by Ruth Houston
"I know a much better, more satisfying use for your hands than slapping me," Tristan said, his eyebrows waggling.
I gritted my teeth. "Since when did you become such a jerk?" I snapped. "What happened to the dirty little six-year-old with boogers hanging out of his nose that I used to know?"
"He grew up," Tristan said simply. "But I for one know he can still be very dirty… if you're into that kind of thing." He winked.
I glowered up at him. "Get out of my way before I bang you."
As soon as the sentence had left my lips, I winced at the choice of words. Tristan had begun to grin more widely but I held up a warning finger in front of his face before he could utter a single suggestive comment.
"Move." I pushed roughly past him and heard him sniggering as he followed me downstairs and into the dining room where Mum, David, Veronica, Aunt Marie and Gabrielle had already begun to eat dinner.
I waited for Tristan to sit down next to Veronica before choosing the seat on the furthest side of the table away from him. I felt his glittering, amused gaze on me but I refused to give him the chance to smirk at me by looking up at him.
"OK, well, now that you're all here," Mum said, "I need to bring up the topic of sleeping arrangements."
I stabbed at my baked potato a little too hard, sending the sour cream spurting out of the whole I had made and hit me in the eye. I grumbled to myself as I heard Tristan's distinct soft laughter and wiped my stinging eye with my napkin.
"Anyway, obviously Aunt Marie and Gabrielle can share the guest room but Tristan will have to share someone else's room," Mum said.
At the exact same time, Veronica and I said two very different sentences.
"He's not coming in my room!" I said bluntly.
"He can come in my room!" cried Veronica happily.
I smiled, finally happy with one of Veronica's decisions. Mum and Aunt Marie, however, were frowning.
"What's the matter?" I asked, looking from Mum to Aunt Marie. "We've decided. Matter's past. No more need to worry about it."
"Well, Marie and I were thinking Tristan would sleep in your room, Amber," Mum said.
"What? Why? Veronica wants him!" I protested, not even caring that Tristan was in the room.
"Well, it's more of the matter of… erm… room sizes," Mum said, glancing at Aunt Marie.
I frowned. "Veronica's room is just as big as mine," I said.
"But she's got more furniture," Mum countered.
"No she doesn't! I –"
"That's enough Amber," Mum cut me off. "Tristan, you're bunking with Amber." She smiled at the frowning guy.
Light conversation slowly filled the tense atmosphere.
I returned to my dinner and took to stabbing my vegetables with as much force as I could, not caring that by the end of my intense battle they resembled a mixture of orange and green mush.
"Look, Amber, I'm sorry," Aunt Marie suddenly whispered to me, her voice so low that only I could hear. "Your Mum and I feel it better if Tristan stays with you… especially after you were so intent on having him be in Veronica's room."
I frowned at her. "What do you mean?"
"Well, let's just say Tristan's history with girls is very… erm… flirtatious," Aunt Marie said, smiling slightly.
"He's a player," I added flatly.
Aunt Marie laughed. "I guess you could say that, yes."
"And with Veronica's reputation as an easy girl you don't want him to stay in her room in case their relationship goes from friendly to… more than friendly," I muttered glumly.
Aunt Marie nodded. "I'm very sorry to have put you in this position, Amber, but your obvious disdain for my son puts you as the best candidate to steer him in the right direction." She offered a pleading smile.
I sighed, thinking. "OK. I'll have him in my room. But only if he sticks to his side of the bedroom."
Aunt Marie smiled appreciatively.
Little did I know, I had just dug myself the beginnings of a very big hole.
CHAPTER THREE
"What are you doing, Amber?"
I looked up to see Tristan leaning against my bedroom doorway, that irritating smirk of his curling his over-assured lips.
"I'm making sure you know the boundaries," I replied, returning to my task.
With a roll of white tape I had found in my desk drawer, I had managed to make a line around his bed with a narrow path to the bedroom door. Unfair? Yeah, well it's my room.
"Um… usually when you divide up the room you're supposed to do it half/half," Tristan pointed out.
I straightened up to glare at him, my hands on my hips. "Well, lucky I'm not trying to be fair, huh? Besides, if I did divide my room half/half that would mean either giving up my dresser or my computer, which I don't want to do. This way, we're all happy."
"We're all happy?" repeated Tristan, folding his arms. "I can only use the bed and then get out, that's what you're saying?"
I pretended to think about it for a moment before smiling widely and nodding. "Glad you cottoned on so quickly."
Tristan smirked as he walked down the path and sat on the edge of his bed. "I'm just warning you now, I won't be the one to tear away these white lines, so if you want this –" He gestured to his body with a wink, "– you better start being nicer."
I wrinkled my nose with disgust. "Who said I'd every go near that bug-infested body?"
Tristan let out a long sigh, his eyes sparkling. "OK, Amber, play hard to get. But you know just as well as I do that you'll be crossing this line before the night is done."
I snorted and rolled my eyes as I sat on the edge of my bed. "You wish."
"Well at least the line doesn't restrict my sight." Tristan waggled his eyebrows. "Is my friend Pinky Bra coming out to play tonight?"
I glowered at him. "Never refer to my bras as your friends again," I snapped before getting to my feet, grabbing a bundle of clothes at the end of my bed that were my pajamas and making for the door.
"Hey, where are you going?" Tristan asked.
"I'm getting changed where you can't see me," I replied, stepping into the hallway and shutting the door with a snap.
When I returned to the bedroom some fifteen minutes later, I was stopped in my tracks as soon as I entered the room. The lines had changed!
Tristan was lying on his bed reading a magazine and faking complete innocence, as though he had nothing to do with the fact that now a path joined my bed to his.
"What the hell did you do to the lines? You're not supposed to touch them!" I cried. "It defeats the whole purpose."
Tristan looked up from his magazine, an eyebrow raised in mock surprise. "I didn't touch your precious lines. Maybe you subconsciously put lines there knowing that you would later want to come into my bed. Do you still have bad dreams? 'Cause I've heard I can be very comforting."
I let out a frustrated cry and began to rip away the white lines.
"What's this? No boundaries?" Tristan laughed silently as he watched me throw the wasted lines into the rubbish bin.
I rounded on him, glaring, and snapped, "I just trust that you will know that if you come within five feet of me I will not hesitate to dismember you."
Tristan merely laughed at my last, powerful – or so I thought – sentence. I grumbled to myself as I lay down on my bed with my back to him.
Slowly, I drifted off to sleep, on my guard to any moves he may try.
* * *
The next morning I was roused slowly by a beam of warm sunlight shining on my face.
Yawning, I sat up slowly and rubbed my eyes sleepily. When I let my hands fall into my lap I saw that black stains were smudged onto my palms.
What the hell? Then I remembered. I'd forgotten to take off my make-up.
Great. Now, apart from the annoying loser I have to deal with pimples! I thought grumpily, swinging my legs to the floor.
My eyes found Tristan lying spread-eagle on his bed, his shirt from the previous night lying in a crumpled heap on the floor. H
is body was so hot!
No! You can't look at him like that! He's disgusting! A loser! A pathetic loser!
But I couldn't help but feel my heart flutter dreamily as I gazed at his perfect abs and chest.
"Done enough perving?"
I gave a huge start and fell sideways off my bed, smacking my head onto the floor. I'm definitely going to have brain damage if I keep this up.
Groaning, I sat up and held my pounding head. I raised my eyes to see Tristan sitting up on his bed, stretching. He looked at me from where I sat and smirked.
"Nice. I'm loving how you perfected the 'I-just-crawled-out-of-a-dumpster' look," he said.
I glared at him as I rose to my feet. "This is my morning look and I look perfectly fine thank you very much."
Then I caught my reflection in the mirror opposite me and my puffy eyes narrowed. OK, so I wasn't exactly a beauty queen, especially with smudged mascara panda eyes.
I glanced back at Tristan to see him crawling into a blue T-shirt. Rolling my eyes, I made my way over to my bedroom door and before he could ask where I was going, I said, "Breakfast."
I heard him walking along behind me as I walked down the hall silently, being careful not to wake anyone up as it was only seven o'clock. I crept downstairs and entered the kitchen, automatically going for the cupboard.
"So, what food do you have in this joint?" Tristan asked.
For a breathtaking moment I felt his chest on my back as he came to stand behind me. I think he sensed my discomfort for he went on to lean his chin on my shoulder, his hair tickling my neck as his eyes browsed the shelves.
I slipped away from him and reached up to grab a pancake mix.
"Pancakes? How original," Tristan said.
"Pancakes happen to be the second yummiest foods in the world." I turned to face him only to find that we were almost nose-to-nose.
My breath caught in my throat as I stared into his sparkling deep green eyes, losing myself in their depth. My mind seemed to go into slow motion as he raised his arm, planting his hand on the cupboard door behind me and leaning in closer to my face, a smile tugging at his lips.
"What's the first yummiest food in the world?" he whispered.
You, I thought.
Suddenly, I realised what was happening. Mentally shaking myself out of my trance-like state, I pushed him away from me so fast I swear my arms got wind-burn.
Apparently I pushed him a little too hard because he smashed into the kitchen bench and flipped over it, disappearing out of sight. I winced as I heard a loud crash and a hoarse swear word from Tristan.
"What the hell is wrong with you?!" I heard Tristan cry from behind the bench.
"Sorry," I said, hurrying around to help him up.
Moaning as he straightened and rubbed his back, Tristan muttered, "You're one really strange chick, you know that? I mean, what the heck?"
"W – Well, you're the one that was trying to maul me!" I exclaimed crossing my arms stubbornly in front of my chest.
"Like you were complaining," Tristan shot back.
I opened my mouth to retort when the kitchen door opened and Veronica walked in, a confused look on her already make-up-covered face. I automatically turned away from Tristan and walked over to the cupboard. As I grabbed the pancake mixture, my skin tingled at the memory of how close Tristan and I were.
No! What the heck are you doing? You can't be attracted to Tristan! He's a disgusting jerk-face loser! I scolded myself inwardly as I began to shake the pancake mix.
"What was that crash? It woke me up," Veronica said.
I turned as Tristan shrugged, replying, "I slipped."
Veronica gave a high-pitched giggle as she said, "Gosh, Tristan, you're such a klutz." As she said this she laid her hands on one of his.
I rolled my eyes and began to make the pancakes.
* * *
I spent the rest of my day trying my hardest to avoid spending alone time with Tristan at any costs. I just didn't want another heart-stopping moment like we had shared back in the kitchen.
By six o'clock I had successfully managed to steer clear of him. Now I only had to survive like this for another… month. Great.
Anyway, it was six o'clock and I was lying on my bed listening to my iPod when my bedroom door swung open.
I turned off my iPod and sat up quickly, readying myself for a quick getaway in case it was Tristan but when I looked up I found myself staring up at Veronica's sour face.
I sighed with relief. "Oh, it's you," I said, relaxing.
Veronica rolled her eyes. "Who else were you expecting?" She turned around and closed the bedroom door behind her before walking further into the room.
I drew my legs up to my chest as though I would catch something if Veronica got too close. Veronica threw me a filthy look, rolled her eyes and sat down on the edge of Tristan's bed.
"Um… What's up?" I said, watching her slightly fearfully.
Well, she was scary OK? When her dad first married my Mum four years ago she acted all innocent until she crept into my room and cut all my hair off! Who knew what she was up to now?
Veronica rounded on me, her eyes narrowed. "As if you don't know!" she spat.
I raised an eyebrow, confused. "Actually… I don't know. What is it?"
"Tristan."
"Look, what you do with him is none of my business." I made a face. "And I never want to hear about whatever you do with him."
Veronica rolled her eyes. "No, you idiot. I'm not here to tell you what Tristan and I might or might not do… most likely will do, mind you… after all, who can resist my looks?"
I rolled my eyes openly.
"Anyway, as I was saying," Veronica said dangerously, warning me not to make a sound or interrupt her, "I'm here to warn you off him."
Silence.
I frowned. "Warn me off who?" I asked, truly stumped at who she could be referring to.
"Tristan!" Veronica cried angrily.
"Tristan?" I gagged slightly. "Why in the world would I go within two feet of that flea-bag?"
"Oh, come on Amber. I know that you'd take whatever you can get… even though Tristan would never go near you. Anyway, I know you haven't been kissed before." Veronica smirked, triumphant.
My stomach twisted painfully. "How do you know that?"
Veronica shrugged, her evil smile widening. "I over-heard Mum telling Dad the other night." She rose to her feet, stepping toward me. "Poor little Amber. No guy would ever go near you." With that last comment, she left the room, grinning wickedly as she closed the door with a snap.
I grumbled to myself, hugging my pillow to my chest and glaring into space.
So what if I'd never been kissed before? It's not as if I haven't been on dates… it's just that none of the guys I have dated before – all three of them – have been… I don't know… kissable.
I always find some excuse not to kiss them when they try to make the closing move. I mean, I don't just want my first kiss to be in the back of a car or something… I want something really romantic. A truly breath-taking moment.
That's why I've been kicking myself for wishing Tristan would kiss me back in the kitchen. What's romantic about being squashed against a kitchen cupboard for your first kiss? That's right, nothing.
Even if the setting was perfect, I wouldn't kiss Tristan anyway! Would I?
CHAPTER FOUR
I ran my hand through my freshly-brushed hair and inspected my reflection. I was wearing a simple, curve-hugging tank top with jeans. A perfect combination for the first day of school, I thought.
Oh wait. Did I just say first day of school? That means the holidays have officially ended and I'm just about to enter my senior year… Fantastic! Er… not.
I grabbed my school bag and swung it over my shoulder as I walked out of my bedroom. Without speaking a word, I hurried down the stairs into the hall below.
As I slipped out the front door, I yelled out, "Bye everyone!"
"Wait up Amber!"
&n
bsp; I froze, swearing under my breath. So my stealthy get-away wasn't so sneaky.
Next moment Tristan and Veronica were stepping out onto the front path next to me, closing the door behind them. Without waiting for them to catch up, I took off down the path, walking as quickly as possible. I really didn't want to spend the fifteen minute walk listening to Veronica flirt endlessly with Tristan.
So ten minutes later I could be found walking a couple metres in front of Tristan and Veronica, wincing as Veronica's high-pitched, very fake giggle reached my ears.
This may sound extremely weird, especially coming from me, but I was really glad to see my old school come into view as I walked around the corner. Even the sight of a loud new crowd of annoying Grade Eights was like a symphony after Veronica.
"Oh my gosh, Amber!"
I grinned widely as my eyes fell on my best friend: Georgia Parkinson. She ran up to me from where our group was sitting underneath a tree, hugging me tightly and covering me with her long, curly blonde locks.
"Whoa, steady on there, Georgia," I laughed, patting her on the back.
"Holy crap! Who's the new hottie?" cried Georgia – who was known by her loud voice and over-the-top attitude – as she pulled away from me.
I glanced over my shoulder even though I hardly needed to. Georgia was, of course, referring to Tristan who was presently surrounded by a gang of Veronica's mindless bimbo clones.
I rolled my eyes as I turned back to my friend. "Oh, come on. He's not even hot," I lied.
Georgia raised an eyebrow. "OK, either you've met that guy before now and he's a real jerk or… you're now a lesbian."
I laughed. "Hmm… definitely the latter," I joked but then my expression darkened. "No. His name is Tristan, even though his real identity is the devil, and he's staying at my house for an entire month."
Georgia's jaw dropped and she simply took to staring at me through wide brown eyes, utterly speechless.
"I know, right? It's a nightmare," I said, taking advantage of Georgia's silence.
"Are you kidding me?" Georgia shrieked and I winced by her scratchy tone. "I'm so jealous of you right now!"
"Don't be," I assured her as we began to make our way over to our group. "Tristan is the King of Jerk-Or-Dick-Face Land."
