“No! You wereneverlike a sister to me. You were always Evan’s sister andoff limits.”
Oh.
That didn’t stop us though.
That night he bundled me up in his car and drove me home, walked me to the front porch. Mom wasn’t there; she was in New Orleans. Evan was still at the frat party, oblivious. And then, when Tris pulled me in his arms for a final goodbye hug, I asked him to kiss me. And he did. And then?—
“Things went too far, Lexi.”
I can still see it.Feelit. Us stumbling through the front door, kissing, tugging at each other’s clothes, me dragging him upstairs to my room between kisses that were so hungry, you’d think we were starved for each other. My single bed, in my childhood bedroom, Taylor Swift posters on the wall. So fucking juvenile. So teenager.
Tristan’s hands on me as he helped me rip off my cocktease black dress, his hot kisses on my skin, his hands on my naked breasts, his thumbs on my nipples, his tongue flicking at them and my body contracting at the novelty, the sensations his touch released, the wet and sticky heat between my thighs. His fingers as they slipped into my panties, how I nearly came as he circled my clit and fingered me.
Until he froze. Pulled back. Sat up. Heaved as he dropped his head into his hands.
“Fuck, Lexi,” he groans. “Never mind that I was twenty-five and way too old for you. Being with you—taking your virginity, as I knew you wanted me to that night—would have been a fucking dick move. And cruel. Don’t you see that?”
I shake my head, every moment of that night, every sensation hurtling back as if it happened minutes ago. “What you did was much crueler.”
“Jesus Christ!” He drags his fingers through his hair. “Iwas hurting at the thought of leaving you behind. How would you have felt if we…” He takes me by the shoulders and lowers his face to mine, searching my eyes. “Lexi, when it comes to pussy, the male bar is disgustingly low. Any one of those guys at that frat party would have fucked you, anywhere. Drunk or not. High on whatever drugs were making the rounds or not. Virgin or not. Against a wall, on a vomit-baptized mattress, who the fuck knows. You would’ve gotten hurt so badly, angel. I rescued you from that frat house as if I was a fucking hero, saving you from being preyed upon, and then I went and used you just like any other prick who’s only interested in a one-night stand.”
It felt more as if I was using him, desperate for his attention, his love. Clearly none of that was coming from his side. He walked out and never looked back once. Five long years of silence stretching to snapping point. And here we are, going on since December as if that night never happened.
The rejection and abandonment of that moment cast a shadow over my life for years after. Me, men, and idiocy. The perfect trifecta.
Why is it that I’m still not over him? That I keep getting attracted to guys who only use me like Brent Fisherman did? You’d think I would have learned a thing or two, but no, I like to wallow in heartache.
I wipe my cheeks, wishing I could hide. On this stupid island there is no place to run and hide, to digest the truth I’ve suspected deep down but hearing it from Tristan finally makes it real. He only wanted me safe that night. He never wanted to hurt me, and he had to walk away to ensure that. The thing is, if hehadn’t walked away then, he would have walked away a couple of months later because that’s how he rolls.
Bottom line: he didn’t want me enough. I know that now. I know how he operates. At twenty-five a man is fully formed, apparently, brain and all, and Tristan hasn’t veered off his usual path. His track record holds. He is the ultimate playboy and who could blame him. So actually, hesparedme.
“You know how to kill a guy slowly, don’t you, babes?” Tristan whispers as he pulls me to stand again and hugs me to his chest. “Come here.”
We stand like that for a moment, me stiff in his arms, trying not to break down into a sobbing mess like I did five years ago when he walked out.
“With the wedding, the next week is going to be mayhem,” he murmurs. “Maybe that’s a good thing…simply because I don’t think this is a good idea.”
All I can do is nod. We need to let this tension between us cool off. Thank God for periods. At last they make total sense.
Eventually he pulls away and takes my hand, only to lead me to the bathroom. “You do what you need to do. I need some fresh air.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
TRISTAN
When I wake the next morning, it’s still dark outside. Lexi is curled up on her side of the bed with her back to me. There’s no Great Wall of Goose Down, but it isn’t necessary. I fucked up last night.
I drag my hands over my face with a slow exhale. I hurt her by walking away five years ago, but if I’d given in to what we both wanted, the hurt would have been so much worse. I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself. I was older, more mature. I had to be the one to draw the line.
But last night…I should’ve stayed. I should’ve taken her in my arms and held her close until she fell asleep. That would have ironed out the last of our past’s creases, but instead, I walked away. Again. By the time I got back—two hours later because I had to be sure Lexi was asleep—I could avoid any further intimacy.
My original scruples no longer stand in our way. I can let Lexi enjoy her game and play by her rules. Based on the way she phrased it, it seems this is only about sex for her. I like a good hook-up as much as any other guy, because there are noexpectations of it ever being more than I can give: a good time with some hot-as-fuck memories when we’re done.
Except, for me, Lexi will never be hook-up material. I care too much about her. And with her, it will always be much more than mere physical intimacy. Plus, there’s another layer to the problem: this isn’t exactly a hook-up situation. Last night we cleared the air about what happened years ago, but somehow it only twisted the tension between us tighter.
Lexi thinks she’ll be calling the shots, with things beinggame over, no regrets or expectations when we’re done here. But I wasn’t being flippant when I said I don’t want anybody to get hurt.
Thatanybodywould be me.
