by Monica James
“You keep that up and you’ll be walking tonight,” I say, as I’m designated driver for the evening because I’m not much of a drinker.
That zips her lips shut, but she still gives me a small smile.
“Paige?”
“Tabitha?”
She looks at me seriously, and looks slightly embarrassed. “Thank you… thank you for being my friend.”
I don’t know what to say to her, so I do the only thing that a friend is meant to do in a situation such as this.
I’m the one to initiate the hug, and it doesn’t feel weird.
***
We had to park about three blocks away, as Tristan’s street is filled with cars and people mingling on the road, alcohol in hand, with no intention of moving.
Tabitha and I hit the pavement, and I can tell by the way she’s pulling at her squareneck collar that she’s nervous.
“Abi, you’ll be fine,” I say, using her nickname with ease.
“I know, I just feel weird, it’s so stupid. It’s just Tristan, but he does funny things to my stomach,” she confesses, now moving her fidgeting fingers to her abdomen.
I give her a sympathetic smile as I know the feeling all too well.
Thankfully, this time around there is no naked caped crusader threatening to blind me and Abi with his junk. We ascend the stairs and both look at each other when we see the amount of people inside.
“Wow, I didn’t realize Tristan knew this many people,” I whisper to Tabitha as we begin squeezing our way through the crowd of people milling in the doorway.
Tabitha shrugs, looking over the heads of random strangers for Tristan.
We don’t have to look too far as we both see Tristan leaning up against a wall, being cornered by a not so subtle girl, wanting to give the birthday boy a big smooch.
I have to laugh at the expression on his face as he looks as comfortable as someone getting a prostate exam. I feel it’s my duty as his friend to save him. Reaching for Abi’s hand, I yank her over to where the girl is claiming she can make all of Tristan’s dreams come true.
“Happy birthday!” I shout a little inappropriately, but it works as the skank backs off to see who has just deafened her.
“Thank God you’re here,” he whispers, ducking around the girl and pressing a warm kiss to my forehead.
He pulls me to his chest and encloses me into a loose embrace. This is how Tristan usually greets me, even at work, and I’m starting to get used to it, as it feels kinda nice. But it is purely innocent, well, it is on my behalf.
“Hey, Abi,” he says, letting me go and giving Tabitha a warm hug, too.
I can tell she has died and gone to heaven being wrapped in his arms, and I give her a small wink over his shoulder.
Thankfully the bimbo got the message loud and clear, and has latched onto some poor chump to the left of me.
Tristan lets Tabitha go and huffs out a deep breath.
“Thanks for the save,” he smiles, and I’ve noticed he’s put his labret piercing back in.
I actually start noticing a lot more as he looks freakin’ amazing. He’s in tight, black jeans, black motorcycle boots, and a white shirt, which he has rolled the sleeves up on. A sliver of his chiseled chest is on display, as he has two buttons undone on the fitted shirt that hugs his narrow waist. His hair is styled to look unkempt, but it totally works with the dark stubble he has growing on his strong jaw.
I swear I see Tabitha’s jaw hit the floor, and I bite back a smile. I’ll have to remember to show her her Tristan look when we get back to the motel.
“So, who’s driving?” Tristan asks, looking between me and Tabitha.
“I am,” I reply, and Tristan looks a little disappointed that I’m not drinking, but he quickly recovers. “Come on, Abi, birthday shots,” he says, linking his arm around her shoulder, leading her toward the kitchen.
***
It’s been about an hour and I have scoped out the entire house, bar Quinn’s room, but no sign of him. Where is he? I’m not ashamed to admit that the fact he is once again MIA is more than upsetting, it’s fucking frustrating.
I would be pounding on his door right about now, but I have to keep an eye on Tabitha, as she’s extremely intoxicated, and Brad the douche is here, loitering around her. His little sidekick Malibu Stacey isn’t around, so he obviously thinks Tabitha is suitable boning material when he’s on his own. I’m proud of Tabitha as she has pushed his advances away, and continued having fun.
Tristan has been one popular birthday boy. Every girl in attendance has given him a birthday kiss, but I can tell he’s not interested in any of them.
I don’t want to think about who he is interested in as it gives me heartburn.
Lost in thought, I fail to notice the sofa cushion beside me dip until I hear his voice.
“Having fun?” Quinn asks into my ear.
Damn this response I have toward him. I will not succumb to that voice or keel over at his delectable scent.
“Yup,” I bluntly reply, refusing to make eye contact with him.
There’s a small silence between us, and I make no attempt to break it. As childish as this makes me, I just continue to sit vacantly.
“So, are you going to ignore me all night?” he asks, shuffling closer to me while I shift away.
I lift my shoulders in a nonchalant shrug. “I’m just playing by your rules, Quinn. You’re the one setting the pace, not me.”
Quinn seizes my chin and coaxes me to meet his eyes. His hold isn’t rough, as it’s more of a desperate act to get me to look at him. Begrudgingly, I move with him, and try not to melt when I do.
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” I scorn, pulling out of his grip. “You tell me it’s best if we stay away from one another, but every corner I turn, you’re there. If that’s not a clusterfuck of contradiction, then I don’t know what it is.”
I look down at his hands which are still scabbed and red.
“What happened?” I ask, gesturing with my chin to his knuckles.
Quinn is silent, allowing me to totally tear him down, as he knows I won’t stop.
“Would it have anything to do with this?” I ask as I raise my hips off the sofa, reaching into my pocket and pulling out the one hundred dollar note.
I throw it into his lap and cock an eyebrow, daring him to challenge me.
“That money is yours,” he says, eyeballing the note.
So I was right. I wasn’t certain if my theory was correct, as it was just too ridiculous to fathom. But now that he has confirmed it, I’m even more confused by what the hell is going on between us.
“I don’t need you to fight my battles for me. I’m not some damsel in distress that needs your saving. And this chivalrous act you’re pulling is pissing me off,” I retort, unable to stop. “I don’t know what about me makes you think I need your help, but let me clarify, I don’t. If you don’t like me or whatever, fine. But this whole ‘I will only hurt you,’ speech,” I lower my voice to poorly mimic his, “is a total cop out.” And then I take a breath.
“You done?” he asks with that stupid smile, tugging at his lips.
“Oh, not even by half,” I reply, shoving up my sleeves as I’m suddenly burning up.
One minute I’m sitting on the couch, and the next I’m straddling Quinn’s lap.
Looking down at him, my chest is pushing out into his face embarrassingly close as I’m about to hyperventilate, but his eyes never leave mine. He has one thumb hooked into my belt loop, which he used as leverage to pull me onto his lap so quickly. And the other is slung low on my waist, the tips of his fingers grazing my ass.
“Don’t go quiet on me now. I’m all ears,” he says, raising an eyebrow, mocking me.
“Let me go,” I say in a rushed breath as he hardens underneath me, which scares and excites me all at the same time.
“No,” he plainly replies. “You want this, Red, then you need to know what it feels like,” and he slowly lifts his
pointer finger, resting it on my lower lip.
He begins stroking it back and forth, dipping it into my mouth and rubbing my wet inner lip leisurely. “Being with me, it will consume parts of yourself you never knew existed. Are you ready for that? Can you give me everything, even though you know I will push you until you’re ready to break?”
My eyes droop to half mast and I am all but rocking on his lap, I’m so turned on. He stops stroking my lip and leans in, pressing his mouth to my slack lips. My eyes open in alarm, but he doesn’t open his mouth, or kiss me. It’s a simple, but deliberate unity of our lips. He pulls away, inches from my face, and I gasp when I am confronted, head on with such beauty.
“You see,” he whispers. “I would break you.”
I can’t believe the words that slip past my lips. “I want you to. Better to feel pain than nothing at all.”
Quinn raises an eyebrow, surprised by my admission.
That makes two of us.
Quinn runs the back of his fingers across my cheek, watching me closely, but I don’t waver, I want this. Sadly, our moment is ruined by a hysterical Tabitha.
“Quinn!”
We both turn to see her, red cheeked and panting out of breath.
“It’s Tristan,” she says, hands on knees, catching her breath.
I can feel Quinn stiffen under me.
“What happened?” he says, lightly pushing me off him, eyeing Tabitha closely.
“He’s outside, he’s fighting.” Tabitha takes another breath. “With your dad,” Tabitha concludes, eyes wide.
Quinn is up in a heartbeat and charging out the front door. Tabitha and I both follow him quickly, pushing the mingling crowd out of our way.
It takes us double the amount of time as it does for Quinn to get outside, and when we do, the sight before me is not a happy one.
The moonlight reflects off Quinn, who’s standing between Tristan and a man who is clearly their father.
Ben Berkeley is a tall man, and I can see who the boys get their dark hair and good looks from. But where kindness and warmth radiates out of Quinn’s and Tristan’s eyes, there’s nothing but hatred and iciness reflected in Ben’s.
“You little pussy, get back over here. Still getting your older brother to fight your battles for you? Nothing ever changes!” Ben slurs, trying to get past Quinn, who is like a brick wall, preventing his father from taking a step toward Tristan.
“Back the fuck off!” Quinn spits out, getting into Ben’s face. “Leave, before someone gets hurts.”
I push past the spectators, who are cheering and loving the spectacle before them. I want to punch them all in the face, but I need to get to Quinn.
As I jump down the front steps, the breeze slaps me in the face, and I cautiously stand a few feet away, ready to help Quinn if need be.
“Always the smart mouth, weren’t ya, boy? You’ll never learn your lesson. You think you can take me? C’mon then, give me your best shot,” Ben snarls, pointing to his chin, mocking Quinn to hit him.
Quinn clenches his jaw and exhales a deep breath through his parted lips.
“You are pathetic. Go crawl back to whichever hole you came out of. No one wants you here,” Quinn snarls, inches away from Ben’s face, and I can see him shaking in rage.
“Oh, my boy, that’s where you’re wrong. I think no one wants you here, seeing as you drove your mother away,” Ben says, shoving Quinn in the chest.
The shift in Quinn’s eyes is clear as day, and by the hard set of his jaw, I know he’s about to snap, so I take this opportunity to break into a sprint. Tabitha calls out to me to stop, but I can’t, and I don’t until I latch onto Quinn, stopping him from charging his father.
“Quinn, let it be. He’s not worth it,” I whisper into his ear, interlacing my fingers through his.
I can feel the rage pouring out of every fiber of his body, and I am actually frightened of the anger building within him.
He grinds down on his jaw and squeezes my hand so tightly, it is border lining on being painful. But I don’t flinch because I’m here for him in any way he needs me.
“Oh, you little faggot,” Ben chuckles, a beer bottle hanging loosely between his fingers. “Now you’ve got a girl fighting your battles.” He laughs malevolently, sipping his beer with most of it running down his chin, staining his grey t-shirt.
Quinn pushes me behind him, but I stand rigidly.
He turns his head slightly, his eyes still focused on his father, who is swaying drunkenly.
“Red, go inside. Take Tristan with you.”
I can hear the desperation in his voice, but leaving him alone out here with this maniac is something I just can’t do.
When I don’t move, he squeezes my fingers.
“Please,” he pleads.
With no other choice, I regretfully let his hand go and walk toward Tristan, who looks terrified. The look in his eyes is actually painful to watch, and I need to get him inside A-SAP because I don’t know what he’s thinking.
“Tristan, let’s go inside. Quinn has got this, okay?”
Tristan’s eyes finally meet mine, and I can tell by the glassiness in them, that he’s drunk.
“Come on, Tristan,” I say, holding my hand out to him. “Let’s go inside. I wanna go see Lucky. He’s probably lonely, cooped up in your bedroom all alone.” I feel like the lamest person for saying something so stupid, but I don’t know what else to say.
Tristan looks down at my hand and then back at Quinn, who I can hear is still getting abuse from his father. I have to try and block it out, because all I can think about is charging over there and headbutting Ben.
Finally he nods, gingerly taking my hand and giving it a small squeeze. I lead him around the back, as I don’t want him going anywhere near his father. He leans into me, wrapping an arm around my neck to balance himself as we sway up the stairs.
He bangs into the wall just before we enter his bedroom and I slam the door shut.
Letting out a pent up breath, I watch Tristan collapse onto his unmade bed, face first. I run over to him and sit evenly on the corner of the bed, not really knowing what to do. When he groans, which comes out muffled, as his face is squishing into the mattress, I hesitate before I run my hand lightly over his back.
“Are you okay?” I whisper, rubbing a circular motion in between his shoulder blades.
All I get in response is a grunt and a groan.
“Tristan? Can you hear me?” I ask in a whisper.
Another groan.
I stand up and crouch down by the bed, running my fingers through his silky hair.
“Tristan? Can you flip onto your back for me?” I say, wedging my hands underneath him, forcing him to roll over.
With a little coercion, I get him to comply, and he awkwardly rolls. His arm is twisted at an odd angle underneath him, so I reach for it and slowly slide it out and rest it on his stomach.
When I hear a knock at the door I jump up, hoping its Quinn.
“Paige?” Tabitha asks, poking her head around the door.
“Hi, Abi,” I whisper, standing up and walking over to her quickly. “You okay?” I ask as she looks a little green.
She shakes her head, her face paler than usual.
“Would it be okay if I went home with Alice? I know you probably want to stay and talk to Quinn. But I’m really not feeling too good.”
I nod hastily. “Yes, of course. Sorry I can’t take you, but I don’t want to leave Tristan alone.”
Tabitha completely understands and gives me a small smile. “No need to explain.”
“Is Quinn okay?” I ask nervously, biting my lip.
Tabitha shrugs. “His dad left when he threatened to call the police.”
I let out a breath I didn’t even realize I was holding.
“Thanks. Fuck,” I mumble under my breath. “Where’s Quinn now?” I ask.
Tabitha shakes her head. “I’m not sure. He just stormed off after his dad took off.”
Shit.
“Okay, thanks, Abi. Be safe,” I say, giving her a hug goodbye.
She looks over at the bed and makes a pained face.
“I hope he’s okay. Stay with him, Paige. He needs you.”
And she gives me a kiss on the cheek before softly closing the door behind her.
I pinch the bridge of my nose and close my eyes to center myself, but it doesn’t work. My legs begin to tremble, so I walk over and plonk onto the queen bed near Tristan.
Looking around his room, I take in the books that litter his messy desk, and see posters of obscure movies I have never heard of before hanging on his walls. And on the side table near me, sits a photo of Quinn, Tristan, and a lady, who I’m guessing is their mom. I quietly pick up the silver frame and look at the faces of three people who look so much alike.
There is no doubt Donna loves her boys, as she has both slender arms wrapped around Quinn and Tristan lovingly. There’s nothing extraordinary about her; she looks like an average, middle aged lady posing for a photo with her sons. But it’s what I can’t see that makes her exceptional. I know that inside this woman lies a fighter, someone who would sacrifice her own happiness for her children. She’s someone who would stand up for her kin when they were threatened and not think twice about it. She’s what every mother should be, and that’s what makes her extraordinary.
I think back to what Ben said about Quinn driving his mom away, and wonder what happened. What is the Berkeley family’s back story?
“Paige?” I hear Tristan groan.
I silently place the frame onto the bedside table and look over at him.
“Hey,” I whisper. “I’m here. Are you okay?”
Tristan moans and I can’t help the little laugh that slips past my lips.
“Will you stay with me tonight?” he asks, eyes still closed.
I hesitate, as I’m not sure if that’s such a good idea.
“Please,” he says softly.
I can’t say no to him, especially when he looks like death.
“Of course,” I reply, biting my lip.
His shoulders sag in relief, and I know I’ve made the right choice.
Tristan tries to kick off his boots, but fails miserably, so I edge down the bed to help him, as this will take all night if I don’t. I unlace his boots and slip them off, smiling to myself when I see him wearing Batman socks.