by James, Clare
She stumbles away from me so quickly it’s comical.
“And that’s a promise,” I say as I head for the door with my scoop of rocky road. I have the feeling it’s going to be a rocky one indeed.
ARIA
For the next few days, I’m able to avoid Tristan. Still, I feel him every night I go to sleep. The way his hands make my skin sing. The way his eyes rake over my body, bringing every nerve ending to the surface with a buzz. The way his anger seems to melt when he’s close.
My body’s in constant battle with my brain, which distinctly remembers that I’m supposed to hate him.
Thankfully, the daytime is easier. Working at the restaurant, taking care of Caden, and preparing for school keeps my mind busy and it doesn’t take long to settle into a routine. Most importantly, my son is at home here.
It’s made me think about what my little guy was missing by being away from his family. We followed Alex thousands of miles and saw him so little. Part of me wishes he’d served those divorce papers sooner. Maybe then I could’ve pulled my head out of my ass.
Still, I’ll never be free. Alex will always be Cade’s father, shitty one that he is.
“Aria,” Mom calls, snapping me out of my reverie. “Hurry up there. The lunch rush will be starting soon.”
I’m a little rusty working at the diner – particularly apparent as I try to help Jimmy prep in the kitchen. I chop veggies while the big hulk of a man gently and cautiously prepares his famous soups. It’s quite adorable. Today, he’s whipping up gazpacho. My absolute favorite.
“You haven’t changed a bit, Ari.” Jimmy takes my knife from me, showing me the proper way to hold it. “Your chopping technique still stinks.”
Jimmy’s taught me most everything back here. Other than Mom, of course. When we were little and Mom was off doing the books and serving out front, it was Jimmy who would entertain us back here. It was just him and his wife, Kate. They never had children, so he kind of adopted us. His wife died of breast cancer two years ago. It hurts I wasn’t here for him during that time.
So even though I hate – absolutely detest – being told what to do, I let him show me the proper way to wield a knife. Though if I haven’t mastered it yet, I think it’s a lost cause.
“Grasp the blade firmly between your thumb and the knuckle of your index finger, curling your other fingers around the handle. Don’t put your finger along the spine of the knife, because it removes all control.”
It does work better, and I’m flying through the chopping. Too bad the technique isn’t going to stick. My hands have their own way of doing things and I can’t change now. I finish up my last carrot when Serena comes in with Cade and the boys. I’m so excited to see him, the knife slips from my hand.
So, I reach out for it and Jimmy lunges for me.
“Aria, you never, never grab a falling knife,” he says. “Especially these knives. You’d get a nasty injury and your mom would kill me.”
“Sorry, sorry,” I tell him. “I know better. I promise I will get back into the swing of this place soon.”
“It’s okay,” Jimmy says. “We all have a natural instinct to grab for anything that’s falling. You just need to overcome it.”
Jimmy the chef and philosopher.
“You okay, Mommy?” Cade asks.
“I am now that you’re here.” I tackle him for a hug. “How’s it going?”
“I’m sorry,” Serena says. “We shouldn’t have snuck up on you, but Cade really wanted to see his mama.”
I give her a squeeze next, and by her doe-eyed expression I can tell I’ve taken her by surprise. Serena takes such good care of Cade while I work at the restaurant. She signed up for playtimes, music classes, and tennis of all things. She may not think the most of me, but Cade? She’s in love and will make sure he has the best.
Things between the two of us are getting better though. We actually laugh and have meals together sometimes. It’s like we’re getting to be real sisters again, and the dreaded competition between us seems to have faded. Maybe because she finally realizes that I’m not perfect. She was so mad when I left with Alex. Then again, she’s always hated competing for attention.
Serena and I have always been so different – she’s all about sports and the outdoors with a no apologies approach to life. I was always more girly; particular and fussy; never quite feeling understood, which made me defensive at times. Serena was always the stronger one, she just never knew it. Since I’ve been back though, I see a big change. She’s settling into her own and it’s satisfying to see her in action – her work as a nanny, her education, the way she helps Mom manage the business side of the diner. Right now, Serena’s kicked off a social media plan to improve business.
“How’s he doing?” I ask when Jimmy distracts the boys with an enormous bowl of whipping cream he made for the pies.
“It’s going great,” she says. “No need to worry. He’s doing just fine. We’re having grilled cheese at Jack and Philly’s after this and then going down to the beach to gather rocks for our art project.”
“Art project? Sounds impressive.”
“You just wait until you see our daily –” Serena stops talking mid-sentence, staring over my shoulder with pure delight.
I turn around and follow the path of her gaze.
“What are you looking at?” I ask.
“Shhh,” she says, watching as Mom comes into the kitchen.
Mom and Jimmy take turns feeding the kids. It’s so endearing, I almost tear up. But then, for the briefest moment, Jimmy slides his hand on the small of Mom’s back. It’s there and gone before I can blink.
Serena grins. “He’s getting bolder. Won’t be long now.”
“Long for what?” I ask. “What have I missed?”
“Jimmy sports a hard one for Mom.” She giggles.
“Eww.” I shake off the disturbing image.
Serena does a little dance, clearly proud of herself.
“What’s that now?” I ask once I regain my composure. “Jimmy wants Mom? Are you sure?”
“You saw it yourself.”
“Does Mom know?”
“The lady’s clueless.” Serena shakes her head.
“Do you think she’d be interested?” I ask.
“Definitely. It’s Jimmy. He’s great, plus I’m pretty sure he’s packing.” She wiggles her brows.
“You’re gross,” I tell her.
“Just honest.” She shrugs.
I shake my head at my crude sister. I had no idea she had turned into such a pig. I’ve missed her so much.
“Should we tell her?” I ask.
“Not yet,” she says knowingly. “Some things you just need to find out on your own.”
I want to pry some more but the pace is picking up and I still have a list of things to get done. Serena gathers the boys, and before I know it, the lunch crowd files in.
“Order up,” Mom says when I get out on the floor. “Table eleven.”
Great, it’s the tennis girls. I went to high school with them, though they were a few years younger than me.
Yay, looks like everyone is back in town for the summer.
And right in the center of the group is Lissa. Alex’s ex. She was the girl he dumped right before he decided to take me to the prom. Her sour-lemon face tells me she hasn’t forgotten.
“Hi, ladies,” I say when I reach the table. “Cobb salads all the way around?”
They nod and continue their conversation. Some things never change. I pass the salads starting from the left, but when I land on Lissa’s place setting, she grabs my wrist.
“No, no, no,” she whines. “I said no avocado.”
This isn’t my table. I’m just running the food today to help out, so I check the ticket.
“Oh, sorry,” I say. “It isn’t noted here, but I’m happy to get you a new one.”
“Do you think I’m lying?” She leans forward, her mouth still puckered.
“No, of course not. Just a sim
ple mistake, I’m sure.”
“Yes, you know all about those, right?”
The other girls shift in their seats, clearly uncomfortable. Everyone knows of Lissa’s temper; it is legendary. Back in the day, I could handle her with ease and was able to deliver a tongue lashing that shut her up for days. But I couldn’t exactly do that here, plus I was no longer in my element.
Still, I wasn’t going to let her get to me.
“I’ll be right back, Lissa,” I tell her.
“Don’t bother. It’ll be too late. Just give me that one.” She reaches for the plate.
“Hang on. It will only take a second.” I try to move away, but her grasp is tight.
“Just give it to me, Aria,” she says, tugging on the plate.
I tighten my grip, so I can set it down in front of her, but when I shift my fingers, Lissa lets go and the whole thing comes flying back at my chest.
Covered in salad, I try to slide most of it off my uniform and onto the plate. But the avocado in question, and the eggs, tomato, and blue cheese are smeared across my boobs. Lissa and her gang snicker.
Ugh, I forgot how much I could hate Gulf Bay.
The worst part?
When I look up and Tristan is right there staring back at me.
TRISTAN
“Tris,” Lissa calls over when she sees me. Damn, that girl has always been a little bitch. And even though it gives me great pleasure to watch Aria squirm, I’m not at all pleased that Lissa is the one to do it.
When I first moved back, Lissa and I had a teensy thing. It was a moment of weakness, or loneliness, or horniness. But it’s over. At least on my end. Unfortunately, Lissa’s calls haven’t stopped.
Aria continues to clean the mess off herself and the table. Her face is crimson and I know this can’t be easy for her.
“Movie tonight, babe?” Lissa asks me. “There’s a new sci-fi that I think you’d like.”
I feel Aria’s eyes on me, but I won’t let myself look at her.
I don’t want to make a scene, so I simply say, “Sorry, I need to prepare for tomorrow. Some other time, maybe.”
“Sure,” she says, defeated. But then stands up to give me a chaste peck on the lips.
This time I can’t avoid her and Aria meets my eyes with a vicious glare. It’s both chilling and exciting. If she hates me as much as she lets on, I doubt she cares who I’m hooking up with. Yes, if I didn’t know better, I’d say Aria is jealous about Lissa. A thought that makes me feel like a fucking king.
I take a seat in the booth and as Aria retreats back into the kitchen, I can’t help but worry. It’s become apparent that there’s more than just lust still lingering between us and that isn’t a good thing. Lust and sex I can handle, but any other emotions would only muddy the waters.
One of the other servers meets me at my table and I order a coffee and ham and cheese sandwich, secretly hoping Aria will be the one to deliver it.
Not fucking wise, Green.
I crave more of that flickering energy between us. It’s quite possible I’m becoming addicted to it.
Aria comes out several minutes later in a new shirt, a white one this time, and I’m enough of an ass to obsess over the black bra I can now see under it. Not to mention the tips of her hard nipples that strain against the fabric. In my mind, that part is because of me.
I adjust my too-tight pants and eat my lunch, deciding that coming here was a bad idea. I can’t continue to torture myself this way. It’s time to tell her my idea, and then let it go. If it works? Great. If not, I’ll move on.
Eating slower than I usually do, I wait to get her attention but she never comes by my table. I wonder why.
The lunch crowd has dwindled and Aria sneaks out the side door. I quickly pay my check and follow her to the alley where she’s sitting on an overturned plastic bucket, reserved for the staff smoking breaks. Aria doesn’t smoke, instead she leans her head against the brick wall and closes her eyes.
“Sorry about what happened back there,” I say.
Not bothering to open her eyes, she responds, “No worries. Nice choice in girlfriends though, Tris. Bravo.”
“She’s not my girlfriend.”
“Sorry, fuck buddy, is it?” She opens her eyes and stands up, as if preparing for a fight.
There goes that flickering again.
“She is not my fuck buddy,” I tell her, carefully setting the stage and trying not to ogle her gorgeous tits in that sexy-as-fuck black bra. “I’m not involved with anyone right now.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
“I’m not saying that isn’t what Lissa wants, but I can assure you, I don’t.”
“I just can’t believe you hang out with people like that now, Tris. What happened to you?”
“Me?” I ask, feeling my own face burn. “Look at what’s happened to you. Never would you have taken the shit those girls were dishing out. Not the Aria I knew.”
“That Aria is dead,” she says, each word forced out. She looks small as she says them.
It has me staggering back, a shot to the gut.
She seems so defeated, so beaten down as she stands in front of me with her slumped shoulders and dark circles under her eyes. Yet she’s still the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever laid my eyes on. I can’t fucking stand it. For the first time since high school, I can’t push these thoughts out of my head. I can’t compartmentalize Aria.
I try to find the right words for comfort, to take away whatever feeling that’s made her look this way. Before I can, instinct takes over.
The heat burning in my gut bubbles up. My movements are no longer my own as I press her up against the wall with an insatiable need to cover, protect, heal.
I take her arm and press a wet kiss inside of her elbow. Her salty taste stirs something in me and suddenly I’m ravenous, nipping down her arm to her wrist. When I reach her fingers, I draw each one into my mouth, savoring her flavor.
I want more.
“Tris,” she whispers, as her pupils dilate.
My next actions are far from romantic, or polite. I know that. I should pull back, move slower, or more gently. It’s too late. Tugging on her uniform skirt, I bunch it up so I can reach underneath. This is better; I have more room to work my way up the inside of her legs. More room to test her, to feel her. It’s almost too much, this raw chemistry that wipes everything out of my head but her. At the same time, it’s not enough.
Aria trembles, but I don’t go any further. Not yet. Instead, I move to the outside, toward her lush hips. I trace her amazing curves, before wrapping my hands around them. Then I grip down and hold her still in my hands. This action, however, is more for me.
Once my breathing settles, I use my thumb to trace tiny circles on her sharp hip bone. She moans at my touch, so I hold on tighter, almost rough. Without a second thought, I know it’s exactly what she needs.
Christ, her body is on fire under here. A delicious secret she’s been hiding. Her skin is smooth – and fuck… wet. The insides of her thighs slick with her arousal. I bite down on my tongue to keep my hand from shaking. I can’t fuck this up.
Aria’s not embarrassed, and that makes her even more appealing. She holds my gaze as my fingers come in contact with her soaking panties, and any last thoughts of apprehension dissolve.
“Just as I thought,” I say low in her ear, pushing the piece of lace between her legs off to the side. “You’re still alive, Aria. Alive and so fucking tempting.”
Her folds are swollen and heated, but they separate easy, allowing for more access. I take it, tracing her seam with one long finger. Aria’s head falls back against the brick wall with a thud.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
Her lips part before she answers, “Please don’t stop.”
No chance of that happening, sweetheart.
I want to nip at that mouth, suck on that juicy bottom lip, invade her with my tongue, but somehow that seems even more intimate than what we’re doing right now and I’m
afraid it would break the spell.
So instead, my fingers continue to explore.
ARIA
My world spins out of control. It’s like I’m in a dream sequence in a movie and Tristan is the director. Guiding me. Showing me. I’ve given up all my power in this moment to be in his capable hands. All I know is him. His rough, deep voice. His stormy eyes. His woody, masculine scent. All I feel is the sensation of his touch, his fingers slowly stroking up and down my sex, working their way deeper.
It’s paralyzing.
But though my body might be tight and rigid on the outside as I stand propped between Tristan and the brick wall, my insides have liquefied. And the voice in my head is screaming, More! More! More!
On some level, Tristan must know because he continues his glorious assault on my body without waver. He knows what he’s doing, knows how he’s making me feel, and I swear he’s getting off on it.
In a moment of clarity, I test my theory. I let my hands wander. Not wander so much as head straight for the prize. I palm him over his pants, elated that he’s filled out here as well, and I squeeze his thick length.
With both hands now, I do my own exploring. Over his pants. Under his pants. He throbs in my hands. I slide one hand down, and under, to cup him, while I use the other to stroke. Alternating the pressure and speed almost brings him to his knees.
I get lost in his reactions. A hiss. A grind against my hand. A nip to my neck.
I continue. Faster. Harder. Then, I’m rewarded with the most guttural sound I’ve ever heard a man make. It vibrates low in my core. And now it’s Tristan’s head that lobs backward.
It’s the strangest sensation. I’ve despised this guy for so long – for everything he’s said and thought about me. For hurting me. Yet being with him like this, giving and taking pleasure, it’s such a potent drug. The power I feel in the moment is extraordinary, yet difficult to fully understand.
That intense feeling of control doesn’t last though. I’m sure that’s by his design. Because in the very next moment, his thumb finds my clit and pushes down so hard I lose my breath for a second or two.