising—Hollywood agents don’t really need it—she let me choose the event.”
Her eyes widen. “Wow. It must be nice to be rich.”
I laugh, squeezing her hand. “You get to be rich today. I mean it when I say you can pick whatever you want. No budget.”
“Seriously?” She looks at me, her eyes sparkling with disbelief.
“Absolutely.” I’m unable to keep the grin off my face. “I wanted to do something memorable. Something never done in this competition. Plus…” I smirk, glancing at her dark hair. “I noticed you’ve gotten more into fashion lately.”
She lifts her chin, her eyes flashing. God, she’s so cute. She was probably trying to make me jealous with her whole makeover thing.
I am jealous. She knows me well.
As we exit the elevator and enter the private shop, Amy’s eyes grow huge. The vaulted ceiling has a large, sparkling chandelier hanging from it, and the area is covered in tidy racks of clothes. The store attendant greets us with a smile, delivering whatever speech the film crew must have fed her.
The director tells us to pretend like the crew isn’t there, and he assures Amy that they won’t come into the dressing room unless she invites them.
It doesn’t soothe her. She’s biting that full bottom lip, her eyes wide as she glances around the racks of clothes.
“Don’t be shy,” I say. “The whole store is yours if you want it.”
“Okay.” She walks over to a rack of clothes and brushes her fingers over a blue dress.
“I love blue on you,” I say.
Her head jerks in my direction, skepticism spreading over her features. “You’re just saying that.”
I walk over to her, lean down, and brush my lips over her cheek. “No, I’m not. You wore blue on our first one-on-one. It makes your eyes sparkle.”
Her expression grows hesitant, as if she doesn’t believe me. She glances back at the blue dress and stares at it for a moment before taking it off the rack. “I guess I’ll go try it on.”
It sounds like a question, and I lean forward once again. This time, I give her a hard kiss. “I hope you don’t mind if I wait outside for you to show me,” I whisper.
She looks up at me, her eyes widening. She stares at me for a moment before shyly nodding, and my heart squeezes in my chest.
A few weeks ago, she would have never modeled dresses for me. She wouldn’t have trusted me enough. The progress I’ve made with her is as heady as a drug, and I can only hope the euphoric effects of her warmth will fade after I get plenty more of it over the next few months.
I can’t have incidents like the one a few nights ago.
Pinning someone against a wall for a stupid, teasing comment is unhinged behavior, even when it comes to Amy.
Back in high school, my jealousy only made me petty.
I’d stalk her Instagram and the profiles of any guys who showed the slightest interest in her.
I’d congratulate myself for being better looking than any of them and way better at football like the cocky bastard I was.
But I never allowed myself to act on my jealousy back then.
I didn’t want her to know I was obsessed.
Lately, it’s like I’m beyond caring.
“You’ll tell me if it doesn’t look good?” Amy whispers, her eyes scanning the blue dress. The vulnerability in her gaze hits me like a wave, and I find myself wanting to protect her, to make her feel safe.
“I’ll be honest,” I tell her, my voice softening. “But I’m biased. I like the way you look in pretty much everything.” I wish I could tell her that I’m dying to see her without anything on, but now isn’t the time. Not with the film crew hovering around us.
I’ll save that for when we’re alone.
Amy disappears into the fitting room, and I wander over to the couch just outside. Victory pumps through my veins. I never thought I’d be here, waiting for my little Amelia to try on a dress for me.