Chapter 12 #3
“Yeah, but I was a high school freshman when they were seniors, and they both got drafted right away and called up right out of university.”
“Did you have a crush on him when you were younger?” Hammer asks.
“Big time. It was ridiculous. He didn’t know, though.” At least I don’t think he did. I tried to hide it. “He was around a lot when I was younger. Especially before his parents divorced.”
“Divorce sucks,” Hammer says.
“Yeah, Tristan’s mom bailed. Just up and left one day. Said she needed to find herself or some bullshit.”
Hemi’s eyes flare. “I didn’t know that.”
“He doesn’t really talk about it. Or her.” Not that he and I have many in-depth, emotionally revealing conversations these days.
“That’s so sad,” Tally murmurs. “How old was he?”
“Twelve, I think. And he has two younger brothers.”
“So his dad raised three boys on his own. Yeesh. That must have been hard,” Hammer says.
“Yeah. One is graduating high school this year, and the other one is about my age. Tristan’s tight with them.” He’s almost like a second parent. He’s always at Brody’s games, and he and Nate talk on the phone constantly.
“Well, that might explain why he’s so relationship averse,” Hammer says.
“Yeah. For sure.” I think about how pissed off Tristan was when I moved in, about some of the comments he made. Not wanting my drama. Maybe he saw me as someone he’d have to take care of and didn’t want to—other than in the bedroom.
I can’t be that girl who had a crush on him back when I was a teen. Not when my current value is based solely on the availability of my vagina.
“Did you ever hang out with him and Flip?” Tally is adorably invested in my childhood crush.
“I was more of an annoyance than anything. They had to walk me home from school until they went to middle school. But we’d stop at the grocery store to pick up snacks when Tristan came over.
” Tristan always had cash. His dad knew how much we struggled financially and probably gave it to him.
I’m sure Tristan had strict orders to spend that money on food.
“We’d stop in the candy aisle, and Tristan would always let us pick something.
Flip loved those candy-coated black-licorice things.
” Tristan had seemed so happy to be at our place back then.
And he hadn’t minded me tagging along as much as Flip did. Or that’s how it seemed.
Tally perks up. “Good and Plenty?”
I nod. “Yes! No one else liked them, so he had the whole box to himself.”
Tally shrugs. “I like them, but I’m Dutch, so it’s basically a cultural prerequisite to enjoy black licorice. I think it’s sweet that Tristan let you pick something.”
“I’m pretty sure he had to show his dad the grocery receipt when he got home.
He always pocketed it.” I remember that—him fishing it out of the bag and shoving it in his pocket.
“And whenever his dad would drop him off at our place, Tristan had his backpack and hockey gear, but he’d also have a cooler bag full of snacks.
There was always something special for me.
But again, his dad was probably responsible.
” If Tristan was staying overnight, his dad would send him with things like burgers and bakery buns and a fresh salad.
His dad knew how much Tristan and Flip could eat.
“Maybe it wasn’t his dad, though. Maybe it was Tristan. Maybe he’s had a thing for you all these years.” Poor Tally looks so hopeful.
I snort. “Doubtful. I was the annoying little sister. He couldn’t stand me then, and not much has changed.” Although he has moments of sweetness. But reading into those is dangerous and stupid.
“He must like you at least a little, all things considered,” Hemi says.
“The only thing he likes about me is my readily accessible vagina. And the only things I like about him are his huge cock and his ability to make me come like a freight train.” That doesn’t feel one hundred percent true on my side anymore, and that makes me nervous.
Liking him for anything beyond his skills in the bedroom isn’t part of the deal.
“It’s so romantic,” Hammer deadpans.
“Totally.” I clink my glass against hers.
Tally scrunches up her nose. “That’s the opposite of romantic.”
We all laugh. Getting my heart broken by my childhood tormentor-secret crush is way too cliché. Even for me.
On the subway ride home, I think about how things shifted after Tristan’s mom left.
Tristan had to be home to get his younger brothers off the bus after school, so Flip spent more time there.
I was an added responsibility neither of them wanted.
And Tristan’s tolerance for me evaporated completely when I became a teenager.
That summer before I started high school, something changed.
I don’t know what tripped the switch. Maybe it was my hormones, or my crush on Tristan became obvious.
It was probably irritating to have me hanging around like a lovesick puppy, always vying for his attention.
There were several incidents leading up to the night he made it clear my presence was unwanted and unwelcome, but the evening he threw me in the pool wearing the dress my mom made for Essie’s birthday party stands out as a turning point.
I realize now that I had everything he wanted—a family that loved each other, a mom who would spend every spare minute making me a dress so I could look pretty for my best friend’s party. He was angry and hurting.
Maybe he still is.
W hen I get home, Flip is in the loft watching a movie. Tristan’s bedroom door is closed, so he’s either in there or he’s out. It isn’t until I’m in the loft that I discover Flip is not alone.
“Oh. I didn’t realize you had a friend over. I’ll grab a book and hang out downstairs.” I thumb over my shoulder. There are a couple of occasional chairs by the wall of windows.
“It’s cool. You can watch the movie with us,” Flip says. “Stacey, this is my sister, Rix. Rix, this is my friend Stacey.”
“Hey.” Stacey lifts a hand in an unenthusiastic wave.
“Are you sure? I can totally disappear for a while.” Bed would be nice, but the café nearby is an option if it gets awkward. From what I can tell, they’re about halfway through their movie, and past the first sex scene, thank God. Eventually they’ll go downstairs. I hope.
“Yeah, totally. Come hang out.” Flip pats the empty space beside him. “Where were you tonight?”
“I went to Hemi’s with Hammer and Tally.” I take the spot beside my brother.
He pauses the movie. “Oh, nice. I know it’s tough with Essie in Vancouver.”
“I definitely miss her.”
Stacey pulls out her phone and takes a bunch of selfies that include my brother’s profile.
“I bet. It’ll get easier though. Especially now that you’re getting settled. The new job is good?”
“Yeah. So much better. And I’m on the hunt for an apartment, so you’ll have your TV room back soon.” I motion to the paused movie.
“Don’t rush it. I’d rather you find the right place than end up in a crappy neighborhood again,” he says.
He hits play on the movie again.
Within five minutes, Stacey’s hand is climbing up my brother’s leg. And she’s whispering in his ear. He puts a pillow over his lap.
I’d like to believe my brother wouldn’t get a handy while I’m sitting next to him, but it seems high on the list of potentially awful things that could happen. The giggling comes next, followed by the sound of lips on skin. Stacey moans. I should have stayed at Hemi’s longer.
I’m half a second away from calling them out, or leaving, when the front door opens. “Hey, honey! I’m home!”
I am instantly relieved that it’s Tristan. And worried about why he’s coming in at this hour and where he’s been. Not that I have a right to care.
“We’re up here watching a movie,” Flip calls.
“I’ll be right up. Need anything from the fridge?”
“Nope. All good here!” Flip answers for us.
A minute later, Tristan pulls himself into the loft.
His brow arches when he sees me, then rises again when his gaze lands on Flip and Stacey.
Tristan is fresh from the gym. He smells like sweat and deodorant.
I bet his skin is extra salty right now.
What I wouldn’t give to lick a path from his throat to his cock. I cross my legs.
“I didn’t realize you had company tonight,” he says to Flip.
“Stacey, you remember Tristan, right? Tristan, we’ve hung out with Stacey before.”
Based on Tristan’s blank expression, he doesn’t remember hanging out with Stacey. “Right. Hey.”
The awkwardness ratchets up to unbearable levels.
I do not want to know how well Tristan and Stacey know each other.
My stomach twists uncomfortably, and finding an apartment climbs on my to-do list. Like, maybe I should go do that right now.
End this sex pact so I don’t have to deal with the hard truth: that I’m no different than Stacey.
Watching a movie with someone Tristan and my brother have both slept with is more than I’m prepared for.
I don’t want to think about him touching her the way he touches me.
Before I can make an excuse to leave, Tristan crams himself on the futon between me and Flip. I shift over a few inches, trying to give him extra space, but he manspreads until his knee rests against mine.
He stretches his arm across the back of the couch.
His fingers sift through my hair, and his thumb sweeps along my nape.
I freeze, unsure how to interpret the touch.
It feels illicit. Dangerous. Is he trying to tell me something?
Whatever his intentions, it’s incredibly ballsy.
I brush his hand away, unable to handle the contact.
“How was the workout?” Flip asks.
“Good. Guess now I know why you missed it,” Tristan replies.
“Planning to get a different kind of workout in.” Flip snorts.
Stacey giggles.