Slow Play (The Rules #3)(6)

He’s a flirt. He’s got a big dick. He’s good in bed. He’s a sex god. He’s charming. He’s funny.

Those are the good things. But they say other things too.

He’s selfish. He goes through women like toilet paper. He’s cold hearted. Mean spirited. He drinks too much. He uses girls and tosses them aside.

Shame hits me and I mentally shove it away. I’m in college. If I want to be selfish and f*ck around, I have every right. I shouldn’t care what other people think, especially jealous, vengeful girls who are pissed at me for not being into them long enough to want to stick around.

My gaze snags on a blonde up ahead and I slow my steps, contemplating her. She’s thin and willowy, just like Alexandria. Her hair streams down her back, the morning sun glinting it with threads of honey gold and I swear to God my heart picks up speed when I think it might be her.

But when she turns left at the next building, disappointment threatens to swallow me. It’s not Alexandria. My reaction to the possibility was way over the top.

And f*cking scary as hell.

“Can I ask you a question?” I pluck at an imaginary thread on the inside seam of my jeans, my head bent. I feel super dumb for asking this but the words have hung on the tip of my tongue since the night of the party. I just didn’t know how to approach it. Approach her.

“Go for it.” Kelli pauses and I glance up to meet her gaze. “This isn’t about the latest chapter, is it? Because I don’t get the new formula.” She sighs and leans back against her seat. “I’m going to fail this stupid class, I know it.”

We’re in the library, hidden away on the fourth floor, our statistics books spread out before us on a table. We don’t know what the hell we’re doing but we’re muddling through. We have a test at the end of the week and I know Kelli’s nervous about it.

So am I. But I’m more nervous to ask her what’s been on my mind and I hope she doesn’t hate me for it.

“It’s not about the chapter.” I wave my hand at our books, grimacing. God, I hate math. “It’s about…Tristan Prescott.”

Now I have Kelli’s full attention. Her gaze narrows and her lips curl in this mischievous smile that makes dread coil in my stomach. “What do you want to know?”

I swallow hard, my throat dry. I told myself I didn’t want to know anything. He made me so angry when he made that casual remark Saturday night. Who says things like that?

Do we need to fit to f*ck?

I’m getting mad right now just thinking about it.

“Were you two ever…together?” My words are tentative, unsure and I want to smack myself. The Alex of old would never be hesitant to ask her friend a question about a guy. I was always bold. Sometimes too bold. I had a very I-don’t-give-a-shit attitude and it got me into trouble more than once.

But now, I’m reserved. Quiet. Private. I don’t want people to figure me out. I’d rather tell them what they want to know and if I never tell them?

Then they didn’t need to know anything.

Kelli, I’ve let in. Somewhat. Her friends Jade and Lucy? I like them too but I don’t know them well enough to say much of anything yet.

So I keep my lips sealed. For now.

Kelli giggles and shakes her head. “No one is ever ‘together’ with Tristan. He fools around with girls but he never dates them.”

Of course. His remark makes even more sense to me. I hope his hair—his thick, rich brown, soft-looking hair—still smells like beer.

“Did you two then…” I wave a hand, feeling like a fool. I don’t want to say the words out loud. That might make them real. Because if Kelli’s ever—ugh, f*cked Tristan Prescott then forget it.

Forget. It.

“No. We never.” Kelli waves her hand much like I just did. “Here’s the deal. One night, I was down in the dumps over my boyfriend breaking up with me. Tristan was flirting with me the entire night, trying to make me feel better. We drank. A lot. I started hanging all over him and the next thing I knew, he was kissing me.”

I wait for more but she says nothing. Just resumes working on her homework, her pencil scratching over the paper annoyingly loud in the quiet of our section of the library.

“So that’s it?” I ask when I can’t stand it any longer.

Kelli laughs and turns to look at me. “What else can I say? The kiss was…bad. Awkward and weird and we concluded fast that we’re better off as just friends.”

“He’s a bad kisser?” I frown. He has nice lips. Well, they’re better when he’s keeping them shut because oh my God, he says the worst things.

“No, it just…it wasn’t right. There was no spark, no chemistry. It felt like kissing my brother.” She mock shudders for emphasis.

I have no brotherly feelings toward Tristan Prescott whatsoever. Mild irritation yes. Amusement, that too. Total anger, oh yeah, that came at me in spades when he made that shitty comment.

But I’m not mad anymore. I wouldn’t mind talking to him. Getting to know him.

He is the last person you should be getting to know. He’s like every other * you’ve gone out with in the past. You don’t need another rich, arrogant prick telling you what to do.

Sitting up straighter, I pull my book toward me, ready to focus on what actually needs to be done—my homework.