Chapter 12
twelve
N othing good lasted forever. Especially, since I wasn’t sure anything about Tristan was good. Just because something felt amazing, like really, damn amazing, didn’t make it right.
Tristan broke off the kiss as quickly as he’d possessed my lips, and I stumbled against him. His hands released me almost the same time as his lips. “Go the fuck home, Ever,” he growled. “Before I embarrass you more than you already have by yourself.”
I did my best to ignore the humming of my blood. “Why did you kiss me then?”
He shrugged. “You think you’re the only girl I’ve kissed tonight? Grow up. You’re not in high school anymore.”
Of all the things he could say to me, the dig at my age, at my naivety, hit a sore spot—an insecurity when it came to him. I’d always felt like the younger, annoying sister to Tristan, and he made sure to put me back in my place.
Fuck that.
Fuck him.
He wanted me to react, to get mad, to shame me, and he had, but I refused to give him the response he sought. “You’re not the only guy on campus either. I’ll find someone else to fuck.”
“Ever,” he chided, a coldness entering his features.
I stepped back, furthering the space between us. “I hope you get herpes.”
His lips twitched, a tad of the hardness glimmering in his eyes winking out. Amusing him had not been the plan.
“Ever,” he called again more forcefully. But I’d already turned and begun walking away. I lifted my arms, giving him two middle fingers because he was twice the ass.
He didn’t follow, at least not that I noticed.
It took me a minute to locate Sam, and when she saw my face, she nodded. Her dance partner no longer mattered. She abandoned him without a second thought.
I waited for her to move through the crowd, weaving in and around flailing arms, bumping hips, and shifting feet. It wasn’t an easy task. She dodged multiple elbows nearly flying into her eye.
“What did he do now?” Sam asked when she reached me, her lips turned into a frown.
My foot tapped. Not in time with the music either. It was pure restlessness coursing through me. “Can we leave?”
She softened her features. “Wherever you go, I go.”
“Sorry,” I muttered, releasing a breath. This wasn’t how I wanted the night to end, and I couldn’t help but feel like I was a dark cloud.
She hopped onto the curb, crossing the grass to the sidewalk, and waited for me to join. “Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault Tristan doesn’t know how to be a decent human.”
“I know.” I sighed. “But I wanted our first night to be fun and memorable, but I’ve ruined it.”
She snorted, unsheathing her aqua hair from its tie and shaking it out. “You did no such thing. And the night isn’t over yet, my friend.” Sam slipped the rubber band onto her wrist and looped her arm through mine. “The party doesn’t end because Tristan says so. We make our own fun. Always have.”
The pressure in my chest eased. “What would I do without you?”
“Marry Preston, have a dozen babies, and be utterly miserable,” she said dryly, the wind ruffling her hair.
She’d been joking, but there was some truth in her statement. It could have been my future. “Thanks for that.”
“What are friends for if not to keep it real and keep you from making the biggest mistake of your life.” Sam opened a cooler on the side of the road and grabbed a few bottles, handing me two and grabbing two for herself. “Now, how about we take these and binge Vampire Diaries until we pass out?”
She knew it was my comfort show. How could I say no to that?
The sounds of the party faded as we walked to the other side of campus. Lampposts lit the way, giving a sense of safety. Flies buzzed around the warm glows, repeatedly running into the glass. We were only a few blocks from our building when I swore I heard something like a pebble skipping over the pavement.
I glanced around, and it suddenly dawned on me that we hadn’t seen another soul in the last thirty seconds. The back of my neck tingled with that instinctual feeling your body uses to warn you when something’s wrong.
Sam glanced over her shoulder, narrowing her eyes. “Is it just me, or are we being followed?”
“I feel it too,” I whispered, staring into the dark corners.
Sam’s hand went into her pocket. “Tristan?” she suggested, a feasible guess.
“I don’t know. Probably.” Did we want to take the chance? FSU was a relatively safe school, but it didn’t matter what the criminal stats said. Danger lurked around every corner.
Sam clutched her keys, a little bottle of mace hanging from the ring. “Tristan,” she berated, raising her voice. “This isn’t fucking funny, you jerk. Go torment someone else.”
Silence followed.
No Tristan came out of the bushes. No Tristan chuckled from behind a building.
And yet the feeling remained.
“Let’s get the hell out of here,” Sam whispered, her pace going from a crawl to a near run as she dragged me along.
I stumbled a few feet later, tripping over a depression in the sidewalk. The two bottles in my hands slipped through my fingers, shattering on the ground and splashing liquid over my legs…the least of my problems.
A pinching pain radiated at my ankle, and I cursed, “Fucking heels.” Hobbling on one foot, I sank against the nearby building, examining my foot.
“Are you hurt?” Sam immediately asked, creasing her forehead.
“It’s my foot. I think I just twisted it a little. Nothing serious.” I slipped off my shoes, testing my ankle by putting a bit of pressure on it. The pain made me hiss, but it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. “I’ll survive.”
“Here, give me those.” She indicated my shoes. “It’s probably best you stay on flat feet. I’ll get you some ice when we get home. Watch the glass.”
I handed over the cursed heels and was about to take a step when something pierced my neck. My hand came up, automatically slapping at the mosquito who decided to make dinner on my blood tonight.
Sam’s head whirled toward me, her gray eyes sparkling bright under the moon. “What the hell was that?”
I stared at my hand and the smear of blood across it. “I got bit by a bloodsucker.”
“Jesus, Ever,” she exhaled, a hand pressed to her chest. “You’re giving me a heart attack tonight. I’m about to call the jackass to come help me get you home.”
“I’m fine,” I insisted, my chin firming. “We don’t need Tristan.” I didn’t need Tristan for anything.
But mosquitos weren’t the scariest things out tonight.
Favoring my ankle, I wobbled around the broken glass, the cool blades of grass squishing between my toes. I’d momentarily forgotten about the uneasiness of being followed until under a flickering streetlight near the corner of the building, I saw a shadow move.
In sync, Sam and I slowed, catching sight of the movement together. The light went out, and we stopped. My fingers pressed into Sam’s arms. With another flicker, the light winked back on, and the shadow took form.
Shit.
“Shit,” Sam muttered under her breath, echoing my thought.
If we both had a bad feeling, nothing good was about to happen.
We were probably freaking out for nothing. He could be another student walking home, and yet, as he grew closer, so did my apprehension. It expanded in my chest like a palpable drumming, beating faster.
The memory of yesterday when those guys sat down at the table with me flashed through my mind. I got this sick feeling the event from yesterday was connected to what was about to happen.
I was going to kill Tristan if I didn’t die tonight.
Should I grab Sam’s hand and run? Should we turn back and head to the party? Should we hold our breath and keep going? Was I overexaggerating? Being paranoid?
“Ever,” Sam whispered from the side of her mouth as someone stepped behind us, closer than the one approaching.
My heart dropped.
“Don’t panic,” she said, lacing her fingers with mine, offering me strength through her grip. It helped. A little. Sam was the strongest girl I knew next to Anna.
I forced my lungs to keep breathing despite the stampede of turmoil running amuck under my ribs.
Sam turned so we were back-to-back, and we faced off with the guys clearly herding us. A ribbon of light hit the bastard stalking toward me, and recognition sliced through me, raising my heart rate.
“You,” I gasped, recognizing him from yesterday. I whipped my head over my shoulder, taking a quick peek at his friend to see that he was familiar as well. I assumed Tristan’s threat hadn’t been scary enough to keep these guys away from me. Not a comforting thought.
“What do you want?” I demanded, surprised at how steady and forceful I spoke. Behind me, Sam’s fingers clung to mine, an anchor to keep me from spiraling.
“We need to give Malone a message,” the prick in front of me said, so close now I could see the imperfections of his face. The slightly crooked nose. The dusting of freckles. And the tiny scar in the middle of his forehead.
His choice of words wasn’t lost on me. He hadn’t said he wanted me to give a message to Tristan, but they wanted to give him one. I had this horrible feeling I was the message. “If you think using me will hurt him, you’re wrong.”
Sam squeezed my hand. I could feel her rapid breathing from our pressed backs.
“We just want to give him a little incentive to pay his debts.” The one doing all the talking seemed to be taking the lead while the other watched Sam like a hawk as if he was just waiting for her to run. If I had to guess, he would enjoy the chase.
A knot of dread formed in my gut. “This is about money? How much? What do you need? I’m sure?—”
“We don’t want your money, doll.” He cut me off with a sneer that made my skin crawl. “It’s your boyfriend who owes the debt.”
Was there any world where I could talk myself out of this situation? “Like I said before. He’s not my boyfriend.”
“The pictures say differently.” He reached into his pocket.
Why would Tristan show these guys the pictures he took of us? It didn’t make sense to me. I was more confused than ever.
He flipped open a knife. The sound was so slight, but in my head, it was like a bomb going off. “I’ll be as gentle as I can, doll.”
The fuck he would.
“If you don’t get the hell out of our way, I’ll make you wish you weren’t born with balls,” my best friend threatened. Shit was about to get ugly.
I couldn’t see the other guy, but I heard the smile in his voice as he said, “You, pretty little thing, get to watch.”
Wrong response.
Sam gave my hand one last squeeze before she released it.
Please don’t let us die , I prayed, steeling myself for the fallout about to unfold.
Everything happened at once. Sam’s arm lifted quickly, her finger pressing hard on the mace’s button, spraying the asshole in front of her. The guy with the knife reached for me, and I attempted to scramble out of the way. His beefy fingers latched on my upper arm, yanking me back toward him just as his friend started swearing and wailing, calling Sam a string of colorful words.
Fighting off the jock who had more than a hundred pounds on me felt like an impossible task, but it didn’t stop me from turning into a she-devil. In my rush of adrenaline and panic, I’d forgotten about the blade. My attacker was quick to remind me as he slammed me into the building. My head hit bricks, the impact jarring and sending splintering pain to the back of my skull.
“Screaming will only make this hurt more,” he said, his mouth too close to my face. I smelled the alcohol on his breath, and it made me gag. “Now stay still while I do my best work.” He brought the blade up to my face, using his other forearm to press against my throat in a way that forced my head to the side. The rough, sharp texture of clay sediments dug and scratched my cheek.
I held my breath, debating if I should close my eyes, grit my teeth, and bear the pain about to be inflicted on me or if I should scream and fight. Lucky for me, Sam reacted, coming to my rescue before I had to make a choice.
She hurtled onto my attacker’s back, wrapping her legs around his waist and securing her arms at his neck like a viper’s coiled tail, a risky move with the knife so close to my face, but I had to give her credit for her grit. I wasn’t sure I would have the same courage. Also, I was pretty sure she was running on pure adrenaline and not thinking about safety.
“You bitch,” he hissed, stumbling back as he tried to dislodge her from his back and, in the process, freeing me from the prison of his hefty body.
“Sam!” I screamed, shoving off the wall to help my friend, but a pair of arms tangled around my waist, keeping me from moving forward. What. The. Fuck.
Whyyyyyy?
My mind immediately went to my assailant’s accomplice, the one Sam hit with the mace. Had it worn off already? Had there been a third guy with them, hiding in the shadows?
“Calm down, Shortcake,” the one holding me hissed in my ear.
Only one person ever called me that. The bane of my existence.
Tristan.
Relief as I’d never felt flooded my body, and I leaned into him, confident he would support me. Tristan might be a jerk at the best of times, but he was a dependable jerk.
“Sam,” I whimpered, body shaking. I hadn’t noticed the trembling until I was pressed against Tristan’s body.
He scowled. “Stay here.” He left me leaning against the building, stalking over to Sam still struggling to stay on my attacker’s back. Neither noticed Tristan as he approached. Not until he sank his fist into the guy’s face, knocking his head back and nearly dislodging Sam’s teeth. Her head went to the side a moment before shit went sideways, avoiding being smacked in the face by the back of the guy’s head.
Sam dropped off the jackass’s back, leaving him to Tristan, and rushed toward me, stepping around knife boy’s friend who was still hunched over, rubbing at his very red eyes. They looked painful, but I had no energy to feel sympathy for him, not after what they had planned for me.
I hugged Sam when she reached me.
“What did I tell you about Ever being off-limits?” Tristan glowered, clenching the guy by the front of his shirt. He didn’t give him a chance to reply, not before popping him again on the side of his jaw. The crunch of Tristan’s knuckles connecting to bone was audible this time, and I winced, regardless that I cared little for the other guy’s face.
“Damn it, Malone,” the asshole hissed, blood now leaking from his nose and lip. “A deal is a deal.” His hand came up, clasping Tristan’s forearm as if he stood a chance at stopping another fist to the face.
Tristan must not have liked his response. He hit him again, blood staining his knuckles. “And I told you I’ll get you the money.” His fist slammed into his gut.
A wheezing groan expelled from knife guy’s lips, and the blade he clutched clattered to the ground as he doubled over. “Why do you keep hitting me?” As soon as the question was out, he winced, waiting for the next blow.
Tristan kicked the knife away, and it skidded down the sidewalk into the dark. “Because you didn’t listen yesterday when I told you to stay away from her. Perhaps the cuts and bruises will remind you not to be a fool this time.”
“Why do you give a shit what happens to this little bitch?” The question was said with such flippant venom as if women in general were beneath him but me in particular.
One second Tristan was scowling in front of my attacker, and the next, he had him slammed to the ground. The few hits before were nothing compared to the beating knife guy took now. Hit after hit, Tristan pummeled his fists into him, and eventually, the idiot under him stopped warding Tristan off, going limp, but Tristan didn’t seem to care, blind in his rage.
“Holy shit,” Sam whispered. “He’s going to kill him.”
She was right. I had to stop this. “Tristan!” I screamed, shoving off the brick wall. “Tristan, stop,” I called again, moving closer to him but careful not to touch him.
His aqua eyes were wild as they clashed with mine. I’d never seen him like this, seen him so violently angry he nearly beat someone to a bloody pulp. Those glacial eyes stared at me, and his bloody hand halted midair. He blinked, and slowly the haze cleared from his features.
He released his fingers from the splattered, stained shirt and forked a hand through his hair before he stood, glaring down at what he’d done.
Tristan spit blood onto the concrete, the drops staining the ground red. “Go home, Ever.”
I opened my mouth to ask what he planned to do with the two dickheads on the grass, but Tristan cut me a sharp look that had me snapping my mouth closed.
My internal struggle continued to wage as I stared at Tristan. Uncertainty coursed through me. If I left, could Tristan be trusted not to finish what he started? I wasn’t eager to stand around or help, but leaving him seemed…wrong.
Would I even be in this position if it wasn’t for Tristan? I didn’t want to be swept up in his dangerous world or the problems he’d created. He’d always been trouble, but this was something more entirely.
But still…I didn’t want to leave him.
Explain that shit?
I shook my head at him. “If you get suspended, this isn’t my fault.”
“Go!” he barked, the hardness returning to his cold eyes.
Sam grabbed my hand.
Tonight ended up being memorable after all.
Just not in the way I hoped.