Bad Things(47)

“I did. I loved him, too.”

“And did he leave, too?”

I knew I’d overstepped with that one, but it didn’t seem to faze her.

“He stuck around for years actually. He was a very nice man. If you want to know the difference between the fathers, just look at the brothers.”

That made me a little angry. I didn’t think it was fair to compare Tristan to a man who had left his son with no father. But then again, I had very similar baggage, so I was a touch sensitive about it.

“Has Tristan knocked up any girls, and then run in the other direction?” I asked, feeling riled.

She pursed her lips, sending me a sidelong look. “He hasn’t. Not yet, anyway. You don’t have to defend him to me. No one loves him more than I do.”

“Then give him a little credit.”

She waved her hands in the air, as though erasing the conversation. “Enough of the serious talk. I love my boys. That’s all I meant. Don’t make them hate each other.”

“I would never—”

“Good. Then let’s move on. Do you like mota?”

I just blinked at her, confused. “Mota?”

Hair toss. Eye roll. “Marijuana? Do you like?”

I shook my head vigorously. In my experience, only losers smoked pot, and so I’d always stayed far, far away from the stuff.

“Well, I like, so I hope you don’t mind if I partake.”

I shook my head again. “It’s your house…”

The brothers were both smiling as they filed back into the house, which I found reassuring, but I was a little shocked when Leticia casually handed Jared a lit joint, and he just took it, thanking her.

Was this normal? Was I really such a prude?

She offered one to Tristan, but he waved her off, glancing at me.

“Don’t deny yourself on my account,” I said wryly, though I really didn’t want him to. I hated the stuff.

He shook his head. “No, I’m good.”

“What the hell was up with that move you made during dinner?” I asked him later as he drove us home in my junker of a car.

“Hmmm?” His tone and even his lying face were all innocence.

“You know what. The hand on my knee. What was that all about?”

He sighed, dropping the act. “Fuck, I’m sorry about that. Just watching you eat with that look on your face… I lost my mind for a minute.”

“You were being a tease. I’d recommend you not start playing that game with me.”

“Is that a threat?” he asked, sounding all sorts of intrigued with the idea.

“It is. Don’t start a war you can’t win, my friend. In the battle of the teases, I would whip your slutty ass, you sex fiend.”

He laughed so hard that he had to pull the car over.

“You know I’m right,” I said, folding my arms over my chest.

He nodded. “I completely agree, but you know I can’t turn down a challenge. Is that what you’re doing? Making it a challenge?”

I shook my head. “No. There’s no challenge. No competition at all, and I refuse to turn it into a bet.”

He pulled the car back onto the street again, smiling and shaking his head. “That’s a pity.”

Dare I ask? “Why is that a pity?”

“Because I’d love to win or lose a bet like that. But you’re right. It would be a stupid thing to do.”

“So stupid,” I agreed. We didn’t say another word on the ride home, and I just knew that we were both thinking about how much we wanted to do something stupid.





CHAPTER FIFTEEN





We went a few days without managing to do anything stupid, but of course, that wasn’t meant to last. The only surprising thing was, I was the first one to break open the stupid damn.

I woke up a few mornings later having the most graphic sex dream of my life.

It was Tristan’s big hands on me in the dream, cupping my breasts and kneading, working down my belly, between my legs.

We were out in the pool, alone. Like most dreams, nothing quite made sense. Like, why were we skinny-dipping in the middle of the day? Still, my dreaming mind went with that eagerly.

I was lying on an inflatable lounge that we hardly ever used, because it was shaped in a huge circle, with the middle cut out, and the boys always found horrible ways to use it, like sticking each others’ heads in the hole and dunking.