Bad Things (Tristan & Danika, #1)(67)

“Bullshit,” he said softly.

I’d never seen his mean side, and with just a taste, I was certain I couldn’t handle it.

“Wh-what do you mean? Did you hear what I said?”

“Oh, I heard you. I just don’t believe you.”

“Why would I lie about something like that?”

“Prove it. Tell me why you fell in love with me so fast. Tell me how.”

He was very helpful at getting my hurt to turn to fury in a heartbeat.

“It was actually very easy, you ass. I couldn’t help it. Being around you, I couldn’t help myself. You’re just too easy to love. Going by your reaction, though, I see that I’m not.”

“Don’t guilt trip me, Danika. That shit feels manipulative.”

“I’d rather be manipulative, than be a heartless jerk.”

“You keep making these statements about love. You say I’m the heartless one, but you’ve got this relationship thing down to an emotionless science.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Everything is never and always with you, like you’ve done it all before. You always do committed relationships. You never have sex without love. Do you know how mechanical you sound when you say those things? It’s become nothing more than routine for you. You make it sound like any man could have you, if he just agreed to those two things. You play so hard to get, but two easy lies could get you into bed.”

“Don’t be an ass.”

“I’m not being an ass. I’m not saying this because I don’t care. If I didn’t give a damn, I would just say those words. Don’t you get that? I don’t make promises because I’m honest, and most damned promises are a lie.”

I felt my lip quiver. He’d done it now. I wouldn’t hold back on him. I felt how ugly the words were before they’d even left my lips. “You think you’re such a perfect guy, just because you tell women the score, and they love you anyway. You think your dad was any different from you? You think your mother named you after him because he was a bastard? He was probably just like you, just as charming, just as fun, just as irresistible. Your worst nightmare is to become like your dad, but what would you do if some woman came up to you tomorrow, and told you she was pregnant?”

“I always use protection—”

“Which doesn’t always work. You’re dodging the question. I’ll answer it for you. You’d run away. Just like your dad.”

His jaw clenched, and he shook his head at me, looking pissed now. “That was low.”

I knew it was. I felt low for saying it, but I didn’t take it back.

“If you’ll recall,” he bit out. “This was just as much your idea as mine. Remember when you promised me that this wouldn’t ruin our friendship? Was that a lie?”

I couldn’t answer that. I didn’t know how, and the idea that he’d allow our friendship to end just broke my heart.

He cursed, a long, loud, fluent tirade. “We should have stuck to our don’t list.”

I felt my face turning red with temper. As though that asinine list had magic powers, to keep us from making stupid mistakes.

I exploded. “It wasn’t a don’t list, you douche bag, it may as well have been a f*cking checklist! Your f*cked up mind just saw it as a challenge!”

His eyes were so cold as he studied me. It was a new experience for me, watching that warm golden gaze that I loved shoot ice at me. “I’m leaving. How about you give me a call when you grow the f*ck up?”

I blinked, feeling almost numb as he started to gather his things, shoving them into his large duffle with short, angry movements.

I sat heavily on the bed as he just continued to pack without a word.

“Tristan,” I said once, a soft plea in the word.

He ignored it. He ignored me.

In fact, he never uttered another word before he walked out.





CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX





The next week was more hellish than any breakup I’d ever been through, which scared the shit out of me, because it wasn’t even a real breakup.

He was never even yours to lose, I told myself, at least a hundred times a day.

He didn’t call, he didn’t text, and he didn’t come back to the house.

The one ray of light that seemed to appear as a result of the fallout was Frankie.

Two days after Tristan left, she started calling. Calling, and texting, and just showing up.

Frankie was good company. She was funny, and irreverent, and just plain easy to talk to. I had no idea why, but she’d decided that we were fast friends, and so we were. Between her and my usual nanny duties, I should have been adequately distracted.

Too bad that still left the nighttime for tossing and turning, and rehashing all of the stupid things I’d done and said.

I told Frankie as much one day over the phone. Her response was to take her distraction campaign into the evening hours, and we so we started hitting the clubs.

She was so persistent about monopolizing all of my free time, that I started to worry she might be interested in me.

“You know I’m into guys, right?” I asked her one night, on the way home from a great dancing my way to distraction session.

She laughed. A lot. And then laughed some more.