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But the worst part is, for half a second I consider it. Because I don’t want to listen to Stacey tonight. But if I go to his bedroom, I risk being honest about how I feel, and then I’m even more screwed. It’s an impossible situation.
The whole thing feels like the absolute worst gut punch. Seriously. If I don’t vomit or cry, it’ll be a miracle. “It’s probably not a good idea tonight.”
He seems confused. “Why not?”
So many reasons. None of which I want to voice for fear of losing it, or worse, admitting I don’t want to be another Stacey. “I don’t know how to deal with this.” It’s honest without setting myself up.
“Is this because of the woman Flip brought home?” His voice drops to a whisper. “He’ll be busy with her for hours.”
Confirmation once again that I’m just someone Tristan fucks in secret that he doesn’t even really like.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” His jaw clenches. “You can’t be upset with me because Flip asked if I wanted in. I said no.”
We set parameters, and he’s staying inside them. But I don’t think I’m capable of compartmentalizing tonight and shifting the boundaries back where they’re supposed to be. I bite my lips together, taking a moment to compose myself. Calm is the only way to manage this. “As inconvenient as it might be, my emotions are mine, and you can’t tell me how I’m allowed to feel.”
“That’s not—I’m just saying I didn’t do anything wrong, so I don’t get why you’re stonewalling me.” I can’t read his expression, but he seems…anxious, maybe? I don’t know. I’m confused, and the heaviness in my chest is uncomfortable.
I don’t want to put myself on the line emotionally, but I need to explain this in a way he can understand. I can’t listen to Stacey make the same noises I make. “I know your sexual history is extensive and prolific. You wouldn’t be half as good at getting me off if it wasn’t. But it’s harder than I thought to come face to face with your past.” What if I can’t do this anymore? Maybe I’m not cut out for casual sex.
His silence is telling. And damning. “It was a long time ago,” he whispers. “Why are you holding it against me?”
“I’m not trying to. I just… I didn’t expect to ever run into a Stacey, which I realize is pretty stupid, but we’ve been in this bubble. Now it’s popped, and I’m having a hard time.” I don’t even know that Tristan can empathize. I’m not sure that’s how he operates.
He scrubs his face with his hand and presses his knuckles to his mouth. “If you stayed in my room, you wouldn’t have to listen.”
“But I don’t want to be fucked by you tonight,” I say softly. And it’s the truth. I’m just another Stacey, and I don’t want to be. I’m scared of what that means.
His jaw tics. “I’m leaving in the morning, though. And we’re staying overnight.”
Is it a threat? A statement of fact? I wish I could read him better. He has two main modes: fuck machine and asshole, occasionally tempered by the sweet side that makes my heart all melty. But I can’t let him into my body tonight. Not with my head all over the place and this stupid ache in my chest. Then what will happen while he’s away and I’m not accessible? I can’t be that fourteen-year-old girl desperate for his attention. Not now. Not ever. If this is what ends this, so be it. It’s not a risk I’m willing to take.
I swallow down the threat of tears, impressed by how steady my voice is. “I know.”
His gaze moves over my face. He doesn’t try to touch me. Which is good. If he did, I’d probably fold. “Okay. That’s fine.”
He stands and moves around me. He doesn’t look at me as he climbs down the ladder. My heart is in my throat as I wait for what’s next. Will he knock on Flip’s door? I grab a pillow and shove it against my face. I need to get a grip. If he goes into that bedroom, I’ll never let him inside me again. I will find the next available apartment and move. Doesn’t matter what neighborhood it’s in.
Emotions claw at my throat. Tears blur my vision. Jesus. I like him. I fucking like him, and I don’t want to. I’ve already had my heart broken once in the last six months. I certainly don’t need to hand it over to my brother’s emotionally unavailable best friend.
The bathroom door closes. Five minutes later, it opens again.
I stop breathing.
Until Tristan’s bedroom door closes with a thud.
I stifle a relieved sob with the pillow.
I’m terrified, but I did what was best for me. And that’s more important than anything else.
