Chapter 13
thirteen
“ W hat the fuck was that?” The door to Thorn Hall hadn’t even closed behind us, and Sam was fuming, her adrenaline still pumping. It wasn’t me she wanted to unleash her temper on, but since Tristan wasn’t around, I was the next best thing. And really, I couldn’t blame her.
In a roundabout way, it was my association with Tristan that put us in a fucked-up situation. I was so going to kill him.
Sam paced the main floor, moving into the sitting room, wearing out the floor in front of the fireplace. My eyes went to the couch, and my thoughts immediately turned to Tristan and the girl who’d been straddling him yesterday.
Had it really only been yesterday?
I went to the couch and sank in because I was pretty sure my legs couldn’t hold me up anymore. “Before or after I kissed Tristan,” I retorted.
Her head turned so fast I swore she’d have a serious case of whiplash. “Say again?”
I wanted to defuse the situation, and my mind somehow thought mentioning my kiss with Tristan would shift away from the trauma. My brain didn’t want to go back to what happened tonight. I wanted to forget it all. If we kept talking about it, my mind would relive the fear I’d felt, and it would be bad enough when I went to sleep tonight. “I kissed Tristan tonight.”
Sam’s frowning lips stiffened. “Ever. Tell me you didn’t.”
“Sleep with him?” I retorted, being over-the-top purposely as I filled in the blank. When shit got too serious, my default was to exaggerate. I shook my head. “God, no. Just a dumb kiss.” When the fuck would I have had time to sleep with him? Or where? Did she think we snuck off into a back alley and I let him ram me up against a brick wall for my first time? Although truthfully, that didn’t sound too bad. Not with Tristan. Somehow dark alleys fit perfectly with someone like him, making the image sexy and a bit dangerous—like Tristan.
Sam ran a hand through her dark aqua-tinted hair. “This doesn’t feel like a dumb kiss. This is Preston’s brother,” she pointed out as if I’d forgotten.
I most definitely hadn’t.
“I know,” I said, burying my face into my hands. “It just happened. I didn’t plan it.”
“Well, let’s not pretend you haven’t fantasized about kissing him since you were like five.” She sighed and dropped onto the couch beside me, her energy slowly calming. Kissing was a topic Sam loved to talk about, among other more detailed things. “So? How was it?”
My hands fell from my face, color moving into my cheeks as I glanced at her. “I want to tell you it was the worst kiss of my life. That I hated every second. That he tasted like a soggy fish.”
She shook her head. “You literally orgasmed on the spot. Am I right?”
“Practically,” I sighed, wondering how I got myself into this mess. Of all the people in the world, why did it have to be him? “It doesn’t matter though. It never should have happened. My curiosity has been satisfied. I got Tristan Malone out of my system.”
“Hmm,” she said, pursing her lips like she didn’t believe a word out of my mouth.
Hell, I didn’t believe me. I wanted it to be a case where it would make it real if I spoke the words into existence. Manifesting or whatever, but the problem was, I’d been manifesting kissing Tristan for years, and it would probably take me twice as long to get over a single kiss.
Sam took a deep breath, her winter-gray eyes humorless. “My gut is telling me you should stay away from him, but I know you won’t listen.” Her tone softened as she added, “Not even after what happened tonight.”
It was true. I should be scared after what we went through and what could have happened if Tristan hadn’t shown up. I could be sitting in the ER getting my face stitched instead of nearly physically unscathed at home. I’d have one hell of a headache and some bruises and scratches, but it was the damage you couldn’t see I worried more about. My mental state was still fragile from what happened with my mother. I didn’t want anything to trigger the darkness I barely crawled out of. “I’m not looking to start anything with him. I’m here to study.”
Sam gave me an I-don’t-believe-you glare.
I wasn’t sure I believed me. I had the best intentions—high standards—or at least I used to think I did.
“Like studying Tristan’s lips, his abs, or his ass? Or how good he is in bed?” Sam suggested.
I snorted. “I am taking an anatomy class this semester.”
She grinned, loving a good comeback. “You dirty dog.”
“Enough talk about my neighbor. Are you okay?” I asked, getting serious and confronting the topic I’d been skirting around. We were both calmer now.
“I still want to choke the shit out of Tristan but a little less than five minutes ago,” she admitted.
“Progress, but honestly, he probably deserves your wrath.”
Sam kicked off her shoes, tucking her feet behind her on the couch. “I wanted a killer night, but this turned out to be a little too literal for my liking.”
I touched the side of my face, wishing a bottle of aspirin and water would levitate from the kitchen. “I can’t believe Tristan would get mixed up with criminals. I mean, he’s always lived on the edge and pushed the boundaries, but this seems too far even for him.”
“Do I need to worry about you?” she asked.
“I don’t know. I never thought Tristan would put me in harm’s way before, but I also never thought he would blackmail me either. I’m starting to think I don’t know him as well as I thought I did.”
“That makes two of us,” she mumbled, glancing at the doorway. “Should we be concerned he hasn’t come home yet?” Sam asked, glancing at the doorway.
My gaze followed briefly before I shrugged. “I’m done worrying about him.”
My first week of school went by in a blessed whirlwind. It gave me little time to think of Preston, Tristan, and the thugs who mistakenly thought I was a bargaining chip. And regardless that Tristan and I lived in the same building, we hadn’t encountered each other once. It made me wonder if he was staying at Thorn Hall. Had he gotten in trouble for fighting on campus? What if he had gotten hurt after Sam and I left? Or he could just be sleeping in several different beds that weren’t his.
By the weekend, I couldn’t stop thinking of him. I had to know he was alive at least. I could stop by his room on my way to the coffee shop, see he wasn’t dead, and go about my day.
Grabbing my bag, I shoved my laptop inside and opened my bedroom door, intending to bang on Tristan’s until he answered, but my phone buzzed in my back pocket.
Preston’s picture flashed over the screen, a photo I’d captured of him last year at the beach, one of our rare dates that had been just the two of us.
Preston preferred group outings. The only time he wanted to be alone with me was when he was horny. Another red flag I failed to let myself see—one of many I was realizing.
Seeing his face caused a conflicting pang of sadness and regret. He’d been silent for days, and now he decided to blow up my phone.
I declined the first, second, and third calls as they came through back-to-back.
At some point, I’d have to talk to him, but I could only deal with one Malone at a time.
I stood at the top of the stairs, chewing at my lip as I glanced at the third room down the hall from mine. It hit me then. I didn’t know which room on the three floors was Tristan’s. He could be living in the one right next to us.
Shit.
I made a mental note to ask Sam when I saw her if she knew which room was his, and until then, I sent the asshole a text.
Did my wish come true? Have you been expelled?
It had to be something snarky. I didn’t want him to think I was actually concerned about his well-being. It would be better if I kept hating him.
I didn’t expect a response immediately, but when I made it halfway across campus with nothing from him, the speck of worry turned into a nugget. It was easier to tell yourself not to worry than to banish that anxious feeling.
Entering Java Break, the campus coffee shop, with a heavy sigh, I went to the counter and smiled at Brody, the cute barista.
“The usual?” Brody asked, flashing me a pair of dimples.
Since avoiding Tristan, I’d been spending most of my free time divided between here and the library. Brody was always extra nice when he saw me. I wasn’t yet sure if he was like that to everyone or if he was flirting with me. I nodded, smiling in return. “Thanks.” My usual lately was a matcha latte with a pump of strawberry syrup.
“You survived the first week,” Brody said, making small talk, something he was good at.
“Barely,” I admitted, which wasn’t entirely true. I liked most of my classes and teachers. The adjustment to the workload left me with less free time than I anticipated, but I enjoyed being busy. It gave my mind less time to dwell on other things.
Like the six-foot-plus neighbor with tattoos for days.
The very one I’d been skillfully avoiding all week. It wasn’t a feasible arrangement I could keep up the entire year, but it was what I needed for now.
“Well, if you ever need a study partner, I’d be happy to help,” Brody offered.
That almost sounded like a date. Almost. Or someone offering to be a friend.
I was so bad at this stuff. I’d never dated anyone other than Preston and had no clue how to flirt with a cute guy. Did I want to flirt with Brody? Did I want him to ask me out?
He definitely seemed a safer, more practical option.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I replied, tapping my ID card on the transaction machine.
The guy behind me cleared his throat, which was my cue to move on.
I smiled at Brody.
He handed me my drink. “See you tomorrow?”
“Probably.”
With my matcha in hand, I took my stuff to an empty booth in the corner. As busy as the place was this afternoon, I considered myself lucky to find a spot. Sipping my drink, I opened my laptop and got down with some homework.
My matcha was still hot when the chair opposite mine scraped across the floor. I had my earbuds in, but the volume was low enough to still hear. I lifted my head from my laptop screen, knowing before my eyes connected with his who occupied the seat.
Familiar tingles danced over the back of my neck, the ones only brought on by one person.
Tristan kicked back in the chair, eyeing me with piercing blue eyes. Unlike Preston, nothing about Tristan’s choice of attire fell into the preppy category. Preston constantly looked as if he just walked off the golf course while Tristan looked like he just emerged from an underground club. He wore a dark gray hoodie today, the hood up, concealing most of his dark hair but not his eyes. Despite the table being between us, I could smell the wind on him. He brought the scents of fall with him inside, and it mingled with the aroma of coffee.
“Tristan, what are you doing here?” Irked, I popped out my earbuds.
With an irritating grin, he stretched his legs under the table, placing them in between mine. “I love it when you say my name like that. Annoyed yet breathy. It’s kind of hot, Shortcake.”
“Stop,” I hissed, glancing around the coffee shop. Thankfully, no one was paying attention to us.
Tristan plucked up a sugar packet from the table and twirled it between his fingers. “You missed me. Admit it.”
“I hate lying.”
His lips twitched.
“Really, what do you want, Trist—” I deliberately stopped myself from saying his name.
He caught on to why I hadn’t finished my sentence, the hoop at the corner of his lip lifting. “Wondering where you’ve been hiding.”
“Anywhere you’re not,” I snapped, closing my laptop, seeing as I wouldn’t get any work done with Tristan bothering me.
He picked up my drink and gave it a sniff, wrinkling his nose at the earthy notes. “Ouch. Cruel, Ever.”
A lock of hair escaped from under his hood, falling over his forehead. My fingers itched to brush it off his face. Instead, I frowned at him and folded my fingers in my lap to keep them from doing something dumb. “I have a skilled teacher.”
He set my drink back on the table untouched. “You have so much more to learn from me.”
A snort breezed through my nose. This banter we fell into was comfortable. Perhaps too comfortable. It made me drop my guard and forget I hated him. With Tristan, it took effort to remember he was the enemy. “I’ll pass. Have you just come to annoy me? Or is there something you want because, obviously, I’m busy.”
“Am I distracting you?”
“Yes,” I replied shortly, hoping he would get my drift.
He didn’t. He took it to another level, one I was trying to avoid. “In the best possible way.”
Tristan is not charming or cute, I reminded myself as I rolled my eyes. “You wish. I’m still mad at you.”
He leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on the table, meeting my gaze. “Good. But I came to tell you that you don’t have to worry about those guys. They won’t be bothering you again.”
Why was it so hard to focus on his words when he was this close to me? It would help if I stopped looking at his lips. I forced my attention to stay on his eyes. “After they ignored your first warning, I’m not sure how confident I feel I won’t become a victim.”
The blue hue in his eyes darkened. “I meant what I said. They won’t hurt you.”
I picked up my cool matcha and took a drink, needing to wet my throat. It had been two weeks since the attack, but in my mind, it was yesterday, “Why? Because you told them too?” I shot back.
He tugged on a piece of my hair, an old habit I wished would die. I needed a hands-off policy. “I paid them their money if you must know,” he said.
“And what about the next time you gamble your inheritance?”
A vein in his neck ticked. “What I do with my money isn’t your problem.”
My hands shook under the table. “Until I have a knife at my throat.” I did my best to disguise the quiver in my voice, but it wasn’t enough to fool Tristan.
His eyes narrowed, studying me with a fraction of concern. “Ever.”
I didn’t want his sympathy or worry. “Can we agree to stay away from each other? I gave you what you wanted. Now I’m asking you to leave me alone. I don’t need any more nightmares. I have my own demons to fight, Tristan. I can’t take on yours too.”
He didn’t answer immediately but stared at me from across the table. “I can do that,” he finally said, leaning back in his chair.
“Can you?” I countered, lifting a brow. Or maybe the better question was could I? Why didn’t I feel better at the idea of not seeing him? Why did I suddenly feel more anxious than ever?
Something like regret or perhaps it was disappointment flickered through his expression. “It will be like we don’t even live in the same house.”
Yet we did.