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“Studying.” I joked.
“You can do that tomorrow since you’re free—unless it’s urgent.” He packed everything and dropped them on my nightstand.
“What a bad influence.” I frowned, and he laughed.
“It’s late. You spent the day with your best friend and went swimming. You should rest,” he said.
“Yes, Daddy,” I said mockingly, but the look on Tristan’s face told me he had taken it the wrong way.
“You just reminded me of my dad—that’s all.” I laughed, trying to ease the tension settling in the air.
He nodded with a tight smile, biting on his lip.
He walked to the other side of the bed and climbed in. I folded my legs and faced him.
He rested his back on the headboard, propping one leg up.
I didn’t know if it was the alcohol, but I was feeling confident right now, and I wanted to open up about my horrible exes and who had left the scar on my back. I didn’t trust him, but I wanted him to open up to me about Nadia and Fiona. Baby steps.
“Wanna hear tales of my horrible exes?”
“If you’re willing to share, I’m all ears.”
“Before I begin, don’t judge me. I was desperate, and I did dumb stuff.”
“I won’t judge,” he said and crossed his heart.
I beamed and began my story. “I grew up in a family where almost everything we did had rules. My mom was a sucker for rules, and I was a sucker for breaking them. I hated it, but I couldn’t say that to my parents. I wanted more. I wanted to experience more. I wanted to grow up fast and be free.”
I glanced at him; he was staring at me with keen interest. His eyes dilated, and his arms folded.
“I had popular friends in high school. I envied them so much ’cause they got to do whatever they wanted. I always felt left out during some discussions because I didn’t know what they were talking about. We were rich, but we never went on vacations. There were so many places I wanted to see, especially Paris and the Bahamas.” I paused and laughed softly at myself.
“It got worse when they started talking about boys and parties, their first kiss and sex. I wanted that.” I played with the hem of my hoodie.
“I heard a senior was throwing a party, so that was my opportunity. I snuck out that night to go to the party. I met Marco, who offered me a drink, my first taste of alcohol.”
I chuckled, and Tristan smiled. “He was cute, kind eyes, and all that. He was the first senior I dated, but he dumped me for a transfer student. My second boyfriend …” I stopped and took a deep breath; this was where it got terrifying.
“You don’t have to tell me,” Tristan said, taking my left leg and placing it on his thigh.
My senses focused on the movement of his palm up and down my thigh in a soothing gesture.
“I’m fine.” I smiled. “His name was Luke, and he was a junkie. He taught me how to smoke and do other drugs I can’t really remember. I lost my virginity to him; most of the sex we had, we were high on drugs. It was fun at first. We went clubbing, did a lot of crazy shit. We broke into wealthy people’s estates and went through their stuff. I enjoyed getting high and the thrill it brought, but he started acting strange, getting into fights with people that didn’t supply his drugs on time. The day I tried to confront him, he pushed me on the floor and tried to strangle me. He became so aggressive.” I paused and gave him a sad smile to show him I was strong. “I got a beating when I tried to talk to him again, and that was when I ended it.
“My third boyfriend, Milo, was nice and really sweet at first.” I stopped and laughed, a laugh that brought tears to my eyes.
“He used to tie me to a seat and make me watch him have sex with different girls.”
“What? Why?” Tristan’s face creased into anger and disgust as his jaw hardened and nose wrinkled.
“It was like a fetish to him; he got off on it.”
“And you still stayed with him?”
“He threatened to tell my parents about my wild life outside if I tried to leave him because he knew everything about me, and we were kind of family friends. He broke it off after we fucked at a party. Three days later, he told me he couldn’t remember if he had used a condom. I had been too wasted to remember either. I freaked out and asked my sister for help. She got me a pregnancy test, and we checked; it came out negative. But we forgot to get rid of the test, and my mom found it in my room a week later. She demanded an explanation, and I only told her about hooking up at a party. Mom sent me to a summer camp for delinquents, but it only got bad there because I got mixed with people worse than me. We used to sneak into the woods and get drunk and do drugs.” I paused and felt like throwing up at the memory.
“When I returned from the camp, I had to put up this pretense that I was a better person, but I could tell whatever faith my parents had in me was hanging on a thin thread. I had become the black sheep of the family and tried my best to keep up the facade that I’d changed. I kept sneaking out, going to parties, and drinking.
