Bad Things (Tristan & Danika, #1)(44)

I gave answers like, “I’m just tired,” and, ”I need to catch up on sleep.”

I never slipped up once, never told him that I hated that he was going out without me, and especially that I hated why he was doing it. I kept my pride, if nothing else.

Tristan was beyond sweet, helping me put the boys to bed, and even playfully insisting on tucking me in before he went out.

He wasn’t going any place with a dress code, I noted, by his black T-shirt and jeans. Still, he looked too gorgeous to be real, and I hated how easy I knew it would be for him to find some random girl to f*ck.

“Don’t wait up for me,” he told me with a wink.

I made sure he saw me roll my eyes. “I’ll be asleep before Kenny even picks you up.”

I didn’t cry after he’d gone, but it was just as troubling to me that I had to make an effort not to. Eventually, I fell into a fitful sleep.

The sound of the bathroom door closing, and then the shower turning on, woke me.

My tired eyes found the clock. It was four a.m. Tristan was just getting home. I was suddenly wide awake.

I waited in silence when he finally finished his shower, walking quietly to his side of the bed.

“Did you get lucky?” I whispered as he settled in.

He froze, and then he was hugging me from behind, his voice a rasp in my ear. “You waiting up for me, boo?”

“No. I just woke up when you opened the door. So did you? Get lucky?” I held my breath as I waited for his answer.

He sighed. “I did. Hopefully I can control myself now. Our friendship is safe.” He patted my hip comfortingly as he said it, like he’d done it for me.

He’d washed the other woman off him. Or at least, I didn’t smell anything like that on him. But I still smelled the alcohol on his breath, and there was something about his voice, not a slur, but something more subtle, some sense of disconnect in his tone that made me think he was high, or at least very drunk.

I shut my eyes tightly, cursing the tears that bled down my cheeks.

It took me forever to get to sleep. I just lay there for a long time, calling myself every kind of fool.





CHAPTER SEVENTEEN





I woke up in black mood. I put on a good show for the boys, but I all wanted to do was curl up in a ball, and be alone for days. The fact that Tristan stayed in bed for most of the morning didn’t help.

I was feeling…self-destructive was the best way to put it. I was finding it nearly impossible not to do something that would distract me from the fact that I was feeling tender, and wounded. I wanted to do something phenomenally stupid, like call my ex.

Which was why it was such horrible timing that Jared chose that morning to call me. I’d given him my number, in a friendly sort of way, days before. I’d saved his into my cell at the time, so I knew right away who was calling me.

We were outside, and the boys were playing in their tree house. They were playing the usual tree house game, where Ivan attacked the tree house with an invisible army, and Mat and I had to defend. This usually involved me sitting in the cramped little wooden structure, pointing out of the opening, and firing my finger at a worked up Ivan about every three minutes, while Mat did all of the ground work; basically spazzing out in a circle around the tree. Often, I found this highly entertaining, since the boys seemed to have a ridiculous amount of knowledge about warfare, courtesy of cable. Today, though, I was just phoning it in, pointing my finger, and shooting on cue with little enthusiasm. Luckily, it seemed to make no difference to a six and an eight year old.

I stared at my phone for a long moment when it began to ring, and I saw who it was, but I answered, wanting a distraction, even a self-destructive one. I supposed that Jared was a better option than my ex.

“Hello, Jared,” I answered.

“Hey! Danika. Listen, I know you said you weren’t up for a date or anything yet, but I was thinking we could just go to dinner. Just a friendly dinner, nothing fancy. How does that sound?”

It sounded like a date. Did I care? Not just then. I knew it was shitty, since he was Tristan’s brother, but I wanted so badly to just be distracted for an evening. Distracted from Jared’s brother, in particular. I told myself that would be enough to help me stop thinking about Tristan. Some corner of my brain even acknowledged that I also wanted badly to be able to tell Tristan that I had plans if he wanted to do something that night, or even if he didn’t.

So I had a crush on Tristan? So what? It had developed quickly, and I swore that it would fade even faster.

Jared was still talking, his tone cajoling, as he tried to make it sound like he wasn’t asking me out on a date.

“Sure. Yeah, I’d love to, but it will have to be a late dinner,” I interrupted.

“Great. Perfect.” He sounded pleased but surprised. “What time should I pick you up?”

I chewed on my lip as I thought about it. “Nine o’clock should be good, but I’d rather meet up somewhere.”

“That works. Is there a place you’d prefer for dinner?”

“Chipotle.”

“Um…that sounds very informal.”

“It’s not a date, right? Nothing fancy, you said.”

He laughed, and it reminded me so much of Tristan that I wanted to cry.

“Fine, fine. That works. Aren’t you close to the Beltz Mall? How about we meet up at the Chipotle over there?”