Chapter 11
eleven
S am’s cure turned out to be the first frat party of the year. I couldn’t say I was in the mood to put on actual clothes and makeup, but as Sam suggested, it would be a way to meet people—people other than Tristan.
Ugh.
For my best friend, I got out of my comfy clothes and showered before heading out on campus. We didn’t have to go far.
The 30A was known to throw some killer parties, and with Sam as my best friend, I was no stranger to everything from a beach bash to a house party. A college block party wasn’t all that impressive. Same shit, different people. I never would have gone without Sam. But I had to admit there was something cool about being able to go from block to block and seeing the streets full of students drinking, laughing, dancing, singing, and generally having the time of their lives. Each corner we turned down, someone handed me a different drink. I felt like I was taking a booze tour.
It was nice to forget about Tristan and Preston. Or try to.
The White Claws and Jungle Juice definitely helped. As did the warm buzz contributing to not a single thought about the Malone brothers.
My phone buzzed as Sam and I sat on the curb. A voice in my head told me not to check my phone. The only person I wanted to talk to was beside me. I didn’t listen. Seeing Preston’s name on my screen still with a stupid heart beside it instilled an instant sinking feeling in my gut. Great. Why did I look? And why did Preston have to remind me he existed?
“Who is it?” Sam asked.
“No one,” I replied, shoving the phone back into my pocket.
She raised a brow but didn’t say anything else, guessing I didn’t want to talk about it. And I didn’t. Not about Preston. And not about Tristan. I’d said all I had to say about them earlier today.
But Preston was persistent, especially because he was used to getting his way. He hated to be ignored.
A cute guy with shaggy dark hair pulled Sam onto the street to dance. She tried to coax me to join them, but I shook my head, needing a breather. We’d been walking, drinking, or dancing for the last two hours. My feet wanted a rest. Content to sit on the sidelines and watch, I sipped on my White Claw. Out of habit, I pulled out my phone to see if I had missed any messages.
Fuck, had I.
A string of unread texts and unanswered phone calls lined my notifications. Every single one of them was from Preston. There were only two times he ever blew up my phone. When he was horny or when he was drunk. The two often coincided.
I knew I shouldn’t, but I skimmed through the texts. All the same messages. Ever, call me. Why won’t you return my messages? Blah. Blah. Blah. It wasn’t that I was insensitive to his broken heart. I just wasn’t convinced he truly loved me. I’d been more of a convenience to Preston. There had definitely been a friendship between us, and I missed that part more than I missed being his girlfriend. We had been friends beforehand. And honestly, I was ignoring him. At least for the time being until I trusted myself to hold my ground and found out what the fuck Tristan was up to.
Frowning at the screen, a shadow fell over me. I was no longer alone on the curb.
I sat on the side of the road, wondering how long I could ignore their looming presence. It became clear this person was not leaving, and my curiosity finally got the best of me. When I lifted my head, an internal groan rumbled through my chest at the sight of Tristan glaring above me. In a block party full of hundreds of college students, how the fuck had he found me? Did I stand out that much?
The displeasure on my lips deepened. “Tristan, what do you want?” I hated the way my voice sounded defeated as if I had already given up.
“If you don’t like what’s on your phone, why don’t you turn it off,” he stated. The ominous darkness of his features made me want to shudder.
I tightened my jaw. “You’re not ruining my night. This is Sam’s and my first day together on campus. Get lost.”
He did no such thing. The bastard sat down beside me. Too close.
I chewed on the inside of my cheek to squash the sudden tingles of arousal that hit between my legs at his nearness. Why did my body constantly betray me? I wasn’t just fighting against Tristan but myself as well. My heart, head, and body needed to get their shit together and come to an understanding. Whatever that was. “Don’t you have a redhead’s neck to suck or something?” I snapped. God, it always felt better to bark at him than to acknowledge what he did to me. Had my words smacked of jealousy? Probably. I didn’t care.
“You shouldn’t be here alone,” he said with a shred of foreboding as he reached for the White Claw clutched in my hand and brought it to his goddamn full lips.
I sputtered a noise of annoyance, reaching for my drink, but Tristan twisted so it was out of my range. “I’m not alone. Did you not hear me say that Sam and I came together?” I retorted.
Lifting a brow, he gave me a mocking look. “Where is she then? No doubt out in the crowd grinding on the first dick that swung her way,” he sneered.
I refused to admit how close to the truth that statement hit. I didn’t give a shit what Tristan thought of my best friend or how little he thought of her. The same could be said about him—that he was a manwhore. “Believe it or not, Tristan, Sam’s not the slut you think she is. Besides, with your reputation, should you even be one to talk?”
The smirk on his face wasn’t nice. “Prove me wrong?”
I followed his gaze, finding my best friend grinding on a guy and not the guy who had asked her to dance. Regardless, I’d never give Tristan the satisfaction of thinking he was right, which he wasn’t. So what if Sam liked to have a good time and also happened to like people? All people. Except for Tristan. And Preston.
There were always a few exceptions.
The Malones would have to be the anomalies.
“Did you come just to harass me?” I diverted to another topic, shifting his negative energy away from my friend. This time when I went to grab my drink, he didn’t pull it out of my way.
He leaned his arms over the tops of his knees, looking far too relaxed. “Probably.”
A drop of condensation from the can dribbled onto my thigh, and I brushed it off. “You need some hobbies,” I muttered.
“Turns out looking after you is a full-time fucking job.”
My gaze flashed to his. “Who the hell asked you to?”
Before Tristan could come back with the snappy retort undoubtedly on the tip of his tongue, Sam appeared at his side, giving him the stink eye. “Are you following us?” she bit out, crossing her arms.
A dark, deep scowl marred Tristan’s lips, and he spared Sam only a quick flicker of attention before his eyes returned to me. “Oh, look, the yang to your yin arrived.”
I got to my feet, intending to step between them. I was tired of acting as the mediator in the Tristan and Sam drama. Leveling him a look, I butted in. “Tristan, can you be nice for one freaking second? Because of you, we’re all living together.”
He straightened up, glancing around me at Sam. “A thank you would be nice.”
I poked him in the chest, bringing those glacial blue eyes back to me. “Why would we thank you for ruining my life?”
Tristan’s lips twisted like I’d just said the most absurd statement. “Don’t be dramatic, Ever.” He seized my wrist, leaning forward, and whispered into my ear. “I could have made your friend stay in the dorms. Letting her in my house, that’s me playing nice.” His breath was hot on my skin.
My heart pounded too fast in my chest, and I jerked back. I needed distance. “You’re such a prick.”
The twist of his lips told me every insult would bounce right off him. He was used to being labeled the jackass and couldn’t care less. “Go home, Ever. Before you get yourself and your friend in trouble.”
I stood my ground, looking him straight in the eyes. “Too late. Trouble already found me.”
His lips twitched. “At least you got that right.”
Sam shifted to the side, narrowing her gaze on Tristan. “The older brother bit doesn’t suit you. Just admit you want her so we can all get back to our lives.”
“Sam!” I shrieked, looking for the nearest hole to climb in.
“What? Do you deny it, Malone?” Sam challenged. Booze only made Sam’s loose tongue looser. Who the hell knew what she would say next, and that was what I was afraid of. I didn’t want her to bring up the pictures.
I had to do something, separate them, quickly. Turning, I latched onto Sam’s arm. “Let’s dance.” Tristan’s hand brushed my other arm, and for a moment, I thought he might stop me. The small contact sent a shiver through the left side of my body.
Sam lifted her drink in the air, already swinging her hips to the beat of the music, as I pulled her into the crowd. I could feel his eyes on me no matter how much distance I put between us.
The thing with dancing in crowds, even in the streets, was you often ended up with a different partner than who you started with, especially if you were single. A third girl joined Sam and me, which turned into Sam and the girl moving with the music. Normally, I didn’t mind, but since I was avoiding Tristan, I didn’t want to be stuck dancing alone. I skimmed the crowd, hoping to see another available body to dance with instead of doing this awkward, lonely moving of my feet. I suddenly felt so unsure of myself—so vulnerable.
It was Tristan’s fault. That son of a bit ? —
“Tell me that frown isn’t for me.”
Three blinks. That was how long it took to realize the guy smiling in front of me had been talking to me . His voice just carried over the chaos of the music and the laughter.
Am I frowning?
I guessed I was.
My body slowed down, swaying from side to side in a soft step as I glanced him over. He looked like your average frat boy. Ruffled, wavy brown hair. Friendly hazel eyes. He had a cute beauty mark below his right eye that somehow was attractive on him. He wore khaki shorts, a light-blue button-down rolled at the sleeves, and white sneakers.
And that was the problem. He was average. He wasn’t like Tristan.
I thought about Sam’s advice on dating other people. I wasn’t ready for a relationship. Shit, I wasn’t over my first. Everything had happened so quickly. The last thing I should be thinking about was dating.
Frat boy grinned, holding out a hand in an invitation. “I need someone to teach me a few moves.”
I bit my lower lip, staring at his offered open palm. I should take it, right? Toss out all thoughts of Tristan. Have fun. Be single. Enjoy college. I knew what Sam would say. My gaze flicked to where she was still dancing only a few feet away.
What do I have to lose?
I raised my arm, reaching out to place my hand in his, but someone intervened. A firm grip snatched my hand, the warmth of a body stepping beside me. I shouldn’t have been surprised. Not at this point, and truthfully, I wasn’t. Perhaps a part of me anticipated Tristan getting in the way.
“She’s with me.” Tristan’s deep, menacing voice interrupted. He made it very clear with his rigid expression and eyes that could cut through glass that he was serious.
“Sorry, man,” the cute frat boy apologized before I could take the hand he offered and tell him I was in fact not here with Tristan.
I whirled on the eldest Malone instead. “You,” I seethed through gritted teeth. “God, can’t you leave me alone?”
Tristan let out a long, suffering sigh. “Trust me. I don’t want to spend my night babysitting.”
“Who asked you to?”
“My parents. Your dad,” he rattled off, his jaw set in grim tension.
I snorted. “Since when do you ever listen to any of them?”
The tiniest smirk cracked at the corner of his mouth. “If you have to dance, you can do so with me.”
“Dance,” I squeaked. “You want to dance. I’m going to pass.”
“It wasn’t a request.” He grabbed my hand and hauled me closer to him. Why did it seem like Tristan was always manhandling me lately? Tugging me here, yanking me there, and I’d had enough.
I should rip my hand out from his but...his fingers were warm on mine, and I didn’t want to admit how good it felt to have him touch me. Even something as simple as holding my hand.
This was a turn of events and not necessarily a good one. I should not be dancing with Tristan. I should not be this close to the enemy.
Or should I...
I wasn’t sure how much stock went into the saying keep your friends close but keep your enemies closer , but I didn’t see how it could hurt my situation.
Staring up into his face, I angled my head to the side. “I don’t understand you.”
An unidentified emotion passed over his face. It was gone before I had the chance to determine it. Then again, Tristan was a master of hiding his true feelings. “It’s best you don’t try.”
I decided to use this opportunity to my advantage. If Tristan wanted to play games, so could I.
Shaking my head, I stared at him as the two of us stood nose to nose, frozen while everyone around us moved. Feeling bitter and vindictive, I stepped up to Tristan, intentionally aligning our bodies, and loosely draped my arms on his shoulders. I pressed my chest into his. I hadn’t worn a bra today, and my top had a pattern of thin straps on the back, leaving it mostly exposed. His piercing blue eyes flared at the feel of my hardening nipples through his thin cotton tee.
Bull’s-eye.
His reaction, however slight, boosted my confidence. I wasn’t skilled at seduction, but Preston had taught me a few things.
There was no going back. I flipped my hair and ran my hands over his shoulders to loop them around his neck. His muscles were firm under my fingers. At some point, my body knew what to do, and I stopped thinking.
Tristan’s brows drew together, and a dazzle of satisfaction lit up within me. I swirled my hips, rubbing and grinding against him as my hands glided up and down his chest. I should have learned from the last time I’d danced with him how dangerous this game would be. There was a fine line between my heart fluttering and my brain scheming. One of them would overtake the other. I couldn’t afford for it to be my heart.
My efforts weren’t unwarranted. I was rewarded with the darkening of his eyes and felt the proof of his desire. Tristan wanted me. And instead of feeling smug satisfaction as I wanted, I was more confused than ever. Still, I lifted my chin, peering at him from under my lashes. “Why don’t you take a picture to add to your collection,” I suggested sarcastically.
His fingers went to my hips, and I thought he would shove me away and stop the torment. He didn’t. “You’re acting like a brat. Desperate doesn’t look good on you.”
I flinched, his accusation like an invisible slap across my face. “You’re the one who started this. I’m just giving you what you want,” I hurled back.
“You don’t have any idea what I want.”
And that was the fucking problem. But he wasn’t entirely right. I did learn something about Tristan. He desired me. I thought last night and all those times before when I caught a glimpse of heat in his eyes had been part of his ploy, but now...perhaps his entire ruse hadn’t been an act, and the knowledge tangled my feelings. Nothing about him or his actions made sense to me. He said one thing with his mouth and then turned around and did the opposite with his body. How the hell was I supposed to understand?
I ground my hips against his erection. “I have a pretty fucking good idea.”
“What are you doing?” he demanded gruffly when I was inches from his mouth. The fingers holding my waist tightened into my skin.
Go big or go home. “What do you think I’m doing?” I retorted, my voice a bit huskier than normal. I didn’t even know I could do that. My head tilted to the side, a hint of a smile on my lips. “I’m playing the game.”
“This isn’t funny, Shortcake.”
“Tell me about it,” I murmured, grazing my lips slightly over his so they barely touched. “It’s not so fun when the shoe is on the other foot.” My eyes were solely on his mouth. I couldn’t stop staring at the silver hoop glinting there.
Tristan inhaled sharply, his body stiffening. “Have you lost your mind?” His hands came to either side of my arms as if to ward me off, yet he didn’t push me away. All the encouragement I needed.
Lifting on my toes, I pressed my lips fully to his, not giving him time to shove me or stop me from kissing him. Rejection would have stung; regardless, I was using this exercise as a lesson. Some lies were worth making yourself believe because I did not want to admit that, deep down, I wanted to kiss Tristan. I’d been curious about it for years, and today that inquisitive nature won.
Impulse took over the moment our lips touched. My fingers curled into his hair as he responded, his mouth moving against mine. He coaxed my lips to part, edging them open with his tongue. A tremor ran through me. His hands slid from my hips to cup my ass, fingers squeezing to press me firmly against the hardness bulging in the front of his pants. For a split second, I tried to suppress the moan that rose within me, but it was as impossible as swimming to the deepest parts of the ocean.
Tristan captured the sound with the kiss, and I completely forgot about the music and the people surrounding us. Until someone bumped into me, mumbling an apology I barely heard.
Breaking off the kiss, I stared into Tristan’s eyes clouded with desire. I licked my lips, tasting him on them. “Goodnight, Tristan,” I said breathily, planning to walk away and keep my head in the game.
But like always, Tristan had an agenda. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“Home. Alone,” I added when I saw the thick desire in his eyes. I didn’t know how I got the words out because it was all lies. I didn’t want to leave, not without him. The only place I wanted to go was somewhere with a bed.
Everything about Tristan was darkly alluring, and I couldn’t help but be enticed by the entire package. “We’re not done here, Shortcake. We’re just getting started.” He closed the distance and covered my mouth with his, taking complete possession of my lips, of my body, of me.
I was powerless to do anything but kiss him back.
His mouth was hard on mine. Flames exploded inside me. Our tongues tangled, teasing and tormenting each other. I couldn’t get enough of him. I wanted more. Needed more. He tasted of beer and something sweet, cherry candy perhaps. The flavor became an addiction I craved.
I’d dreamed a million times of what it would be like to kiss Tristan Malone. What it would feel like. How his lips would shape against mine.
No dream or fantasy could come close to the real thing. I should have known Tristan would evoke feelings I shouldn’t have, emotions I couldn’t control.
I’d never wanted anything in my life as much as I wanted him right now. The fact we were surrounded by people in the middle of the street mattered very little to me. I was so fucking absorbed in him. I probably would have ripped off his clothes right there. No logical thought existed in my head. I was wholly submersed in Tristan.
And I was losing the game.