6. Tristan
TRISTAN
B efore I can talk myself out of it, I slide my palm down her back and let it rest just above her ass. I pull her against me before moving my hand slowly back up, cupping the base of her skull so she can tilt her head back and look up into my eyes. I fucking love connecting to her this way.
She goes easily, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like she’s been waiting to fit herself against me. Her temple brushes my jaw as she leans in, her small body molding into mine.
My chest tightens. It’s a brutal and aching thing that I feel for this girl.
She should hate this, but I’m sure as fuck glad she doesn’t.
Winter presses closer, soft where I’m hard, warmth sinking through my shirt until it burns.
She feels so fragile and strong at the same time, almost like she was made specifically for me.
I love how delicate she feels in my hands, but I know that she can handle me without breaking.
I lower my chin, breathing her in, pretending it’s casual when it feels like a fucking lifeline she’s giving me right now.
Winter tilts her head up even more. Her voice soft enough that it threads under the noise of our housemates around us. “We don’t have to go tonight if you don’t want to.”
The word stops me cold. We.
Not her. Not me. We.
My ribs squeeze tight like the syllable itself has hands around my chest.
That tiny word binds me to her in a way nothing else can. I’d burn the whole world if she asked, but hearing it slip from her lips so casually, like she already sees us as one, wrecks me.
I dip my head, lowering my voice so no one else hears.
“Do you want to go to the carnival, dushen’ka ?
” The Russian slides out before I can stop it, the endearment I chose because unless they look it up, no one would know just how meaningful it is.
My secret, my sin. But she only smiles at the endearment.
It means something to her that I chose it.
Her eyes flicker, hesitant for half a second before she whispers, “Yes.”
That’s all it takes. One word. She has no idea the power she holds. I lift my hand, stroking down the length of her braid, fingers grazing the silky strands. My eyes stay fixed on the pink ribbon tied at the end. Fucking Hayden and his God damn box of bows. “Then we’re going to the carnival.”
She smiles at me again, but this time it’s bigger, sweeter, the kind that melts every hard edge I’ve spent years sharpening. I force my jaw tight, pretending I’m unaffected, but it’s a lie. She’s the only thing that’s ever meant anything to me.
The bubble we’ve built cracks when Lilac bounces over, clutching a pink basket like it’s a prize. “Okay, tell me what you think of the bow.” I want to bop her on the nose and tell her to go away, but I don’t feel like wrestling with Callum while Hayden eats chicken wings and plays referee.
The thing is obnoxiously girly, stuffed with self-care crap, pastel snacks, everything topped with a giant satin bow that shines under the dining room light.
It’s either iridescent or has sparkles, I’m not sure of the correct term.
I don’t care. I never will. But Winter leans forward, her delight obvious as she reaches to straighten the ribbon.
“It’s perfect,” she says, beaming like the world’s simplest bow is art. “They’re going to love it.”
“Who?” I ask flatly, because to be fucking honest, everyone we talk to regularly is in this room.
“Freshmen girls,” Lilac chirps. “Madi thought of it.”
Of course she did. Everything’s pink and sweet and soft…glittery. Madison in a nutshell.
Madi looks up from the stack she’s working on, smoothing another bow into place.
“When we moved into our first dorms it was…” She looks over at Hayden with a smirk because he did move all of her stuff out of her dorm and force her to live with him if I remember correctly.
She clears her throat, because he doesn’t look sorry.
Instead, his chest is puffed out and he’s grinning like the maniac that he is.
“Anyway, it felt so big and overwhelming. I figured the girls taking our old rooms this year could use a little something to make it feel fun. Like they’re part of it already. ”
Lilac nods eagerly. “Exactly. They should know they’ve got so much good stuff ahead of them.
Hockey games, late-night pizza runs, parties.
Well, if they don’t have brooding hockey players deciding that they can’t attend parties.
” She laughs, but none of us guys do. Parties are for frat boys, and that’s all I’ll say about that.
Winter’s eyes soften, clearly charmed by the thought. “This was such a great idea, Madi. I definitely want to come with you guys even though I never had a dorm.” She laughs like it doesn’t bother her at all, but it makes me think.
I don’t say anything, but the thought punches through hard: Winter never had a dorm.
Never went through that rite of passage.
Because of me. Because I wouldn’t allow it.
Even back then, during freshman year, I wanted her with me.
I wanted to keep an eye on her. I made sure she stayed under my roof, where I could keep her safe.
Where no one else could get close enough to hurt her.
She doesn’t resent me for it, at least she’s never said so. But I know the truth: her life isn’t typical. And it never will be.
The girls keep fussing over their baskets, and Hayden sulks because he’s being ignored while Madi ties her bows with precision.
Callum leans an elbow on the table, arm around Lilac watching her fold tissue paper. “You ever had a fried Oreo, Mads?”
Madi looks up, blinking. “A what?”
“It’s an art form,” Callum says, grinning. He’s giddy because this isn’t about Oreos or Mads . He’s just next on the list to rile Hayden up. “They dunk Oreos in pancake batter, fry them ‘til they’re golden, then drown them in powdered sugar. It’s like heaven and hell teamed up in one bite.”
Before Madi can answer, Hayden strides over and flicks Callum hard in the side of the neck. The crack of it echoes, sharp enough to make Callum gasp.
“Fuck—” Callum’s hand flies to his throat.
“Don’t say Mads again,” Hayden mutters, glowering at him. “I’ll fucking cut you, and Lilac doesn’t want to deal with all of that so shut the fuck up.”
The girls dissolve into laughter. Lilac turns to face Callum, soothing his neck, cooing at him while he milks the injury with a wounded look.
Hayden doesn’t even spare him another glance. His focus is already back on Madi, like no one else exists.
Winter drifts closer, her shoulder brushing mine briefly before she grabs my hand to pull me up to the table. She wants to help the girls, but clearly she wants me next to her.
She thinks these little touches are just comfort, just normal closeness. She doesn’t see that they’re all that’s keeping me upright.
My hand closes around her braid, stroking down the silk of it. To anyone else, it looks harmless.
Without her, I think I’d cease to exist completely.