Tryst

by Arie Lane

  Matching his tone, I shout right back, “Who the fuck are you? I don’t recall asking for any fucking help, and I don’t appreciate you chasing me across my yard and tackling my ass. If anyone here is owed an explanation I’m pretty sure it’s me, asshole.”

  Standing back up and righting myself I take in the image in front of me. This man is built a lot like Tristan. He could probably get into a fight with a brick wall and still come out winning. He’s harder though, the five o’clock shadow he’s sporting makes him look both rugged and slightly dangerous. His eyes are dark gray, like the sky before a storm. His lips are full but that could also be from getting kicked in the face. His hair is a deep dark brown, and messy with blades of grass sticking out in odd directions. Standing up straight and looking down at me as if he’s ready to pounce I feel more than small. I’d be lucky if I even came to this man’s chest. I’d wager he even has a few inches on Tristan, and he’s a fucking giant compared to me. A strangled sound somewhere between laughter and annoyance draws both of our attention to Tristan standing behind us.

  “Aww hell, I can explain,” he says, while running his hands through his hair. “Umm, Bentley, meet Cage. He’s the close friend of mine who will be staying with me for a while. Cage, meet Bentley, my uh, well she’s my neighbor, but it’s more complicated than that,” Tristan finishes with a sheepish grin.

  “By complicated you mean you’re sleeping with her? So why the fuck didn’t you just say that when I got here?” Cage asks in annoyance.

  I cross my arms waiting to hear what excuse he’s got for this one. I’d rather he not go around telling strangers we’re sleeping together, especially since that seems to be all were doing, but I’d like to really know the reason he’s hiding it like I’m some dirty little secret he’d rather not admit to being with. Like somehow I’m a few steps below being the kind of girl he’d normally be screwing.

  Deciding I don’t really want to hear whatever excuse he has I turn back to Cage, “Why the hell did you grab me? That’s all I want to know. Whatever shit was not said between the two of you is on him. I just want to know what possessed you to think it was okay to grope a perfect stranger,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest.

  He gets a little red in the face before answering, “Honestly, Tristan kept talking about the hotter than sin sex pot across the street. I figured I’d check you out for myself, though, I swear I’d never have touched you had I know you were banging Tristan.”

  “First of all, we aren’t banging. Second of all, even if we were, that still doesn’t give you the right to put your fucking hands on me. I don’t know where you come from, but in my neck of the woods it’s a surefire way to lose your balls, so I’ll make it simple for you. Try that shit again and I’ll be serving you your dick on a silver platter. Maybe where you’re from girls don’t mind a perfect stranger walking up and sexually assaulting them, but here we take offense to that shit,” I retort.

  I’m humiliated more than anything else as I storm back to my car, ignoring Tristan’s pleas to hold up and listen. I don’t need to listen. I don’t need to hear how I’m just some fuck who doesn’t even mean enough to him to tell his buddy about. Getting in my car, I take off a bit quicker than needed, but I have to get the hell out of here before I let the situation bother me even more.

  Tristan

  Seeing Cage on top of Bentley damn near set me off. I wanted to kill him. What the fuck did he think he was doing? Even if it was my fault for not telling him about her, the fucker had no business putting his hands on her. Now she thinks it’s all about sex… fuck me, this day can’t get any worse. As Cage stands there rubbing his throat and spitting out more blood, I can see the fury in his eyes.

  “Why the fuck didn’t you just tell me you were fucking her? I mean I get it, she’s hot. A bit fucking crazy, but hey, even I can overlook that,” he says, with satisfaction.

  “It isn’t fucking like that. She’s not just some fuck them and leave them girl. I like Bentley a fucking lot, and the last thing I need is you making some fucked up competition out of shit, trying to bag her,” I retort with hostility in my voice.

  “One time. Tristan. One fucking time, and I was drunk off my ass. I didn’t ask your girl to suck my dick. She did that on her own. Okay, so I didn’t exactly stop her, but I also didn’t know you two were still screwing around, either. I swear I’m not going to put a move on Bentley, and it’s obvious she’s more than a lay since you look ready to murder me. I’ll stay the fuck away from her. Hell, if you had just opened your fucking mouth I wouldn’t have gone near her anyway.”

  Letting out a sigh, I know he’s right. I should have said something about her. “She’s special okay, and she’s been through hell and fucking back. You got lucky. I’m surprised she didn’t try to take your head off with a tire iron. Seriously though, I’d ease up around her. She’s got a knack for nailing your balls with whatever object she can get her hands on, and her aim is fucking deadly. I have no doubt she’s made more than a few men sterile.” I finish the statement with a cringe, feeling a sudden aching in my manhood.

  It’s been four days, four fucking days since I’ve seen Bentley, since I’ve felt her skin against mine, and since I’ve tasted her. I’m going fucking insane. I’m about ready to storm over to her house and knock the damn door down. In fact, I think I’ll do just that. I’ll go pound on it until she fucking answers.

  As I open my front door, I’m slammed with the sight I’m witnessing. There is Cage, my best fucking friend, slipping through my girl’s door. No fucking way. No way in hell am I losing another girl to him, especially not one I’d go to heaven and back to hell for. This shit isn’t fucking happening.

  I pound on Bentley’s door until she opens it, immediately walking through, pushing her back using my body and kicking the door shut. “Stay the fuck away from him,” I say, digging my fingers into her sides. “I don’t know how I can make it any more fucking clear to you, Bentley. You’re mine, and I don’t fucking share. Where the fuck is that son of a bitch hiding, huh, Bentley?”

  She looks at me like I’ve lost my fucking mind before answering me. “Tristan, I really don’t have time for any bullshit. What do you want?” she asks with a huff.

  “What the fuck do I want? Oh, that’s real rich, Bentley. I don’t see you for days, yet I catch my best friend sneaking through your door, and when you answer you look like you’ve just had the daylights fucked out of you. What do I want? I want to know what you’re doing with Cage.

  An even more puzzled look crosses her face, “What the hell are you talking about, Tristan? What about Cage?”

  I’m fucking livid. She must really take me for a fool, like I’m too fucking blind to know what I saw. I’ve tried really hard to show Bentley respect, to give her the space she somehow decided she needed, but I’m not fool enough to stand here and be walked on. Bentley flinches as my fingers dig further into her and she pulls away rubbing her sides. I don’t know what’s come over me. Aggie taught me better than this. I’d never hurt a woman before, at least not outside of a bedroom. She turns to walk back away from me, thinking this conversation is over.

  “We aren’t fucking done here, sweetheart. I know he’s fucking here. I just saw him sneak through your door not five minutes ago. Come out you fucking bastard, I know you’re fucking hiding in here,” I scream, echoing through her house.

  Bentley turns back to me with a huff, “I really don’t know what you’re talking about, Tristan. I’ve barely left my office in the last three days. So if Cage is sneaking in here, it’s news to me.”

  Fucking livid that she could stand here in front of me and lie to my face, I accuse her of fucking Cage, “Don’t fucking lie to me, Bentley, it looks as if he just took you up against the goddamn wall. You know, I knew you were capable of being a bitch, but I never pictured you as a slut.”

  The slap across my face echoes through her living room. The side of my face is going painfully numb as the stinging sensation subsides. Moments l
ater, I hear two sets of feet bounding down her steps. I turn just in time to see a worried Lith reach the bottom landing.

  “What the fuck is going on down here? I heard shouting. Is everything okay, Bentley? You look like you’re about to bust out in tears.”

  “Tristan here is under the impression I’m fucking the meat head with muscle standing behind you. I mean, I get how they might slightly resemble each other. However, last time I checked, the closest I’ve been to fucking anyone this past week is the sexy piece of ass in my novel,” she spat before returning to her office and slamming the door.

  Turning back to face a pissed as fuck Lith, and a not so thrilled to see me Cage, I stick my foot in my mouth even further. “Someone want to tell me what the fuck is going on? Why the fuck are you sneaking into my girl’s house? And why the hell are you here? I thought you were staying with Dante.”

  “Whoa, hold up there, Casanova. You actually went and accused Bentley of screwing someone else? What the fuck is the matter with you? You can’t seriously be that fucking dumb,” she retorts.

  “Well let’s see, I haven’t seen or heard from her in days. I catch my best friend sneaking into her house, and since I was under the distinct impression you were staying with Dante, how the fuck would that look to you?” I question.

  “Umm, well yeah, I was staying with him before the wicked wench with serious vagina envy decided he was staying there. I wasn’t about to get dragged into that drama fest, so Bentley said I can stay here. But she’s locked away writing, and I ran into your buddy here over at the gym and decided he looked like fun so we’ve been hanging the past few days. But back to you, asshole, did you really just accuse Bentley of sleeping with someone else? The girl hasn’t left that office unless it was to pee or grab a quick bite from the fridge.”

  I feel like I’m sinking in quicksand here, as Lith continues to hand me my ass.

  “You know, you’re the first guy aside from Dante she’s ever given a shit about. I’m pretty sure you’re the only one she’s ever slept with. That’s usually a good fucking indication she trusts you. I’d go as far as to say she cares about you, but after the shit you just pulled, I’d rank you pretty low on the totem pole,” she chides.

  “You think I wanted to hurt her? Okay, yeah I guess a part of me did. The thought of her with anyone else, let alone my closest friend, was fucking killing me. She may as well drive a stake through my fucking heart. She hasn’t spoken to me in three days, yet I see my best friend sneaking through her door. So yeah, I assumed the fucking worst, and yeah, I’m a piece of shit for not trusting her. But trust doesn’t exactly come easy to me, especially with women. That is unless you’re a seventy-four year old woman by the name of Aggie. That girl in there, though,” I say pointing towards the office, “that girl is capable of fucking destroying me. I can’t fucking sit here and lie and say I don’t love her. I’m pretty sure I loved her from the moment I set eyes on her, and it scares the shit out of me. The idea she may not feel the same, that she may want someone better than me, that fucking kills me.” I confess, feeling an overwhelming sense of defeat.

  “Have you even considered telling her how you feel, you know, aside from accusing her of fucking your buddy? I mean, it’d be pretty fucking stupid to just assume she knows, considering her family’s track record. She’s not a mind reader, you know. I think maybe you should at least try to explain shit to her. But you need to figure out what the fuck is going on, because she’s not going to take much more of your shit, especially not you accusing her of things she’d never even consider doing,” she replies, before heading back up the stairs.

  I stand there for a few moments after Cage and Lith leave, trying to consider what to say. It seems like every time I turn around I’m accusing her of sleeping with someone. What the fuck is my problem? It’s not like she’s given me any reason to suspect her, yet here I am being a son of a whore and fucking everything up again.

  I knock on her door expecting it to be locked, but when I turn the handle it squeaks and opens. I slowly open the door, half expecting her to throw something at my head, but what I walk into his so much worse. Her office is a mess. I can’t say if it’s normal for her, but I’m guessing it isn’t. Bentley usually has everything in its place, perfect and orderly, but this, this looks like a small bomb went off in here. She doesn’t even look up at me as her forehead rests against the desk. I can tell by the way she’s breathing she’s fucking hurting. Small sobs are escaping her. I walk around her desk, putting my hands on her shoulders but she stays unmoving. I owe her an explanation at the very least.

  A slight movement of her hand turns her desktop screen from black to white with a bunch of writing. Figuring it’s a piece of her latest book, I skim through it. But what I read make makes we want to vomit violently. It’s a letter written from an unknown email address, talking about Bentley’s rape. She’s calling her a filthy whore who deserves to be buried alive, how she’s nothing more than a disease that needs to be eradicated. She goes on to say how she wishes she would have dropped some old radio into the pool when Bentley was a child. I can’t finish the words. The hurt that Bentley must be going through is more than I can even imagine. At the bottom of the email though, is something that sets off such a burning hatred in me that I want to skin this sadistic bitch alive. A picture of Bentley, naked and broken, covered in blood and grime, and unconscious in an alley, is sitting at the bottom of the email. Below it are the words filth deserves filth, the only thing someone as dirty as you deserves, is to be buried beneath it.

  I click the email off her screen, not wanting her looking up and seeing it. I promise myself then and there, if I ever come face to face with that bitch again one of us isn’t coming out alive. I’ve never really had anything in my life aside from Aggie that was worth fighting for, and up until tonight, I didn’t think there was anything or anyone worth dying for. I was wrong. Nothing and no one is going to take Bentley from me.

  It isn’t until reading those words I truly realize how much she means to me, and how much it would fucking kill me to lose her. She isn’t just under my skin. She is embedded so deep inside me that I don’t know that I’d survive losing her. Now I just needed to show her, starting with a truth I hadn’t ever wanted to admit.

  “Bentley, baby, how long have you had that email? How long have you been re-reading it?” I ask, afraid of the answer. She doesn’t answer me though, so I spin her chair to face me. I don’t know how the fuck I missed her swollen eyes earlier. She hadn’t just started crying, she’s been crying for a long while. Her eyes are red and puffy and barely open.

  “What do you care? I’m just some filthy whore who will fuck anyone. Isn’t that right, Tristan? You seem so hell bent on accusing me of it, so it must be true,” she spits back at me.

  She’s right. This isn’t the first time I’ve said it, and no matter how much I didn’t mean the words, nothing will fucking change what I’ve done. “No, baby, you aren’t some fucking whore. I swear to God, Bentley, I didn’t fucking mean it. You’re one of the sweetest, most genuine people I know. If you ever believe anything I tell you, believe that. I just…, I was going fucking insane not seeing you. I couldn’t stand not having you near me to breathing in your scent. I missed tasting you on my lips, and hearing your voice. But more than anything, Bentley, my body was in withdrawal from not touching you. I was going out of my fucking mind. Then to see my best friend, someone who I should be able to trust, sneaking into your house, I assumed the worst. And you’re right, you’ve never given me a reason not to trust you, and I do, baby, believe me, I do. I don’t know if I trust Cage, though,” I explain, as she looks up at me.

  “I was with someone who I thought I loved for over two years. One night, after a two day trip, I went home expecting my girl to be waiting for me, except that wasn’t what I found. What I found was my girl and Cage fucking each other senseless in my bed. The worst part is…, I was more fucked up by his betrayal than hers. At the time, it hit me hard. I thought
I loved her. Hell, I even considered proposing at some point. The next day, Cage couldn’t even remember what the fuck happened. It’s why I didn’t introduce the two of you. You’re gorgeous, Bentley, and whether you want to believe it or not, you mean a lot fucking more to me than you think. I didn’t want to compete with him for your attention, and I sure as fuck didn’t want to lose another girl to him. Especially not one I’m falling in love with. So yeah, I was torn the fuck up tonight, and I said a lot of shit I didn’t mean. I need you to forgive me, Bentley. I need to fucking hear you’ll give me another chance, because I don’t know what the fuck I’ll do if you tell me you can’t,” I beg.

  Shaking her head back and forth she replies, “You should have told me, Tryst. You should have trusted me enough to let me know what happened. You expect me to just tell you everything without question, yet you tell me nothing. I don’t get it. First, you treat me as if I’m just some fuck buddy. I can’t even call us friends with benefits because there is no friendship. Then, you storm in here acting like you have some claim on me and demand answers to questions I don’t even know. Then when you don’t like the answer you call me a liar. And worst of all, you have the nerve to tell me you think your falling in love with me, like that should be the best news in the world. Well it’s not, Tristan. I’m sorry but it’s just not. You can’t love someone you can’t trust. You can’t love someone you don’t even confide in. I don’t even know who you are, so do not stand here and tell me you might be in love with me, because that’s the worst thing in the world you could tell me right now,” she sobs, before getting up and rushing out of the room.

  I need help, my heart is breaking and I need someone to help me piece it back together. Sitting on my bed, I dial the number of the one person I know can sort it out. She’s the one person who can make sense of the fucked up mess I’ve created. The phone rings several times before I hear one of the sweetest voices I’ve ever heard.