“Yeah, but…” I trail off, trying to figure out what to say to her. But it only gets more difficult to come up with something when she stands back up and stares at me with those gorgeous hazel eyes of hers.
“But what?” she finally asks with the smallest hint of amusement. She’s still wearing the same purple tank top and jeans she had on at the work site. Her hair is down and slightly damp and it looks like she’s scrubbed her makeup off. She’s fucking beautiful—that’s all there is to it. Way, way more attractive than the women I’m used to hooking up with.
“But nothing.” I plant my ass down on a barstool. “So how late do you work tonight?”
“Why? You gonna ask me out on a date when I get off?” She laughs like she just told a funny joke. “Because need I remind you that you still have”—she looks up at the dimly lit ceiling as she mentally calculates—“ninety six more brownie points to earn for that prize.”
“Oh? So a date with you is a prize, huh?” I crack a joke and a small smile, but don’t find it as comical as she does. I’m pretty sure I’ve never asked a woman out on a date before except with Avery and the two times I’ve asked her, she’s brushed it off. Yeah, I get that she has the no guy rule, but her amusement over the concept of us going out still stings.
Rejection.
I should just back off. She’s not some crack-whore looking for a junkie to hook up and score with so it makes her out of my league. So what am I even doing here? Clearly something, but I can’t figure out what exactly.
Her laughter hushes as she notes my humorless expression. Then her lips part in shock. “Tristan, you can’t be serious. We can’t… date.” She seems frightened of the word. “I thought the whole brownie point thing for a date was a joke.”
Her words burn for a thousand different reasons, but I play it cool. “Why would I ever joke about something so awesome?”
“Because...” She squirms uneasily then busies herself by wiping down the counter with a dishrag. “Look, Tristan, trust me, even if I broke my rule—which I won’t—and agreed to go out with you, you don’t want to agree to go out with me.”
“Why not?”
“Because… I can give you a million reasons.”
“And I can give you a million reasons why someone would want to date you,” I say, unable to stop my lips from moving. “Beautiful, funny girl with sexy tattoos and the saddest smile I’ve ever seen, like the weight of the world is bearing down on her shoulders.”
She smiles but out of irritation “Oh, you’re good. But the real question is, do you come up with new lines or just recycle them?”
“I’m not feeding you a line,” I tell her because I’m really not. Yeah, I’m a flirt but I’m never genuine like I am now. “I swear.”
She considers what I said then she sets the rag down, props her elbow on the counter, and rests her chin on her hand, staring me down. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll let you cash in your four brownie points and go on a date with you if you explain to me what compelled you to write that note on my cupboard that night.” She seems so certain I’m not going to.
I scratch at my chin with uneasiness. Explaining why I did it is nearly impossible—even I’m still trying to figure the reason out. “I don’t know… I just wanted to make sure you were okay after I left.”
“That was the only reason?” Her brow arches in the sexiest way and I wonder if maybe I’ve met my match. Most of the girls I flirt with totally absorb it and flirt back in an obvious way. Granted they’re in a different, lower league than Avery. She does it so naturally that I barely notice before I get caught up in it.
Lost.
I am lost.
And in a different way than I’m used to.
“Or maybe I just wanted to make sure you didn’t forget me.” I lift my shoulder and shrug. “But the first part’s true, too. I just wanted to… I don’t know, comfort you, I guess.” I wince at my word choice, wondering if my drug-deprived mind has finally broken.
She bites down on her lip and I’m the one who’s now starting to squirm. “Comfort me? That’s… sweet.” She smirks, but she’s nervous. “And cute.”
“I’m not as sweet as you think I am. I just have my moments, but they’re few and far between, so don’t get too excited.”
“Nah, I don’t believe that. I barely know you, yet I’ve seen quite a few of those moments.”
“Then I guess it’s just you that brings it out in me.”
“I guess so.”
We’re both stupidly grinning at each other in the kind of way Nova and Quinton do—in the kind of way that drives me crazy in both a good and complicated way.
“And now you owe me a date,” I say, watching the smile vanish from her gorgeous lips, causing me to crash back to reality.
Horrified, she lifts her head from her hand and her body straightens. “I can’t do that. Sorry.”
“But you said you would if I told you why I wrote the note.”
Why am I pushing this so hard? I sound so whiney.
Her chest rises and falls as she struggles to breathe regularly. “Yeah, but how do I know you told the truth?”
“I’m not a liar.” Except to myself.
“Okay, but I still can’t.”
“Because of the no guys’ thing?”
She gulps and then nods. “I’m sorry. I thought you wouldn’t really tell me why you did it. That you’d feed me some cheesy reason or something.”
For the briefest, unsteady moment, Avery appears as tense as I feel, like our emotions match each other and I have to wonder…
What is this girl hiding?
What could have possibly happened to her to make her want to stay away from guys this much? It has to have something to do with her ex-husband. I know it does.
“You know what you two should do.” The bleach-blonde I saw with Avery when I first entered the bar appears out of nowhere. Or maybe she’s been there the entire time and I’m just noticing her now. “You should take your smoke break and have Mr. Hottie Blondie go out back with you,” she says to Avery with a very unsubtle wink.
Avery shoots her the darkest scowl ever. “Tristan, this is Charissa and you’ll have to excuse her because her mouth doesn’t have a filter.”
Charissa seems more like the type of women I’m used to hooking up with, blunt and forward and always trying too hard to be sexy and coming after me because I’m easy. But she doesn’t seem interested in me, just interested in getting Avery to go out back with me.
“It’s nice to meet you, Charissa,” I say politely then focus back on Avery. “I actually would love a smoke right now so…”
“So what?” Avery asks lightly, her nervousness still hidden under the surface.
“You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?” I’m completely and utterly baffled by this girl. I find myself wanting to know everything about her, ask her all those questions I’ve been wondering about for months.
Avery nods, playful but edgy as she leans the slightest bit closer. “Oh yeah. I’m going to make you work for whatever you want.”
Charissa covers her eyes like she’s embarrassed for Avery. Me, I fucking love it.
I reduce the space between us even more as I slant across the counter toward her. “Avery, would you like to go out back and have a smoke with me? It can be a replacement for the date you promised me but aren’t going to give me.” I feel like I’m back in high school or something, nervously asking a girl out on a date. Only I never dated in high school, just got high and had sex.
“I’m not sure,” Avery replies, thrumming her fingers against her lip. “I’d have to ask my boss first.”
“Whatever,” Charissa says then pokes Avery in the side. “Benny loves you. Now go enjoy ten minutes of your fucking life.” She leans in and lowers her voice, but not enough that I can’t hear her. “You deserve to after Conner showing up here today.”
Avery stiffens at the mention of Conner and my heart misses a beat.
He was here?
Today?
Before I can say anything, Avery reaches under the counter and grabs a pack of cigarettes. “Come on, Pretty Boy, before I change my mind.”
It takes me a moment to get up and follow her. When I do rise to my feet, I almost head back in the direction of Nova and Quinton. But like that night three months ago when Conner pulled Avery out back, I end up turning the other way at the last second and following her outside.
Chapter 11
Wake up.
Avery
I’m blaming it on the fact that I haven’t had sex in two years. It’s got to be my deprived vagina that caused me to flirt and go out back with Tristan to “smoke,” Charissa’s code word for go get some. She probably thinks I’m back here in a heavy lip lock with Tristan. But nope, the only thing fastened to my lips is a filter. And the stars shining luminously in the sky are my reminder that that’s how things should stay.
Of what it took to get here.
Of how easily it could be taken away.
Because Conner was here today.
Looking for me.
And the past and my sins came crashing back to me.
Shit. What am I going to do?
It’s starting all over again.
“So I have to ask you a question,” Tristan says as he pops a cigarette between his lips and pats his pockets for a lighter.
A cloud of smoke circles my face as I exhale. “Why do I have the feeling I’m not going to like this question?”
He finds his lighter in his back pocket then flicks the top and burns the end of his cigarette. “Because you probably won’t. It’s a little personal.”
I frown as I ash my cigarette on the asphalt. “Do we really have to do this? You know we could always keep tiptoeing around it like we have been.”
He stares at the end of the alley. “You don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to, but I need to ask.”
I suck a slow inhale from the cigarette and trap the smoke in my lungs for as long as possible just to avoid answering him. “What do you want to know?”
Smoke swirls through the air as he removes the cigarette from his lips. “I want to know what happened with Conner and why he was here today.”
My head slumps forward and I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I knew you were going to ask that.”
“You don’t have to answer, but that night… Well, it’s kind of been haunting me, especially because I never really got to talk to you about what went on and I wasn’t sure if you, you know, were in trouble or something.”
“Not anymore,” I utter quietly.
He pauses. “Is he… I mean, I know he’s your ex-husband, but how?”
I keep my eyes fixed on the ground. He’s getting too close to the truth. “How what?”
“How did that happened?” he asks. “I mean he seems so… And you seem so…”
I sigh, elevating my head and looking at him through the dark. Streams of light surround us from the nearby lamppost and the moonlight cast shadows across his features. “He wasn’t always that way. He’s been my ex-husband for a little over two years.” I sketch my fingertip along the finger that once had a ring on it. I swear I can still see the tan line there, like it wasn’t two years ago when I last wore it. “And he showed up here today, but it was while I wasn’t around, so I didn’t see him.”
“You’ve been divorced for two years.” He’s stunned beyond shock. “How old were you when you got married?”
There you go. Be put off. You just made this easier on me.
“Seventeen,” I say, staring up at the night sky and the stars. I puff on my cigarette, dragging out time, unwilling to offer him the reason why we got married so young, unwilling to tell him about Mason. The last thing I want to do is get Mason involved in this… whatever this is—I’m not really sure yet.
Tristan restlessly drums his fingers on the side of his leg. “I don’t really blame you for divorcing him after what I saw that night.”
If only he knew how insignificant that night was compared to the shit that went on. Toward the end was the worst.
Toward the end is when he broke me.
And then I nearly broke myself.
“Yeah, he’s kind of an asshole.” I smile stiffly. “Which is why I try to avoid him with a restraining order I’ve had on him for months.”
He struggles with what to say next. Pour guy. He walked straight into that mess that night three months ago, not even knowing what he was getting into, just like he’s doing now.
“You know, we can go back inside if you want.” I give him an out from the seemingly painful conversation.
He stares down at his half-smoked cigarette in his hand, the cherry glowing brightly against the night. When he looks up at me again, something crosses his expression that I don’t recognize. “You know it wasn’t the first time, right?”
“The first time what?”
“That I’ve had a knife pulled on me.”
I’m not sure if he said it to make me feel better about my dark past or not, but I kind of do and kind of like him for it. Another brownie point for him. Jesus, he’s tallying them up quickly.
“When? I mean, when else did you have a knife pulled on you?”
He cups his hand around his side where Conner cut him that night with a knife. “A few times actually… during drug deals and shit.”
“How are you doing with that stuff?” When Tristan winces, I add, “Or is that too personal of a question for me to be asking?”
“No… it’s okay. I asked you stuff so it’s only fair you should get to ask me.” He sucks in another lengthy drag from his cigarette then smoke eases from his lips. “I’ve been clean since that thing with you and I happened. But when I went home…” He shakes his head. “I almost fucked up several times and still feel like I’m going to slip up every single day.”
“That’s good, though, that you haven’t slipped up. And that you’re trying to stay sober.”
“Don’t get too excited. I’ve tried to stay clean a lot of times already.”
“So, at least you try,” I tell him because he looks so dejected. It’s a side of him I’ve never witnessed before and I find myself wanting to explore it—to help him feel better. “Some people don’t even get that far.”
He gives me a blank stare. “How many times did it take you to get clean?”
I shrug, scuffing my boot against the asphalt. “Just once, but I had huge reasons to get my shit together.”
He waits for me to explain further, but I’m not going to. The reasons are too personal and honestly I’m kind of ashamed of the person I was two and a half years ago. That weak woman. Unstable. Just like my mother. That for a while I turned out to be everything I never wanted to be.
“You know, I thought about getting your phone number that next morning,” he says. “But settled on writing you the note instead. Figured it might be better.”
“I’m going to agree with you on that one. It’s probably for the best that you didn’t find me after that night.” I drop my cigarette to the ground and put it out with the tip of my boot. “Because I broke my rule with you and that was the only time I ever have.”
He grazes his thumb along the bottom of his cigarette, knocking the ash off. “The no guy rule?”
I nod, inching toward the door with every intention of leaving because this conversation is getting way too heavy and deep. “That kiss was never supposed to happen. And not because I’m hung up on my ex-husband or anything. It’s just…” I trail off and then clear my throat, not wanting to go any further. “But, yeah, like I said, I should have never kissed you. It was very wrong of me to kiss you when I’ve made a vow never to be with any guy again.”
He steps toward me, diminishing the space between us. “Ever?” His forehead creases as he angles his head to the side, looking utterly confused and at the same time absolutely intrigued.
I wonder if he’s put two and two together.
Two years. It’s been two years since a
guy touched me or kissed me.
I nonchalantly shrug. “Sometimes being unattached is the best thing for someone.”
“Yeah, but forever? That’s a really, really long time.”
“Yeah… it’s… Well, it’s forever. And I’ve been doing well with that rule for two years until you came along,” I press and his mouth sinks to a frown. “I’m not saying it was bad. I’m glad you stepped in when you did. No one’s ever done that for me, but still that kiss…” I should step back more because he’s so close I can barely think straight, but my feet refuse to budge. “It was forbidden.”
Wreck Me (Nova #4) Page 12
