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And he was also completely oblivious to Jillian’s very existence, save for the few times they were pushed together at social functions their mothers co-chaired. Because naturally a Monroe daughter would want to be with a Randolph son. It would be a match made in social status heaven.
Tristan turned a brilliant smile on one of his friends and Jillian sighed, leaning against the metal door that latched shut at the pressure of her shoulder on it. He was the one thing she would easily acquiesce to her mother’s desires if he showed her the slightest interest at all.
But she didn’t have perfect blonde curls or straight chocolate brown hair. She was the shortest girl in her class…again this year. And fiery hair combined with dark, emerald eyes wasn’t the standard of beauty that boys sought after.
Not to mention the freckles that dotted her cheeks and nose.
With her ever increasing crush pushed firmly back into the “never gonna happen” place it belonged, she turned on her heel and headed to one of her last classes of the day. Maybe her mother would let her visit Dean and—
A hand on her shoulder halted her footsteps and her train of thought. She spun around, fully expecting Missy or Lila to be putting on their fake friendship act to get Jillian’s help with one of the classes they shared. Instead she was met with sparkling cornflower eyes and a million watt smile.
Tristan freaking Randolph stood two feet from her, not because his mother and hers had forced them together at some event that they called a fundraiser, but was truly nothing more than a social gathering.
No, there was no one standing behind Tristan shoving a lemonade in his hand and giving him talking points in hushed tones. He had sought her out all on his own. A fact that would be immediately going into her diary the second she got home.
“Hey Jillian.” The lopsided grin mirrored that of the latest teen singing sensation who sent thousands of girls into screaming fits. But on Tristan it looked even better.
Her brain sluggishly remembered that she needed to speak after several moments had ticked by. “Hey, Tristan.”Stellar conversation, she chastised silently.
He looked down for the briefest of moments and then back up, his gaze locking on hers and a nearly irresistible smirk firmly in place on his lips. “I was wondering if I could come over to your house today and hang out for a little bit.” She opened her mouth, but before she could speak, he held up a hand. “I’ve already cleared it with my parents.”
For the first time since birth, she was grateful for the composure that her mother had drilled into her. The ability to hold a perfect smile no matter what was going on inside her brain and heart. It was the only thing keeping her from jumping up and down and making an absolute fool of herself…and probably having Tristan change his mind.
“That would be lovely.” She affected her best congenial tone and laced it with a genuine smile, but not too big. Just right.
Her hand mechanically took all the notes as her teachers droned on, but her mind was far from focused on the lessons, instead planning every detail of her time with Tristan. By the time Henry arrived to pick up both Jillian and Tristan, she had mentally scheduled out the entire evening to include a romantic comedy followed by a horror flick for maximum effect.
She was certain she could fake fear well enough to incite Tristan’s naturally chivalrous tendencies, the ones she was sure he possessed even though she’d never actually seen them in action, to comfort and protect her. Which would undoubtedly lead to their first kiss.
On the short drive to her home, she frowned as Tristan sat pressed against the door, seemingly as far from her as possible. He kept flicking his wrist to check the time on his watch and sighing.
Their feet had barely crossed the threshold when he looked at her for the first time since they’d left school “Bathroom is that way, right? Last door on the left?”
Jillian’s lower lip jutted out at the practically absurd question, but she nodded and watched in confusion as he darted off. Moments later he appeared again, his uniform long gone and ripped jeans, Converse, and a gray t-shirt taking its place.
He pulled his cell phone from his pocket, tapped on the screen a few times and slid it in the back pocket of his pants. “I toldMother,” he rolled his eyes and exaggerated the word, “to send the driver over about ten so I’ll be back about fifteen minutes before that to change and act like I’ve been here all night.”
Uncertainty and shock swirled in her brain like a dense fog, stealing all the questions that stood on the tip of her tongue, begging to be asked.
Tristan leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. “Thanks so much for being my cover, Jillian. I knew I could count on you.”
With that he bolted out the front door and down the granite steps. Tears fell from her eyes at the same pace as his feet landed on the stone as he made his escape. Large, fat drops that condemned her stupidity for believing Tristan had any interest in her whatsoever.
She sniffled and wiped her nose on the sleeve of her jacket, taking the stairs to her room two at a time, shedding the stiff uniform and pulling on the closest thing to casual clothes she had. She carefully tip-toed through the house, swallowing back the emotions in case anyone saw her. As soon as she was convinced everyone was occupied, she fled out the back door and straight toward her sanctuary.
Fredrock and Dean.
Chapter Nine
Dean
Present
“Hot water, fast food, and this spot. Not in that order.” Jillian wrapped her arms around herself and ended the statement with a blissful sigh.
Dean looked over at Jillian as he pulled items from the saddlebags. This was a trick Wyatt had used on Georgia, and based on her stomach swelling with their second child and the absolutely disgusting way they still acted like newlyweds more than two years later, it clearly held some merit. “That’s…an interesting list.”
She laughed and tipped her face to the sun, the rays kissing the freckles that had doubled in number since he last saw her. “The things I missed while I was gone, doofus.”
