19. Ingrid
Chapter nineteen
Ingrid
Ifinished up my homework, the silence of my room louder than ever, and glanced at my phone for the hundredth time. The screen remained dark. Tristian hadn’t replied to any of my messages for the last few days, and a hollow ache was blooming inside me.
Giving in to my urge, I grabbed my phone and opened my messages to him. My thumb hovered over the keyboard, shaking as I read back through the unanswered string I’d sent across the past couple of days.
Good morning, Tristian! Do you want to get breakfast? Mr. Noah didn’t call me in to see you, so I wanted to ask.
Hi, Tristian… Is everything okay?
Hope you have a good night… Hopefully I can talk to you tomorrow?
Hi, Tristian… hope you had a good morning. I did my harp lessons today, and I wanted to ask if you wanted to help me with some more sketching?
We don’t have to… we can do whatever you want. Please.
Have a good night, Tristian… I wanted to visit your apartment, but I didn’t want to intrude… Please let me know if you’re okay.
I’m sorry for bothering you… I just wanted to see you, please.
The delivered had turned to seen for each message. Tristian had read them all, but not sent a single word back.
My heart clenched. He was deliberately ignoring me.
The realization was devastating, and I had no clue why he was cutting me out.
Maybe I was being too clingy… too attached.
Tears sprung to my eyes as the idea of him ignoring me forever took root in my mind.
My hands grew sweaty, and I did my best to calm down, pulling the collar of his hoodie up to my nose to inhale the fading scent of him.
My door opened with a sudden bang. I jumped, my heart leaping into my throat, to see Amber and May strolling into my room with several shopping bags swinging from their hands. Papa wasn’t home, so someone else probably let them in.
“Come on, loser. We’re going to the club,” May said happily.
I shook my head, shrinking back into the oversized hoodie. “I don’t wanna,” I whispered.
Amber sighed, looking at me with a mixture of pity and annoyance. “Ingrid, babe, we’re going, and you’re coming with. You’ve been stuck in this room for God knows how long. It’s not good for you.”
I grasped for straws. “But Papa won’t let me—”
“BUT Papa isn’t here right now,“ said May with a devilish grin.
“But—”
“Oh, for goodness sake, Ingrid. Live a little,” Amber urged.
I remained silent, biting the inside of my cheek.
I hadn’t mentioned that Tristian had told me about her attempt to seduce him, and I wasn’t sure I planned on it.
Ideally I should just cut her out… but she and May were my only friends.
If I lost them, I’d have no one but the silence now Tristian appeared to be done with me.
May dumped a bag on my bed. “Come on, let’s get you dolled up and ready. It’ll be fun! So get your little ass up, and let’s go.” She left no room for complaining.
I stood up on heavy legs and grabbed the dress and heels they’d bought for me. After a quick, steaming shower, I slipped on the outfit. When I looked in the mirror, I shook my head as May and Amber eyed me like a prize.
“You look amazing!” May cried.
The fabric clung—tight, white, leaving nothing to the imagination. “It’s too tight…” I muttered. My butt was very defined, as were my hips, my chest accentuated more than I was comfortable with. I wasn’t used to looking like this—like an invitation.
Amber rolled her eyes and sat me on the bed, beginning to work on my hair with aggressive efficiency. “You look great. Now come on. We haven’t bothered you for the last few days, and you dragged us to the museum last month. You owe us.”
I bit my lip again, the guilt gnawing at me. Why are they even my friends?
Eventually, she finished my hair, leaving it with far more bounce and flow than my usual texture. May lined my lips and curled my lashes like I was her personal mannequin. But other than light foundation and blush, she didn’t pry over doing my makeup.
I stood up, feeling a little wobbly in the high heels, and walked back to the mirror. I guess I liked the dress. It was… pretty. In a fragile, dangerous sort of way.
Amber and May finished their own transformations, pulling on a bold red and sleek black dress respectively.
Soon I found myself in the backseat of a car, one of Amber and May’s male friends in the driver’s seat and another in the passenger seat.
They chatted and laughed, the guys in the front turning round to shoot easy boyish grins at the girls, and me.
Amber and May responded in kind, just as they had with Kane that first time they brought me to the tattoo parlor.
I fought to smile too. But I knew it didn’t touch my eyes.
One of the guys noticed. “What’s up with her?” he asked Amber.
She didn’t even look at me, eyes on her phone as she scrolled through her feed, her voice bored and mocking. “Daddy’s got her on a tight leash. She’s feeling a bit wound up about going out without his signature on her permission slip.”
The guys burst out laughing; the girls snickered cattily.
I sighed, turned to the window, tuned it out.
Normally, they would’ve been right. I was on a tight leash, and I did always worry about displeasing my parents.
But tonight, all I could think about was Tristian.
Why was he ignoring me? What had I done wrong?
I raked over our last interactions, searching for something, anything.
He’d seemed a little off that last time he dropped me home, but before that, in the park, he was so close to me, hands and body against mine as he helped me to draw, guided me through techniques.
Had I upset him by handing out baked goods to his gym buddies?
Or had it been in the locker room, when he asked about the bruises on my neck, and I shut him out?
My heart clenched.
It couldn’t be that. Just couldn’t. Because if it was… I couldn’t tell him. I couldn’t admit to him what my father was like behind closed doors. Tristian would blow his top. There’d be a confrontation no doubt. And whatever happened next, my father would forbid me from ever seeing him again.
I was still going over this sickening possibility when we arrived at the club.
My stomach, already tense, did a slow roll.
I wasn’t used to this part of town; the shadows felt longer here, and the people lounging on the corners seemed scary.
As they began stripping off their jackets, I pulled mine closer.
May gave me a sharp look. “Ingrid. You’re not going in with your jacket. It’s going to be hot. Leave it in the car.”
I took it off slowly, my skin crawling as I noticed the driver watching me through the rearview mirror.
I didn’t like this, not one bit. Why had I come out?
Why hadn’t I just gone to Tristian’s apartment and hammered on the door for answers?
Why couldn’t I be with him now, instead of here, where I felt so unsafe and so on show in this clinging white dress Amber and May had thrust on me? It wasn’t me at all.
I felt like I was spiraling, and I hadn’t even got out of the car yet.
I checked my phone one last time. Still nothing from Tristian. So, against all the screaming fibers in my body telling me not to, I followed May out of the car.
The bouncer gave us a once-over and let us into the club, a place called The Obsidian, without a word.
The inside of the club was a sensory assault.
The music was loud and pounding, the air thick with liquor and cigar smoke.
I stared wide-eyed at the strippers and the waitresses who wore next to nothing.
This wasn’t a regular club. It was massive—multiple floors, balconies, VIP rooms, and bars that looked like they belonged in a palace.
I felt completely out of place. A lamb wandering into a wolf’s den.
They started with shots. While they threw back three in a row, I struggled with the first. It was searing and bitter.
“Loosen up, Ingrid!” Amber slurred, her smile wide and vacant.
They pulled me toward the dance floor, and in the chaos of grinding bodies, I lost track of them. Panic set in as I felt the hands of strangers brush against my hips and waist. I scrambled away, wobbling back to the bar like a baby deer. I sat on a stool, my eyes stinging.
The bartender, a man covered in intricate tattoos, watched me for a moment before sliding a cup toward me.
“N-no, thank you,” I said, shaking my head.
He tilted his head. “It’s apple juice. Your friends tried forcing you to drink tequila earlier, and I thought you’d want something… familiar.”
I thanked him softly and took a sip. It was sweet and cool going down my throat.
He leaned over the counter, his expression unreadable. “I know you don’t belong here. I think you know that too.”
I nodded, the weight of the night too much for me to bear alone. “M-My friends dragged me out, a-and I didn’t want to come. I lost them on the dance floor, and p-people kept touching my hips and waist.”
“Horny bastards…” he muttered, cleaning a glass. “Dress like that in a place like this, you’re gonna attract that kind of attention.”
I looked down at the white dress and felt a wave of shame. If this dress was an invitation for that kind of attention, I never wanted to wear it again.
“Tell you what…” He looked back at me. “Stay here at the bar with me for a while, and I’ll call you an Uber if your friends don’t decide to sober up soon.”
I nodded, feeling a small spark of gratitude. He moved off to help other customers, and I found a pen, beginning to draw patterns and objects on the napkins in front of me, my session with Tristian at the park filling my mind all over again.
It was all I could do to distract myself from the heaving chaos of the bar, all those people so close and pressing ever closer as the night drew on and their inebriation rose. I thought of him again and again. I tried not to think about how badly I wanted him here.