Chapter 12 #4
I want to yeet her over the loft railing.
Horror hits me when I finally pin down the emotion that’s making my blood boil.
I’m jealous. Of a puck bunny. That she’s had Tristan’s hands on her makes me feel sick.
This is a new low. There are hundreds of women just like her—and me—who have had his unrelenting dick inside of us.
Five minutes later, Flip and Stacey decide to move to his bedroom. As they get up, Tristan’s arm magically disappears from the back of the couch. Once Flip stands, he moves over a few inches.
Flip sends Stacey down before him and turns to Tristan. “You want in, man?”
This time I audibly gag. Flip ignores me.
My stomach tries to turn itself inside out.
That my brother is inviting his best friend to take part in a threesome in front of me is indicative of the lack of boundaries in their relationship.
It’s also a shot of reality I don’t know how to handle.
This is what I signed on for. And it was fine when Tristan and I were in this little bubble, but the season is about to start.
Tristan will be on the road. Maybe fucking bunnies.
Probably fucking bunnies. I’m such an idiot for thinking I could handle something like that.
Tristan coughs and rubs the back of his neck. “Uh, no, man. I’m good.”
The wave of relief that follows is horrifying. He’s going away tomorrow, and I’ll be faced with an entire twenty-four hours of not knowing where his dick is going to be. I don’t want it to be anywhere but inside me. Which is a huge fucking problem.
Flip shrugs. “Suit yourself.”
“Keep in mind we have an early flight tomorrow,” Tristan adds.
“I’ll nap on the plane.” Flip disappears down the ladder.
Neither of us says anything until my brother’s bedroom door closes.
“Where’d you go tonight?” Tristan asks.
As if none of that just happened. Like I’m not over here in a panic spiral because I have feelings and don’t like them one bit.
This isn’t a big deal for him, I realize. And it shouldn’t be for me either. But I feel ill knowing he’s fucked her, had his hands on her, kissed her, probably at the same time as my brother.
And I’m about to hear her get railed all night. I should be able to shake that, but I can’t.
“Hemi’s.” I run my hands up and down my legs. I need space. And not to have a panic attack or emotional breakdown in front of Tristan. Because this jealousy and shame aren’t something I want him to see. This was always the deal. My stomach flops over. “I should probably get ready for bed.”
He grabs my arm before I can stand. “Why don’t we hang out here until Flip gets things going? Then you can come to my room.”
“Wow.” I blow out a breath. This is not how I envisioned tonight—or any other night—going.
Although, I probably should have. This is a reminder that any feelings for Tristan that aren’t lust—or hate—related is a bad freaking idea.
Who knows how recently he was with Stacey.
I’m just another series of holes that are conveniently available.
Clearly that’s what he thinks, as evidenced by his immediate invitation to fuck now that Flip will be occupied—with someone Tristan has also screwed before.
But the worst part is, for half a second I consider it. Because I don’t want to listen to Stacey tonight. But if I go to his bedroom, I risk being honest about how I feel, and then I’m even more screwed. It’s an impossible situation.
The whole thing feels like the absolute worst gut punch. Seriously. If I don’t vomit or cry, it’ll be a miracle. “It’s probably not a good idea tonight.”
He seems confused. “Why not?”
So many reasons. None of which I want to voice for fear of losing it, or worse, admitting I don’t want to be another Stacey. “I don’t know how to deal with this.” It’s honest without setting myself up.
“Is this because of the woman Flip brought home?” His voice drops to a whisper. “He’ll be busy with her for hours.”
Confirmation once again that I’m just someone Tristan fucks in secret that he doesn’t even really like.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” His jaw clenches. “You can’t be upset with me because Flip asked if I wanted in. I said no.”
We set parameters, and he’s staying inside them.
But I don’t think I’m capable of compartmentalizing tonight and shifting the boundaries back where they’re supposed to be.
I bite my lips together, taking a moment to compose myself.
Calm is the only way to manage this. “As inconvenient as it might be, my emotions are mine, and you can’t tell me how I’m allowed to feel. ”
“That’s not—I’m just saying I didn’t do anything wrong, so I don’t get why you’re stonewalling me.” I can’t read his expression, but he seems…anxious, maybe? I don’t know. I’m confused, and the heaviness in my chest is uncomfortable.
I don’t want to put myself on the line emotionally, but I need to explain this in a way he can understand.
I can’t listen to Stacey make the same noises I make.
“I know your sexual history is extensive and prolific. You wouldn’t be half as good at getting me off if it wasn’t.
But it’s harder than I thought to come face to face with your past.” What if I can’t do this anymore? Maybe I’m not cut out for casual sex.
His silence is telling. And damning. “It was a long time ago,” he whispers. “Why are you holding it against me?”
“I’m not trying to. I just… I didn’t expect to ever run into a Stacey, which I realize is pretty stupid, but we’ve been in this bubble. Now it’s popped, and I’m having a hard time.” I don’t even know that Tristan can empathize. I’m not sure that’s how he operates.
He scrubs his face with his hand and presses his knuckles to his mouth. “If you stayed in my room, you wouldn’t have to listen.”
“But I don’t want to be fucked by you tonight,” I say softly. And it’s the truth. I’m just another Stacey, and I don’t want to be. I’m scared of what that means.
His jaw tics. “I’m leaving in the morning, though. And we’re staying overnight.”
Is it a threat? A statement of fact? I wish I could read him better.
He has two main modes: fuck machine and asshole, occasionally tempered by the sweet side that makes my heart all melty.
But I can’t let him into my body tonight.
Not with my head all over the place and this stupid ache in my chest. Then what will happen while he’s away and I’m not accessible?
I can’t be that fourteen-year-old girl desperate for his attention.
Not now. Not ever. If this is what ends this, so be it. It’s not a risk I’m willing to take.
I swallow down the threat of tears, impressed by how steady my voice is. “I know.”
His gaze moves over my face. He doesn’t try to touch me. Which is good. If he did, I’d probably fold. “Okay. That’s fine.”
He stands and moves around me. He doesn’t look at me as he climbs down the ladder.
My heart is in my throat as I wait for what’s next.
Will he knock on Flip’s door? I grab a pillow and shove it against my face.
I need to get a grip. If he goes into that bedroom, I’ll never let him inside me again.
I will find the next available apartment and move.
Doesn’t matter what neighborhood it’s in.
Emotions claw at my throat. Tears blur my vision. Jesus. I like him. I fucking like him, and I don’t want to. I’ve already had my heart broken once in the last six months. I certainly don’t need to hand it over to my brother’s emotionally unavailable best friend.
The bathroom door closes. Five minutes later, it opens again.
I stop breathing.
Until Tristan’s bedroom door closes with a thud.
I stifle a relieved sob with the pillow.
I’m terrified, but I did what was best for me. And that’s more important than anything else.
“ B ea, baby, wake up for me. Come on, Bea.”
I blink into the inky gray morning light. Tristan is hovering over me. His thumbs brush along the edge of my jaw. “Time’s it?” I ask.
“Early.”
“Flip?”
“In the shower.”
Awareness hits me. I turned him away last night. He’s leaving this morning, and I won’t see him until he’s back in thirty-six hours.
“I get it. I get why you said no,” he tells me softly.
“I just wanted you next to me. I hated last night. I won’t fuck anyone else while I’m gone.
I haven’t and I won’t. There’s only you, okay?
You’re the only one.” His eyes are wild.
Haunted almost. He takes my hand and presses it against his cheek.
“Just don’t go. Please, Bea? Don’t leave yet. I’m not done with you. I need more.”
I’m half awake, barely processing his words. “I won’t go.”
“Okay. Good. That’s good.” He kisses my palm. “Fuck, Bea.” He drops his head and nuzzles into my hair, breathing me in. “Can I kiss you? Please? Before I go?”
There’s panic in his voice. Anxiety. I’ve heard it before, but I can’t make the connection. I’m still too out of it.
“Please?” he begs.
“Sleep breath,” I mumble.
“Don’t care.” He cups my face gently between his palms. “Please say yes.”
“You can kiss me,” I whisper.
Tristan climbs onto the futon with me and straddles my hips. He slants his mouth over mine, and I feel the desperation in his kiss. The longing. The need.
Saying no last night was the right thing to do—not because this is the result, but because he came to the realization I needed him to. Actions have consequences. And last night he experienced those consequences and didn’t like them.
Neither did I.
He moves my hands to his hair and stretches out on top of me. Bracing his weight on one arm, he curves his other hand around my throat.
He breaks the kiss and rubs his nose against mine. “I slept like shit. All I wanted was you.” His lips brush over mine.
I run my fingers through his hair. “I’ll be here when you get back.”
“Promise.” He pulls back, his expression fierce. “Promise you’ll be here when I get back.”
“I promise.”