Counterpart (Succubi & Incubi Assn.)

  “Huh?” I was so engrossed with the weird movement inside me, that I completely forgot what we were talking about.

  “Would you give out to a 40 year old guy?” he asked.

  I instantly cringed and tried to hold my face from contorting. “No way, I may love sex but I have standards.”

  So much for those standards. I almost felt sick that I did what I did and how it got me nowhere. Until now that is.

  “Tristan.” It was all my voice would come up with, and I didn’t even say it. It was more like I exhaled his name out. “What are you talking about?” I didn’t know if it would work, but my way of distracting was almost causing a bunch of heat to reach my cheeks—and I hardly ever blushed or got embarrassed.

  Tristan was confused by my actions and honestly, I couldn’t blame him. “You said that you were sorry—that you did it for him. Who's him?”

  How the hell was I supposed to answer that? 'Oh, I’m just letting Geoff here know that I’m terribly sorry for his death, and that I didn’t mean for my affection towards you to get in the way'. Yeah, I don’t think that was going to go down well. “I have no idea what you're talking about.”

  “Maya—”

  “What are you doing here anyway? I thought everyone was leaving.” Why the hell had everyone not left yet?

  I’m not sure if he decided to let go of his curiosity, or he just didn’t realize that I changed the subject, but either way, he took the bait. “I told Melinda to send you down. I saw you over there earlier. If you were planning on hiding, you should try a different spot than one that's in plain view.”

  Note to self: tell Ethan that he sucks at hiding spots. “Noted.”

  We were silent for a long minute, and within that sixty seconds, I watched his body move towards mine. It was like watching one of those fashion shows, where that really manly looking male model walked down the runway, suit-clad, hair perfectly done, and a casual hand placed deeply in the pockets of the slacks.

  It was literally making me want to run away before I attempted to touch what was underneath that suit.

  He’s immune to you, Maya. But he doesn’t want you. Remember what happened a few days ago, when he told you that he didn’t want to see you again? REMEMBER?

  “So, you want to tell me what happened?”

  My inner monologue was fighting against me. My demon was fighting against my inner monologue. I literally felt like three different people wanted to come out. “Nothing happened.”

  “Bullshit.” He stopped right in front of me and it was like being in an interrogation room. The air around me was getting thinner by the second—or maybe that was me holding my breath.

  I don't know why I was acting like this, the multiple personalities, the want then the hate. Knowing the fact that he had a piece of me in him was nerve wrecking.

  And, then it hit me.

  That’s why I always wanted Tristan—why my demon always craved for his touch—she was missing her other half. I wondered how long it had been since Conrad and Bethany had been together? Centuries, I presume.

  Poor, demon, you must’ve felt so lonely.

  Wait, why am I even apologizing? She put me here... with the help of me, I guess.

  “Maya?”

  “Huh?”

  His blue eyes were narrowed cautiously, his hand outstretched like he was just about to touch me but thought against it. “I wanted to talk to you about the other night.”

  I didn’t even need to ask what night he was talking about. There was only one. “I think everything was said then and there.”

  “No.” No? Was there more? A pained expression seemed to take a hold of him then, and he turned sideways. “Can we go sit somewhere?”

  I was hesitant for a reason. If he only wanted to talk to me and give me more reasons to kill Tori, I wasn’t up for it. Then again, he said he didn’t want to see me, and here he is. Maybe it’s a turn around. “Okay.”

  We found a nice bench not far from where we were. It sat underneath a tree, shading away the suns bright glares. Not much people were here, except for the ones that had come to see their loved ones, and the ones that were still leaving from Geoff’s funeral.

  I couldn’t help but realize that while we walked to the bench, Tristan was quiet. Stuck in his own silence, it was like he was preparing a speech. I didn’t know if I wanted to be nervous... or anxious.

  “I really don't know how I'm going to say this,” he said after sitting down.

  The mood that we were in felt like a familiar territory—like we’d been here before—and it was kind of true. This was the same mood we had that night of our 'friendship break-up’. No wonder I was feeling the anxiety. “Just say it.”

  “I'm sorry.”

  The two words caught me off guard. I didn’t think he was going to apologize, but he did. “Why?”

  He was facing me now, and his hands had taken my own. It was so sudden but the same burst of energy that flowed through me wasn’t surprising—I mean, come on, his hands are holding mine. “I hated what I did. And, I’m sorry I said all of those things. I didn’t want to hurt you—I didn’t want you to walk away, but you did.”

  His eyes never once left mine, and I was sure I could feel some form of lump start to travel up my throat. Then something hit me. “You knew what you were doing?”

  He nodded slowly. “Yeah, and I felt like shit because of it.”

  So he wasn't compelled. He actually meant to say those things to me that night. He really did want to end the friendship. And here I was, going to take it out on Malibu Barbie.

  I didn't speak, only because I was having an internal fight with myself. Half of me was kind of angry at him, while the other half was laughing at myself for thinking that he didn't mean to do what he did.

  “I don't know what came over me, Maya. I was so confused. I was trying to be a good boyfriend.” He let out a short laugh like it was a joke.

  I obviously didn't get the joke. “So you broke the friendship to be a good boyfriend?”

  He nodded. “Stupid huh?”

  “You don’t want to know my opinion,” I muttered.

  He chuckled and then I felt his palm touch my cheek. Things were suddenly serious as his face moved close to mine, yet managing to stay a good distance. “Before Tori came into the picture, I tried to take our relationship past the friendship stage, but every time I did that, you just shrugged it off. Then Tori came, and I guess it was a way of just moving on from knowing that you didn't want anything out of it but a casual make out session.”

  Why was he telling me this?

  “I want you back, Maya. The past year and a half have felt like torture. I’ve tried so many times to get you out of my head, but you wouldn’t leave. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

  “What about Tori?” I felt my lips moving, and I heard my own voice but I was so lost in his confession that my mouth was on auto-pilot. Why should I even care about Tori?

  “She’s gone,” he murmured, resting his forehead against mine. I felt the pad of his thumb run across my bottom lip. “I don’t want her. I want you.”

  I didn’t believe him when he said she was gone, only because I had the slightest feeling she wasn’t. “You guys aren’t together anymore?”

  Shaking his head, I felt his hand slid down the side of my face, his fingers brushing along my neck. “I broke it off.”

  “How did she take it?” I wasn’t worried, but I’d like to be prepared. If she was pissed, then catching her might be easier than we thought.

  “She seemed fine with it. I really don’t see how we’ve dated this long.”

  “Yeah, three months must be a long time for you.”

  He chuckled. I grinned. Something about this moment felt perfect.

  There was a slight feeling starting to happen in my chest. I didn’t know how to explain it but something was aching inside. I just wanted to lean forward, wrap my arms around him and inhale the scent of his cologne—all while making passionate love together.
But how could I do that with the guilt of Geoff’s death still lingering in front of me. “Tristan, I—”

  “I know, I know,” he cut me off. “You can’t give me what I want. But what I want is to be there for you, to be the shoulder that you lean on. That’s all.”

  I wish he wouldn’t keep saying things that make me want him even more. I was trying to tell him about Geoff and he was practically offering his whole body to me. “You don’t under—”

  “Maya—“

  “Tristan, please—”

  “I just want to be a part of your life, again.”

  “Tristan—” Seriously.

  “I’ve missed you, Maya.”

  Ugh, fuck you, hormones. You show up at the worst times.

  “I slept with Geoff. There, I said it. I slept with him, and now he’s dead.” I needed to rip the Band-Aid off, because at the rate we were going, it was like someone was slowly peeling it off, causing more pain. I had to admit, it felt like a relief letting that all out. Then I wanted to jump under a bridge and live there until I died.

  Good one, idiot, you just told Tristan that you had sex with is mentor—his 43 year old mentor, might I add.

  I was too scared to look in his eyes, and at some point his hands had slipped away from my face, leaving me to only wonder what he was thinking.

  He faced his body to the front, his eyes going from narrowed to wide in about three seconds. “You slept with Geoff? When?”

  I instantly regretted saying the words now, only because now Tristan was acting like he was regretting everything that happened before. I considered lying to him. I honestly was about to full on lie. But this was Tristan. And, as much as I couldn’t tell him some things, I wanted there to be an honest passage between us.

  “The day you got your fight back,” I whispered. My hands felt lonely without his there to embrace, and I felt like a cold breeze had started to linger around me. It was silent. It was excruciating.

  But it was better than what I was about to receive.

  “That’s how I got my match back,” he said to himself.

  I nodded, even though he wasn’t asking nor looking at me. I was scared to know what was about to happen. I was almost at the point where I was about to get off this bench and start pacing.

  “My whole match is a fraud.”

  What? “No. Tristan—” I moved my hand up, so I could move his face towards mine, but he moved.

  “Don’t touch me.” His words stung, and he got off the bench. At least he was finally looking at me now. Those blue eyes were wide, but I could see something else in them... Sad? Pain? I felt like I had been rejected, and my whole body was starting to feel numb. He didn’t want me to touch him. I disgusted him.

  “Why did you do it, Maya?” He was watching me like he was begging for a reasonable explanation. One I couldn't give him.

  “I have no excuse. I thought it would make you happy if you got your match back.” Just hearing my own words made me think I was crazy. But how could I tell him that I was feeding the demoness inside me too?

  “You... you slept with my mentor?” I could hear his voice growing cold and hard. “You thought that would make me happy?”

  I could feel his words from before as they mocked me inside my head. Stupid huh? “I wasn’t thinking at the time.” These were seriously the only things I could come up with. They were as close to the truth as I could take them.

  “Obviously.” He let out non-humored laugh. “I was wrong about you.”

  My heart pounded against my chest, pulsating in my ears. I was in defensive mode instantly. “Tristan, you don’t understand.” I wasn’t doing it all for you. There was my demon too.

  He was suddenly standing in front of me. “You want to know what I don’t understand, Maya?” I had a sickening feeling that I didn’t. “For the past two years, I’ve watched you go from man to man. No relationships, just sleeping around. I’ve let it pass, as long as I got to keep you around.” I watched as his hands clenched into fists. “I’ve watched people touch you in ways I wanted to—even if it’s a simple hand hold. Then you do this. Of all things.” He ran a single hand down his face, and it hurt when I noticed his face contort. “You’re killing me, Maya. You don’t even realize it, but you’re killing me.”

  “Please, don’t say that.” My voice was weak. Never did I want to hear those words from him.

  “Why is it, Maya?” Tristan’s eyes searched through mine, trying to find out a solution to his problem. “Why is it that they all get a chance, yet I’m left on the sidelines?”

  “Because...” You’re special.

  “Why?” he pushed further.

  “I didn’t want to hurt you.” It was the truth.

  “What makes you think you would’ve hurt me?”

  “Because at the time, I was pretty sure I was going to hurt any male that walked into my life.” And, that feeling was still there. He was the exception.

  “So, you slept around? You’re... being with guys you don’t even know because you plan on hurting them? What did we do to you?”

  “It’s not that—”

  “Then what is it?”

  “Please, just hear me out.” I was surprised by my own hard voice and so was he. But it worked, he remained standing, his lips pressed shut. I tried to come up with a quick solution, or plan to end this subject. How did I tell him that I slept around to live? How could I possibly tell him that I didn’t even enjoy half the sex sessions I’ve had? I couldn’t. Nothing that came into my head would help the situation I was in.

  “Tristan, I’m not who you think I am.” I was so on the verge of telling him, spilling everything out, doing anything that could fix this.

  “That’s all you’re going to give me?”

  You tell him, and the SIA will be on your ass… and, he’ll probably think you’ve gone crazy, so you’re at a loss.

  “It’s all I can say.”

  I begged with my eyes, trying to get him to just take those words and trust me. But it was either he was immune to my stare, or he was just ignoring that I was trying to make it work.

  “Okay.” He stuck both his hands in his pockets, taking a step back. “I get it.”

  “Tristan—” I tried again.

  “No, it’s okay.” He nodded his head, but I knew it was just him giving up. “I understand, Maya.”

  But that’s the thing. You don’t understand, Tristan.

  It was like my voice box wasn’t working. I couldn’t speak. All I could do was try to push down the large lump threatening to come out.

  “Do you know what sucks?” he spoke after a few seconds of silence. “I remember this amazing girl who told me she had standards.”

  I knew exactly what he was talking about. It was one of the memories that always lingered in my head because he was in it. When I was around him, I was me.

  I could feel his body moving away from me, and when I looked up he was at least a few feet back. The next words he said was something that perfectly ended this conversation—if we were having a 'let’s see who can burn the other' fight. “If you see her, let me know. Because I haven’t seen her in a while and frankly, she’s better.”

  I suddenly knew what he felt like when I walked away. His footsteps sounded and soon enough they were non-existent. I couldn’t even find it in myself to chase after him. Even if I did, I wouldn’t know what to say.

  I was lost.

  I thought I was going to get him back, but he slipped through my grasp, again. I didn’t move for what felt like ten minutes. I felt numb. I didn’t feel like I had a heart beat, or if I was even a succubus.

  I just felt like a broken keyboard, begging for someone to fix me and make me better again.

  When I arrived back at the car, Melinda was the first to notice my mood.

  “That fucking bastard!” she exclaimed, “I thought he was going to apologize.”

  “He did,” I said quietly, opening up the driver’s seat. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I just wan
ted to go home.

  “What did he do?” she inquired as she got into the backseat.

  “I don’t want to talk about it. Are we ready to go home?” I started up the car anyway, not caring if we were leaving now or not.

  I looked over to Ethan and he was watching me with a brow arched. I shook my head, not wanting to go through explaining it.

  On the way home, I ignored everyone. My mind was only interested in one thing. It wasn’t Tristan, surprisingly. No, but it was something that always took the edge off everything. Something I planned to grab as soon as I got home.

  Alcohol.

  Eighteen – Just Give Me My Tequila, I’ll Be Good

  It was safe to say that I wasn’t a happy camper when we got home.

  “Whoa, what’s up with her?” Daniel said after I had walked straight past him, heading straight for the kitchen. “What happened?”

  “Tristan pissed her off, again.” I heard Melinda reply.

  I didn’t want to be in the same funk that I was in a couple of days ago, and I wanted to get rid of the dreaded feelings that were pooling inside me.

  I knew there was a bottle of something around here, and luck was on my side when I found tequila sitting in one of the cupboards.

  Score.

  When I walked back into the living room, I noticed Ethan had gone. I didn’t have many options to choose from on where he was going. It was either he went down to report to Rosa, or he didn’t want to see my ignorant mood that I was getting myself into.

  Twenty minutes later, I had nearly drunken half the bottle of tequila by myself. I savored the burn that went down my throat. I could feel my mind and body start to feel light, and I liked it. Melinda and Daniel didn’t say anything, and even though I wouldn’t talk or look at them, I knew they were watching every move I did, probably waiting for me to do something stupid.

  Which, I seem to do a lot lately.

  I felt the couch dip down and Daniel’s arm rested around my shoulders. I didn’t push it off—frankly, his arm felt like Tristan’s and it felt comforting in an I miss Tristan kind of way.

  Ugh.

  “Want me to smash him?” I knew he was joking, judging by the smirk that was on his face, but even I couldn’t help but think of the odds Daniel would have against Tristan.