Chapter 6
six
D inner was the longest meal of my life and uneventful, at least by the latest standards of my life. The conversation was lively, swirling around me like a cyclone, but the problem lay in that I was distracted, only picking up bits and pieces, nodding when necessary.
I lost track of the number of times Mr. Malone took jabs at Tristan. Not surprising. And not that I cared. I was starting to think perhaps his family was right about him after all, yet Tristan didn’t seem fazed by his father.
It was all normal for the Malones.
Nothing ever got to Tristan, not that he showed. He had this shield about him that made him untouchable. In high school, Tristan had ruled our school. He was three years older than Preston and me, and even as freshmen, we knew no one screwed with Tristan or Preston, for that matter. And because I was Preston’s girlfriend, that circle of protection had always extended to me.
No one dared to look twice at me or corner me in the girls’ bathroom. Just the opposite. Girls lined up to be my friend for a chance to date Tristan or at least the opportunity to bang his brains out. It used to annoy the shit out of me, and just thinking about it, that irritation flared to life.
Why was I suddenly losing that protection? It didn’t make sense why Tristan suddenly changed the rules and made me an outsider. Since he’d gone off to college, things had been different. We’d hung out less and lost touch, but that was expected, and we hadn’t been super close before, so I thought nothing of it. I always noticed Tristan way more than he ever took notice of me.
Fidgeting under the table, I twisted and twined my fingers as my knee bounced. I hadn’t eaten much, and Anna noticed but kindly kept it to herself. She sensed something was up with me.
God, I couldn’t wait to get to college, away from both the Malone brothers. I’d have a fresh start. It would be good for me. I needed it after everything—to step away from the 30A. Perhaps this was all for the best. Deep down, I knew I wasn’t going to marry Preston. I loved him, but in truth, I wasn’t in love with him. I might never have been, but when you dated someone for as long as we had, there was a comfort neither of us was ready to let go of.
I wasn’t entirely convinced Preston was in love with me either. He loved the idea of us, showing me off and having me on his arm when we went places, but beyond that…
I sucked in a breath at the realization I was a decoration for Preston’s arm.
Frown lines gathered on my forehead as I stared hard at my plate. Preston’s hand covering my knee under the table jolted me out of my head. He was used to me drifting away and understood I had wounds barely beginning to heal—a joke. For any healing to occur, I would have had to face what happened, and I wasn’t ready to do that.
Not yet.
With him gone, I would have to rely on Sam to keep me from spiraling, a scary thought.
I offered to clear the table to avoid the looks of concern and pity. As well as the questions I saw brimming in Anna’s worrisome eyes. Big mistake. Tristan cornered me in the kitchen, a stack of plates in his hands. I didn’t bother to glance up at him, a sea of anger and humiliation simmering under the surface of my skin.
He set the dishes into the sink and propped a hip on the counter, his body too close. I could feel the heat seeping off him and smell the combination of woodsy cologne and sea on his skin. He’d spent some time out on the beach, the color of his skin bronzed from the sun. Another day, that scent would have gone straight between my legs. Tonight, I refused to be seduced by his roguish grin and bedroom eyes, so I clamped my legs together, focusing on the rage rising within me, a safer bet. Never again would I trust Tristan. Never. That trust was broken. He had done that to me—to us. Not that there had been an us, but that was beside the point. I had been stupid enough to believe he was a friend.
“What?” I snapped when he only stared at me. I tried to keep my voice low. “What do you want from me, Tristan? Did you want me to make a spectacle at dinner and break up with your brother in front of your family?” My hand swept toward the door. “Humiliate him? Well, I won’t do it.”
Tristan’s face was a blank mask. I was getting no reaction from him, and I wondered what it would take. If I dropped my clothes and ran around the kitchen buck-ass naked singing I want to fuck you like an animal , would he so much as blink an eye? I doubted it.
Tristan shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, studying me with a depth that made me feel as if I was naked again in his bed. “You’re too damn good for him. He doesn’t deserve your sympathy, Ever.”
My stomach kicked a notch, and I clenched the counter behind me. “It doesn’t matter now, does it? I’m going to do your little dirty deed, but don’t expect any thank-yous from me. I never want to see your face again. If your parents hate me after this...” I despised that my voice chose that moment to give out on me.
“I’m doing you both a favor. And my parents won’t hate you. They couldn’t. I’m pretty damn sure they love you more than they love me.”
“That’s not saying much, is it?” I clipped out.
His brows lifted at the iciness in my voice as if he was surprised by it, and he took a step closer, sucking the air from the room. “It’s not like you to be hurtful.”
Facepalm . Am I being punked? Did he expect me to come at him with hugs and kisses? I was starting to wonder if Tristan was bipolar. The man gave me whiplash. “Another thing I have you to thank for,” I gritted.
He folded his muscular arms over the firmness of his chest. Tristan was ripped in all the right places, a fact I shouldn’t be aware of.
Tearing my gaze from his, I shoved past him, forgetting about the dishes. I had to get out of there or risk hyperventilating. There wasn’t enough air. Not under the glare of his piercing blue eyes. “Just leave me alone.”
He didn’t follow me out, and the irrational part of me was disappointed. Had I wanted him to chase me and make a scene in front of his parents? Force him to tell them what he’d done to me? But that would subject me to more humiliation I wasn’t willing to suffer. I was barely holding on to my sanity by a thread, and the night wasn’t over yet.
After I thanked Blaine and Anna for dinner and promised to keep in touch during college, Preston walked me to the car. He leaned in, nuzzling my neck as his hands found the sides of my hips, massaging lightly with his fingers. “Ev, can’t you stay the night? Just this last time? It’s going to be weeks before we see each other again.”
My butt pressed into the side of my car as I flattened my palms on his chest and gave a slight shove. “About that. Preston, we need to talk.” I couldn’t believe I was doing this. I didn’t expect it to go over very well, but the alternative was too much.
He dipped forward, cruising his lips along my jaw, clearly not deterred by my serious face or the cut on his lip that was still healing. I never did find out who decided to play hockey with his face, but I could guess. When he nipped at my bottom lip, I should have felt something other than mild annoyance at Preston’s advances. A flutter in my belly? A zing in my core? A warmth over my skin? Nope. None of the above. “We can talk after you kiss me goodnight,” he murmured.
I heaved a sigh. He wasn’t going to give up, and besides, what would one last kiss hurt? Tristan said nothing about not kissing his brother. I just had to break up with him. So, for reasons I didn’t fully understand, I let Preston draw me into a kiss. Perhaps I was testing myself. How many times had Preston accused me of being cold or prude? Always in a teasing manner, but the accusations stuck with me, and now I wondered. Was it me or Preston? Was I that broken?
Where was the passion? The I-want-to-fuck-you-right-here-on-the-car blind lust? Did it even exist? Or was it something just for entertainment in movies and racy books? I wanted to believe that kind of desire was very real, and I wanted to believe Preston and I would have that someday instead of this lukewarm thing between us, comfortable and safe.
Okay, so Preston might be having more than lukewarm feelings and thoughts about me, which circled the problem back to me.
Preston slipped his tongue between my lips. “Do you have any idea how hard you make me?” he moaned as his fingers moved to cup my ass and squeeze. I had a pretty good idea, seeing as he ground his hips against mine. “Stay the night,” he whispered in my ear, taking my earlobe into his mouth. “I need you.”
The test was over. And so was this relationship. I’d been dreading this moment all night. I didn’t know what I was doing or why I let Tristan dictate this part of my life. Did I care about the pictures on his phone, or was I using it as an excuse for what I’d been avoiding? Preston and I had talked about what would happen when we both went to college. Although neither of us was thrilled about a long-distance relationship, Preston had promised we’d text, including all the dirty pictures I could take, and FaceTime so much it would be like we were at the same school.
His roaming hands unbuttoned my shorts and dipped under the waistband. This would get out of hand if I didn’t stop it now. It would be better to get this over with and rip off the Band-Aid. It would do no good to prolong the inevitable. I angled my head to the side away from his lips and pressed firmly against his chest again, turning my voice chilly. “What you need is a cold shower and your hand.”
A flash of anger darkened his eyes, washing away traces of desire, nothing that frightened me but enough to tell me Preston was thinking a little less with his dick. “Christ, you’re a piece of work, you know that? Do you have any idea how many girls would kill to be in my bed?” He took a step back, shoving a hand into his caramel hair.
“You should probably date one of them,” I advised, wiggling to put more space between us. Once again, I found it difficult to breathe. Things were about to get ugly. My regret escalated to anger at having all the sluts at school who were more than willing to drop their panties for Preston thrown in my face, something he liked to remind me of now and then as if I was a dog he needed to keep in line. I was no idiot. I knew girls flirted with him and hung all over him, but I’d always been secure that Preston went home with me .
His eyes roamed over my face, and he could see I was brewing for a fight. It would make what I was going to do easier, and that might have been the coward’s way out, but I didn’t care. “Maybe I will. At least my dick would be happy,” he retorted, an edge in his voice. Our fights seemed to be more frequent the closer we got to leaving.
I ground my teeth. This wasn’t the first time we’d had the sex conversation or, more appropriately, the lack of sex conversation. I never meant to be an eighteen-year-old virgin and assumed Preston would be the one, yet for some reason, I always found an excuse. The latest was my mom. Perhaps that should have told me something. “Is that all you care about?” I barked.
“You know how I feel about you, Ev.” He grabbed my hand and cupped it over his junk, which I could indeed verify was more than adequate in the thickness department. “Isn’t this proof enough?”
I rolled my eyes and tightened my grip on his balls, making him hiss. “I think you’ve confused lust with love.” I released him, my eyes blazing with rage.
“Jesus, Ev. What’s your fucking deal? You’ve been acting weird all night. What happened? What aren’t you telling me? I know something is wrong; that’s why you left yesterday.”
Oh, how right you are.
My heart stuttered in my chest. “I think we should break up,” I blurted. There. I’d said it. Now all I had to do was get in my car and leave.
Preston blinked before he laughed. “You’re kidding, right? What is this? Some sick joke Tristan put you up to? Ha. Ha. Funny. He’s such an asswad.”
“You’re telling me,” I muttered under my breath before steeling myself to keep going. “Listen, Preston, it’s not a joke. I think the distance thing is too much. I need some space.”
Confusion wrinkled his brows. “From me? Look, I didn’t mean what I said. I’m just sexually frustrated, and I thought we’d, you know, finally do it before we both went off to different schools.”
Well, even if I wasn’t breaking up with him, I still wouldn’t be in Preston’s bed. So, either way, he would have been disappointed. “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be,” I said, fishing in my purse for my car keys. I had to get out of here. Now.
“Does this have anything to do with your mom?” he asked sharply in a way that had my spine going rigid.
The question was like a knife to my gut. He knew bringing up my mom would hurt me. Asshole . “No... Yes. I don’t know. Maybe.” I’d never broken up with someone before, but I was pretty sure I was botching the delivery. “It doesn’t matter. This is something I need to do. We can still be friends,” I added, and then felt like a fool. How cliché.
Preston didn’t find any comfort in the idea either. “Friends? You want to be my friend?” he proclaimed with a forced laugh that sounded deranged. “Thanks for wasting my time. You’re such a cock tease, you know that, Ev.”
Cock tease, huh? This conversation was over. Kind of like our relationship. “Piss off, Preston.” I spun on my heels and slammed the car door behind me as I got in.
After I rammed my keys into the ignition, my foot hammered the gas, sending my tires peeling over the blacktop. Before I was completely out of view, I stuck my hand out the window and flipped up my middle finger. “Suck on this, you prick!”
And to think I’d thought I was in love with him.