“Just, ah, thinking about my date.”
His lashes lift. “Please tell me you’re not going to see Ryan again.”
“I don’t think he would, even if I wanted to.” I dab the paper towel gently, my fingers on his jaw drifting slowly over the hot skin. “He practically ran away once he realized I was fitter than him.”
Tristan snorts. “You can do better.”
There’s a twisting inside me, a small voice that tells me to make myself more palatable like I did with my past boyfriends.
“You kicked his ass today, didn’t you?”
My hands drop. Tristan is giving me that crooked smile.
“I did.” I grimace. “I didn’t mean to. He just wouldn’tstop being so damn arrogant and I kept hearing your voice in my head.Confidence is sexy. Be yourself.”
His dimple pops. “It sounds like I helped. It sounds like you let yourself go.”
“Yes.” I can’t help my laugh. “Yes, you arrogant ass. I left him in the dust. And honestly? It felt fucking awesome.”
“Hell yes.” Tristan smacks the counter with both palms. He grins and winces as his lip pulls. “Hell yes.” He holds up his hand and our palms smack together. “Go Katie.” His eyes spark. I can feel myself grinning back, feeling like I’m filled with sunlight, the way I felt when I kicked Ryan’s ass earlier.
That feeling propels me to jump off the counter, nearly knocking Tristan back.
“I’ll be back.”
I stride down the hall and into his guest bathroom. The mirror is massive and framed in warm wood that complements the greens and muted creams of the potted plants he has in here.
As I wash my hands, I stare at myself in the mirror. I barely recognize myself. My hair is falling out of its braid. I have mud streaks on my chest and bruises on my arm. My eyes are wild, lit by a light that seems to come from inside me.
Before I second-guess myself, I dry my hands and use my middle fingers to ease the contacts out of my eyes. I toss them in the trash and stride back into the kitchen.
“Let me finish you.” I hop back on the counter.
Tristan turns from where he’s carefully drinking more whiskey, then stills, eyes widening slowly. He sets the glass down with a hard rattle on the counter.
“Katie,” he says quietly.
My pulse is pounding in my throat. He noticed it. Thething I’ve never shown anyone. It’s so much worse than the hair.
His expression is slack as he steps between my legs again. His hand rises, then drops back down.
“Your eyes. Are you wearing contacts?”
I press cool fingers to my heated cheeks, like that will change what I look like. “I actually took them out.”
“You have—”
“Heterochromia,” I finish. I want to look away, but Tristan’s hand on my jaw stops me. I’m pinned under his gaze and I have no idea what he’s thinking.
“How long have you hidden it?” His gaze jumps from one eye to the other, from blue to brown. Not even fully brown, but 80 percent brown, like the artist spilled paint on the edge of my iris but couldn’t be bothered to finish the job.
I tip up my chin and steel my spine. “Since I was sixteen. So many kids made fun of me for my eyes.” I take a breath that feels like it’s being scraped over asphalt. “I always felt like the hair and the eyes were this huge sign blinking over my head. Like I was shouting for attention. I hated that feeling. So I hid it.” I shrug. “Bodyguards belong in the background and all that.” I square my shoulders. “I’m done hiding. I want to feel beautiful.And today, I’m covered in mud, and I’m bruised to hell, and I pulled a twig out of my hair earlier, but I feel beautiful.”
His smile is faint but growing.
“Tristan, I swear, if you say something flippant, I will pop you in that pretty mouth, cut or no cut.”
“You said my mouth was pretty.” Tristan’s smile is quick, before it falls, and his fingers graze my temple. “Your eyes are magnificent,” he says hoarsely. “I feel like I’m bearing witness to something holy. Stars must be born like this.” His finger touches my cheekbone. “It’s like light traveling fromone side of the universe to the other.” There’s a featherlight touch on my eyebrow. “Like dawn over the ocean. It is—” He clears his throat. “Extraordinary.”
