Tainted by Love

by Jones, Gillian

  “Hendrix,” she whispers, lifting her hand to my cheek and running her fingers along my jaw.

  “It’s true, Trin. I want you, and I know you want me, too. I see it. Better yet, I fucking feel it. Try to tell me it isn’t true. Look into my eyes and tell me.”

  “I do want you,” Trinity surrenders, her voice a whisper. “You’re what I want, too, but I can’t have you, Hendrix. Please understand and trust me. It’s too selfish.”

  “What the hell does that mean? God, baby, take me. Be selfish all you want with me, ’cause where I’m concerned, I’m greedy as fuck when it comes to you. I want it all.” I cup her face in both my hands. Leaning in, I brush my thumb along her lip, where I want my lips to be…“Say yes, Trinny.”

  “Hendrix, I can’t. Please accept it. But we’re still friends.”

  “I won’t accept that. Not ever. Tell me what’s holding you back,” I press.

  “Please. Leave it.”

  “Not gonna.” I stare into her grey eyes, willing her to give in. I’m pressing her, pushing her, and I couldn’t give any fucks. She belongs with me. I’ve waited long enough.

  “Tell me why, Trin,” I demand a little more harshly, no room for argument.

  “Please, Hendrix, don’t make me tell you. Things will change forever. And you’ll hate me, and the thought of…” Her lower lip starts shaking. “…of you looking at me with anything other than with that fire and lust like you always do scares me. The thought of losing that makes me sick. I wouldn’t be able to handle it if that flame was extinguished. I—I like it too much. I thrive on the way you see me right now. Too much to risk losing that. I love seeing the way you are with the Trinity you think you know, not the Trinity I really am. I can’t…please…” she begs, her lips curling now as huge tears stream down her beautiful face.

  “Trinity.” I pull her in tight, taking her body into mine, wrapping her up in a hug. “Nothing you tell me could ever change the way I see you. Not in a million fucking years. Trust me, baby, you’re all I can see.” I lean down and kiss her forehead, causing her to let out another loud sob.

  She hooks her arms around me, pulling my head in closer. And I feel instant relief. I’m finally winning, getting through.

  Standing on her toes, she ghosts her mouth over my ear. “I’m sorry, Hendrix. I can’t. I like the way you see me too much to taint it.”

  And with that, she unwraps her arms from my neck, steps out of my embrace, unlocks the door, and storms out of the stairwell—all before I have a chance to begin to process what the hell just happened.

  28

  Trinity

  “Argh.”

  I wake, my head throbbing as though the Seven Dwarves were mining on the surface of my brain. “I’m never drinking again,” I tell myself, pulling back my purple duvet cover and rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

  I need water. I need Tylenol. And I need them stat.

  Padding into the kitchen, my housecoat wrapped tight to fend off the cool morning air, my eyes land on my cell phone, a glass of water, two Tylenols and a note. Picking up the piece of paper, my eyes read the lines a few times.

  No. No. No.

  Trin,

  After your stairwell incident, you and I hit the vino pretty hard once we got back to your place. I tried to convince you not to wine and text, but you’re stubborn.

  Take the pills, drink the water, freak out a little, then call me.

  P.S It’s about time you do this. You better do it, Trin. I like him, and we can double!

  Love you!

  Shanners

  Downing down the pills, my mind flashes back to last night. To Hendrix angry on the dance floor, to the sadness in his eyes as I rejected him and denied us what we both want. The way I ran, ruining Shannon’s date with McHot even more when she refused to let me leave alone. Taking my cell phone, I swipe my finger to open my text messages. The first one I send is to Shannon.

  Me: I’m sorry I’m drama. I hope you and Cannon don’t hate me! Thank you for giving up getting burglarized for me. Thank you for drinking with me and being my best friend. I haven’t looked at the texts I sent yet, am petrified.

  Her response comes immediately.

  Shannon: Shut up. It’s what we do. Now go see your truth. Read the messages you sent, wine=truths! Xox

  The second text I read and reply to is from Andrea.

  Andrea: Can’t wait to hear how the blind date went. Can you see if Starbucks will make me a gingerbread latte? I know it’s early in the season, but see what you can do. Time’s a tickin’…

  Me: Say that shit again, and I’ll break all the clocks. I’ll see what I can do, it’s barely November!

  Andrea: Use all that charm of yours!

  Me: Whatever, I’ll see Tuesday.

  Then I move to the ones I’m trying my best to avoid, but I need to see what the hell I’ve done.

  And there they are: to Hendrix, to Hendrix, to Hendrix. All putting myself right out there, all of my drunken confessions.

  And not one reply.

  I begin to shake, fearing maybe this time I’ve completely lost him.

  Me: I’m sorry.

  Me: I do like you, muches.

  Me: I madde a mistakes.

  Clearly I’ve had wine by this point.

  Me: I havent done this in yearz.

  Me: I want to do it with you. Both things! Hehe?

  I’m mortified! I slap my hand over my mouth, shaking my head. Never. Drinking. Again.

  Me: I’m scared. I has secret. Biggest one. I scared you’ll not look at my the same. I luv you looks. No. The way you look to NO me at me.

  Me: I likes McDavid’s we should have it 2morrow mrnin here. I like the McEggmuff.

  Me: And you.

  Shoot me right now. I am not allowed to ever, ever touch a drink ever again.

  Just as I’m about to put my phone down and go bury myself back in my bed in complete humiliation, my phone goes off, alerting me to an incoming text.

  It’s from Hendrix.

  Hendrix: I hope it’s McDonald’s you wanted cuz that’s what I brought. I wasn’t sure what a McEggmuff was so I got you a few choices. BTW, I like muffs too. How about you come open up and let me in, my Fruitloop?

  My Fruitloop.

  Yeah, I like the sounds of that.

  I make my way to the door and let my Hendrix in.

  29

  Trinity

  “I come in peace, Oh, Little Powerful One,” Hendrix grins, offering me the brown McDonald’s bag he’s holding in one hand along with a tray of coffees from the other. Instantly sagging, I feel a tremendous amount of relief to hear Hendrix’s usual easygoing humour toward me. It makes me feel a twinge of hope. Even if I keep trying to push him away, I wish for him to be the man who might want me enough to see past my disease.

  I wish for it with all my might.

  “Thanks for bringing breakfast. Come in.” I step aside, allowing him to pass. His unique scent flows by in his wake, awakening all my senses; he really is his own brand of yumminess.

  Then I notice him removing Beast from the inside of his jacket, placing him on the floor of my apartment. Beast instantly comes to me, rubbing his face against my ankles. “Hi, baby,” I say. I place the steamy bag and tray on the butcher block countertop, then pick the kitty up and give him a snuggle.

  “I stopped in and fed him. Thought you might not be up to it. Decided the furball looked lonely, so I brought him along.” Hendrix shrugs like it’s nothing, when in reality it means so much. Hendrix Hills is one thoughtful man.

  “Thanks. You’re right. It definitely would have taken me awhile to get down to him this morning,” I admit.

  “I bet. Rough night?” he asks, bemused, and that’s when I notice how good he looks, not hungover at all. Taking him in, I stop—panicking—realizing I probably look like complete shit by comparison.

  “Um, why don’t you help yourself?” I tell him, putting Beast down and flapping my hand in the direction of the food, int
ent on diving quickly into the washroom to fix my hair before he really has a chance to see me. “I’ll be right back,” I call, my back to him, while I walk a few steps down the hall. “Start eating. I—just—I’ll be right back.” My plan is to quickly check myself, maybe even brush my teeth and comb my bird’s nest hair. Too bad for me, my attempt to flee is thwarted by an ogre.

  “Stop. Come here, Trinity.” His voice booms through my kitchen. I stop. Hating the awkwardness I’m responsible for creating in the first place, and seeing him in my space being all forgiving and not being an asshole like he should be after last night, I move to him without hesitation. How could I not? “You okay?” he asks, sincerity reflected in both his tone and the way he’s looking down at me. His eyes take me in softly and he sweeps my bangs gently off my face with his hand. “That’s better. Now I can see those pretty eyes of yours. Are you alright, Trin?” he repeats.

  “I’m better now.” I meet his gaze with my own. “I hated last night,” I admit. There’s no point in holding anything back. Today will be a day of truths.

  “Me too, baby. I barely fucking slept. It took everything I had not to come over here last night,” he admits, running his hands through the front of his short hair, leaving it disheveled in a sexy bedhead look only certain guys can pull off.

  “I thought you were mad at me. You never responded to my texts. I thought I blew it,” I say, taking in his face, handsome despite the dark circles and more-than-five o’ clock-shadow gracing his jaw this morning. He’s the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen, and I want him so damn much.

  “Trust me. It killed me. But you were being so honest and open. I didn’t want to risk you stopping. It seemed you just needed to get it all out. Well…some of it, anyway,” he says, reaching for my hands and taking them into his much larger ones. “I thought about you all night. The things I want to say to you, things I want to do to you…” he says, that sexy smirk of his pulling at the side of his lips as his eyes rake over my short pink robe. “You look beautiful right now. I want nothing more than to kiss you and claim you as mine, but I know we have to talk first. You gotta talk to me, Trinity. After last night at the club and your texts, we have to admit out loud that there’s more than friendship between us, Fruitloop. I know it for a fact now. I even have proof,” he says, waving his cell phone around, and I know he’s referring to my drunken “I like you” texts.

  I shake my head, unable to hide how happy I feel that he’s not giving up on me, even if I know that what I’m going to admit next will likely turn everything good between us into bitterness. But he’s fighting for us, the least I can do is fight alongside him, even if I’m almost guaranteed to lose the battle. At least I’ll be able to walk away knowing I was finally brave enough to take a risk and put myself out there for someone special again.

  “You’re right. Let’s talk,” I say, placing my hand on his muscular chest. “It’s time I let you in. Even as my friend, Hendrix, you deserve to know everything. Can we please eat first, though? I need time to sort my thoughts, and, honestly, the smell alone is curing my hangover. I can just imagine how good I’ll feel once it gets in my belly…” I rub my stomach, giving him my best Fat Bastard impersonation.

  “You’re crazy. Let’s get you fed.” He pulls me in to give me a hug, and I pray it’s not the last one. I’d miss the feeling I get from being close to him a whole hell of a lot. Hendrix makes me feel so safe, so protected—and most of all, wanted.

  After a few beats, he breaks away and leads us to sit side-by-side at the breakfast bar where I left the McDonald’s.

  *

  “Holy shit, that was something to see,” Hendrix says, leaning into my shoulder and giving it a teasing bump. “I’ve never seen anyone mow food down like that before. I thought you were gonna choke for a second, Fruitloop. Did you even breathe? Maybe ‘Hoover’ would be a more accurate nickname for you…” he laughs.

  “What? Sausage McMuffs are my remedy. I feel great right now,” I beam, before taking a delicate sip of coffee.

  “Well, muffs do seem to have a magical quality, I would agree with that,” he says, that mischievous glint sparkling in his eyes like it always does when he’s being a shit. God, I really, really, really like this man.

  “Yes. They’re like unicorns. And, by the way…you’re impossible.”

  “So I keep hearing, Fruitloop, so I keep hearing.” He shifts our stools so we’re facing each other, then encases my knees between his large muscular thighs. “You ready to talk to me now, sweetheart?” he asks, his voice growing serious, his beautiful warm eyes meeting mine.

  Avoiding his gaze, I look anywhere else I can, anywhere but at him. Letting out a deep breath, I admit, “I don’t know if I can do it. I can’t look you in the eye and tell you; I can’t bear to watch the reaction on your face. I think it might destroy me. I care about you too much, Hendrix. I care about what you see and think of me. The thought of seeing the way your eyes reflect light and happiness when you look at me changing to a shadow that will no doubt come and obstruct that light, it’s—it’s too much for me. I’m sorry.” I heave a big sob, not even realizing that I had started crying.

  “Trin. Jesus, baby. What the hell happened to you? Nothing you could tell me would ever make me see you as any less than you are. Trust me, you’re all I fucking see. I couldn’t give a shit. There’s no secret that will make me see anything other than the Trinity I’ve come to know, the one I admire, respect, and—fuck it—the one I’ve fallen for.”

  “Hendrix.”

  “It’s the truth. It’s my truth. Here, I have an idea. Stand up,” he says, jumping to his feet, tucking his stool back under the counter before reaching for my hand and guiding us to the middle of my kitchen.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, as he wipes away a few of my lingering tears.

  “We’re gonna play a game. Turn around.”

  “I think you might be the crazy one,” I huff, but do as I’m told and turn, giving him my back.

  30

  Hendrix

  I turn around so my back is pressing against Trinity’s, and take her hands in mine.

  “I think you might be the crazy one,” she says. “I might need to start calling you ‘Fruitloop’,” she giggles, and that right there tells me she’s starting to return to her usual cheeky self. My Trinny is fun, confident and sassy with me; I hated hearing and seeing that cloud of doubt hovering over us. It’s time to clear this shit up for good.

  “Maybe, but give me a chance, Trin. Have I steered you wrong yet?”

  “No, but there’s a first time for everything,” she retorts.

  Fuck. She’s right, though. I must be out of my mind to do this with her, but seeing her looking unsure and hearing her worry over my potential reaction to something she needs to tell me is both upsetting me and pissing me off. There really isn’t anything that will change the way I feel for this girl, I just hope this stupid game of mine will help her feel safe enough to confide in me. And I pray that the shit I share doesn’t make me look like a chump who can’t get over things, or make her reject me.

  “Okay, we’re going to play a game. I call it ‘Truths’. All we do is tell each other things that are true—”

  “Pssht…no big deal, eh?” she mocks, sounding nervous.

  “Trust me, alright? We’ll start off easy and work our way to the hard stuff. We’ll stand back-to-back and stay that way throughout the game.”

  “Why?” Trin cuts in again.

  “If we stay facing away from each other, we can’t see each other react to what we’re disclosing. It’s a safety net for both of us. My mum and I used to do this when I was young, when I had something I needed to get off my chest but was afraid to tell her, and it always worked. I’d feel better after, like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. Please trust me and play along, and let’s take whatever weight it is you’re carrying off you. Plus, I have skeletons, too, that I’m not proud of. I’m sure last night didn’t leave me looking very angelic
or worthy in your eyes.”

  “Hendrix,” she says.

  “Yeah, baby?” I say, stealing a quick glance at the back of her head before facing away from her again.

  “You’re pretty incredible. I just wanted to tell you that, before we start. Friends or more, past entourage of women or not, I’m crushing pretty freaking hard on you right about now. I want you to know that I’m going to do this because I think you deserve all of my truths, even if you decide you want nothing to do with me afterwards…” Her voice falters, and I rub my thumbs along her soft hands before entwining them even more tightly with mine. Inching back, I lean against her a little harder, putting us as close together as we can be, needing to feel the warmth of her.

  Squeezing where our fingers are connected, I ask “Ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be.” She exhales deeply.

  “I’ll start, you know, just to show you how it’s done.”

  “Sounds good,” Trin says, voice still unsure.

  “Truth: I hate mushrooms,” I tell her, the thought making me cringe. “They are the devil’s food. I can’t stand the look of them.” She lets out a small laugh. “Honestly, so don’t ever try to make me eat them. I refuse.”

  “Got it, no mushrooms. Can people around you eat them?” she asks.

  “Yes, as long as they don’t come near me,” I chuckle. I decide to give her another easy one, as it seems to be helping her relax. “I’ll go a few more times, to make sure you see how slowly we can ease into the tougher stuff.”

  “Okay, but I have to say, this stuff is deep already. I mean, like, take to my grave deep,” she jokes.

  “Well, I gotta start somewhere. I figured you needed to know that critical piece of information. How could I be with a girl who might see my not liking mushrooms as a deal breaker? You could be mushroom-obsessed,” I say.

  “You’re insane.”

  “Maybe. Alright, next truth: I’m obsessed with the Toronto Maple Leafs. They’re my team and I can’t miss a game. Now, I’ll give you a bigger, more in-depth truth. You ready?” I give her hands a squeeze.