Bad Things(107)

“Chinese and English,” was how he began, reminding me once again why I didn’t like him. I knew what he meant with the vague start, because I’d played this game way too often. It was the ‘guess Danika’s race’ game, and I loathed it. One of my favorite things about the Vega brothers was that neither had ever played this stupid game with me.

“Wrong and wrong,” I told him, my tone flat.

“Swedish and Vietnamese,” he tried again with a greasy smile.

“Wrong and wrong.”

“Why don’t you like me, Danika? You’re dating one of my best friends. You should try to be nice.”

“Ditto.”

“You never even smile for me. I smile at you all the time.”

I gave him a forced smile that was all teeth. “Better?” I asked.

He nodded, not acknowledging my sarcasm. “Japanese and Norwegian.”

I rolled my eyes. “Close enough. Japanese and Russian.” It was always an awkward subject for me, since I’d never know the other half of that equation.

“That’s a f*cking hot mix, let me tell you. Between your body and your eyes, I’d say you got the best of both.”

“Gee, thanks, you sweet talker.”

“Sassy piece of work. My favorite kind. I bet you f*ck like a wildcat.”

He was crowding me into the counter, and I pushed on his shoulders, officially done with the conversation.

He didn’t budge, just pushing closer.

“What is your problem? Why do you thrive on stirring up shit?”

His smile was huge. “Do I need a reason? Don’t you ever like to light things up just to watch them burn?”

I shoved him hard, getting past him and away, troubled as to whether I should tell Tristan about how Dean had just acted. It seemed like a lose-lose scenario to me. Either it would get Tristan mad at his friend and bandmate, or at me. Lose-lose.

I found Jared passed out on Tristan’s bed, Cory in the living room making out with some chick, and Kenny in the hallway chatting with people I’d never seen before. No one knew where Tristan was, and the apartment was not that big.

It didn’t take me long to figure out that he had to be out on the balcony, or gone.

The balcony that attached to the apartment was small, and sat right off the living room. The blinds were drawn, making it look like no one was out there. I checked anyway.

Tristan was out there, and he wasn’t alone.

I’d only met Natalie once, but I recognized her even from the back and with dim lighting. Apparently she’d made an impression on me.

I stepped out onto the balcony oh so quietly.

Tristan’s profile was facing me. He was leaning against the rail, drawing on a cigarette and giving his ex his inscrutable smile.

She had both of her hands on his chest, leaning into him, her voice low and earnest as she spoke quietly to him.

Her nails were bright red, and so it was easy to follow their movements as she stroked them over his chest to punctuate her words.

Her voice was soft, but I caught a bit of what she was saying.

“I saw your new girlfriend. What is she, like, sixteen? What the hell, Tristan?”

Tristan’s mouth twisted into his bitter smile. “Well, she’s not sixty, so I can see why you’d be confused.”

She smacked his chest, lightly, and her tone was more playful than offended. “When are you going to get over that? And when did you start robbing the cradle?”

“Jealous, Nat?”

Every word they exchanged denoted a sense of their history. The fact that both of their voices held a strange note of affection amidst the catty things they said to each other told me a lot of things that I really didn’t want to hear.

My heart twisted in my chest.

“Of course I am! We were each other’s firsts, Tryst. That’s not something you forget. Or do you?”

“Of course not, Nat.” His tone was gentle, almost tender, and I thought I might be sick.

“So tell me what a sixteen-year old can do for you? You know I’m single again, right? Don’t you miss me? I know you remember what I can do for you.”

His wicked smile showed me that he was more than a little drunk, but that was no excuse for his revealing reply. “I remember very well.”

I couldn’t bear to hear another word, and I was moving, striding to them, gripping a hand into her hair to wrench her away from him before he’d finished his sentence.