And she let me.
My heart was pounding, thundering in my ears. The world outside this room ceased to exist.
It was just us… her taste and me losing my mind.
After a few breathless moments, she jerked herself away, her face a mask of pure shock. Realization flooded back into my mind—the weight of what I’d done, the mess I was in and that same reality crashed into her face all at once.
I opened my mouth to speak her name, but she was already gone, slipping past me and running out the door before I could find the words to make her stay.
Chapter fourteen
Ingrid
It was already nine o’clock, and the house felt strangely empty without my father’s looming presence.
After I’d gotten back home, I hadn’t stopped thinking of Tristian’s kiss. Just hisnameentering my mind sent butterflies fluttering in my stomach. And when I thought of the way he leaned down, the air electrifying between us as his lips found mine—it was like those butterflies turned into bombs. Exploding, fiery bombs that made heat pooled low in my stomach, a slow throb that hadn’t gone away since he kissed me. My whole body kept replaying it. The memory of his mouth against mine was a constant, simmering heat beneath my skin.
The heavy thud of the front door swinging open broke my thoughts. I looked over my shoulder from the living room, my breath catching, but it wasn’t my father. It was Camila.
She was a mess, stumbling into the foyer, heels dangling from one hand, lipstick smeared across her cheek. Both straps of her dress had slipped down her shoulders. She blinked at me, swaying on her feet in a daze.
“Camila?” I whispered.
She squinted at me, then her face split into a wide, glassy-eyed grin. “Ingriiid,“ she slurred loudly.
“Shh!” I rushed to her side, pressing a finger to my lips. “Abuelita isn’t feeling well... She needs her rest.”
Camila scoffed, the sound wet and rough. “You really... care about that bitch? Oh, I’m sorry!” She let out a small burp, followed by a sharp hiccup, her voice dripping with mock sweetness. “Sorry!Papasaid young ladies shouldn’t curse.”
I didn’t fight back against her mocking jab at me. There was no point when she was this far gone. I grabbed her hand, bracing myself as I began to haul her up the stairs.
She slurred some more, taking jibes at me and Mama and Papa and Abuelita all, but I just ignored the theatrics and fought her up the stairs. It wasn’t as though I’d never done this before.
Camila often came back drunk like this—or “shit-faced” as she liked to put it, smirking at how angry Papa would be to hear her. I hated seeing her like this. Worse, I hated knowing there must be somereasonfor it. Papa was overbearing, but surely that wasn’t why Camila pushed herself so far off the rails? What hurt was she trying to drink away?
Once I’d wrangled her to her room, I steered her toward the bed and let her flop down. I set her shoes aside, pulled the duvet over her, and began gently wiping the smeared makeup from her face with a wet cloth.
She watched me through heavy lids. “You know, Ingrid...” she grunted drunkenly, the smell from her mouth bitter, “if you weren’t such a perfect bitch… I might’ve liked you.”
I felt the sting of her words but I kept quiet. She didn’t mean it. Probably.
She shrugged against the pillows. “Then again... I act more like a bitch to you, don’t I? It’s all right though... eventually, Mama and Papa will finally get rid of me, and I’ll be free.”
I gave her a small, sad smile. I’d heard this anthem of rebellion a thousand times. I stood up, clicked off the light, and stepped back into the hallway.
I was halfway to my own room, ready to sink into my covers, when my phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out, wondering whether it might be Tristian. He hadn’t called since he kissed me and I ran out. I’d wanted to reach out and explain, but when I sat with my phone open, I couldn’t find the words to say why I’d fled, how the kiss had made me feel—how I wanted him to kiss me again—
But it wasn’t Tristian. It was his father.
“Good evening, Mr. Locke,” I answered, my voice tight.
“Ingrid, darling, how are you?”He sounded weary.
“I’m fine... Is there anything I can help you with?”
“I just got a call from the precinct,”he said, and my heart stopped.“They’ve got Tristian in custody at the station. Samuel and I are swamped here at the office. I was hoping you’d be able to retrieve him for me.”
“W-what? Why is he in custody? I-Is he okay?”
