Bad Things

We were inseparable, even more so than before, which was saying a lot.



A few careless comments brought it all crashing down, though it was bound to happen, one way or another.



The morning it happened was kind of horrible, and kind of wonderful.



Tristan was sweet as could be, cooking breakfast, making me keep him company in the kitchen. He touched me constantly, with his hands, his mouth, his smile.



I was on cloud nine until he spoke.



“I’m glad this worked out like it did. I didn’t think we could manage to have sex, and it not turn into a thing.”



I shot a glance at the boys, who were happily watching TV, but they were oblivious to him having said the word ‘sex’ in little more than a whisper. I was also trying to distract myself from what his words implied.



“Hmm?” I asked, going for oh so casual.



“I thought we couldn’t just be friends after something like that. I was afraid you’d start to develop, you know, romantic feelings. I love that it didn’t turn out awkward. Who says having a fuck buddy is a bad idea?”



I tried not to visibly flinch, but didn’t quite manage.



He caught my expression out of the corner of his eye, sending me a rueful smile. “I know girls don’t like that term, but what else would you call it?”



“How about we just not talk about it?” I suggested, making a last ditch effort at averting the fallout that I felt building up in my chest like a scream that just had to escape.



“My bad. That’s probably a very solid idea. I was just saying…I like this. This has been…nice.”



I stewed about that all day. I tried to hold my tongue, really I did, but by bedtime I was in a state, the words ‘fuck buddy’, and ‘…nice’ just rolling around in my head, looking for Trouble.



We’d made plans to go out late, and I found Tristan getting ready in my room.



“Can I just say something?” I began, my tone already on its way to angry.



Tristan finished shrugging into a thin T-shirt before giving me his full attention. “Yeah. What’s up?”



“I’m pretty sure you’re already aware of this, but I am not a casual kind of girl. I’ve only been with a few guys, and both of the ones I was with willingly, were in a committed relationship with me. Before you, I’d never slept with a guy who didn’t tell me he loved me. It goes without saying that I take exception to the term fuck buddy.”



He didn’t look sorry, his brow arching at me, his eyes getting a little hard on mine, which I wasn’t used to, not from him. “I’m sorry I used that term. I was stupid to even bring it up. We going out?”



“Let me finish. You think I haven’t developed any romantic feelings for you…but that’s just not true. I have a hard time keeping things to myself—”



“You don’t say.”



“Let me finish,” I said again, through gritted teeth, mad now, just from the look on his face, and the sick feeling in my gut that I knew just how he was going to react to what I was about to tell him. “You’re fooling yourself if you think I don’t have those feelings for you, Tristan. I’ve fallen in love with you.”



I felt my jaw clench as his gaze turned insolent.



“Bullshit,” he said softly.



I’d never seen his mean side, and with just a taste, I was certain I couldn’t handle it.



“Wh-what do you mean? Did you hear what I said?”



“Oh, I heard you. I just don’t believe you.”



“Why would I lie about something like that?”



“Prove it. Tell me why you fell in love with me so fast. Tell me how.”



He was very helpful at getting my hurt to turn to fury in a heartbeat.



“It was actually very easy, you ass. I couldn’t help it. Being around you, I couldn’t help myself. You’re just too easy to love. Going by your reaction, though, I see that I’m not.”



“Don’t guilt trip me, Danika. That shit feels manipulative.”



“I’d rather be manipulative, than be a heartless jerk.”



“You keep making these statements about love. You say I’m the heartless one, but you’ve got this relationship thing down to an emotionless science.”



“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”



“Everything is never and always with you, like you’ve done it all before. You always do committed relationships. You never have sex without love. Do you know how mechanical you sound when you say those things? It’s become nothing more than routine for you. You make it sound like any man could have you, if he just agreed to those two things. You play so hard to get, but two easy lies could get you into bed.”



“Don’t be an ass.”



“I’m not being an ass. I’m not saying this because I don’t care. If I didn’t give a damn, I would just say those words. Don’t you get that? I don’t make promises because I’m honest, and most damned promises are a lie.”



I felt my lip quiver. He’d done it now. I wouldn’t hold back on him. I felt how ugly the words were before they’d even left my lips. “You think you’re such a perfect guy, just because you tell women the score, and they love you anyway. You think your dad was any different from you? You think your mother named you after him because he was a bastard? He was probably just like you, just as charming, just as fun, just as irresistible. Your worst nightmare is to become like your dad, but what would you do if some woman came up to you tomorrow, and told you she was pregnant?”



“I always use protection—”



“Which doesn’t always work. You’re dodging the question. I’ll answer it for you. You’d run away. Just like your dad.”



His jaw clenched, and he shook his head at me, looking pissed now. “That was low.”



I knew it was. I felt low for saying it, but I didn’t take it back.



“If you’ll recall,” he bit out. “This was just as much your idea as mine. Remember when you promised me that this wouldn’t ruin our friendship? Was that a lie?”



I couldn’t answer that. I didn’t know how, and the idea that he’d allow our friendship to end just broke my heart.



He cursed, a long, loud, fluent tirade. “We should have stuck to our don’t list.”



I felt my face turning red with temper. As though that asinine list had magic powers, to keep us from making stupid mistakes.



I exploded. “It wasn’t a don’t list, you douche bag, it may as well have been a fucking checklist! Your fucked up mind just saw it as a challenge!”



His eyes were so cold as he studied me. It was a new experience for me, watching that warm golden gaze that I loved shoot ice at me. “I’m leaving. How about you give me a call when you grow the fuck up?”



I blinked, feeling almost numb as he started to gather his things, shoving them into his large duffle with short, angry movements.



I sat heavily on the bed as he just continued to pack without a word.



“Tristan,” I said once, a soft plea in the word.



He ignored it. He ignored me.



In fact, he never uttered another word before he walked out.



CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX



The next week was more hellish than any breakup I’d ever been through, which scared the shit out of me, because it wasn’t even a real breakup.



He was never even yours to lose, I told myself, at least a hundred times a day.



He didn’t call, he didn’t text, and he didn’t come back to the house.



The one ray of light that seemed to appear as a result of the fallout was Frankie.



Two days after Tristan left, she started calling. Calling, and texting, and just showing up.



Frankie was good company. She was funny, and irreverent, and just plain easy to talk to. I had no idea why, but she’d decided that we were fast friends, and so we were. Between her and my usual nanny duties, I should have been adequately distracted.



Too bad that still left the nighttime for tossing and turning, and rehashing all of the stupid things I’d done and said.



I told Frankie as much one day over the phone. Her response was to take her distraction campaign into the evening hours, and we so we started hitting the clubs.



She was so persistent about monopolizing all of my free time, that I started to worry she might be interested in me.



“You know I’m into guys, right?” I asked her one night, on the way home from a great dancing my way to distraction session.



She laughed. A lot. And then laughed some more.



“I know what happened between you and Tristan, so yeah, I figured.”



“Okay. Sorry. I know I sounded like an idiot. I just didn’t want to be a tease or anything.”



She was driving, but she was laughing so hard she had to pull her car over to the side of the road. “Fair enough. I wasn’t offended. That just surprised me. I didn’t realize that you thought I was hitting on you.”



“I didn’t think that. I just wasn’t sure…” I cleared my throat, uncomfortable. “Do you know Tristan very well?” I asked her.



“Yeah, I’d say I know him pretty well. I called you the other day because I saw him the night he left here. The way he was acting just…worried me. I could tell he was angry, no, furious, about something, and when I asked him about you, he got worse. And then later, he hooked up with some chick, and ended up getting into a fight with her boyfriend. I know he has a temper, and he’s been in plenty of fights, but I hadn’t seen him quite like that…He was lucky he didn’t get arrested.”



I barely heard the rest of it. After she’d mentioned him hooking up that night, there was a twisting pain my chest that sort of blacked out my ability to hear or concentrate.



“Did Tristan tell you what happened between us?” I asked, when I could speak again, still feeling utterly sick to my stomach.



“Not in so many words. I pieced together that you’d had a falling out because he refuses to talk about you.”



“I swear to God, I’m never getting involved with another man for as long as I live. Especially if it’s a fuck buddy scenario. Fuck that.”



That put a huge smile on her face. “You let me know when you’re ready to play for the other team, sweetie.”



Unaccountably, I blushed.



She laughed, pulling back onto the street. “Sorry, I can’t help it, when you give me an opening like that. What are your plans tomorrow night?”



“My boss Bev has this weekly thing going on at the house. We call it ‘Fuck Anonymous’, because it’s a friend/group therapy session. I can’t miss it, since I dodged it last week, and I know that the longer I avoid it, the more shit I’ll get for it later.”



“Sounds like a steaming hot mess. Can I come?”



I laughed at the description. It was apt, to be sure. “Yes! They’ll love you. It’ll be a match made in heaven.”



“Perfect. What time does it start?”



“Eight-ish is when the talking starts. Drinks and appetizers are out a good hour before, though.”



“Okay, then. I’ll be there at seven. Any hot chicks?”