“You’re mean.” I slump into the chair and glare at Kelli from across the table. She sips from her Starbucks cup, the little smile she’s wearing smug as hell. “Why are we meeting so early on a Sunday again?”
“To get this hellish task over and done with for the day. Kind of like ripping off a Band Aid you know? Quick and easy,” she says with a yawn. Guess the Starbucks isn’t kicking in just yet. “Besides, it’s not that early.”
“It’s ten.”
“So?”
I say nothing, leaping from the chair when I hear my name called. I grab my drink from the counter and head back to our table, hoping the triple espresso shot I added to my regular PSL will do the trick and wake me up.
Yet again another bad night of restless sleep. What a surprise. All I could do was run over everything that happened in my mind, the moments playing in a constant loop. The kiss. The kisses. I couldn’t let those go when I should. I so should. He’s such a player he’s probably already kissed two girls since he was last with me. The asshole.
Tristan is going to drive me to taking sleeping pills I’m sure.
“Is ten really too early for you on a Sunday morning?” Kelli asks when I settle back in at our table. She sounds concerned, which is hilarious. Though Mama Kelli does rear her ugly head on such occasions.
“Well, yeah. With school and now my new work schedule in the mix, I think Sunday’s going to end up being my one morning I get to really sleep in, you know? So I want to savor my delicious warm bed, not worry about studying for our stupid stats quiz. I worked really hard yesterday. I was tired, you saw me.” Well, that’s not necessarily a lie. I was tired after working yesterday. But it was Tristan who kept me awake. Tristan and his magic hands and lips and words…oh, his words.
They are the worst. Yet they’re also such an incredible turn-on. What guy tells you he’s not nice? That he just takes what he wants?
A hot guy like Tristan, that’s who.
“We never did talk about your first day on the job.” Kelli takes a sip of her drink. “How was it?”
“I liked it. The owner, Sandie, is really nice and easy to talk to. She’s giving me around fifteen hours a week at first and she’ll give me a few more if I think I can handle it.”
“That’s awesome. I’m so happy for you!” Kelli leans over and grabs her backpack, unzipping it so she can pull out our statistics book. “You ready for this?”
No. I never will be either. I despise this class. “Isn’t it counterproductive to cram for a test in the morning when we won’t be taking it until at least twenty four hours later? Actually closer to thirty six?”
“It was the only time I could fit this in. I have to write a paper this afternoon. I’m meeting with my study group over at the library.” Kelli flips open her book and grimaces at what greets her. “God, what does all this stuff even mean?”
“You don’t know?” I chug half my PSL as quick as possible, needing that extra caffeine to jolt my system awake. “Why am I studying with you again?”
“Because I have the hook up.” Kelli’s sly smile tells me everything I need to know without wasting a word. “He should be here any minute.”
Oh. Crap. She’s talking about…
“I’m going to kill you,” I mutter as I cross my arms onto the table and let my head fall on top of it. Damn it, he better not show up. I don’t want to see him. My lack of sleep is all his fault and I look like ass because of it so I’m blaming him for that too.
He’s going to take the blame for everything right now and I don’t feel one ounce of guilt over it either.
“Good morning, ladies.”
His deep, slightly rough, totally sexy voice is super close and I lift my head, cracking my eyes open. Kelli’s watching me with this amused expression on her face and I know he’s standing behind me. Above me. Whatever. I can feel him. All of his warm, deliciously sexy vibes are coming straight at me, trying to draw me into his dangerous web.
Slowly I turn and tilt my head back until my gaze meets his. He’s smiling at me, as friendly as ever, without a care in the world. Looking so freaking good in jeans and a—yep you guessed it—dark green Henley long-sleeved shirt that conforms to his shoulders and chest, making his eyes look more green than blue. His hair is damp, as if he just got out of the shower only moments ago and he’s got a coffee in his hand. The epitome of casual nonchalance, like a good friend stopping by to help us out of the kindness of his warm and giving heart. A heart I don’t believe exists if you want my honest opinion.
“Looking fresh and bright eyed this morning, aren’t you,” he drawls, staring pointedly at me. There’s not a flicker of acknowledgement of what happened between us last night in his expression.
Yeah. Fine. No big deal. If he can act nonchalant, so can I.
“I can’t shake you, can I?” I ask wryly. I’m pretending too. Like he didn’t have his tongue shoved in my mouth and his hands all over my body only a few hours ago. Like I wasn’t moaning and rubbing against him, my hands in his hair and every bit of common sense fleeing my brain.
Laughing, he pulls out the chair next to mine—did you expect he would sit next to Kelli? Please—and settles in, his arm bumping against my elbow. “I’m here to help you, Alexandria. I know statistics is your worst subject.”
“It is.” I reach into my backpack and pull out my stupid textbook, determined to make this all about school and nothing else.
“Why is that anyway?”
“Because it’s math, duh.” Oh, I sound like a petulant child. He should tell me to grow up. I deserve it. He did help us a few days ago at the library. I can’t forget that. He’s here on a Sunday morning, taking the time to help us cram. Either he’s just being nice or has ulterior motives.
I’m pretty certain it’s ulterior motives bringing him here but I guess I should take advantage of his help while I can.
“I’ve discovered those who hate math are usually just scared of it,” he says, his gaze snagging mine. For a moment I see a flicker of something dark in his eyes. A reminder of the Tristan I was with last night. The one who kissed me and touched me and drove me out of my freaking mind with lust. “You shouldn’t be afraid of simple logic. It can’t hurt you.”
Is he talking about stats or himself?
Kelli clears her throat and Tristan jerks his gaze from mine. “This test is huge,” she stresses. “Not just a weekly quiz, Tris, but a complete review of everything we’ve learned so far this semester. I’ve forgotten pretty much everything from the first few weeks of class. Haven’t you, Alex?”
I nod, unable to speak. My heart feels like it’s bouncing around in my chest like a basketball and I don’t think I can blame the espresso shots in my latte.
“Not a problem,” he says breezily, reaching over to snag my textbook. I mutter a noise of protest but he ignores me, bending his head over the pages as he starts flipping through them. His hair falls over his forehead, brown highlighted with gold and so tempting. As in tempting me to push it away. Run my fingers through it because it’s so soft and I like the way it clung to my fingers…
Making an irritated sound in my throat, I glance up at Kelli and send her a stern look, one that says I cannot freaking believe you. But she just smiles and waggles her eyebrows.
And so begins an hour of absolute, pure torture. Not just the stats review because that’s bad enough. No, the worst part of it all is sitting next to Tristan, listening to him speak, watching his hands move over the paper as he demonstrates a formula, as he taps the book spread out in front of us to point out something in particular. He has nice hands.
Beautiful hands, with long fingers, wide palms, hands that knew just how to touch me. Now they’re being wasted on paper and textbooks, running over statistics problems and trying their best to get me to focus. But I can’t. I can’t focus when all I can do is feel him. Smell him. His hair is now dry and it curls around his ears and neck. He still has scruff on his jaw and chin, which tells me he didn’t shave this morning and I want to feel it. Run my hands over his face and feel the prick of his stubble against my palm.
Clearly I’m losing my mind. I’m also going to fail this test because I’m not retaining a word he’s saying.
“You’re so smart, Tristan,” Kelli says for about the twentieth time. “I don’t know what we’d do without you.”
I say nothing because he’s not helping me whatsoever.
“I need another drink.” Kelli rises to her feet and panic washes through me. I should go with her. Or go use the restroom—anything to avoid spending time with Tristan alone.
But I do nothing. Just sit in gape-mouthed horror as Kelli heads over to the front counter to place her order. I can feel Tristan looking at me and I remain facing forward. Biting off the little gasp that forms when he gently grabs my hand and interlaces our fingers together.
Just as he said last night, sparks form between our palms, sending a trail of heat up my arm, coursing through my veins. I swallow hard and work my jaw, trying to come up with something to say when he beats me to the punch.
“You’re not listening to a thing I’m saying are you?”
His gruff voice melts my resolve and I dare to look over at him. Still can’t seem to muster up a word to say yet though.
He must think I’m an idiot.
His smile is soft, unlike the normal, cocky smirk that he usually flashes at me and I’m instantly wary. “Are you getting it? Or is it all just going over your head?”
I shrug, my mouth twisting to the side in a grimace. I don’t want to tell him I’m not getting it because the mere sound of his voice is too distracting? Or the fact that I can smell his clean, soapy scent and it’s making me feel all warm and fuzzy inside? I can’t even speak because he’s touching me, his fingers curling around mine…
“Alexandria.” My gaze zeroes in on his mouth as he says my name. I like how he pronounces it, the way his lips form, that little glimpse of tongue I see when he trips over the second syllable. “Have you turned mute? Deaf—ah hell, maybe both? Shit, are you Helen Keller reincarnated?”
I release his hand and shove at his shoulder, making him laugh. “Stop,” I mumble.
His laughter dies. “Seriously, do you want me to go over something again? I know this particular section is tough.” He flips the pages of my book, pointing.
I rest my hand on his arm and he turns to look at me. “Why are you being so nice to me?”
It’s a legitimate question. He doesn’t do nice. He said that himself last night. He’s proved that time and again. So why is he helping us study for our test? He’s already taken this course. He should be sleeping in or rolling around in bed with some pretty girl, not wasting his time trying to teach Kelli and me statistics.
His lips part and his eyes go blank. Like a curtain dropping, masking any emotion that he might’ve been feeling only a moment ago. “I’m doing it for Kelli.”
I slowly shake my head. “Don’t lie to me, Tristan.”
“I want to get in your panties? This way you’ll owe me?” He lifts his eyebrows.
Okay, there’s a glimpse of the real Tristan. Maybe. “So now you’re trading your stats skills for sex?”
He smiles. “Whatever works, right?”
“You still want to have sex with me?”
“You don’t have to fish for compliments.” He reaches for my face, presses his thumb to the corner of my lips. “I’d fuck you in the bathroom right now if you said you were up for it.”
“Gross.” I swat his hand away and he chuckles. I really hope he’s joking. Well, sort of. Being here with him like this, acting so normal on a Sunday morning in a Starbucks, I don’t know what to think. How to feel. He’s…sweet like this. Trying to help us out, patiently explaining everything, going over each example step by step. Who knew Tristan had it in him?
“Do I have to want something from you when I offer my help?”
“I don’t know. Do you? I get a sense you don’t normally help anyone.”
He frowns. “I don’t.”
But I’m willing to help her. Why? This goes beyond wanting to get her naked. Or…no. No, it doesn’t. I’m just so damn intrigued by this girl I’ll do just about anything to get her to come around and see my way of things.
And my way of things involves getting her naked. That’s it. End of story.
“So why me?” she asks, prodding me in the side with her index finger.
Damn, she’s pushy. And pretty. So pretty. No makeup on, her dark blonde hair in a ponytail on top of her head, skin clear and smooth, those questioning eyes watching me, waiting for me to what? Give her a proper explanation?
How can I do that when I don’t understand my motives myself?
“Because you’re extremely fuckable?” I wince the moment the words leave my mouth and she glares. Girls at a bar on a Thursday night three drinks in love it when I say they’re fuckable. They fall for that line every single time.
Sunday morning at a Starbucks cramming for a stats test…I’m thinking fuckable doesn’t work.
“You make me sound like a dirty stuffed animal. ‘Oh, she’s so adorably fuckable’.” Alexandria makes a face.
“Maybe that was a bad choice of words,” I start but she cuts me off.
“You think?”
“I know,” I stress. “And I take it back. You’re not fuckable.”
Oh, look at that. Her expression changes and she looks downright sad that I took back the fuckable remark. Make up your mind, gorgeous. You either want my attention or not.
“Are you two fighting?” Kelli asks as she settles back into her seat.
“I’m done.” Alexandria pulls her book away from me and slams it shut, then stuffs it into her backpack. “Either I’ve got this or I don’t. Thanks for your help, Tristan,” she says, not even bothering to look at me as she stands. “See you tomorrow in class, Kelli.”
She buzzes out of the Starbucks before Kelli or I can say anything to stop her.
“That was weird,” Kelli says slowly, sipping from her drink. “What just happened?”
“I don’t know.” I study the door, wishing she would come back. Wishing more that I could chase after her. But I don’t chase after women. Not like this. The conquest happens because they come to me. I draw them in like bees to honey. It’s easy. Smile, say something flirty, drop an innuendo, make eye contact, touch them and bam. They’re yours for the night. Sometimes they’d like to be yours beyond the night but I never let them get to that point. Not really. Unless they’re psycho and have wedding dreams from the first moment they meet you.
I had one of those my freshman year. Scariest shit ever. She was a straight up stalker. Gabe and Shep found it hilarious.
They would.
“You said something to offend her.” Kelli states this, not asking like a normal person would.
“I don’t know.” I throw my hands up into the air, frustration slipping through my veins. “She’s hard to read.”
“She says the same thing about you.”
I go still. “She does?”
Kelli nods, still sipping from her drink. The stats book lies between us, totally forgotten. Now that Alexandria is gone, I don’t want to help. I don’t even want to look at that stupid book.
Sorry Kelli.
“What else does she say about me?” I ask when Kelli still hasn’t said anything.
“Nothing much. She’s trying to resist you.”
No shit.
“She likes Steven but isn’t into him.”
“And you know this how?”
Kelli arches a brow. “Are you worried Steven is going to steal her from under your nose?”
“There’s nothing to steal. I’m not interested in her in that way.” Kelli’s brow goes even higher. How does she do that? “I’m serious. Steven wants to buy her flowers and take her out and make her his girlfriend. I just want to get her naked and have sweaty, amazing sex with her.”
“You don’t usually spend so much time in hot pursuit of one girl,” Kelli points out. “You’re not acting normal.”
“What is normal anyway?”
“For you? Let’s see.” She taps her finger against her pursed lips, contemplating my question. I practically squirm in my seat. I don’t want to hear this, especially from Kelli who’s been watching me for a while now. “One woman after the other, one for every night of the week. A little moody, a lot grumpy, always giving your friends shit when they decide to settle down.”
I don’t look at her. She’s right.
“I’m getting the sense that when it was the three of you against the world, you were happy. Comfortable. In your element.” Kelli pauses and I glance up to see that she’s watching me with what—sympathy in her eyes? Please. I get more tail now than I ever did when I had to split it with Gabe and Shep. “They’ve changed it up on you and you’re scrambling. The lone wolf among all the salivating women lined up wanting a piece of you.”
“Is that how you see it?”
“Kind of,” she admits. “Is that all you see when you look at Alex? Another piece of ass?”
No. And that’s the scary part. I would never admit that to Kelli. She wouldn’t understand. Or she’d run off and tell Alexandria. Fuck that. If I can’t work up the nerve to admit it, then no one else is doing it for me.
I immediately break out into a sweat. Do I actually like Alexandria? As in, do I want to spend time with her beyond the usual fucking around and being done with it?
Yes.
Nooo. I don’t believe it. I can’t believe it. My anti-relationship stance is still firmly in place. I’m just like Dad. My mom has said that more than once when I was growing up. He’s a decent guy, hard working to the point of obsessive. Sometimes a little callous. Has a hard time showing affection. When pushed he’ll joke around with enough bite beneath the words to make you feel like shit. I know if I were to become involved with a woman, I’ll most likely end up treating her just like Dad treated Mom. Driving them away, driving them to drink, pushing them into another man’s arms, pushing them into madness.
I can’t do it. I refuse to do it. Better to be alone than to make someone you might care about absolutely miserable.
“She’s a pretty fine piece of ass, don’t you think?” I say with a smirk as I stand, grabbing my empty coffee cup so I can throw it in the garbage on my way out. “Gotta go, K. Hope you do well on your test tomorrow.”
“Tristan, wait,” she calls after me but I ignore her. I toss the cup into the trash, offer the barista a flirtatious smile and a wave and then get the hell out of there.
My plan to earn my way into Alexandria’s good graces didn’t work out quite like I wanted to. Maybe I should move on.
Or maybe I should move on to plan B.