Chapter 2 #2
Wait, what? “You don’t need to. I don’t have that much stuff.”
His expression remains flat. “I want to meet these roommates.”
Of course he does. “Why? So you can invite yourself over for a gangbang? Eugenia isn’t your type.”
“How do you know?”
“Because she’s not a bunny.” I know my brother’s type, which means I also know Tristan’s.
“Okay, as fun as this is, I need to shower,” Flip says. “Then we’ll pick up your stuff, Rix. Please try not to kill each other while I’m gone.” He leaves me alone with Tristan, who is still clad in only a towel.
There’s no escape.
“I should grab my keys.” I’m wearing shorts, a tank top I stuffed in my bag last night, and the same bra and underwear from yesterday. Getting away from mostly naked Tristan is my current top priority.
I hustle around the island, but he’s right there—a wall of hot, muscular flesh that I’d like to punch and run my nails over with equal measure, especially now that he’s not covered in glitter or smelling like cheap perfume.
Instead, he smells like fresh fucking rain and warm skin, and I want to hump his leg a little.
Which is so, so wrong. Especially when I know what he gets up to with my brother.
My emotions about Tristan should be fully channeled in the hate direction.
I consider sidestepping him, but he’s a hockey player, and I only went to weekly yoga with Essie because she was allowed to bring a friend for free.
And Kawartha Dairy ice cream was my reward after.
Now she’s in Vancouver, and I’ll never yoga again without thinking of her.
I give him a “come on” gesture. “Say what you’re going to say, Tris. I don’t have all day.”
“Don’t you, though?” He lifts his hand, and I twist my head away but refuse to back down or step aside.
He doesn’t make contact, but his fingers trail along the edge of my jaw, so close I feel his heat.
He leans in until his warm, humid breath breaks against my cheek.
“You’re the one drinking my coffee, sleeping on my couch without anywhere to be. ”
His words hit home in a way I don’t like. “You think I asked for this?”
He tips his head. “Is that your interpretation?”
He’s playing with me. Pushing me. Needling. “Must be nice to have a throne to sit on so you can pass judgment on us peons. Of the three of us, I had to fight hardest to get where I am. I’ve always been the afterthought, never a big, shiny star.”
His smirk slides off his face. He opens his mouth, but before he can speak, I barrel on, wanting to slice him like he has me.
“And look how quickly both of you have tarnished that shine. How lovely that you can be assholes of the highest order and no one ever calls you on it. How proud your parents must be. Mommy must love that you’re a big hockey star.
” The words are out of my mouth before I consider their impact.
His mom left when he was twelve. It was a low blow.
Too low. I try to backtrack. “I didn’t mean?—”
“Yeah, you did.” He turns around and disappears into his bedroom.
My heart is pounding, and my palms are sweaty. I may have made things infinitely worse for myself.
Twenty minutes later, we file out of the condo. The woman across the hall is letting herself into her unit.
“Hey Dred, how’s it going?” Flip asks.
Tristan raises a hand in a wave.
“It’ll be the best day ever as soon as I’m in comfy clothes.” She’s currently wearing flats, a pair of dress pants, a white blouse, and a cardigan. She looks like a librarian with her bun and her glasses.
He motions to me. “Rix, this is Mildred, Dred for short. Dred, this is my sister Rix. She’s staying with us for a couple of weeks.”
Dred smiles at me. “Nice to meet you, Rix.”
“You, too.”
“You up for a movie later this week?” Flip asks.
“For sure, just knock, I’m around most evenings.”
She lets herself into her condo and I wait until we’re on the elevator heading to the lobby before I say, “Is it really a good idea to bang your next-door neighbor?”
“I’m not banging her. We’re just friends. We watch movies and play board games and sometimes we listen to podcasts.”
“Huh.” I didn’t see that coming.
Two minutes later I’m crammed into my brother’s car. It’s a two-door, with a tiny back seat. Tristan pushes the passenger seat all the way back. There’s no room for my legs, and the headrest is almost touching my face.
“Can I get a couple of inches of space?” I grumble.
“Or maybe you should stay behind, Tristan.” I’m concerned my stuff won’t fit in here, even without Tristan tagging along, and I’d prefer to get it all in one trip.
But his enjoyment of my misery seems to be holding steady, even after all these years.
“And miss out on this quality bonding time?”
“Can it, you two.” Flip pulls out of the underground lot and follows the GPS instructions to turn right.
I’m practically eating Tristan’s hair, his seat is so close. And of course, they put the windows down, so my hair is blowing all over the place in a wind vortex. My hair tie is in my purse, which is at my feet, and I can’t reach it.
I carefully pinch a strand of Tristan’s hair between my fingers and tug it free from his head. He runs his hand through it. He loses four hairs before he clues in.
“The fuck are you doing?” His fingers wrap around my wrist before I pull out a fifth.
It sends an electric jolt up my arm and makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. “Relieving you of your grays.”
“I don’t have grays!”
“That you can see.” I try to free my arm, but his hold tightens.
He reaches between the seat and the door with his free hand and reclines further. The headrest pushes into my stomach and the backrest hits my knees, forcing me to flatten my legs.
“Stop! You’re crushing me!” I yelp.
“Stop ripping out my hair!” Tristan snaps.
“Give me some space!”
“Give it a rest, you two! I missed the turn because you’re distracting me.”
Tristan’s head is almost in my lap. He tips his chin up, his green gaze meeting mine.
I mouth, You’re an asshole .
An amused smirk tips the corner of his deliciously full mouth. “I know. What are you going to do about it, Beat?”
He’s still holding my wrist, and I’m trapped under his seat.
I lean forward, my chest pressing against the top of his head, my hair forming a curtain around us.
Something shifts, and a tangible, raw energy crackles between us—hate, annoyance, frustration, who knows what else.
But I shock even myself when I lick the edge of his jaw.
His free hand slides into my hair and curls into a fist, holding my head. “You know what they say about playing with fire.” He twists my head, his lips dragging across my cheek until they reach my ear. “Bad little Bea,” he taunts, catching my earlobe between his teeth.
Warmth floods my body as he sucks the skin, then nips at it again. “Don’t you dare bite me!”
“Use your manners, and maybe I’ll be nice.” His voice is a gritty whisper. His grip on my hair tightens, and his tongue sweeps the shell of my ear.
I can’t tell if this is retaliation or foreplay.
Which is…a messed-up thing to think, especially since my brother is less than a foot away, in the driver’s seat.
But that doesn’t stop me from slipping my hand down the front of his shirt.
I try not to admire how firm his pec is as I find his nipple and roll it between my thumb and finger.
His surprised sound makes my nipples peak. “Any excuse to put your hands on me, huh, Beat?”
His ego is ridiculous. I stop playing nice and pinch. Instead of releasing my ear, he sucks it, then bites harder. I twirl some chest hair between my thumb and finger and tug.
“Ah!” he grunts. “That was dirty!”
“You’re biting me!” I twist my head away, but he’s still fisting my hair.
The car jerks, and the tires squeal.
Tristan releases my hair, and I sit back in a rush.
“What in the actual fuck is wrong with you two?” Flip gapes at us.
We’re both red-faced and panting. I have no idea why that felt equal parts aggressive and sexual.
“He started it!”
“She started it!”
“I don’t care who started it. It ends right now, or you can get out and catch a rideshare home. Or call one of your fun-time friends to pick you up.” Flip gives Tristan a pointed look.
“I’ll stop if she stops.” Tristan rubs his pec.
“Can you put your seat up so I can breathe?” I grouse.
“Ask nicely,” he sneers.
“Move your seat, Tris. You’re literally lying on top of her,” Flip orders.
Tristan grumbles but raises the seat so the headrest is no longer digging into my ribs. I can take a full breath again.
“Don’t say a word to each other for the rest of the ride,” Flip snaps.
We spend the next twenty minutes in awkward silence. The closer we get to the apartment, the drier my mouth becomes. Flip parks in a visitor’s spot, and I un-pretzel myself from the back seat while Tristan pulls the seat belt aside, presumably so I don’t clothesline myself getting out of the car.
“This is a shitty fucking neighborhood,” he announces. It sounds like an accusation. I don’t know what it is about Tristan, but he always makes me feel small.
“I thought when you said you lived close to East Side’s, you were in the nicer part.
” Flip frowns as he takes in the surrounding buildings and houses.
I’ve met him at the restaurant all three times we’ve seen each other since I moved here.
This is the first time he’s seen where I live.
Lived . Past tense, once I get my things.
A few blocks west, the neighborhood is less run down, but also more expensive.
“How long have you been living here?” Tristan asks with a frown.
“A few months.” I shrug. “It’s affordable.”
“But there are bars on all the windows of the corner store.” Tristan flings a hand toward the Tasty Mart across the street.
“The store where Flip and I grew up wasn’t any different,” I point out.
“Yeah, but we knew everyone. This is totally sketch,” Flip says.