by Meg Jolie
“This is why you wouldn’t talk to me?” he demanded. His eyebrows shot up in question. The shock was evident in his voice. “You’ve got to be joking.”
I glanced over my shoulder at Tristan. He raised his eyebrows, almost imperceptibly. Again wondering if he was doing the right thing. I leaned a little tighter into him and his grip became more firm.
“Whatever,” Corey said. His voice almost sounded disgusted. His eyes raked over the both of us then landed on mine. His gaze was cutting and he sighed. I waited, thinking he was going to toss something snide our way. He just shrugged and muttered, “My loss,” before heading back inside.
“Huh,” Tristan said softly from behind me, “that went well.”
I turned around, still in his grip and slid my arms around his neck. He was still leaning on the railing so several inches were knocked off his height. His eyes were level with mine.
“Thanks,” I told him as I tightened my arms around him in a hug.
“Trust me, not a problem,” he said as he hugged me back.
I found my face buried in his neck. “You always smell so good,” I admitted.
I felt his chest heave slightly in a silent laugh. “Yeah?” he asked as his grip tightened just a little.
“Yeah,” I said. I made no attempt to move away until my phone alerted me to Jamie’s response. I slid my arms from Tristan’s neck but he kept his loosely around my waist.
“She said we can leave without her,” I told him as I read the message. “Krista said she can just stay here.”
“So you want me to take you home?” he asked.
I nodded. “I guess so. You haven’t been drinking, have you?”
“I had a beer,” he said.
I rolled my eyes because I doubted that was true.
“Half a beer,” he amended. “Two hours ago.”
That sounded more likely. And really, I doubted he’d even had that much.
“Let’s get out of here, then,” I said.
His hands slid away from me and I wasn’t sure which one of us looked more reluctant to see them go.
7
The heeled boots that I’d been so excited to wear earlier in the evening proved to be a bit treacherous when sleet and two cups of beer were involved. I teetered along on the sidewalk in the dark, next to Tristan. I didn’t speak to him because I was concentrating on staying vertical.
Stupid high heels that don’t want to work on the ice. Stupid me for wearing the stupid high heels that don’t want to work on the ice, I thought as I hobbled along. I had left my jacket inside, not wanting to deal with Corey. I was sure Jamie would see it and bring it to me later.
When I inevitably toppled, a snow bank broke my fall, swallowing me up in one icy gulp. I had opened my mouth to let out a shriek. The shriek never came because it was blocked by a mouthful of snow.
I started to push myself back out, already feeling humiliated knowing that my back end was sticking out in the air. I felt Tristan’s hands on me. He grabbed onto my waist and plucked me out and settled me onto my feet.
“You all right?” he asked.
I spit out the mouthful of snow. Then I shook some crusted ice off of my shirt and scraped it off of my bare arms. I could feel the chill bumps that were already evident.
“F-fantastic,” I said around a shiver.
“Here,” he said as he yanked his hoodie off, over his head. He started to stuff me inside of it before I could protest. He wrapped his arms—now bare with only his t-shirt on—around me as my teeth started to chatter.
His lips twitched up in a smile.
“Don’t laugh at me,” I muttered.
“I’m not,” he unconvincingly assured me as he released me from the hug. He kept an arm around me as we finished the dangerous journey to my car. I thought he was trying to keep me upright as well as warm. He tucked me into the passenger side, darted around to the drivers’ side and we were on our way.
He’d turned the heat on low while it warmed up. Even still, it blew out a steady stream of chilled air. He had to be freezing, haven given me his sweatshirt. When I asked him, he just shrugged.
“I’m fine,” he said as he darted a look at me. “How are you?”
“I’m fine too,” I stubbornly replied. My teeth were chattering. But he’d given up his jacket for me so I wasn’t about to complain to him.
I could feel him giving me sideways glances as we made the short trip home.
“You don’t have to drive me all the way to my house,” I pointed out as we turned off the main road and onto the circle that looped Secluded Pines. “I can drive four houses down.”
“I don’t mind,” he said as my car crept past his house.
“Then you’ll have to walk home. Or you can take my car,” I decided. “You can drop me off and then I’ll get it in the morning.”
“It’s fine. I can walk,” he said as he pulled into my driveway. “You do it all the time,” he said as he parked.
“Thanks, for the ride and for helping me get rid of Corey,” I told him as we got out.
He grinned at me as he walked me to my door. “I didn’t mind at all.”
Somehow, I thought he really meant that.
He handed me my key ring and I flipped through the few that were on there. I’d remembered to leave the outside light on so I easily found it. I stuck it in the lock but then turned back to Tristan.
I felt like I should say something but I wasn’t sure what.
He leaned toward me and for one surprising, blissful, insane moment, I thought he was going to kiss me. Then I heard a tiny click and realized he’d just been turning the key, which I’d left sticking out of the doorknob. A single, silly little giggle jumped out, past my lips. I managed to stifle the rest of them.
“What?” he asked. He was eyeing me warily.
I knew it was best to keep my mouth shut but my brain wasn’t being entirely cooperative.
“I thought you were going to kiss me,” I admitted. I wasn’t speaking much louder than a whisper.
He let out a little breath of air. A scoff, really. “Yeah? Well, I don’t typically actively search out rejection,” he said with a small smile.
“Who said I’d reject you?” I found myself asking out loud the question that I had been wondering to myself.
A grin, almost cocky, crawled onto his face. I’d never seen that particular look on Tristan before. It was an oddly pleasant change.
“You are so cute,” I said. My voice mirrored the surprise I felt.
“Britta…” He glanced down, causing me to glance down. For the first time I realized that when he’d leaned in to turn the key, I’d somehow, in my haze, grabbed onto him. His t-shirt was tangled in my bunched fists. Instead of letting go, my gaze drifted back to him. His smile was softer as he leaned in again. I closed my eyes and I felt his lips brush against my ear. “Do you want me to kiss you?” he asked. His tone was adorably incredulous.
I nodded. “I think so.”
“Are you sure?” he wondered. His eyes were devouring my expression. “You won’t be mad about it later?”
“I’m sure.”
“Okay.” I could hear the smile in his voice as his lips traced a path from my ear, across my cheek, nearing my lips. Not kissing. Just soft. Teasing. “You’re not going to stop me?” he asked. His lips were tantalizingly close to mine but not close enough.
“Probably not,” I managed. I was hoping I sounded flirty but worried I sounded desperate. Because by that point, I was desperate. Desperate to have him kiss me.
The kiss started out hesitant but it didn’t stay that way for long.
Turns out, I didn’t stop him. Not on the front porch. Not as we tumbled through the door, across the foyer, up the stairs, or down the hallway that led to my room. Not once on that long, stumbling journey did it cross my mind that I wanted to stop him.
*~*~*
I blinked into the invasive ray of sunshine and stretched minutely, instantly realizing I was tangled up. N
ot in a sheet. In someone’s arms. I turned my head—blinking again—in time to see Tristan do the same.
“You can’t be mad,” he reminded me in a rough, morning voice. He leaned over and dropped a kiss on the side of my head. Then he stretched, pulling me with him since his arms were still twisted around me.
My lips curled up as I curled into him.
“I’m not—,” I was cut off by a firm fist on my door. In that instant I realized it most likely wasn’t the sun that had awakened me. It was probably someone at the front door, or on the stairs.
I scrambled into a sitting position, yanking the covers with me. It inadvertently but semi-effectively created a tent over Tristan.
“Britta!” Jamie shouted from the other side of the door.
Tristan groaned. It was an entirely different than the type of groan I’d managed to illicit from him last night.
The door flew open before my stunned brain could manufacture a single syllable of protest.
“You are here!” Jamie said. The relief flashed across her face. It was as obvious as a neon sign. “I was so worried when you left like that last night! You didn’t answer any of my calls! And the key was in the doorknob! And Willow said Corey had been bothering you and followed you outside—”
She’d taken a step into my room, catching her foot on a pair of jeans. Guy’s jeans. Tristan’s jeans, actually. The relief burst into confusion for a split second before exploding into understanding. “Oh crap! I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed. Her eyes darted across my clothing strewn floor. Then they bounced up to my bed where a second set of legs were pretty obviously under the covers. “So sorry!” she said again as she gave me a curious, eyebrow-raised look.
“It’s okay,” I said as she craned her head. She didn’t try to hide that she was trying to peek over the makeshift tent. “We’ll talk later,” I assured her. She nodded, turned, but stopped. As she turned back around, her eyes were wide and zeroed in on my chest.
Odd.
I glanced down, realizing it was not so odd she was looking at my chest that way. I had relaxed my grip on the sheet, letting it drop. It revealed the Aerosmith t-shirt I was wearing.
At some point last night, before falling asleep, I’d gotten up to take my contacts out. Instead of trying to fumble with the absurd number of buttons on my own shirt, or doing the more logical thing: grabbing pajamas out of my drawer—because that was on the other side of the room—I’d just grabbed Tristan’s t-shirt off the floor and stuffed myself into it.
“Tristan?!” she demanded. She flew back into my room.
Tristan sat up in time to catch the can of hairspray that Jamie had snatched up off of my dresser and thrown at us.
“Jamie! Knock it off!” he shouted.
My make-up started flying through the air like warzone shrapnel. Tristan pulled the comforter up, using it as a shield. I felt small objects bouncing off and he started to laugh. It wasn’t an amused laugh. It was more of a nervous laugh. But he was laughing quietly all the same.
I smacked him across the chest and he gave me a guilty smile.
“This is not funny!” Jamie growled as she marched over. She pulled the blanket down. Tristan only laughed harder at the horrified look on his sister’s face when was confronted with his shirtless chest. It wasn’t that she hadn’t seen him shirtless a hundred times. They lived together after all. But she’d never seen him shirtless next to me before.
“Chill!” he told her as she glared at him.
My gaze bobbed between the two of them; Jamie furious and Tristan trying not to laugh out loud at her.
“Stop it! Both of you!” I demanded. Is that what having a sibling did to you?
“Mom thinks you’re still sleeping!” Jamie seethed. “She’s a little surprised you’re not up yet since you never sleep in. She’s probably going to go into your room to get your lazy ass out of bed any minute. If she hasn’t already.”
“Okay, could you maybe get out of here so I can get dressed?” he asked. He motioned toward the door.
Jamie’s tiny fists ground into her small hips. “I’m not leaving you two alone together!”
“It’s a little late for that,” Tristan muttered. “But whatever.”
He crawled over the top of me. Jamie frowned even more severely at the sight of him in his boxer briefs. She glared some more as he swiped his jeans off the floor and tugged them into place. The bed dipped when he sat on the edge of it to work on his socks. Still shirtless, with his back only inches from my face there was no way I could ignore how nicely defined his shoulders were.
“Stop checking out my brother,” Jamie grated out through clenched teeth.
Tristan tossed a questioning glance over one of those beautiful shoulders. His eyebrows and lips twitched in what looked like stunned disbelief. And amusement. There was definitely amusement.
“I’m not!” I scoffed. I was mortified at being caught because I so obviously was.
He stood, turning to me, his bare chest fully exposed. I’d felt that chest last night. Run my fingers across it. Kissed it. The subtly contoured lines of it. I’d seen it last summer at the lake. It hadn’t seemed nearly as impressive then as it seemed right now, just mere feet from my face.
Jamie cleared her throat.
My gaze flew up to Tristan’s soft brown eyes.
“Ah…?” he began as he grinned down at me. “I guess you can give my shirt to Jamie to bring back to me.” He scooped his hoodie off the floor.
“Okay,” I muttered as my head nodded agreement.
“I’ll see you later,” he said as he moved toward the door. It wasn’t a request, more of an acknowledgement of simply seeing me around. My heart did a sudden, disappointed flop in my chest.
“Okay,” I said again. I forced a smile and he worked his way past his sister.
“He,” Jamie said as she pointed at Tristan’s retreating back, “is not for you. Not. For. You!” she said as she swung my door shut. It slammed in Tristan’s face as he was turning back around. I wasn’t sure if he was going to protest or agree.
“Good luck!” he called to me from the other side. Then his footsteps could be heard quickly retreating down the staircase.
“You can’t go around sleeping with people’s brothers,” Jamie said. Her voice was shaky and she was obviously trying, and failing, to control it.
“I don’t!” I said. I felt more than a little offended. “I mean, I didn’t—”
“Just how long have you been sneaking around behind my back?” she demanded. Her lip quivered. I could feel her hurt as much as see it.
I glanced at the clock. Lunchtime was still a few hours away. “Just a little over ten hours.”
“Ten hours?” she sputtered. She looked furious. Then she began to process what I’d said. “So…” she began. “So…”
“So it’s a pretty new thing,” I told her, clarifying.
“What kind of thing is it? I mean, what’s all of that?” she asked. She motioned to the remaining mess of my clothes dotted across my bedroom floor. Socks, tangled jeans, twisted up shirt. “This is not the kind of thing you do. This is the kind of thing Krista does, not you. Did you…” She waved her hand in aggravation at my bed and her voice was pleading. “You know...”
“No,” I was quick to assure her. “No, no, no.” That wasn’t to say we hadn’t messed around. A lot. I was pretty sure my hands had wandered to where no girl’s hands had wandered before. I was even surer that Jamie was not ready to, eager to, or capable of hearing that. Not now, maybe not ever.
Her shoulders visibly slumped with relief. “Good.” She took a deep breath. “I feel better now. This was almost as bad as that one horrible time I walked in on my parents. I mean, only, in some deep, dark compartment of your mind you know that your parents are possibly,” she squirmed at the thought, “you know.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. I did know what it was like to walk in on a parent.
“But you and Tristan? Yeah, never crossed my mind.”
“Tell me what happened,” she demanded. “The PG version, please.”
I told her about the party, about Corey, about simply needing a ride home.
“I’m not sure, what exactly, happened. He was just so nice to me,” I tried to explain.
“Of course Tristan was nice to you. He’s always nice to you. That’s what boys do when they finally get a minute with the girl they’ve had a crush on forever.” She said this with a little bit of irritation. Her hands were skimming across my bed. She started gathering up some of the things she’d thrown. She scooped them into a tidy little pile.
I had known that. I’d just never really given it much thought. Mostly, I’d tried to ignore it. I pursed my lips. Not sure what to say.
Her lips worked their way out of their frown and she grinned at me. “Maybe this isn’t so bad. We could be like…sisters. How awesome would that be?”
“Wait,” I said as I threw my hands up in a halting motion. “A minute ago you were trying to knock me out with a can of hairspray and now you want to…? What? Go pick out bridesmaids dresses?”
Common sense seemed to find her again. She shuddered. “Ugh. You’re right. You can’t date my brother. That’s just so…gross.”
“Don’t worry, we’re not dating,” I assured her.
To my surprise, she frowned at that. Her arms crossed over her chest and her eyes narrowed. “What’s wrong with Tristan?” she demanded. “He’s not good enough for you?”
I stared at her for a minute. I was hoping to give her enough time to jump off of the emotional rollercoaster Tristan and I had accidentally tossed her onto.
“You don’t like him,” she acknowledged. Her words came out slow and deliberate. “I mean, not like that. I get it,” she said more calmly.
I opened my mouth, preparing to protest. Because I found myself realizing that wasn’t exactly true. I’d never really had a reason to think about it before. But now that I was thinking about it, thinking about Tristan in that way, I realized…maybe I could like him. Maybe I did like him.