She laughed at the worried look on my face. I’m worried because I’m confused. There are certain people we put in categories. People we trust, people we don’t trust, people we do certain things with, people we would never think about in certain ways. That note had broken down barriers, walls of a category I’d placed around Tristan because he was my friend.
Rachel laughed even more because she knew she was right. Then she pulled in a breath and leaned back against the chair. “If it helps why don’t you cast your memories back to when you first met him. That should help because you had no history then. Tell me what did you think?”
I frowned, because she just made the situation in my tumultuous mind worse.
Tristan was the most popular boy at school, he was older, gorgeous, the quarterback of the football team. What the hell did she think? I thought the same as any fourteen-year-old girl.
The smirk on her face once again highlighted that she knew she had me exactly where she wanted, but this is Rachel and clearly I needed to talk about this.
“I thought he was hot, but everyone did.”
“What else did you think that everyone else thought?” she laughed.
“Rachel, I was fourteen and I was a geek with no chance.”
“No chance of what?” she’s really fleshing this out of me.
“Of being with a guy like that.” I blurted.
She raises her brows and brings her hands up to her chin. “Is that what you think now?”
“Of course I do. Rachel, I felt bad when he said he’d missed a date with that damn model to spend time with me.” I did feel bad. I felt bad because he made her sound so good, like a prized possession. And, I was just some person who didn’t meet the mark.
“You don’t need to feel bad about that because we know he thinks about you ninety percent of the time.” She said repeating the words I told her Tristan said to me. “This is so good. I’m loving this.”
My shoulders slumped and I could feel the little resolve I had left fading. It was slipping away from me and I couldn’t deny that I’m fighting desperately now to hold on to the view of Tristan and I being friends.
I can’t deny that I feel…different, that I am attracted to him and if he were to come in here now with that stupid grin on his handsome face, and that gorgeous body, I’d crumble.
“You’re blushing.” Rachel pointed out. “Are you thinking about sex.” She is loving this. Maybe a little too much, maybe because all I talk about for the majority of our meet ups is work and I might ramble on about a new book I’ve read. I realize this type of talk is juicy for her, even though I’m suffering here.
“I’m not going to think about that.” I defend and straighten up.
“Oh, but you will, and every single time you see him it will be the first thought you have.” She nods with complete confidence.
Again, all I could do was stare because I was now worried that my thoughts will definitely get the better of me.
Rachel can look at me and know exactly what I’m thinking. The only other person who can do that is Tristan. If she’s right, and she usually is, he’ll take one look at me and know I’m thinking about what it would be like to have sex with him.
Because…now I can’t get the image or the thought out of my head.
Chapter 7
Tristan
It seems like I well and truly did it this time.
Day eight and she’s still not talking to me. In fact now it looks like she’s avoiding me, and I stayed away to give her, her space.
This is the longest we’ve been like this, and I swore I’ve done worse things. I know I have. I guessed though that I’ve never crossed the line like this and if I could I would move the earth to go back in time to give my younger self a good beating. Or, at the very least stop myself from putting that damn note in the box.
I would have left her alone today, but I was about to leave for Philly and I’d be gone for five days tops. I say tops because I actually don’t want to leave. I can’t believe I’m even thinking like this. Me. I’m normally obsessed with draft season and everything to do with football. I was counting down the days to go. Gibbs was so excited he was on cloud nine hundred.
And me. I was here not wanting to leave with Zoe and I not talking. Not being friends, or whatever it was we were.
Friends seems like such a loose term to describe us, because she’s more than that to me. It’s odd that I never pinpointed this before but the last few days highlighted to me that mere friends don’t act the way we do.
They don’t live together for years and follow each other wherever the other goes. They don’t bend over backwards to put each other first, and it’s a little easier to imagine how life would be if things were to ever change.
The worst part about this not being around her means I didn’t know what she was thinking.
I was standing outside her door. I have been for a good ten minutes, maybe more. The door was slightly ajar and I could hear her shuffling around inside the room getting ready. It’s Sunday, and I didn’t know where she was going.
Zoe came back really late last night and that only pissed me off more than I was. I was up waiting in my room wondering who she was with. There were several times when I wanted to call her, but held back because I’d never called before to check up on her.
It was how we worked. An unwritten, unspoken code between us where if we didn’t make it home by midnight it meant not to wait up. She came in just after one. I was relieved, but I was still paranoid and wanted to know who she was with.
And here I was now.
Pulling in a deep breath I made myself move. I never usually knocked when her door was open, but as it was only slightly open I took a moment to think about what to do. If I opened the door and she was naked or something she’d go mad at me, and worse think I was creepy. If I knocked she may not open the door.
I shook my head. I didn’t have time for this. I had to leave in ten minutes max to catch my flight and I needed to put my mind in football mode. I have to be me on this trip. My team needed Tristan Bouchard and I owed it to them.
I pushed the door open, making it sway in. I took one step to go in but froze when I saw her.
She was sitting on the pink padded stool in front of her dressing table. The bulk of her velvet smooth chocolate colored hair nestled in the center of her back. One of those bodice, corset things hugs her slender frame. It’s a soft pink. A shade lighter than the stool with white lace running down the ribbed bones of the bodice. A beige skirt spills down the rest of her legs. Immediately, my mind conjured up one of those old renaissance paintings she likes that depicted the usual pale skinned women, but hers was golden. Sun kissed and beautiful, shimmering in the morning sun. Making her look like the angel she is
She was curling her hair with one of those curling wands. Coming in made her stop when she saw me. There were a few loose curls on the left side of her head, it looked more defined than the rest of her hair.
I like both looks, both were sexy.
She looked sexy, sexy as hell and I was stunned to the core when I felt not only my cock going hard but that desire I had for her filling every cell in my body.
She twisted around when I didn’t move, and stared back at me too. She looked right into my eyes and held me there.
I wanted to say something but I couldn’t speak. That would-be image of her, naked in complete perfection snuck to my mind and I still felt annoyed that I couldn’t even imagine what the rest of her looked like past her head.
Today though, I saw just a little more of the swells of her breasts in that bodice to fill out that part in my mind. I’ve seen her in her underwear loads of times but I’ve never looked. Not like this.
“Hi,” she spoke, breaking the enchantment she had on me.
“Hi.” I found my voice, and I found the ability to move again. So I went closer, unable to resist admiring the closer I got. I broke eye contact, looked away quickly towards the window, then back to her as I stoppe
d paces away. “I’m leaving for Philly.” I announced, trying to keep all that I felt from reflecting in my voice.
“I was going to come and say goodbye,” she replied.
That was nice to hear and I almost said just as much, but held my tongue because I didn’t want it to come out the wrong way. Like I was being sarcastic or something. Our last few conversations turned into arguments and I didn’t want to argue now.
This right here is good. There’s tension, but at least we’re not arguing, and she wasn’t giving me that look of uncertainty.
She was definitely giving me a look though, and which looks like…curiosity.
Zoe’s cheeks color, like when I embarrass her. Like when I talk about sex. She isn’t prudish, but had never been the kind to talk about sex openly. She still had that innocence about her that I actually like. It was completely unlike my type, who know exactly what to do in the bedroom. The way she is isn’t a bad thing. It just means she likes privacy, and would reveal that side of her to the person she chose to be with. Someone she trusted enough to be in a relationship with, so intimacy is just between them.
Someone…like that idiot Brian.
The tension grew in the space between us, and my ten minutes was ticking along, but I was curious now too. More so as I watched the color in her cheeks deepen and become rosier against the golden tone of her skin.
Sex.
She was thinking about sex.
I knew she was now and I almost, almost took hold of her. And if I had I would take her in that bed of hers that was just to our left. Freshly made which only makes me want to mess it up.
I managed to push the thought out of my mind but I only made things worse for myself when I looked down at those fully rounded breasts and watched her chest rise and fall as her breathing quickened. My eyes stayed there, lingering at the deep cleavage and I wanted to touch her.
God, I wanted to touch her.
I wanted to touch her and take her, and taste her. I wanted her like that, and I knew she would kill me if she knew what I was thinking.
She was forbidden.
I shouldn’t be having these sorts of thoughts about my best friend. This is Zoe. My sweet Zoe, who I need. I can’t go to that place where I want to unleash my carnal, raw desire.
Fuck. She was looking at me now with her eyes wide, probably because I was looking at her breasts right there in front of her, like some creep.
“I’m going now.” I said on the edge of a breath, and moved. I moved away. I didn’t know how the hell I managed to move away from a woman I wanted more than I wanted to go to Philly for the drafts. But I moved.
“You always kiss me before you leave.” She stated, her voice breaking through the wild sexual charge that was rippling through the air.
I stopped just before I got to the door.
Kiss?
I couldn’t go near her. The kiss she was referring to is the kind you’d give your grandmother. Or a family member. A peck on the cheek, or on the forehead. Sure, I would always do that before I left for events like this where I’d be gone for days. But, I didn’t want to kiss her like that. I wanted her lips. I wanted those full, delicious lips on mine. I wanted my tongue in her mouth so I can taste her.
I wanted her.
I looked back at her and I could see in her eyes that she seemed to be fighting just as much as me to hold on to what we used to have.
I didn’t know if I should be sad that the note changed us, opening our eyes to each other. I didn’t know if I should be sad that we’re not the people we were eight days ago, because then she was talking to me. This weirdness didn’t exist between us and she was mine.
My girl.
I was looking at her now, trying to find the courage to be the Tristan she knew.
I turned, and I moved back to her, but each step felt like I have weights attached to my feet that get heavier as I walk.
I got to her, and lowered to her forehead. She lifted her head for me to kiss her there and she closed her eyes.
I paused mid-movement and look at her. I was only inches away from her face. The scent of her sweetness filled me, as does her beauty. I didn’t think I’d ever been so taken with a woman as I have been with her. It was new to me and created a sense of excitement I had to restrain.
My hesitation made her open her eyes. The wondrous green color reminds me of the sea in the Mediterranean.
Italy.
We went to Tuscany once, years ago because she wanted to explore. Looking at her reminds me of that deep rich green hue of the sea.
Our eyes locked, and we’re staring at each other. We’re held in the grasp of the weirdness, confusion, and…desire.
Desire, that’s what that is.
I could feel it surging through me. It has its own life force.
It told me to taste her. It whispers to me, whispers of its desire to my desperation for her. I couldn’t fight it. It’s too strong. It’s mind controlling, and makes me feel the need I have for her a hundred fold.
It moved me…to her lips.
I felt my mouth touch hers, and God her lips are softer than I imagined. She pressed them against mine and the motion made my blood sing through my veins. I claimed her mouth and really start kissing her, and she kissed me too.
But then fuck, my cock stirred again pressing against my boxers and I pulled back. The fear of letting her see my obvious arousal made me pull back.
My lips burn from the kiss. I couldn’t believe I just kissed her and that it affected me this much.
I didn’t look at her as I moved away and left.
I couldn’t because I just kissed her, and now I’ve really crossed the line.
The note was a note. I could have talked it down, but just now was…
It was evidence.
Now she knows how I feel.
Zoe
He kissed me.
Oh God.
Tristan just kissed me, and I kissed him. I kissed him like I wanted him. I kissed him like I wanted him to take me, and I did want that.
I hated when Rachel was right. I hated when my worst fears came to light. I knew, a hundred percent that he could tell what I was thinking. He could see me blushing and knew that I was thinking about having sex with him.
How embarrassing.
Then he just left me. He left without looking back, leaving me in this state of flux.
I was getting ready to meet Rachel. We were only going to the coffee house as they were hosting a renaissance themed day and I wanted to look the part. I picked out this outfit to have a modern day meets Pre-Victorian feel. Little did I know that it would make Tristan openly stare at my breast with a kind of desire I’d never seen in him.
Then he kissed me.
I sighed, feeling my lips burning and my heart still racing. I didn’t want him to stop. I didn’t want him to leave. The desire and need for him almost pushed me towards my phone to call him to come back to me. But I don’t…
I can’t. Not because I don’t want to, but because I know he’ll come back to me if I ask, and he needs to go because he’s going to work.
The drafts. His team relies on him. This week they need him more than me.
It’s just a pain that I have to wait for nearly a week to see him again.
How am I supposed to do that?
I met Rachel at the coffee house an hour later. The minute I asked if we can sit out on the terrace as opposed to being inside where they’re about to start a skit from A Mid-Summer Night’s Dream, my favorite Shakespeare play, she knew something is up.
“My blood is boiling please don’t do your usual fluffy talk before you get to the juice. Just get to it.” She hissed as we sit around one of the benches.
I held my breath because I wanted to blurt out everything. I wanted to call her on my way over here but I couldn’t talk and now that we’re here I want to tell her everything. However, I’m noting that when I speak the words it will be real. It will all be real.
“I kissed Tristan.�
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“What? Oh my gosh you actually took my advice. Just a kiss?” Rachel’s bright brown eyes are practically beaming. She rubbed her hands together as if she’d hit the jackpot of some prize.
“Just a kiss?” I asked in a withered tone. That was no mere kiss. It was brief but it wasn’t just a kiss. My lips were still burning.
“Was it that good? Dios mios. Zoe why didn’t you sleep with him?”
“He’s on his way to Philly. He came to say goodbye to me and we kissed.”
Now that I’m talking about it, it does seem real.
“Zoe, you let him leave? Doesn’t the draft start tomorrow?” She looked at me like I should have done more to get him to stay.
“He always goes the day before, it’s a thing he does. All the guys who work with him go. I think they do last minute meetings, plus it makes sense to be there the day before.”
“Not this year, you’re telling me you allowed him to go to some stupid pre-meet when you could have had the man today?”
“Rachel please.” I winced, exhaling a frustrated breath. “Allow me to get my head around this.”
I needed to because I didn’t think I’d ever wanted anything so badly, and I knew I’ve never felt this way before about anyone. I’ve never been consumed with sexual thoughts and I’ve never felt this obsessive need that made my brain turn to mush when I’m around him.
“Okay, I’m sorry. I get it. What do you need?” She’s back to being the intuitive friend again, which is what I need her to be.
“I don’t know.” I’m reflecting over the last month. It’s been stressful. First Brian. I was just starting to deal with that whole mess. I didn’t anticipate dealing with this now with Tristan. And, it was just the way it was all timed. Badly. “I just got over Brian.”
“Sweetie, Tristan is not like Brian.”
“I know and that’s a whole other problem by itself.” I don’t even want to think about that. Tristan with his man-whorish ways.
Falling For Him Page 8
