Tristan furrows his brows, but he lets me lead anyway. “He’s not. Why would you say that?”
“Don’t ask. We can get coffee after the bookshop.”
“Okay, but you know I have to ask. Why do you think Reese is an idiot? I think he’s smart. And funny.”
I remember this day now. But not why it would be important. Is this what I’m here for? Yeah, so I may have fucked with that friendship, but who cares? Reese was a moron. Older than us, already plowing through all the premed coursework that Tristan intended to pursue. A know-it-all. I didn’t like the way Tristan looked at him, as if Reese hung the moon. I didn’t like sharing his attention. So what if I lied a little? Everybody does now and again.
“You still sore over this?” I ask the Tristan standing next to me.
The expression on his face is a mask of indifference. “So you do remember. Keep watching.”
I turn my head back to the younger version of us. Tristan is waiting for my answer. My lie.
Young me takes a deep breath as if he’s reluctant to say the next part. Wouldn’t want to hurt young Tristan’s feelings. I wasn’t the best actor, but I was adequate. I fooled him at the time.
“Look, Tris, the guy’s an asshole. Acts nice to your face, then complains about you behind your back. You don’t need him.”
Tristan’s expressive face shutters. “What?”
“Come on, don’t let him get to you. Like I said, he’s an idiot.”
“He complains about me? Like what? What does he say?”
I didn’t have to keep going. Didn’t have to twist the knife. Oh, but I did. “You ask too many questions. You’re annoying, too self-absorbed to realize no one wants to talk about class. Can’t just chill and shut up.”
Young Tristan’s eyes water as the cocky young version of me shuffles him into the crowded bookshop and away from view.
Okay, yeah, that was a shitty thing to do. Reese probably liked Tristan as much as Tristan liked him. They had a lot in common. I just didn’t care for the way they looked at each other. I wanted Tristan to myself.
“Um.” I rub the back of my neck. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things.”
“No. You shouldn’t have.” Tristan grabs my shoulder and spins me to face him. “You shouldn’t have told my roommate I didn’t like him. You shouldn’t have told Anna I didn’t want her tagging along with us. You shouldn’t have told my sister I’d have failed calculus without you. You shouldn’t have—”
I hold up my hands between us. “Okay, okay, I get it. I’m the asshole here. I’m sorry. I was young and selfish, and I didn’t want to share you with anyone, and I’m sorry. Really.”
The street scene fades away. The noises dim. The world becomes a gray haze. Tristan and I stand alone, glaring at each other.
“You liked to have me vulnerable. Isolated.” Tristan points a finger at my chest. “At your mercy. You wanted me to need you. You wanted it so badly that you chased away my other friends. And for what? To give me up as soon as a better prospect crossed your path? A would-be doctor isn’t good enough for you, huh?” He uses his finger to drive the point home, pressing against my sternum with each accusation. “Only the best for Max Masters Scrooge. Was it because I’d be committed to ten years of school before bringing home fat paychecks? Why wait when you could have a young entrepreneur at your beck and call instead? Someone already making money rather than taking out more student loans?”
Oh. Right. I left Tristan when I met Brock. He’d started his own landscaping business right out of high school and paid for his own tuition. He was dripping in cash. Forgetting Tris was easy when Brock had more zeros in his bank account than most people twice our age.
Plus, who could resist another notch in the bedpost?
Not me.
It wasn’t that I didn’t like Tristan, just that the shine had worn off. But that’s inevitable. Only…I shouldn’t have alienated him from his friends first. Dick move on my part.
I soften my gaze. “Look, I’m really sorry.”
Tristan’s glower only intensifies. “You made me vulnerable, Max. And then you left me alone.” A cold shiver racks my spine as Tristan’s lips curl to a wicked smile. “And now I’m going to do the same to you.”
10
Max
An invisible fistpunches my gut and steals my breath. The vortex returns, sweeps us from the gray space, and spits us out somewhere new. Somewhere frigid.
My bare ass lands on a cold metal table draped by a thin blue sheet. Words of protest seize in my throat. Why am I naked?
