Slow Play (The Rules #3)(76)

“Aw, poor Tristan, can’t take it when we tease him.” Gabe ruffles Tristan’s hair, who ducks out of his reach. “He deserves it,” Gabe tells me. “He gave us endless shit, especially Shep.”

“There’s nothing here to give me shit for,” Tristan says irritably. “We’re just friends, right Alex?”

He called me Alex again. Another rare occurrence, though I’m not enjoying this one. And what the hell does he mean, we’re just friends? “If you define friends as two people who get naked and have constant sex, then yes. We’re great friends,” I say solemnly.

Gabe starts to laugh, taking the twelve-pack Tristan shoves at him as he walks by, heading for the kitchen. “She’s a keeper, Tris. Any other girl would’ve nailed you in the balls for making a statement like that.”

“Your friend is right,” I tell Tristan the moment Gabe’s out of earshot. “And I’m still tempted to nail you in the balls.”

Wincing, Tristan grabs me, pulling me into his arms and squeezing me tight. “I’m sorry. I f*cking panic every time anyone asks us what we’re doing.”

I keep my face buried in his chest, breathing in his intoxicating Tristan smell. He’s wearing a blue and white plaid flannel shirt and the fabric is incredibly soft. Comforting. Sexy. Ugh.

“You’re an *,” I mumble against his chest. I can’t let him get away with this, though I’m shocked he actually said he was sorry. That’s a word I rarely hear come from Tristan’s mouth.

Yeah, okay. We haven’t defined what we are, but it’s still early days. We’ve only been seeing each other—AKA having actual sex—for approximately a week. We’ve been flirting and circling around each other for almost a month. He’s a guy who doesn’t do relationships. I’m a girl who was supposed to keep to herself. Somehow, we’ve ended up together.

I’m not complaining.

But Thanksgiving is this upcoming Thursday and we won’t see each other for a week. He’s going home to spend the holiday with his parents and I’m staying here. I’m not looking forward to being without him. What if he realizes he doesn’t miss me? What if he gets bored without me around and finds someone else to mess around with? Or worse, he f*cks an endless bunch of girls and let’s me know in some typical Tristan * way that I was just another one he added to his list.

I’m in too deep now. I know I’ll lose it if something like that happens.

“I know.” He runs his hand over my hair. “You’re right. I’m a total *. I’ve said that from the very beginning.”

He has. I can’t hold that against him.

“But I don’t know what to tell people when they ask about us,” he continues, his voice low.

Here we are standing in the entryway of my house having an important conversation with a bunch of guys screaming at a video game only mere feet away from us. And this is not the first time we’ve done something like this.

“You don’t have to tell them anything,” I say when I pull away so I can look up at him. “It’s no one else’s business, what we’re doing.”

“You really believe that?” He touches my cheek, traces my lower lip with his thumb. His gentle touch makes me shiver. Makes me want more.

I nod. “I can’t even describe what we’re doing,” I admit in a whisper. “So I can’t expect you to either. Let them ask their questions. Let them speculate and wonder. We can be a mystery they’re desperate to unravel.”

He smiles, running his hands up and down my back. “You make us sound a lot more exciting than we might be.”

“Oh, we are very exciting.” I tip my head back just as he kisses my nose. “Wait until you see what I have in store for you tonight.”

Tristan perks right up at that. “There’s something extra sexy under that shirt you’re wearing, huh.”

I smile. “It’s going to blow your mind.”

He slips his hand beneath my shirt, touching my back, his fingers hot on my skin. “I can’t f*cking wait.”

I’m down in the dumps on a gloomy Monday morning, sad that Tristan has left for the week when I get a text from Kelli.

Emergency. Need coffee. PSL preferred. Meet me in 20 at the SB closest to you?

Why not?

Twenty minutes later I enter the crowded Starbucks, spotting Kelli sitting at a small round table, two venti pumpkin spice lattes sitting in front of her along with a giant muffin that she’s currently devouring.

Uh oh.

“What’s up?” I ask as I slide into my chair, gratefully taking the cup she pushes my way.

She doesn’t say anything, just pinches off part of the muffin and shoves it into her mouth, her eyes closing for a moment as she slowly chews, like she’s completely blissed out over a basic blueberry muffin. Then she grabs her coffee and chugs like, half of it before setting it on the table. “I had sex,” she declares.

“What?” I grip the edge of the table. “When? Where? With who?”

“Shh, keep it down.” She glances around, making sure no one’s paying attention before she resumes. “It happened Saturday night.”

“But…” My brain is scrambling. “It’s Monday.”