If You Hate Me (The Toronto Terror Series)

A few days post waking up in Tristan’s bed, I’m in the kitchen, prepping dinner when he walks through the door. Flip isn’t with him. He has a dinner meeting with his agent.

The other night, when I got back from drinks with Hemi and Hammer, Flip had gone out, so I was alone with Tristan. I failed to resist his snack status and jumped on him like a dick-hungry puck bunny. I got three orgasms out of the deal. And again the next night. And the next. I believe that brings us to yesterday.

“Hey.” Tristan drops his keys on the side table.

“Hey,” I reply, but I don’t look his way as he crosses the room.

He props his hip against the counter. “How’s it going?”

Just the feel of his eyes on me makes everything below the waist clench. I reach for the closest vegetable, which is an English cucumber, and move to the sink. I’m making cucumber salad because I bought a three pack. “I’m good. You?”

“Spent a lot of time today thinking about last night, if I’m honest.” His voice is deceptively soft. “Helped keep me occupied during the boring parts of the team meeting.”

Last night Flip didn’t come home, so I spent a good part of it getting railed. I slept in the loft, though, unfortunately, as we were unsure if Flip was spending the whole night elsewhere. “That’s nice.” I run the cucumber under cold water and, like an idiot, start stroking it.

Tristan’s chest brushes my back, and he presses his hips against mine, pinning me to the counter as he sets down a pint of my favorite ice cream. “I got you a treat. Moose Tracks is your favorite, right?”

“It is. That’s really sweet of you.” And unexpected. I didn’t realize he paid attention to the things I like.

“I felt like you deserved it after last night.” His hands land on either side of me. His erection nudges my lower back as his lips ghost along the column of my throat. “What are you doing?”

“Making dinner. What does it look like?”

He nips my earlobe. “Like you’re giving a hand job to a cucumber.” One palm leaves the counter and slides under my shirt. His fingertips travel over my stomach, and he cups one bare breast. “You thinking about getting fucked?”

I shrug, but anticipation makes my heart gallop and my voice shake. “You’re rubbing your dick on my ass. Hard not to think about it.”

He steps back and tugs my shorts over my hips. “What happened to your panties, Bea?” He kneads the bare flesh and gives it a swat.

I moan as I drop the cucumber on the counter and push my ass toward him. He grabs the hem of my shirt and pulls it over my head, leaving me naked in the middle of the kitchen.

He wraps my ponytail around his fist. His other hand splays out over my stomach. “I asked you a question. Where’d your panties go?”

“I took them off when I got home.” After I realized Flip would be out, I wanted to be ready for Tristan. Especially since I don’t have to be quiet. The ache between my thighs is almost unbearable.

“And why was that?” His nose brushes my cheek.

“Because I couldn’t stop thinking about last night either, and I soaked through them,” I admit.

“Did you think about getting fucked again all day?” He peppers kisses along my shoulder.

“Yes. I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” It’s never been like this for me. I’ve never felt so utterly consumed by someone.

“Even on the train ride home?” His hand glides down my stomach and cups me.

I nod.

“Did you take care of yourself when you got home?” He nibbles my neck.

I shake my head and tip it to give him better access. I love this part, when his hands are all over me, when he’s kissing me, soft before he gets dirty.

“Good girl.” He exhales a long, slow breath, fingers skimming my sex. “You thought about it, though.”

“But I waited for you.”

He pulls my head back and turns my face so he can kiss me. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you either. All fucking day, Bea. I couldn’t wait to get home.”

Everything feels heightened. I’m aching for him. Desperate and needy. I don’t want to think about how this will have to end. How, despite his mercurial moods, I want more of him. Of this. Of us.

He releases my hair and puts a hand between my shoulder blades. He pushes me forward until my chest meets the granite, making my already hard nipples tighten further. He taps the outside of my right thigh. “Bring this knee up,” he orders.

I do as I’m told, and he helps get my knee on the counter. He adjusts my position, stretching my right leg along the edge of the granite. His fingers move between my thighs, and I moan when he skims over my already sensitive clit. His hands run over my ass and along the backs of my thighs, then reverse the circuit, thumbs skimming the edge of my pussy.

“Such a good girl. I want to make you feel so good tonight.” His hips press against my ass, and he leans in as he pushes his thumb between my lips. I suck as he kisses my cheek. He pulls it free and grips my chin, turning my head enough to kiss me again. When he pulls back, he asks, “Do I always make you feel good?”

“Yes,” I breathe.

“But if I’m ever pushing you too far, tell me, and I’ll always stop. Okay, Bea?”

“Okay,” I agree. This means he has a plan, and it probably involves something new. Anticipation and anxiety spike my heart rate, and my stomach clenches.

“That’s my sweet girl.” He brushes his nose against mine. This is it, this is where sweet Tristan turns into dirty Tristan, and I’m here for it. One side of his mouth pulls up in a lascivious grin. “Should I get you ready for my cock?”

“Yes, please.”

He shifts his position, so his hip rests against the back of my leg stretched along the counter. At the same time, he grabs the English cucumber and splays his other hand between my shoulder blades.

“Oh my God.” For a hot second I consider tapping out, but he’s right. He always makes me feel good. And honestly, an English cucumber isn’t much different from a regular dildo. It just happens to be edible and biodegradable. And I washed it, so it’s clean.

He slides the tip along my slit, rubbing over my clit, then pushes it in before pulling back again. My toes curl when he rubs it over my clit again. He keeps up with the slow teasing, only giving me an inch or two before he pulls out and rubs my juices all over the insides of my legs. I bite my knuckle to stop myself from begging for more. I have no idea if this is normal.

I seriously can’t believe I’m being fucked with produce. And enjoying it.

“How much do you think you can take?” he asks.

“Why don’t you find out?”

This time when he pushes in, I feel it hit my cervix and moan.

He pulls out, and I groan my irritation.

“Look at this, Bea.” He holds it up for me to see. My juices are dripping down the sides onto his fist. “You haven’t even come yet, and you’re making a mess.” He aggressively bites off the end, then slides it back inside me while chewing. I want to laugh at the absurdity of it all, but I moan when he pushes in deep, then pulls it out again.

The hand between my shoulders disappears, and he shifts again, pulling my leg off the counter. He sets the cucumber on the cutting board, pulls me to a stand, and spins me around to set me on the counter. It’s momentarily disorienting. But God, the look on his face. He looks like he’s ready to devour me. And I want it. Him. This version of us, where it’s all about pleasure, not fighting.

“I want you to watch me fuck you with tonight’s salad.” He hooks my right leg under his left arm, drags me to the edge, grabs the cucumber, and starts fucking me with it again. I splay my hands out behind me so I can keep my balance.

It’s obscene, watching him use the cucumber like a freaking dildo. My legs start shaking, so I know I’m getting close. “Let’s make it ribbed for your pleasure.” He pulls it out, then bites around the outside about an inch from the jagged top before sliding it back inside me. It absolutely does the trick. He’s still chewing when I come.

When my eyes finally roll back down, he slaps his wallet on the counter. “Get a condom out so I can get in on the action.” He bites off another chunk of the cucumber while I fumble to retrieve the condom. I hold it out for him.

He points to the cucumber, which is literally coated in my orgasm. It’s dripping down his hand and onto the floor at our feet. “Why don’t you take care of that while I have my snack?” He nibbles the end. “Best cucumber I’ve ever eaten. Hands fucking down.” He follows that with another enormous bite.

I can’t help it. I burst out laughing and slap a hand over my mouth. “Is there something wrong with us?”

“Dunno, but if there is, I don’t want to fix it.” He points to his crotch. “My hands are full. Do me a favor and get my cock out.”

I set the condom beside me on the counter and work the buckle free on his belt, pop the button on his jeans, and drag the zipper down. I slide my hand into his boxers and wrap my fingers around his thick length, freeing him from the fabric.

He takes another bite of the cucumber and then holds it alongside his erection. He’s significantly girthier, but now that he’s eaten part of it—I don’t know that I’ll ever get over this—it’s closer to his length. “I wonder if they’d both fit,” he muses.

“What?” Shock makes my voice pitchy.

His gaze lifts, along with one corner of his mouth. “Nothing. Just thinking aloud.” He tosses the cucumber on the counter and nabs the condom.

“About trying to get your cock and a cucumber inside me at the same freaking time?” At least I sound more incredulous than I do curious.

He tears the foil packet and rolls the condom down his length, then runs his hands up my thighs as he steps between them. He pulls me to the edge of the counter, and I reach between us to guide him to my entrance. His eyes stay on mine as he fills me.

He exhales a cucumber-and-vagina-scented breath. “All damn day, Bea.”

“You thought about fucking me with a cucumber?” I lace my fingers behind his neck.

“I’ll probably use that as jerk-off fodder during away games.” His fingers curl around my hip. The other hand gently wraps my throat. “This is my favorite part of the day.” He leans in and brushes his nose against mine. It’s the tenderness I’ve come to relish before things get intense. “I’m going to fuck you good and hard now, okay, little Bea?”

I hook my legs behind his back. “Yes, please.”

“I’m sleeping with Tristan and Flip doesn’t know,” I blurt.

“I knew it! I fucking knew it!” Hemi shouts.

I point to the closed door. “Shh… What about your roommate?”

She waves away my worry. “She’s a gamer. Half the time she’s got that whole headgear thing on so it’s an immersive experience. She can’t hear anything we’re saying.”

“Oh.” I hadn’t realized Hemi had a roommate until she magically appeared in the kitchen to make instant noodles, said hi, and disappeared down the hall.

“The tension between you two is delicious. I should have put money on this.” Hemi sighs.

“Who would you have made the bet with?” I cross my arms. That Hemi figured this out is a bit worrisome. How transparent are we?

Hammer raises her hand. “I had a feeling when we went to the exhibition game.”

“Shit. You both knew?”

“Suspected,” Hemi clarifies.

“Strongly suspected,” Hammer amends.

“Isn’t Tristan your brother’s roommate?” Tally asks, eyes wide.

She knows a lot about the team and the players.

“And his best friend,” Hammer says. “This is so fantastically scandalous.”

“How long has it been going on?” Hemi fills my wineglass. For the second time.

“A few weeks, maybe.” I wring my hands. “This has to stay between us. Flip can’t find out. And as soon as I get my own place, it stops.” It has to. I can’t have Tristan coming to my apartment to bang me. My sore vagina clenches at the thought. She’s such a whore for his cock. But my serial-monogamist heart has ideas, and fuckboys don’t make for boyfriends who love you back and dream of forever.

“Are you, like, secretly dating?” Tally looks excited.

“What? No. I don’t even like him. Mostly. He’s a giant asshole. It’s just sex. A lot of sex.” Saying that I’m sleeping with my brother’s best friend, who I mostly hate, is probably inaccurate. But I’m censoring for Tally. I ran away tonight when Tristan went to the store because we’ve had sex at least once a day since the shower incident. Sometimes it’s fast and dirty, sometimes it’s hard and long. Often it’s the latter. In the past week, I’ve had only one twenty-four-hour break, and that was when they had an exhibition game in Detroit.

Tristan fucked me into next week before he left, and then again when he came back the following evening. So yeah. My poor vagina needs a break.

Besides, Flip was home when I left tonight. So any sex would take place after he was either asleep or out. And honestly, being woken up at three a.m. for be-a-good-girl-and-stay-quiet sex is a goddamn challenge.

“Wait. What? What do you mean you don’t even like him? Why are you sleeping with him if he’s an asshole?” Tally chews her bottom lip, like the prospect stresses her out.

“Tristan might be an arrogant, territorial player, but the sex is out of this world. Normally I’m all about healthy, nontoxic relationships. But my ex was accepted to a master’s program out of province a few months ago, and he didn’t want to try long distance, so we broke up.”

“I’m sorry. That must be so hard,” Tally says.

“I ate a lot of refried beans, but otherwise survived.” I sigh. “It was probably the right call, but my bestie had moved to Vancouver just before we broke up, so I was already in my feels. I’m not relationship ready. But I’m not above having sex with someone I dislike immensely who can provide me with multiple orgasms on the regular.”

“You can have more than one?” Tally asks. I’m pretty sure her eyes are going to be permanently wide after tonight.

“Maybe we should change the subject. I feel like I’m corrupting you,” I say.

“No! I’m the only virgin left in my friend group, and they all talk about sex. I’m over here still having only made it to second base! And you want to know why?”

Yeesh, she’s only seventeen and all her friends have had sex? What the hell is going on in her high school? “Because your dad is the coach of a pro hockey team, and he knows what happens in their bedrooms and doesn’t want it to happen to you?”

“Yes! Exactly. He’s so freaking overprotective. He’s a great dad, but he hovered over me all summer long. It’s been a lot. And now, with this co-op placement, he gets to hover even more. I’m so grateful you’re taking me under your wing, Hemi. So grateful, because if I had to deal with him being a guard dog for eight hours a day, I would lose my mind.” She blows out a breath. “Sorry for the rant. It’s been intense. And now I’m surrounded by all these super-hot hockey players, and I worry I’m never going to get past second base!” She throws her hands in the air.

“First, there’s no rush to have sex. You have the rest of your life to worry about it. Honestly, no guy has any idea what he’s doing before he gets to college. You’re truly not missing out on much,” Hammer says.

“Yes. This. Even the ones in their mid-twenties are fairly clueless,” Hemi grumbles.

“But not Tristan?” Tally asks.

“No. Tristan knows his way around a vagina. But he’s also been inside a lot of them, so that’s the trade-off.” I gulp my wine. I’m going to hell for this conversation.

“And you don’t even like him?” Tally seems really hung up on this point.

“He’s a dick who’s good with his dick.” Yeah. There’s fire licking at my heels.

“Relationships are confusing.” Tally pushes to her feet and crosses to the bathroom.

Once the door is closed, I lower my voice and admit the truth. “Tristan is fucking filthy in bed. Filthy.”

Hammer’s eyes light up. “Like, he makes you call him Daddy?”

I open and close my mouth twice. “Uh, no. But I feel like I’ve learned something about you tonight.”

Hammer rolls her eyes. “This isn’t about me. Sorry. I need details. Filthy how?”

“He says and does the dirtiest shit. Like the other night he spat in my mouth, and I was so shocked I just said thanks.” It was dry from all the gasp-moaning. I clap a hand over my mouth and look between the two of them.

“Oh, that is high on the filth,” Hemi agrees.

Hammer leans in. “What else?”

“Before the away game last week, I was making a cucumber salad⁠—”

They both have wide eyes, and Hammer looks far too excited for her own good.

“—and he bent me over the kitchen island and fucked me with an English cucumber. And then he ate it.”

“After he washed it?” Hemi asks.

I shake my head.

“Lord.” Hammer grips the edge of the table. “Please tell me he was the only one who ate it.”

“Oh yeah. He gnawed on it like it was the best thing he’d ever eaten.” And said as much.

“Damn. That boy is dirty.”

“Right?” I haven’t been able to share the details with Essie because every time she calls, I have no privacy. “And last night⁠—”

“Oh, God, there’s more?” Hammer bounces a few times on her seat.

I nod. But maybe I should keep this to myself.

“Butt stuff? Did you do butt stuff?”

“Not yet.” But for sure it’s coming. There’s no way it isn’t. He’s too obsessed with putting his fingers in there for that not to happen. I’m obviously nervous. His cock is huge.

“Oh my God! Not yet!” Hammer claps. “If not butt stuff, then what?”

“Have you ever watched the movie Chasing Amy?”

“Total classic,” Hemi says.

Hammer nods. “Oh yeah. That movie is a must.”

I make a circle with one hand, and put the tips of my fingers together, sliding them through the hole, until I’m gripping my wrist while making a fist.

“Oh my God!” Hammer jumps to her feet. “His whole hand?”

Hemi’s jaw drops. “No!”

I hide behind my hands. “Not to the wrist, but yes.” I should have known better than to think his comment about getting the cucumber and his cock inside me at the same time was offhand.

“But didn’t that hurt? His hands are huge,” Hammer asks.

“You would have thought so,” I say from behind my hands. “But no. I did think I was going to die from coming so hard, though.”

“Well, that wins the filthy trophy right there. How the hell did he convince you to let him do that?”

“I was on the edge of an orgasm for like half an hour, but he kept stopping just before I came. I would have said yes to butt stuff at that point.”

“But couldn’t you have finished yourself off?” Hammer asks.

“I was also maybe tied to the bed.” Because I’d been yanking on his hair. It was an intense night.

The bathroom door opens. “So, um, the walls in this place are really thin.” Tally thumbs over her shoulder. “Also, do you think maybe we can watch this Chasing Amy movie sometime?”

We all say yes.

Hemi looks toward her roommate’s bedroom. “I hope she was wearing headphones.” She turns back to me. “So does this mean you’re dating?”

I scoff. “Oh my God, no. He doesn’t even like me. We made a deal that what’s going on ends when I move out. And Flip can’t ever find out.” This needs to stay firmly in the sex-pact box. Liking Tristan is out of the question. I can’t afford to have feelings for him.

Hemi makes a face. “You think Flip wouldn’t be happy about it?”

“He’d be so pissed.”

“But didn’t you grow up with Tristan?” Tally asks.

“Yeah, but I was a high school freshman when they were seniors, and they both got drafted right away and called up right out of university.”

“Did you have a crush on him when you were younger?” Hammer asks.

“Big time. It was ridiculous. He didn’t know, though.” At least I don’t think he did. I tried to hide it. “He was around a lot when I was younger. Especially before his parents divorced.”

“Divorce sucks,” Hammer says.

“Yeah, Tristan’s mom bailed. Just up and left one day. Said she needed to find herself or some bullshit.”

Hemi’s eyes flare. “I didn’t know that.”

“He doesn’t really talk about it. Or her.” Not that he and I have many in-depth, emotionally revealing conversations these days.

“That’s so sad,” Tally murmurs. “How old was he?”

“Twelve, I think. And he has two younger brothers.”

“So his dad raised three boys on his own. Yeesh. That must have been hard,” Hammer says.

“Yeah. One is graduating high school this year, and the other one is about my age. Tristan’s tight with them.” He’s almost like a second parent. He’s always at Brody’s games, and he and Nate talk on the phone constantly.

“Well, that might explain why he’s so relationship averse,” Hammer says.

“Yeah. For sure.” I think about how pissed off Tristan was when I moved in, about some of the comments he made. Not wanting my drama. Maybe he saw me as someone he’d have to take care of and didn’t want to—other than in the bedroom.

I can’t be that girl who had a crush on him back when I was a teen. Not when my current value is based solely on the availability of my vagina.

“Did you ever hang out with him and Flip?” Tally is adorably invested in my childhood crush.

“I was more of an annoyance than anything. They had to walk me home from school until they went to middle school. But we’d stop at the grocery store to pick up snacks when Tristan came over.” Tristan always had cash. His dad knew how much we struggled financially and probably gave it to him. I’m sure Tristan had strict orders to spend that money on food. “We’d stop in the candy aisle, and Tristan would always let us pick something. Flip loved those candy-coated black-licorice things.” Tristan had seemed so happy to be at our place back then. And he hadn’t minded me tagging along as much as Flip did. Or that’s how it seemed.

Tally perks up. “Good and Plenty?”

I nod. “Yes! No one else liked them, so he had the whole box to himself.”

Tally shrugs. “I like them, but I’m Dutch, so it’s basically a cultural prerequisite to enjoy black licorice. I think it’s sweet that Tristan let you pick something.”

“I’m pretty sure he had to show his dad the grocery receipt when he got home. He always pocketed it.” I remember that—him fishing it out of the bag and shoving it in his pocket. “And whenever his dad would drop him off at our place, Tristan had his backpack and hockey gear, but he’d also have a cooler bag full of snacks. There was always something special for me. But again, his dad was probably responsible.” If Tristan was staying overnight, his dad would send him with things like burgers and bakery buns and a fresh salad. His dad knew how much Tristan and Flip could eat.

“Maybe it wasn’t his dad, though. Maybe it was Tristan. Maybe he’s had a thing for you all these years.” Poor Tally looks so hopeful.

I snort. “Doubtful. I was the annoying little sister. He couldn’t stand me then, and not much has changed.” Although he has moments of sweetness. But reading into those is dangerous and stupid.

“He must like you at least a little, all things considered,” Hemi says.

“The only thing he likes about me is my readily accessible vagina. And the only things I like about him are his huge cock and his ability to make me come like a freight train.” That doesn’t feel one hundred percent true on my side anymore, and that makes me nervous. Liking him for anything beyond his skills in the bedroom isn’t part of the deal.

“It’s so romantic,” Hammer deadpans.

“Totally.” I clink my glass against hers.

Tally scrunches up her nose. “That’s the opposite of romantic.”

We all laugh. Getting my heart broken by my childhood tormentor-secret crush is way too cliché. Even for me.

On the subway ride home, I think about how things shifted after Tristan’s mom left. Tristan had to be home to get his younger brothers off the bus after school, so Flip spent more time there. I was an added responsibility neither of them wanted. And Tristan’s tolerance for me evaporated completely when I became a teenager. That summer before I started high school, something changed. I don’t know what tripped the switch. Maybe it was my hormones, or my crush on Tristan became obvious. It was probably irritating to have me hanging around like a lovesick puppy, always vying for his attention.

There were several incidents leading up to the night he made it clear my presence was unwanted and unwelcome, but the evening he threw me in the pool wearing the dress my mom made for Essie’s birthday party stands out as a turning point. I realize now that I had everything he wanted—a family that loved each other, a mom who would spend every spare minute making me a dress so I could look pretty for my best friend’s party. He was angry and hurting.

Maybe he still is.

When I get home, Flip is in the loft watching a movie. Tristan’s bedroom door is closed, so he’s either in there or he’s out. It isn’t until I’m in the loft that I discover Flip is not alone.

“Oh. I didn’t realize you had a friend over. I’ll grab a book and hang out downstairs.” I thumb over my shoulder. There are a couple of occasional chairs by the wall of windows.

“It’s cool. You can watch the movie with us,” Flip says. “Stacey, this is my sister, Rix. Rix, this is my friend Stacey.”

“Hey.” Stacey lifts a hand in an unenthusiastic wave.

“Are you sure? I can totally disappear for a while.” Bed would be nice, but the café nearby is an option if it gets awkward. From what I can tell, they’re about halfway through their movie, and past the first sex scene, thank God. Eventually they’ll go downstairs. I hope.

“Yeah, totally. Come hang out.” Flip pats the empty space beside him. “Where were you tonight?”

“I went to Hemi’s with Hammer and Tally.” I take the spot beside my brother.

He pauses the movie. “Oh, nice. I know it’s tough with Essie in Vancouver.”

“I definitely miss her.”

Stacey pulls out her phone and takes a bunch of selfies that include my brother’s profile.

“I bet. It’ll get easier though. Especially now that you’re getting settled. The new job is good?”

“Yeah. So much better. And I’m on the hunt for an apartment, so you’ll have your TV room back soon.” I motion to the paused movie.

“Don’t rush it. I’d rather you find the right place than end up in a crappy neighborhood again,” he says.

He hits play on the movie again.

Within five minutes, Stacey’s hand is climbing up my brother’s leg. And she’s whispering in his ear. He puts a pillow over his lap.

I’d like to believe my brother wouldn’t get a handy while I’m sitting next to him, but it seems high on the list of potentially awful things that could happen. The giggling comes next, followed by the sound of lips on skin. Stacey moans. I should have stayed at Hemi’s longer.

I’m half a second away from calling them out, or leaving, when the front door opens. “Hey, honey! I’m home!”

I am instantly relieved that it’s Tristan. And worried about why he’s coming in at this hour and where he’s been. Not that I have a right to care.

“We’re up here watching a movie,” Flip calls.

“I’ll be right up. Need anything from the fridge?”

“Nope. All good here!” Flip answers for us.

A minute later, Tristan pulls himself into the loft. His brow arches when he sees me, then rises again when his gaze lands on Flip and Stacey. Tristan is fresh from the gym. He smells like sweat and deodorant. I bet his skin is extra salty right now. What I wouldn’t give to lick a path from his throat to his cock. I cross my legs.

“I didn’t realize you had company tonight,” he says to Flip.

“Stacey, you remember Tristan, right? Tristan, we’ve hung out with Stacey before.”

Based on Tristan’s blank expression, he doesn’t remember hanging out with Stacey. “Right. Hey.”

The awkwardness ratchets up to unbearable levels. I do not want to know how well Tristan and Stacey know each other. My stomach twists uncomfortably, and finding an apartment climbs on my to-do list. Like, maybe I should go do that right now. End this sex pact so I don’t have to deal with the hard truth: that I’m no different than Stacey. Watching a movie with someone Tristan and my brother have both slept with is more than I’m prepared for. I don’t want to think about him touching her the way he touches me.

Before I can make an excuse to leave, Tristan crams himself on the futon between me and Flip. I shift over a few inches, trying to give him extra space, but he manspreads until his knee rests against mine.

He stretches his arm across the back of the couch. His fingers sift through my hair, and his thumb sweeps along my nape. I freeze, unsure how to interpret the touch. It feels illicit. Dangerous. Is he trying to tell me something? Whatever his intentions, it’s incredibly ballsy. I brush his hand away, unable to handle the contact.

“How was the workout?” Flip asks.

“Good. Guess now I know why you missed it,” Tristan replies.

“Planning to get a different kind of workout in.” Flip snorts.

Stacey giggles.

I want to yeet her over the loft railing. Horror hits me when I finally pin down the emotion that’s making my blood boil. I’m jealous. Of a puck bunny. That she’s had Tristan’s hands on her makes me feel sick. This is a new low. There are hundreds of women just like her—and me—who have had his unrelenting dick inside of us.

Five minutes later, Flip and Stacey decide to move to his bedroom. As they get up, Tristan’s arm magically disappears from the back of the couch. Once Flip stands, he moves over a few inches.

Flip sends Stacey down before him and turns to Tristan. “You want in, man?”

This time I audibly gag. Flip ignores me.

My stomach tries to turn itself inside out. That my brother is inviting his best friend to take part in a threesome in front of me is indicative of the lack of boundaries in their relationship. It’s also a shot of reality I don’t know how to handle. This is what I signed on for. And it was fine when Tristan and I were in this little bubble, but the season is about to start. Tristan will be on the road. Maybe fucking bunnies. Probably fucking bunnies. I’m such an idiot for thinking I could handle something like that.

Tristan coughs and rubs the back of his neck. “Uh, no, man. I’m good.”

The wave of relief that follows is horrifying. He’s going away tomorrow, and I’ll be faced with an entire twenty-four hours of not knowing where his dick is going to be. I don’t want it to be anywhere but inside me. Which is a huge fucking problem.

Flip shrugs. “Suit yourself.”

“Keep in mind we have an early flight tomorrow,” Tristan adds.

“I’ll nap on the plane.” Flip disappears down the ladder.

Neither of us says anything until my brother’s bedroom door closes.

“Where’d you go tonight?” Tristan asks.

As if none of that just happened. Like I’m not over here in a panic spiral because I have feelings and don’t like them one bit.

This isn’t a big deal for him, I realize. And it shouldn’t be for me either. But I feel ill knowing he’s fucked her, had his hands on her, kissed her, probably at the same time as my brother.

And I’m about to hear her get railed all night. I should be able to shake that, but I can’t.

“Hemi’s.” I run my hands up and down my legs. I need space. And not to have a panic attack or emotional breakdown in front of Tristan. Because this jealousy and shame aren’t something I want him to see. This was always the deal. My stomach flops over. “I should probably get ready for bed.”

He grabs my arm before I can stand. “Why don’t we hang out here until Flip gets things going? Then you can come to my room.”

“Wow.” I blow out a breath. This is not how I envisioned tonight—or any other night—going. Although, I probably should have. This is a reminder that any feelings for Tristan that aren’t lust—or hate—related is a bad freaking idea. Who knows how recently he was with Stacey. I’m just another series of holes that are conveniently available. Clearly that’s what he thinks, as evidenced by his immediate invitation to fuck now that Flip will be occupied—with someone Tristan has also screwed before.

But the worst part is, for half a second I consider it. Because I don’t want to listen to Stacey tonight. But if I go to his bedroom, I risk being honest about how I feel, and then I’m even more screwed. It’s an impossible situation.

The whole thing feels like the absolute worst gut punch. Seriously. If I don’t vomit or cry, it’ll be a miracle. “It’s probably not a good idea tonight.”

He seems confused. “Why not?”

So many reasons. None of which I want to voice for fear of losing it, or worse, admitting I don’t want to be another Stacey. “I don’t know how to deal with this.” It’s honest without setting myself up.

“Is this because of the woman Flip brought home?” His voice drops to a whisper. “He’ll be busy with her for hours.”

Confirmation once again that I’m just someone Tristan fucks in secret that he doesn’t even really like.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” His jaw clenches. “You can’t be upset with me because Flip asked if I wanted in. I said no.”

We set parameters, and he’s staying inside them. But I don’t think I’m capable of compartmentalizing tonight and shifting the boundaries back where they’re supposed to be. I bite my lips together, taking a moment to compose myself. Calm is the only way to manage this. “As inconvenient as it might be, my emotions are mine, and you can’t tell me how I’m allowed to feel.”

“That’s not—I’m just saying I didn’t do anything wrong, so I don’t get why you’re stonewalling me.” I can’t read his expression, but he seems…anxious, maybe? I don’t know. I’m confused, and the heaviness in my chest is uncomfortable.

I don’t want to put myself on the line emotionally, but I need to explain this in a way he can understand. I can’t listen to Stacey make the same noises I make. “I know your sexual history is extensive and prolific. You wouldn’t be half as good at getting me off if it wasn’t. But it’s harder than I thought to come face to face with your past.” What if I can’t do this anymore? Maybe I’m not cut out for casual sex.

His silence is telling. And damning. “It was a long time ago,” he whispers. “Why are you holding it against me?”

“I’m not trying to. I just… I didn’t expect to ever run into a Stacey, which I realize is pretty stupid, but we’ve been in this bubble. Now it’s popped, and I’m having a hard time.” I don’t even know that Tristan can empathize. I’m not sure that’s how he operates.

He scrubs his face with his hand and presses his knuckles to his mouth. “If you stayed in my room, you wouldn’t have to listen.”

“But I don’t want to be fucked by you tonight,” I say softly. And it’s the truth. I’m just another Stacey, and I don’t want to be. I’m scared of what that means.

His jaw tics. “I’m leaving in the morning, though. And we’re staying overnight.”

Is it a threat? A statement of fact? I wish I could read him better. He has two main modes: fuck machine and asshole, occasionally tempered by the sweet side that makes my heart all melty. But I can’t let him into my body tonight. Not with my head all over the place and this stupid ache in my chest. Then what will happen while he’s away and I’m not accessible? I can’t be that fourteen-year-old girl desperate for his attention. Not now. Not ever. If this is what ends this, so be it. It’s not a risk I’m willing to take.

I swallow down the threat of tears, impressed by how steady my voice is. “I know.”

His gaze moves over my face. He doesn’t try to touch me. Which is good. If he did, I’d probably fold. “Okay. That’s fine.”

He stands and moves around me. He doesn’t look at me as he climbs down the ladder. My heart is in my throat as I wait for what’s next. Will he knock on Flip’s door? I grab a pillow and shove it against my face. I need to get a grip. If he goes into that bedroom, I’ll never let him inside me again. I will find the next available apartment and move. Doesn’t matter what neighborhood it’s in.

Emotions claw at my throat. Tears blur my vision. Jesus. I like him. I fucking like him, and I don’t want to. I’ve already had my heart broken once in the last six months. I certainly don’t need to hand it over to my brother’s emotionally unavailable best friend.

The bathroom door closes. Five minutes later, it opens again.

I stop breathing.

Until Tristan’s bedroom door closes with a thud.

I stifle a relieved sob with the pillow.

I’m terrified, but I did what was best for me. And that’s more important than anything else.

“Bea, baby, wake up for me. Come on, Bea.”

I blink into the inky gray morning light. Tristan is hovering over me. His thumbs brush along the edge of my jaw. “Time’s it?” I ask.

“Early.”

“Flip?”

“In the shower.”

Awareness hits me. I turned him away last night. He’s leaving this morning, and I won’t see him until he’s back in thirty-six hours.

“I get it. I get why you said no,” he tells me softly. “I just wanted you next to me. I hated last night. I won’t fuck anyone else while I’m gone. I haven’t and I won’t. There’s only you, okay? You’re the only one.” His eyes are wild. Haunted almost. He takes my hand and presses it against his cheek. “Just don’t go. Please, Bea? Don’t leave yet. I’m not done with you. I need more.”

I’m half awake, barely processing his words. “I won’t go.”

“Okay. Good. That’s good.” He kisses my palm. “Fuck, Bea.” He drops his head and nuzzles into my hair, breathing me in. “Can I kiss you? Please? Before I go?”

There’s panic in his voice. Anxiety. I’ve heard it before, but I can’t make the connection. I’m still too out of it.

“Please?” he begs.

“Sleep breath,” I mumble.

“Don’t care.” He cups my face gently between his palms. “Please say yes.”

“You can kiss me,” I whisper.

Tristan climbs onto the futon with me and straddles my hips. He slants his mouth over mine, and I feel the desperation in his kiss. The longing. The need.

Saying no last night was the right thing to do—not because this is the result, but because he came to the realization I needed him to. Actions have consequences. And last night he experienced those consequences and didn’t like them.

Neither did I.

He moves my hands to his hair and stretches out on top of me. Bracing his weight on one arm, he curves his other hand around my throat.

He breaks the kiss and rubs his nose against mine. “I slept like shit. All I wanted was you.” His lips brush over mine.

I run my fingers through his hair. “I’ll be here when you get back.”

“Promise.” He pulls back, his expression fierce. “Promise you’ll be here when I get back.”

“I promise.”