Lovely Trigger (Tristan & Danika #3)(17)

They introduced me to a guy named Stephan and his boyfriend, Javier.

I’d heard about Stephan, Bianca’s best friend, and we hit it off right away.  I had a feeling he was the type of guy that hit it off with everyone.  He was charming and came off as very sincere.  It didn’t hurt that he went all fanboy on me right off the bat.

“I bet he lets you hug her,” I told Stephan, smirking at James.

That set James off, and we insulted each other for a few thankfully distracting minutes.

It felt like I was bracing myself for a blow, and my eyes scanned the crowd constantly, searching for a shining black head of hair.

“Bianca only just found out that you’re a singing magician,” James shot at me.

“Well, it pays the bills.  Some of us have to have more than one talent.  We can’t all get by on looks alone.  Are you using a new conditioner or something?  I swear your hair is even shinier than usual.  I bet it smells like strawberries.  And admit it, those are contact lenses.”

“Please, I know what you get paid just for the magician gig.  All your bills were covered before you got the band back together.  And I have no idea what conditioner I used.  It all just magically appears in the dispenser in my shower.  And if you try to smell my hair, I’ll assume you’re coming onto me.”

Bianca laughed, and James and I shared a smile.  This was the real deal for him, and I thought it couldn’t have happened to a better guy, weirdo that he was.

Bianca never seemed bored with the banter, even when she was quiet.  On the contrary, she had a look on her face that made me think she was connecting new pieces of a puzzle.  James had to be a strange guy to date.  I was one of his closest friends, and even I didn’t know much about his past.

James was complaining about how much I was planning to gouge him with my upcoming contract renewal when I glanced at his watch on my wrist.  “Are you about done harassing me, pretty boy?”

James cursed, holding out his hand.  “Give me my watch back,” he demanded.

I waved it at him.  “It’s almost my birthday.  Can’t we just call it even?”

He grinned and shook his head.  “I don’t like you that much.”

I shrugged and handed it back to him.

My entire body became rigid as I saw an achingly familiar figure moving through the crowd.

I thought I had braced myself.

I knew she was going to be there.  No one could say I wasn’t warned.  Still, it was a straight up brutal punch to the gut when I saw her.

She wasn’t alone.

I was taking harsh, ragged breaths, using all of my efforts just to drag much needed air into my lungs.

I’d known it was going to be hard, but nothing could have prepared me for this.

I spotted her before she approached us, caught her momentary wince as she caught sight of me before she turned slightly away, her shoulders squaring, what’s his name putting his arm around her for a moment before she shrugged him off.  Good.

She was with him.  I knew this, because I kept tabs on her.  Always had.  But she didn’t look to be that into him.  She didn’t shoot him even one of those adoring glances that used to slay me on a regular basis.

Thank God for that one small favor.

But even so, he touched her with privilege, and I hated his guts with a deep and enduring passion.  I hadn’t been in a fight in what seemed like forever, but I had a sudden and persistent urge to start one with him.  It would just be so easy to crush him.  He was half my size and asking to be put in his place.

She approached our group, not avoiding me, her limp more pronounced than I’d realized.

Every jerky step made my chest ache.

She wore a dress the color of her eyes.  It caressed her curves distractingly.  She was as fit as she’d ever been, limp or no.

“Hello, Danika,” I finally spoke, my voice coming out softer, less confident, than I meant for it to.

The punk she was with hung back, talking to the last group of people they’d been mingling with.

I was immeasurably relieved by this.  I hoped to never have to deal with him directly.  Nothing good could come of it.

She nodded in my direction, her gaze staying firmly fixed somewhere else, in the distance, anywhere but at me.  “Hello, Tristan.”  Her tone was firm and impersonal.

It was hardly unexpected, but still, it stung.

Like a new cut on an old wound.  One that had never scarred over, because it had never quite healed.

“It’s great to see you,” I told her.  I couldn’t seem to keep the words in.  “You look exquisite, as always.”

She smiled tightly.  “Sure,” she said.

That punk extricated himself from the couple he’d been talking to and approached her from behind.  He wrapped an arm around her waist, smiling at her like he was besotted.  Of course he was.

The punk didn’t deserve to kiss her f**king feet.

He was several inches shorter than me and at least fifty pounds lighter.  I was guessing I could have choked the life out of him with one hand.  I really wanted to test out that theory.

Danika touched his shoulder familiarly.  “Everyone, this is Andrew.”

“Her boyfriend,” the punk added.