Bad Things (Tristan & Danika #1)(48)

I pulled back.

“I’m sorry,” I told him quietly. “We shouldn’t.”

“I know,” he said with a smile. “This isn’t a date. Still, I had to try.”

I rolled my eyes, less worried about leading him on after that statement.

“That came out wrong. What I meant was…I like you, a lot. I think about you way too often, and I’d like to spend more time with you. I won’t try that again, not until you want me to.”

I sighed, hating what I had to admit, but knowing that it was the only fair thing to do. “I don’t think we can ever date, Jared. Tristan and I are just friends, that was the truth, but I do have feelings for him, which makes this wrong.”

Even in the dim light, I could see his mouth tighten, and his brows draw together, but he nodded. “Okay. Okay, I understand.”

“Please don’t tell Tristan that I said that. He doesn’t know.”

“Of course.”

We suffered through a long, awkward silence before he spoke again. “Do you still want to swim?”

“Yes. If you do.”

“Yeah. I still want to be friends. All of the stuff with Tristan doesn’t change that. We’re friends, right?”

I smiled, which drew a small smile from him. “Yes, we’re friends.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

The backyard of the mansion was just as impressive as the front, and the pool was colossal. But it wasn’t our first destination.

We fell into the line that led to the margarita bar. I was ready for one, after that awkward conversation.

“I’m so sorry—”, I said.

“I’m sorry,” Jared said at the same time.

We smiled at each other.

“I won’t make this awkward,” Jared said quietly.

“Good. Thank you. I hate awkward.”

“Agreed,” Jared said. As he spoke, a very pretty blond man clapped him on the shoulder from behind.

Jared turned to see who had grabbed him and grinned. “Mean Dean,” he said, his tone laced with affection.

Mean Dean was gorgeous, in a pretty boy sort of way. In fact, I’d have said he was the prettiest man I’d ever seen, if I’d never laid eyes on James Fucking Cavendish.

Dean was just a few inches taller than me, and lean bordering on slender, even compared to Jared. I doubted he had a six-pack, like the brothers, but his face was his attraction. Almost white blond hair, tan skin, cornflower blue eyes, and the face of an angel would have made anyone do a double take.

Still, right from the beginning, there was something I didn’t like about his smile.

He grinned at Jared, stepping closer to us. Someone behind us made a loud comment about him cutting into the line, but he pretended not to hear. “Glad you could make it, Diet T.”

Jared stiffened at the nickname.

I raised my brows, instantly curious. These guys and their nicknames…

“What does Diet T mean?” I asked.

Dean turned a rather greasy smile on me. “Have you met his brother? Isn’t Jared like the diet version of Tryst? Skinnier, less handsome, less smart, less talented. So we call him Diet T.”

Jared looked uncomfortable, and just that easily, Dean went right to my shit list.

“And what’s your nickname?” I asked Dean.

“I’m Mean Dean. And who are you, my lovely?”

“I’m Danika. Where does Mean Dean come from? It sounds like they went easy on you in the nickname department.”

“I don’t remember how the nickname started. So you’re Danika… I’ve heard about you. Going out with both of the brothers, huh? I think I just thought up your nickname! We’ll call you Number One, because you’re the band’s first groupie.”

As he spoke, he gripped Jared’s hand, and I saw a small baggie pass from one man to the other.

I was irate, for more than one reason.

“Quit being an ass,” Jared muttered to his friend.

“Oh, relax. I’m only joking,” Dean said.

It was pretty easy to see where the Mean Dean nickname had come from. He was a vicious motherf*cker, but then again, so was I, if provoked. “You’re awfully clever for a drug dealer,” I told him, my smile sweet, my tone, not so much.

His grin only widened. “I’m not a dealer if I’m giving it away. Want some, Number One?”

“No thank you,” I said through my teeth, stifling the urge to make up a rude nickname for him. There’s nothing more immature than name calling, I told myself firmly. “So you’re just a drug pusher, not a dealer? That’s much better…”

Dean looked at Jared, still smiling. “She’s feisty. I like that. When do I get my turn with her?”

“Sorry, I’m not into chicks,” I told him, deadpan.

That killed his grin, and widened mine.

“She’s got a point,” a laughing female voice said from behind me. “Dean is almost pretty enough to interest me.”

I turned to see a petite, black-haired girl with doll-like features. Her makeup was heavy, ran toward goth, and she was covered in tats, but it was obvious that she had a very pretty face, and a pretty smile.

“Finally going to take me up on my offer, Frankie?” Dean asked.