“Hey, you okay?”
I turn to find Tyler watching me with a sympathetic expression.
“Yes, sorry.”
I blush as his curious eyes watch me.
“Well, thank you for inviting me this weekend. It was…interesting,” he says.
I laugh despite the suffocating feeling in my chest. I like Tyler despite the fact that he’s nothing like Tristan. I’m almost certain that maybe in another life we could’ve been together.
“I’m sorry, for all of that earlier.”
He smiles.
“Hey, if I thought I had any chance of making you like me more than him…I would pounce on it.”
Tyler steps forward and plants a chaste kiss on my lips.
“If you ever come back to Oasis, text me. I would love to take you out.”
I wave weakly as I watch him step inside his white Mustang and peel away. I wish I could more than like him, but someone else has stolen my heart.
Several hours later, I find myself staring at the endless rolling sea. I keep telling myself if I just keep breathing, eventually, the pain inside my soul will dissipate. Ocean waves crash on the sand sending a cold ocean spray against me. I inhale with every receding wave and exhale as each one breaks across the sand.
I look down at the necklace in my hand that Tristan gave me years ago. The sterling metal is cool against my skin as I tighten my grip on it. Tears slide down my cheeks as a sickening feeling in my chest grows. The memory of naked skin flashes through my mind. My heart thrums against my chest at the memory of Ceci’s hands draped over Tristan. Their betrayal stings more than anything I’ve ever felt.
The chain of the necklace slips from my grip and I almost lose it in the water. I stare at it dangling from my hand. The small flower glistens.
I need to let you go.
It slowly begins to slip from my grip even more, but at the last minute, I catch it with both hands. The expression ‘my heart in my hands’ never rang so true. Tears freely flow down my face as I slip the wretched necklace in the pocket of my jeans. I feel defeated by my inability to even detach myself for one of Tristan’s things. How am I supposed to separate myself from him?
The more I move, the sicker I find myself. I’m practically on my knees when Ceci’s figure pops into view. She couldn’t have picked a worse possible moment to talk to me, but here she is. Pity stains her face as she approaches me. The sight of it boils my blood. I can't bring myself to even look at her. God, we’ve never been in a fight this long. Most of our arguments end with us making up within the hour.
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing,” I answer annoyed. “You should go.”
“I came to check on you.”
“If Tristan asked you to check up on me, you can tell him to go fuck himself—or fuck you.”
Ceci’s bored expression only makes it clearer that checking in on me is the last thing she wants to do. I don’t blame her. I just seem to be getting in the way of her end goal.
“Tristan just left back to the city. I wanted to check up on you.”
My eyes look up to find her gaze trained on me. I try to look away, but she steps closer and in my line of sight. Her expression is laced tight. It gives away nothing, and it’s hardly a look to make me think she’s worried about me.
“I’m sorry,” she finally says.
“You don’t understand, Ceci. You can’t just say I’m sorry and hope everything will be better.”
“I have to start somewhere. Unless you want to hit me in the face again.”
I laugh despite the pain that swells in my chest.
“Actually, that’s quite tempting.”
“Emily, I didn’t sleep with him,” she says, pulling out my phone from her pocket.
I was wondering where the hell it was, but I figured she probably chucked it overboard after I punched her. I scroll through the text messages she sent back and forth with Tristan. It pains me to think that his original intent was to ask me to his room, but somehow, he didn’t say a word when Ceci showed up.
“Even if I believed you, the damage is already done.”
“I know,” she says. “I just wanted to try to fix this.”
“I don’t know if you can, Ceci. If you knew I had feelings for Tristan, and that he had feelings for me, then why did you get in the middle?”
“I guess I was jealous. Tyler likes you. Tristan loves you. I suppose I wanted someone to care about me, too.”
My heart squeezes at her words.
Tristan loves you.
“He doesn’t love me.”
She laughs, bitterly.
“He does. He told me.”
I scan Ceci’s face to see if she’s bullshitting me, but her face remains stoic. She’s either getting really good at lying to me, or she’s telling the truth.
“I’m not going to say anything to Nicholas.”
“You’re not?” I ask surprised.
“No.”
Before I can ask her why, Ceci walks away and heads back to the beach house. A slow burn lights in my stomach and travels its way up my body at the memory of her words. Love is not a word I’ve ever heard Tristan say to me.
Emily
It’s been two weeks since the trip to the beach house, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Ceci’s words.
“He does. He told me.”
I’ve thrown myself into getting ready for my first semester back at school, but that only provides a temporary distraction. Even Augie has tried to break me from my never-ending bitch cycle, but I’m not sure how many more nights I can stomach being dragged to bars and parties with him and Harvey. I know they’re trying to help me get over Tristan, but every guy I meet only succeeds in pushing him higher in my mind. I’ve even avoided talking to my brother because I know he’ll ask why I was acting so strange the day we left the Hamptons.
My phone vibrates as I arrive at The Grind near NYU. My favorite morning macchiato is calling my name as I step in line behind a dozen other students. I fish for my phone in my pocket as I step up to place my order. I know I shouldn’t be expecting Tristan to call me, but a part of me misses hearing from him. The paintings that hang in the coffee house only manage to remind me of his art. Deep down inside, I know it’s one of the main reasons why I come to this coffee shop. Sitting among the bright colors has a homier feel. The Grind even has bookshelves where you can borrow books and return them when you want. It all works on an honor system, but lately I find myself more often taking books of poetry home to hoard.
Disappointment fills me at the sight of Augie’s number flashing across my screen. I’m surprised he’s calling me when he’s supposed to be meeting up with Harvey for lunch. The two have been getting pretty serious lately. It’s been less than a month and they’re already saying ‘I love you’ to each other.
My heart squeezes at the thought of those words. While I’m happy for Augie, I can’t help but feel a strange sense of jealousy. I honestly wish I could have their relationship. They make falling in love look easy. I reluctantly pick up his call.
“Emily?”
He sounds almost confused as if he was expecting my phone to go to voicemail.
“Hey, what’s up?”
“Where are you?”
I look around the coffee shop with curiosity. Is Augie here? The shop is packed with students taking summer classes. Half of them are either grabbing coffee or sitting to write papers.
“I’m heading back to the apartment in a few minutes.”
“Oh, okay…”
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“…I saw him.”
“Who are you talking about,” I ask.
“Tristan Knight.”
My heart stills at the sound of his name. Just hearing it brings back the memory of Tristan’s face as I told him I didn’t need him. I feel my knees growing weaker by the second as I still myself on a rack of coffee mugs for sale.
“He was walking down the opposite side of
the streets as us in the Meat Packing District. I swear I almost spit out my coke when I saw him. Harvey kept asking me if I was okay because I nearly choked,” Augie says.
“Why are you telling me this,” I ask, trying my best to sound unaffected by his revelation.
He chuckles softly into the phone. “Damn, you are still pissed. Don’t get me wrong, I would be, too…”
I step outside the line of students waiting to fill up on caffeine and head to the restroom. My cheeks warm as hot tears form at the corner of my eyes. I push my way past a cluster of sorority girls and lock the bathroom door behind me. Tightness fills my chest as I stare into the bathroom mirror. My once vibrant skin is now pale looking. Even my hair seems to have a mind of its own. The strands fall flatly on my face giving my hair a dead appearance.
“He asked for you.”
I curse to myself as I accidentally ram my knee into the sink countertop. I was so stupid to think the night we slept together would somehow fix what was broken between us. The only thing it’s accomplished is to cause me to feel like an idiot when he slept with Ceci. Sadly, I can’t even muster the energy to hate him when I know I should. I still carry the necklace on me that I almost lost at the beach.
“Augie, what are you doing?”
“Trying to tell you that I recognize pain and regret when I see it.”
For the past week, he’s been attempting to get me to entertain the notion that Tristan didn’t sleep with Ceci. I have a feeling he had a long talk with her and that’s the reason he’s been pushing it so hard. I can’t say I’m on good terms with Ceci. She’s trying, but I’m not ready to forgive her for jumping in bed with Tristan.
“He only regrets sleeping with her because he got caught.”
Augie laughs.
“Babe, he didn’t sleep with Ceci. How many times do you need to hear it?”
“Until my ears bleed, I guess.”
“You’re torturing yourself over nothing… By the way, I gave him your cell phone number again.”
“He has it,” I say, rolling my eyes.
“I think he needed a little encouragement to actually call you.”
I roll my eyes at Augie’s need to meddle in everything. I swear he’s worse than my father is. I can’t even get him to stop butting his nose into what classes I’m going to take this semester at NYU. I thought he was only over controlling with Nicholas, but it extends to all his children. A loud knock sounds cross the door of the bathroom as an impatient voice calls. Are you finished already? There’s a line for the bathroom!
“I have to go, Augie. I’ll see you tonight.”
“Fine, but before you hang up, Harvey and I got invited to this badass party. You have to come. It’s in Greenwich.”
“When is it?”
“Saturday.”
I roll my eyes as Augie’s excited squeal.
“I’ll go,” I finally say. “But don’t ditch me to make out in the closet again.”
“Okay.” He sighs. “And you should really call Tristan.”
You should! Harvey’s voice calls over the line. I laugh despite the pain that radiates in my chest.
I leave The Grind with the gnawing sensation that maybe Ceci wasn’t lying when she told me she didn’t sleep with Tristan.
Tristan
Today is one hell of a day.
Seeing Emily’s friend Augie was like a knife to the chest. I’ve been avoiding even the mention of her name. I’ve tested my limits of pain and realized that right now, Emily is a hard limit for me. All of my paintings are starting to take on a macabre feel. Even Sebastian Wolfe says I’m going a little too dark, and he’s one of my biggest clients.
I lean back into the seat of my car as I weigh the pros and cons of walking into the Pleasure Chest. This morning, a text message was waiting for me from Francesca, the sub I was spending time with before Emily walked back into my life. It’s not the temptation that led me all the way out here. No, it’s the need to forget. To feel in control after letting the woman I love slip through my fingers.
Felicity’s neon pink smile greets me as I enter the Pleasure Chest. Her eyebrows quirk up at me as I silently hand her my jacket and phone to store in coat check. Memories of Emily drift into my mind. The last time I was here was the night she came to the club. I haven’t been back since.
The club is thriving with an abnormal amount of guests as I step inside. To my dismay, Love Will Tear Us Apart by Joy Division is playing on the speakers. Fucking perfect.
I watch Felicity with irritation as she turns and places my belongings in the room behind her. She doesn’t say a word despite my silence, but I know something is on the tip of her tongue.
“What is it?” I growl.
“You look like shit.”
“I’m fine,” I lie.
Felicity brushes a hand through her long red hair as she rounds the corner. She crosses her arms over her chest and proceeds to stare at me with a critical look waiting for me to unravel.
“Are you here to see Francesca?”
There’s the million-dollar question.
“Yes.”
A look of disappointment crosses Felicity’s heart shaped face. She lets out a long sigh before handing me a key to room 23. A wave of anxiety passes through me. What if I feel worse after I do this?
“What happened to the blonde?” Felicity asks with curious eyes.
“Nothing.”
“Is that the problem?”
“This isn’t a gab session.”
She laughs and then points me in the direction of the individual playrooms.
“I hope you know you’re acting like an idiot,” she calls.
I ignore her and turn down the hallway to find room number 23. It’s set off to the side with a door painted red. My heart races as I turn the knob and walk inside. Despite the cool temperatures of the room, I feel my palms begin to sweat. I loosen my tie as I enter, hoping to stop the stifling rise of heat that I feel spreading across my skin.
Francesca waits for me inside on her knees. The dark-haired beauty looks up at me as I walk toward her. Her eyes are filled with primal hunger. She quickly tilts her head down letting me know that she’s ready and willing to surrender to me. I begin by rolling up my sleeves to my elbows. My dress shirt isn’t my regular clothing of preference when I do a scene, but today it will have to do. A smile of encouragement spreads across Francesca’s lips as I slowly pull a paddle from the display rack in the room. I’ll start slow. Maybe if I start slow, I’ll be fine.
Emily’s face pops into my mind as I walk over to the sub. The spanking that I gave Emily in bed left me itching for more. I shake my head to clear my thoughts, but the torn look on Emily’s face that day on the yacht plagues me. I can’t get her out of my fucking head. I slam my fist against the wall rattling the rack of floggers, leashes, and whips.
“What’s wrong, Tristan?”
Fuck, what am I doing? I quickly back away from Francesca and let the paddle fall to the floor.
Everything.
I leave the Pleasure Chest in a whirlwind. I don’t even bother grabbing my jacket from Felicity as she hands me my wallet, keys, and cell phone. It isn’t long before I’m near my apartment again trying to maneuver through traffic. The thought of being back at my studio gives me some peace, but it doesn’t drown the gnawing feeling of guilt in my stomach. I lift my phone from my pants and scroll through my list of contacts. Emily’s face pops on my screen. I stare at the picture that I secretly snapped of her at the beach. She wasn’t even aware of the candid I took as she swam in the water with her friend Augie. I click on her name as my phone dials her number. With each ring, my body begins to shake. Beads of sweat form on my forehead and on the back of my neck.
After several minutes, Emily’s phone finally goes voicemail.
“Emily, I love you. Please don’t delete this message.”
Emily
It’s funny how three little words can make or break you.
I love you.
It’s almost been three weeks now since I’ve spoken to Tristan. I thought his absence in my life would get easier, but it hasn’t been easy. I don’t feel like myself anymore. Every day seems a little less bright.
I’ve filled my days with reading to escape the reality outside my apartment. I get lost in pieces of literature where the hero and heroine always find their happy ending. Unfortunately, fiction doesn’t seem to translate well in real life. I’m starting to feel like happy endings were made for fools. Although Jane Austen would say, we are all fools in love. I’m just feeling a bit extra foolish today.
“Emily?”
A voice calls from behind me. I turn to find Augie dressed in a pair of plaid pajamas. Not too far off behind him is Harvey. My heart squeezes at the sight of them.
“Hey,” I say weakly.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“No.”
Tears rush forward as I bite back a sob.
“What’s wrong?”
Augie steps forward pulling me into his arms as he tries to soothe me. Shame overwhelms me as Harvey stands in the background unsure of what to say. This is so embarrassing. I’m making the worst impression with Harvey. The thought of it unleashes a flurry of tears. God, he must think I’m the most emotional person ever. Since he’s been here, all he’s seen me do is cry, watch RomComs, read, stuff my face with potato chips and then cry some more. I’m a walking hot mess.
Augie rubs my back as I try to regain my composure. I straighten out my shirt although it doesn’t help with the dripping mess on my face.
Drawn to You: Volume 3 Page 5