Chapter 16
sixteen
I tossed Tristan’s phone onto the bed as if it burned me, staring at him with wide, guilty eyes. My heart knocked hard against my ribs, and I could hear it thumping in my ears. I remembered him asking me a question, but my mind went utterly blank at the sight of him, making me feel like a deer caught in headlights. My body froze.
Tristan stood over the threshold in a white towel wrapped around his hips, his chest bare and covered in ink.
I took in his face, attempting to judge his mood, but it was difficult to tell when all Tristan ever did lately was scowl at me. He definitely wasn’t thrilled to find me in his room, snooping on his phone.
His gaze narrowed as it followed the phone to where it had landed in a pile of rumpled bedding. “Ever,” he growled, pinning me with a piercing glower.
Not good. This isn’t good.
I needed a reasonable excuse as to why I was in his room. An even better one for looking through his phone.
I had nothing.
But it didn’t stop my mouth from trying.
“I was only borrowing it. My phone is dead, and I needed to call—” I swallowed the rest of my pathetic excuse as he took a step toward the bed, and my already racing pulse quickened.
My eyes darted to the closed door behind him. Dread filled me at the space between my freedom and me. Why did it seem like a million miles away? Abandoning any hope of snatching his laptop, I moved on to the plan of running. The question was…could I make it to the door without him catching me?
Even in only a towel, Tristan looked formidable, someone I shouldn’t cross. Perhaps more so because of his lack of attire. His towel could fall off his hips at any moment, and no one wanted that.
Right?
Not that I hadn’t seen Tristan naked. It was that I was doing so very hard to forget how glorious his body was.
And obviously failing, since even now in a compromising situation, I thought about what lay under the towel.
Only a few seconds had unraveled, but in that time, I decided to risk escaping, and before I could change my mind, I scrambled to the other side of the bed, miscalculating Tristan’s reflexes. The story of my life, underestimating him.
My feet never got the chance to touch the floor, Tristan’s fingers wrapping around my ankle, and he dragged me across the disheveled bedding toward him. He flipped me onto my back, my free leg kicking out and missing. With one quick yank, he had me at the edge of the bed where he positioned himself between my legs, securing my arms over my head on the mattress as he leaned over me. “Where do you think you’re going, Shortcake?”
My heart tripped at his brisk tone, and I squirmed.
Bad idea.
Is that…? Did I…? Is he hard?
I gulped, immediately halting my movements, freezing underneath him. My eyes lifted to his.
If his towel didn’t hold, I wouldn’t just feel his erection, I’d damn well be able to see it.
My head turned to the side as I rapidly breathed in and out, taking in the scent of his sheets…of him. “Tristan. Let. Me. Up,” I panted, exerted from wrestling with him.
He drew in a shallow breath like he struggled to maintain composure. “Not until you tell me what you were doing with my phone, Shortcake.”
A chill swept over my neck. “What do you think I was doing?” I spat. “You gave me no choice.”
“So, you snooping where you don’t belong is my fault.”
“Exactly.”
He shook his head. “Why do you have to complicate everything in my life?”
“Me!” I shrilled, again trying to dislodge my wrists from his grasp. “If you hadn’t taken those photos, I wouldn’t have to sneak into your room.”
His thumbs swiped over the inside of my wrists, and the dread I felt morphed into something warmer as did the center of his eyes. “Maybe I wanted you to sneak into my room. Did you think of that? Perhaps I’d been waiting for this moment.”
I gritted my teeth, my jaw aching. “Stop messing with me, Tristan. And let me up, or I’ll scream,” I warned, meaning it.
“Who would hear you? Sam?” He snorted, but the fingers on my wrists loosened a fraction.
My chin jerked. “You don’t scare me. You’re not as threatening as you think.”
The lines bracketing his mouth deepened. “Then maybe I’m going too easy on you.”
I opened my mouth to scream, and only a squeak came out before Tristan’s hand slapped over my mouth, not hard but enough to stop my voice from projecting further than a muffled cry that wouldn’t reach beyond these walls.
Reacting, I bit him.
He jerked his hand away from my mouth. “Little minx,” he growled, eyes darkening.
“Asshole,” I shot back.
Tristan grinned—a nasty curl of his lips that didn’t make me feel good at all. He released me, straightening, but his legs remained wedged between mine. “Don’t think about moving. I’ll only haul your ass back and tie you to the bed.”
The itch to scurry away rose in me, but I stayed still. “Are you getting kinky with me?”
He arched a single brow, toying with the hoop on his bottom lip. “Only if you want me to, but I’m not opposed to holding you hostage if it’s the only way I can get you to stay.”
I huffed, glaring up at him.
Tristan held my eyes for a minute to make sure I would comply. I just glowered.
Satisfied, he strutted to the dresser, leaving me on the bed as he opened the top drawer and pulled out a pair of sweats. Taking a breath, I gave myself a moment before sitting up on the edge of the bed, but the air was stolen from my lungs as Tristan’s towel hit the floor, and I groaned. I hadn’t meant to do so out loud. The sound was meant to be inside my head, but damn, if I couldn’t seem to control my body or mouth around Tristan.
He tossed a side glance over his shoulder, lifting his annoying brow while I continued to gawk at his backside. Who could blame me? It was an impressive sight, and at this point, I might as well enjoy it. I doubted I could get any more embarrassed than I was.
“Should I forget the pants?” he asked.
“What?” I blinked. “No. Damn it, Tristan, stop trying to shock me. If you want to walk around naked, have at it. Who am I to stop you?”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Shortcake?”
I gulped. Who the fuck wouldn’t? Even Sam would agree with me, and she hated Tristan most of the time. “Get over yourself.”
He slipped on the sweatpants, and I reached for his discarded phone still lying in the center of the bed. His blue eyes narrowed, but I was past caring. Now that he wasn’t fully naked, my mind remembered the photos of Preston, and I wanted answers.
Now.
It took him two strides to reach the bed, the exact time it took me to punch in Tristan’s passcode. He yanked the phone out of my hand and glared hard at the screen. I knew what he was looking at. The same screen I’d been staring at when he burst into the room.
The scowl lines creasing his forehead became more prominent, more menacing. Tension thickened the air between us, and I couldn’t take it. “Who is she?” I demanded.
His jaw worked. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
My chin jutted out, stubbornness radiating in my features. “I saw the photos, Tristan. Don’t play with me. Who the fuck is she? The girl Preston’s been cheating on me with? I want a name.”
“Why?” he fired back, shoving the phone into his sweatpants pocket. “What are you going to do? Her name won’t change the fact that they slept together.”
True. It wouldn’t. I might not be in love with Preston, but I still cared about him. The realization of what he’d done finally penetrated through the fire of anger blazing through me, reaching my heart. An ache of pain stung in my chest. “Fine. If you won’t tell me, I’ll find out myself. You’re not the only one with detective skills at your disposal,” I threatened and started to inch toward the end of the bed.
“Ever,” he growled, raking a hand through his damp hair. “Damn it. Fine. You were bound to find out eventually.”
Unable to sit anymore, I stood. “If you knew your brother was cheating on me, why didn’t you ever tell me? The entire summer! Christ, Tristan. I had a right to know. Do you know how embarrassing it is? Who else knew? How long have you known?”
“One question at a time, Shortcake. I don’t know her name. Don’t care to know who she is.”
“You’re telling me you went to all the trouble to get these pictures of him, and you didn’t bother to find out who she is? Anything about her?”
“More like I didn’t care.” His eyes went to the bed, avoiding me.
I studied Tristan, and the answer came to me. The reason this girl was so insignificant was because… “She isn’t the first, is she?” I murmured, taking a step back. I bumped into the wall and sank against it.
Holy. Shit.
How many? How long? How had I never found out? How did I have no clue?
He kept his eyes averted.
My simmering outrage became a ring of fire, burning through my blood. “Tristan, look at me.”
He did, but I almost wished he hadn’t. Coldness gleamed from the depths of his eyes. “You don’t want the truth, Ever.”
Not Shortcake as he’d been so fond of calling me these last weeks but Ever. He used my name, and it gave me a sinking feeling in my chest. My fingers balled into fits at my sides. “How many times?”
Tristan shrugged, leaning on the desk opposite his bed.
“Last year?” I prompted, searching for a timeline.
He knew what I was asking. Had Preston been sleeping around on me during the darkest time in my life? When things had been so bad at home? When I needed Preston the most?
Silence.
Tristan’s piercing eyes just held mine.
I shook my head, stiffening my lip from trembling as it wanted to do. I refused to cry. “I can’t believe him. That two-timing prick,” I muttered more to myself. Had I really wasted years of my life on Preston? It was difficult to not look at the past. Sure, I’d finally broke things off with him, but if it hadn’t been for Tristan, would I still be with his brother? Oblivious to Preston’s cheating ways? “Why do you have those photos, Tristan? Why did you have your brother followed?”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “I have my reasons.”
My foot yearned to kick him. Anywhere would do as long as it hurt. “You’re not going to tell me, are you?”
The asshole remained tight-lipped.
“Do you have photos of the others?” I asked, trying again.
Nothing.
I started to wish our families weren’t intertwined with years of friendship. It would make hating them so much easier. “Fuck you. Fuck you both.”
My eyes burning, I shoved off the wall and stormed to the door, ripping it open. I walked into the hall, slamming his door behind me with a satisfying echo that rang through the building.
I stomped to my room where Sam already waited for me. Her troubled eyes lifted as I flung the door shut behind me, the second crash within thirty seconds.
Her eyes jumped at the sound, the walls shaking. “I take it things didn’t go well?”
I held out my hand. “I need your keys.”
She rolled to a sitting position on the bed. My room didn’t have a lot of seat options. It was either the bed, the desk, or the floor. Sam had chosen the comfiest of the three. “Okay, what happened?”
“Keys?” I demanded, holding out my hand.
Her bag lounged at the foot of the bed, but she didn’t reach for it. Instead, she continued to eye me. “Where are you going?”
“I need to talk to Preston. I’m ending this once and for all,” I stated, my body rigid.
A measure of confusion moved into her features. “Back up. How did we get from sneaking into Tristan’s room to going three hours away to see your ex-boyfriend?”
“I don’t have time to go into all the details.” If I started talking about it, I might break down, and right now, I only wanted the anger, I wanted to cling to it. I needed to.
Her gaze turned concerned with a splinter of protectiveness. “I’m assuming things didn’t go well with Operation Fuck Over Tristan.”
“He’s a dick,” I said, going to my small closet and pulling out a hoodie.
“That’s what I’ve been saying.”
I tugged the soft, snuggly material over my head, slipping my arms into the oversized sleeves. “I don’t want to talk about him. Can I borrow your car?”
“Always,” she said without hesitation. “Do you want me to go with you?”
I didn’t mean to worry her but shook my head. This was something I had to do on my own. “Just make sure the asshole doesn’t follow me.”
She went to fish her keys out of her bag. “Will you be home tonight? I need to know if I should start a search party if you’re not in bed when I wake up.”
“I’ll be home, but it will be late,” I assured, grabbing a hair tie from my nightstand and securing it around my wrist. I intended to drive to UF, confront Preston, lay into him for lying to me, for making me feel guilty about our relationship, and a million other things, and then dip.
In theory, it sounded simple, but I wasn’t stupid enough to think it would be. I’d thought I’d been in love with Preston, and boyfriend or not, he’d been a part of my life for so damn long. I wasn’t sure how I would feel afterward once the truth was exposed, and we had to face what our relationship grew into—what it would become.
“Be careful. Drive safe,” Sam said. “Call me if you want to talk. It doesn’t matter when, and if you don’t call me, you better believe I will be knocking on your door to get the scoop. I want detailed details.” She handed me her keys.
My fingers clasped them. “Thank you, Sam. For everything, but mostly for being my best friend and wingman with no questions asked.”
“Give Preston hell.” She didn’t know what the youngest Malone had done yet, but she knew if I was this upset it was bad. Or perhaps, Sam already had an inkling. She never thought Preston was good enough for me.
“I plan on it,” I vowed.
It was a three-hour drive to the University of Florida where Preston attended school. I made it in two and a half hours, not because I drove like a speed demon but due to little traffic on the road. It seemed like the rest of the world had somewhere important to be. Everyone but me.
My dark, intrusive thoughts crept in, the ones that made me question myself, who I was, and if I liked the person I was. Some days I couldn’t understand how my mother had done what she did.
And others…I feared I understood a little too well.
The doctors had diagnosed my mother years ago with bipolar disorder, going from extreme highs and lows. I grew up thinking my mother’s mood swings were normal. Only after seeing Anna and spending so much time at the Malones’ house did I realize my mom wasn’t well.
I shook my head, and my fingers tightened on the steering wheel as I fought to shift those thoughts from my mind, not wanting to tumble down a rabbit hole.
Anger was easier to hold on to, and I wanted the fire in my blood versus the sharp cold of sadness.
There was no hope for Preston and me after this. Things were truly over between us. He wanted to talk. We’d talk. The lies ended tonight.
I spotted his car as I pulled into the parking lot and took it as a good sign. He was at least on campus. Locking Sam’s car, I entered his dorm building with a group of girls walking in who paid me little attention, assuming I lived there. Timing was everything, and fate lined up for me tonight.
I snuck into the elevator, taking five flights up to the top floor where Preston’s dorm was located. Each glowing button that climbed higher caused my heart rate to double. The heavy doors parted, and I wiped my sweaty palms over my jeans, roaming down the hall. I glanced at the unit numbers until I spotted 513. Preston’s dorm.
My eyes stayed glued to the brass numbers as if I couldn’t believe I stood outside his room. A scratch mark ran down the three.
I lifted my hand, fingers curled into a fist, yet I stopped just short of tapping on the door. Now that I was outside his room, I didn’t know what I would say. I’d wanted to scream before, to rage. Those feelings still resided within me, but the drive had leveled me out some.
Regardless, I had to do this.
Taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly, I knocked on Preston’s dorm.
It was late, but the hour didn’t concern me. What if Preston wasn’t in his room? He could be at a party. Or…I thought about the pictures…with another girl.
I’d hunt him down if need be. I wasn’t leaving this campus until we had the showdown I’d driven three hours for.
After the third rap of my knuckles, shuffling came from the other side of the door, barely audible over what had to be the TV. Someone giggled, and my spine stiffened.
That was the TV, right?
I had my hand in the air, about to pound again, when the door flew open, and Preston blinked at me. Confusion and then surprise flashed over his eyes. “Ev? What are you doing here?” He had one hand on the door, the other on the frame. Darkness spilled out into the hall from the room past him, only a flickering of light from the TV flipping through frames.
I frowned at the only boyfriend I’d ever had. Ex-boyfriend , I scolded. “We need to talk. Can I come in?”
“Uh, now is not a good time.” In no world had I imagined Preston would turn me away, and yet…
Oh, so it was okay when he ambushed me at my school, but when the tables were turned and I showed up his, he didn’t have the time for me. “Preston, seriously.” I frowned in disbelief and irritation. “Aren’t you the one who drove to my school begging to talk to me? I’m here now, and you’re fucking busy? What? Watching TV?” I tried to peek over his shoulder inside the room.
“Fine, we can go somewhere,” he conceded with a sigh, the displeasure on his lips increasing and flaring with the same annoyance I felt. “Let me get a shirt.”
I glanced down then, noticing for the first time he wasn’t wearing one. Why hadn’t I noticed when he’d answered the door? Tristan goes shirtless and I can’t take my eyes off him, but Preston… I didn’t even blink at his naked chest. That wasn’t to say Preston didn’t look good shirtless because he did. He wasn’t as broad or muscular as his brother, but Preston had always been fit.
It had to be the rage.
Preston started to close the door and turn. Um, hell no. My palm slapped onto the wood before it shut, and I shoved, pushing my way inside.
“What the hell, Ev?—”
My eyes were drawn to a movement on the rumpled bed wedged against the corner of the room. Preston didn’t have a roommate, but someone else was definitely in his bed.
A crater-sized lump formed in my throat.
I flipped on the light, flooding the room with a bright yellow glow. The girl from the photos stared at me with wide brown eyes nearly the same color as her hair. She clung to the white sheets, holding them over her chest as she stared at me.
Only a flicker of shock registered on her features, but it vanished when she saw me, and I understood then. This girl knew about me. She knew who I was. And that Preston had a girlfriend. Not now. But when they met, and yet, she still slept with him.
It told me all I needed to discern about the kind of person she was.
The keys clutched in my hand dug into my skin. A sarcastic smile tugged at my lips. “Well, this makes things easier, doesn’t it?”