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CHAPTERNINE
POPPY
Trying to move on with my life after being turned down so spectacularly by Tristan is hard enough, but now, I see him standing on the porch of the shotgun house right next to mine. Either I’m having a really fucked up nightmare, or this is just a cruel joke.
“What are you doing here?” I ask him through clenched teeth. I want to curse him the fuck out, but I don’t want to wake anyone else up.
“What do you mean? I live here,” Tristan answers with the same attitude I give him.
I flinch at his explanation. He’s lying. There’s no way that he could live here. I haven’t seen anyone living in this house for quite some time. I mean, what is the possibility that out of all the vacant houses that Tristan would choose this one to move into. “You’re a liar. Look, I know you being a DeLancy means you have a lot of clout, but that doesn’t mean you’re above the law. You better get out of here before someone calls the cops about you breaking and entering.” I raise an eyebrow and wait for him to rush out of the house and let me get back to my peace and quiet.
When he doesn’t make a move to leave, I feel myself getting more and more pissed off. Why the hell does he have to go out of his way to make my life a living fucking hell. What the hell did I ever do to him to deserve this shit.
“Tristan, I’m not playing with you. Leave.” I storm over to the very edge of my porch and glare at him, but he doesn’t move a muscle. He just stares at me in return. I want to leap over to his porch and claw his face off. He’s so fucking annoying.
“I’m not going to move, Poppy. This is my house. I’m free to be on my porch the same way that you are.” I look down at his feet and see that he’s not wearing any shoes. If he were just here to fuck with me, what is the purpose of him not wearing any shoes? Oh god, he’s telling the truth. He does live here. Out of all the houses in all the blocks, why this one? I feel the despair trying to drag me down deeper into the pit, but I stand tall in front of him.
“Look, I really don’t care that you claim to own this house, but I don’t want to be in the same space as you. You should leave.” I clear my throat to stop my voice from cracking. I don’t want him to see that I’m still upset about what went down. That his words to me back at the hospital still hurt me so deeply.
Sure, every night when I go to bed, it’s all that I can think about. How he basically called me a pathetic leach. I held him on such a high pedestal that just to hear those words have sent me spiraling into a deep depression. I’ve been trying like hell to dig myself out over the past few days, but I haven’t been able to let go of what he said.
“God! Why don’t you listen!” I snap at him, and I watch as his eyebrow lifts and that cocky ass smirk he used to wear passes over his mouth. His eyes roam up my body, and where before, when he would have done that, I’d relish in the way he looked at me. Today it just makes my skin crawl. These feelings that I have for Tristan are quickly turning into hatred and disgust. I don’t want to lay all that on him, especially since I know he’s not acting in his right mind and is still getting over what happened to him when he was kidnapped, but I’m not sure if in a few days, I’m going to be able to make it, so I don’t blame him for his actions if he keeps on messing with me. Enough is enough.
“Fine, if you don’t want to leave, then I’ll leave. Thanks for ruining the one part of my night that I can relax.” I turn quickly without waiting for him to say anything to me. I slide my porch door open and walk inside my house. I slam the door shut hard enough that I’m worried the glass might break. When I see that it doesn’t, I storm over to the fridge and yank it open. I need a drink. Before I pull out the bottle of wine from my fridge, I take a few deep breaths. I’m acting like a child slamming things around. It’s not going to change how Tristan is acting. He’s going to remain a jerk the way he’s been over the last few weeks. I need to get myself under control before I end up breaking my shit because of him.
I take another few deep breaths and put my hand back into the fridge to get my drink.
I pull out the bottle of wine slowly, continuing to take deep breaths and tell myself that everything is okay. I learned this from all those self-help tapes about getting over depression. As long as I see the situation for what it is, then I’ll never have to worry about what’s going to happen in the future. I have to live for today. If I’m living for today, then why is it that I can’t stop thinking about the way Tristan used to hug me when we were back at Diamond Dancers? Why can’t I stop thinking about the way he used to smile at me? How could everything have changed so completely in such a short period of time?
Before I even get the bottle on the counter, I’m crying.
Everything isn’t okay. I miss him, and even after all he’s done to me over the past few weeks, I don’t want him to hurt. I don’t want him to be alone. I just wish things could go back to how they used to be. I wish Tristan could just be the man I know.
Leaning against the wall, I let the tears fall until my body aches from the force of them. Everything just feels so wrong. When I get the tears to stop, I pour myself a cup of wine. Hopefully, this will help take the edge off, but I doubt it. Nothing is going to erase the feelings I have for Tristan, no matter how hard I want them to.
