Chapter 25: Chapter 25

AMY

Tristan

I’ll give you some space. For now. But we’re talking about this Amelia Harrington. I won’t let you shut me out.

I rub my thumb over my phone, making Tristan’s text from yesterday wiggle on the screen. How fucking pathetic that I’m disappointed he hasn’t texted since. That he really is giving me space.

“Is that from Tristan?” Serena asks.

I came to see her an hour ago, and she told me an unsettling story about what Tristan did the moment he left my dorm room yesterday.

I knew he would be angry about what I did, but I never thought he’d be so…desperate. Serena said when he talked to her and Nick, he looked near tears.

Why does this have to be so fucking hard? Even if Tristan admits he slept with Harper and shows genuine remorse, we don’t have a future. I could never be at ease with a man like him. I’d be jealous and suspicious all the time, unable to trust him to be honest or faithful.

“It’s from yesterday,” I say. “I haven’t responded.”

Her expression grows grave. “Don’t you think you’ll be more nervous if you wait until the group date to talk to him? You’ll have cameras on you. We’ll be hiking.” She cringes. “All sweaty. Huffing and puffing. I think you’ll feel better if you get your talk out of the way first.”

A heavy weight settles in my chest. I clench a fist, digging my nails into my skin. “I’m not ready to talk to him yet. I just…” My throat grows tight. “I’ll start crying. I’ve been on the verge of tears for the last twenty-four hours.”

The thought of Tristan seeing me cry is like red ants crawling all over my skin. He’d know the truth then. I’m heartbroken. There’s no other way to describe this listless despair that descended over me the moment I left his frat house.

She sets her hand on mine. “He’ll probably cry, too. He nearly did yesterday.”

A flare of anger rushes through my veins. “Why would he cry when he has Harper? When the whole campus worships him?” I shake my head. “I don’t mean much to him. If I did, he wouldn’t have slept with Harper.”

She frowns. “He wouldn’t have been so frantic yesterday if you didn’t mean a lot to him. What if it was some kind of misunderstanding? Maybe he never slept with Harper. Maybe she lied.”

“No.” I take a deep breath. “It all makes sense. Everyone loves him for a reason. He’s charming. Beautiful, charismatic people like Tristan are used to getting whatever they want. He probably thinks he can have me and Harper at the same time. He never promised me fidelity.”

She squeezes my hand. “This is all speculation. You won’t have any real answers until you talk to him.”

“And I will,” I say. “Just not yet. I need to get my emotions under control first.”

Serena’s guarded expression tells me she’s not entirely satisfied with that answer. I reach out and wrap my arms around her. “I like that you’re not letting me get off easily. You’re pushing me to be better, more mature. Unfortunately, I’m a big baby.”

Sadness tugs at my heart. Serena’s usually more coddling, but right now, she reminds me of Cody. Though he’d be much sterner. He’d call me a baby before I got the chance to chastise myself.

Fuck, I miss him. He’s been a source of stability for the last three years. How could my life have changed so much in mere weeks?

She squeezes me tightly. Her warmth makes the tension in my body ease for the first time in days. “You’re not a baby. And I’m sorry if I’m being pushy.”

“Don’t be sorry,” I say as I pull away. “You’re a good friend. I don’t know how I’d survive this bullshit competition without you.”

***

As I walk back to my dorm, the dusk is settling in, casting shadows that blend the edges of buildings into a dimming sky. The door handle is ice cold on my fingertips. Just as I pull the door open, I’m hoisted off the ground. The breath catches in my throat, and a startled gasp escapes my lips as I’m spun around.

“I waited as long as I could.” Tristan’s voice booms through the cold air. “We’re talking. Now.”

I squirm in his hard arms, but he holds me tightly, his breathing steady as he carries me up the hill. I’ll never get away from him. He’s the size of a goddamn ox and every bit as strong.

“We are not talking now,” I shout. “Put me down!”

“Nope.”

I wiggle again, but his arms are like steel bands.

“I’ll put you down if you give me two minutes of your time,” he says. “Two minutes to talk. That’s all I’m asking.”

My heart beats against my ribcage like a trapped bird. Tristan’s bright-blue eyes bore into mine. “Can you give me that right now, or do I need to carry you all the way to my house?”

I relent with a huff, dangling in his grip like a rag doll. “Fine.”

He halts, searching my face with skepticism. “You’ll give me two minutes?”

“Two minutes, and that’s it!”

He gently sets me down, and a devil sparks inside of me. As soon as he stands back, I turn around and dart away.

I don’t make it very far. A split second later, his arms are around me again, and the monster is laughing. Here I am, the first person on this campus to show him what a bastard he really is, and he’s laughing at me.

“I should have known you would do that. God, I’ve been so miserable these past few days. Only you can make me laugh.” His breath tickles my ear. “I hope you do it forever, Amelia. Every time I’m sad.”

His belief that we have a future is like a warm blanket, and I want to yank it off and smother him with it.

Why is his voice so full of affection? If I didn’t know he slept with Harper immediately after telling me I’m precious to him, I’d completely believe this man adores me. This must be the magic of his charm. He has that deceptive ability to make the object of his fleeting attention feel like the center of his universe.

“Two minutes, Amelia.” His strong hand is wrapped around my wrist. He won’t let me get away this time, though his voice is soft and inviting. “Just give me that.”

I lift up the phone I was somehow able to hang onto and pull up the timer. I set it for two minutes and show it to him as the clock begins to tick down. “Start talking.”

His puffed-up chest deflates, and for the first time, I’m able to take in the sight of him. His eyes are bloodshot with dark circles underneath.

“Oh God,” I mutter, “you look terrible.”

“Yeah,” he huffs. “You left me. Why did you do that?”

I look away to shield myself from the agony in his eyes. It’s impossible to understand this man. Why does he look like he’s in so much pain when I’m clearly expendable? He has the whole campus drooling over him. He can find sex elsewhere. He did, goddamn it.

I shrug. “I didn’t enjoy myself. I’m sorry if you’re not the sex god you thought you were.” The words slip from my lips of their own volition, and oh God, I wish I had more control over myself. I’m being petty and cruel again.

Why can’t I just be honest with him? Why can’t I admit that he hurt me?

It’s so easy to write the pain of others in my fanfic, but admitting my own makes me want to crawl into a ball on the ground.

“You know that’s not what happened.” I jump at the sudden vehemence in his voice. “Something pissed you off. Someone told you something.”

My throat squeezes. Is he implying that ~Harper~ told me something? “So you admit you’re hiding something?”

He flinches, his face growing somehow even more gaunt. Damn, he really does look awful. Has he gotten as little sleep as I have?

“Yeah, I’m not perfect,” he says. “I’ve done some things…” His mouth tightens. “But everything I’ve said to you has been the truth. When I told you that you mean a lot to me…”

I cross my arms over my chest, rage boiling in my gut.

~Tell him what you know, Amy. Don’t let fear and dread guide your actions.~

The words won’t come.

“Enough to make a bet with your whole fraternity that I’ll sleep with you?” I ask instead.

His groan sounds like a wounded animal. “Fuck, I hate that I did that. It didn’t mean what you probably think it did.”

His hand slips from my wrist to my shoulder, but he doesn’t let go. No doubt he’d have me in his arms in an instant if I try to run away again.

“I made that bet on an impulse,” he says. “I never gave a shit about it. All I’ve cared about—from the beginning—is you.”

My body grows heavy. After weeks of being close to this man, it’s really starting to seem like he never had a calculated plan to humiliate me.

Maybe sleeping with Harper was an impulse, just like the bet. Maybe Tristan isn’t the villainous monster I imagined the night Harper came to my dorm and showed me that picture of him in bed. Maybe he’s a quintessential, thoughtless fuckboy. Someone who can sincerely tell someone he cares for them and then fuck the brains out of his ex only hours later.

Somehow, that’s almost worse.

I like imagining the villainous monster better. At least I could hate him then, and hatred would feel so much better than this dreary listlessness pulling at my limbs.

My phone chimes.

“Two minutes are up.” My voice is just above a whisper.

Tristan’s eyes flash. “That’s it? That’s all you’re going to give me? You haven’t even admitted that you came to my room that night with the sole purpose of crushing me.”

I sigh. “I’ll see you at the hike tomorrow. In the meantime, please stay away. No picking me up and carrying me away. No showing up on my date—”

My lips freeze when Tristan’s entire body stiffens, his sunken face turning a ghostly shade of white. His eyes widen, and his grip on my shoulder grows uncomfortably tight. “What date?” The word is breathless and empty.

Why the fuck did I even say that? The petty, teenage girl must still live within me. She froze in time the moment Harper broke my heart, like the preserved ruins of Pompei, and now she’s lashing out at Tristan.

“I don’t have one,” I say quickly. “I just meant…because you did that before. You showed up on my date with Seth.”

His shoulders slump, and the grip on my shoulder loosens. “But you will have dates.” His voice shakes. “You’ll leave me behind after the game is over. If I’m out of the picture, you’ll have guys falling all over themselves to be with you.”

If I weren’t on the verge of tears, I would probably laugh at such hyperbole. Is this how he sees me? So desirable that I’ll have to fight off dozens of men pursuing me? My dreary inner world would fill with radiant light if I saw myself through his eyes.

Holy shit, am I really thinking this way about the quintessential fuckboy? His charisma really is a form of sorcery. Here I am falling under his spell again when I know for a fact that he slept with Harper.

His jaw clenches, and a fire enters his eyes. “If I’m not the guy you’re with, I can’t stand around and watch. Until you’re ready to talk, you’ll get your wish. I’m going to have to avoid you.”

My heart squeezes in my chest.

“That means tomorrow, too,” he says, “I won’t talk to you on the hike if it’s not about us. So I’m going to have to ask ~you~ to stay away from me until you’re ready to talk.”

I search his face frantically. Is he really faking this pain? Why does it feel so real?

I could have all the answers now, if only I were brave enough to ask him the question burning in my mind.

~“Why did you sleep with Harper if I mean so much to you?”~

The words lie frozen on my tongue. Even the heat of the sun couldn’t force them from my lips. Why am I such a damn infant when it comes to sharing my true feelings?

Probably because this flawed man bulldozed his way into my fragile heart, and even after breaking it, he still has the power to crush its shattered remains.