Bad Things(62)

Tristan crouched down near the edge of the pool, looking meaner than I’d ever seen him.

“He went home. Can we talk, Danika?”

It was the tone he used, as much as the words that made a shiver of dread go through me. I’d never seen him like this.

I moved to the side of the pool, and began to climb out.

“Hey Tristan,” Frankie called out, her voice friendly. “I didn’t expect to see you at this thing.”

“Hey, Frankie. It’s pretty apparent that nobody did.” As he spoke he helped me out of the pool.

“Do you have a towel?” he asked, his tone still as hostile as I’d ever heard it.

I shook my head, feeling a little numb.

“Are you cold?” he asked, solicitous even in a rage.

I shook my head again. It was hot as a hairdryer outside, and even the pool hadn’t been enough to cool me off.

I didn’t realize that we were leaving the party until Tristan called out, “Talk to you later, Frankie,” as we walked away.

He snagged me a white towel off a huge pile of folded ones near the house. I wrapped myself in it, following him silently. I was torn between feeling guilty about going out with Jared, and being pissed about the way he was acting. He had no right, but I had as good as lied to him by not telling him who I was going out with.

I followed Tristan through the house and out the front door. He was opening the passenger door of a black Camaro before I spoke again.

“I can’t take the towel,” I argued, glancing back at the mansion. It seemed like such a trashy thing to do—to take advantage of the mysterious homeowner’s hospitality.

His jaw clenched, and he just stood there, staring at me and holding the door open.

I got in, stealing the stupid towel.

He closed the door softly behind me.

He drove for a solid five minutes before either of us spoke.

“Is this your car?” I asked.

He gave one short nod as an answer.

The next stretch of silence was very nearly unbearable. I felt my heart pounding in my chest while I waited to see what he had to say. My thoughts were a little manic; going from wanting to chew him out, followed by the strong urge to apologize. The last thing in the world that I wanted to do was come between brothers, but on the other hand, I could argue that I wasn’t coming between them, since Tristan and I were supposed to be platonic.

I was at war with myself, at war with my own innate logic, and my out of control emotions. Tristan had that affect on me.

“I just have two questions, and then I’ll drop it.” His rough voice in the darkness made me jump.

“O-Okay.” I hated the weak thread of my voice.

“Was all of this because you were upset about last night?”

I cringed. That was just the question I hadn’t wanted, because finding the answer required me to be brutally honest with myself.

“In part it was,” I finally answered. “I wanted a distraction from you.”

“Okay. I wish you had just told me that. Second question, are you really interested in my brother?”

I breathed a sigh of relief. That one I could answer honestly and easily. “Jared is great but I already told him I couldn’t date him. I don’t have those kinds of feelings for him.”

Tristan exhaled noisily, then fell silent.

We didn’t speak again until we were back at the house, and then only to say a brief goodnight.

Tristan slept on the couch, and I felt vaguely like I was being punished.

I tossed and turned all night.

He was gone by the time I was up the next morning. I stewed about his absence all day, especially since he didn’t call or text me once.

I fell asleep quickly that night, exhausted from the bad night of sleep the evening before.





I was so relieved I wanted to cry when I found him sleeping on the couch the next morning.

Ivan and Mat had slept over at a friend’s house down the street, and so the house was quiet as a tomb. I tiptoed away silently, letting him sleep. There weren’t many mornings in the house where it was peaceful enough to sleep in, and it was a pity to spoil one of them.

I decided to go swimming. I shunned my black one-piece again, donning my bronze bikini. It was a silly thing to wear to swim laps, but my pride won out for that one.

I had lost track of the number of laps I’d done when I caught movement out of the corner of my eye.

I swam to the side of the pool, clinging to it as Tristan approached. He was already wearing black swim trunks. The look on his face could only be described as repentant.