Lovely Trigger(40)

“Oh, no. You are not going to turn this into a bet.“

“You win, I’ll stop calling you boo. I win, you stop complaining when I do.”

“Nuh-uh. I already told you, not falling for it.”

“I’ll bet you one spoonful of cinnamon.”

“Excuse me? Is that a metaphor or some kind of a dare?”

“A dare. You eat one teaspoonful of cinnamon and you win.”

“I’m not you, Tristan. I can turn down a dare.”

“Prove it.”

“Now you’re daring me not to take the dare? Either way, I’ll be taking a dare. You’re setting me up.”

“Well, take the cinnamon dare and I’ll drop it.

It did sound easy. My eyes narrowed on him. “Just a teaspoon full? Not even a tablespoon?”

He grinned, showing every white tooth. “You don’t watch YouTube much, do you?”

“No, but what does that have to do with anything?”

He bit his lip and shook his head.

“Okay, you know what? I’ll do it.”

His response to my acquiescence was pure glee.

That should have clued me in, but hell, I’m as stubborn as he is, the crazy bastard.

First, he made sure a glass of water was on standby.

He spoke while he got out the cinnamon. “Here are the rules: No water for one minute, and the entire spoonful has to be swallowed in that amount of time. You spit it out, or go for the water, you lose. You swallow it, you win. Any questions?”

I was studying him, getting more paranoid by the second, but how hard could it be, really? One teaspoon, a teeny, tiny spoonful of something I loved the taste of?

“Nope. Let’s do this.”

I didn’t draw it out, grabbing the spoon and the cinnamon out of his hand, and getting it ready.

“Do you mind if I record this?” he asked. He already sounded like he was trying not to laugh.

“That was not part of the deal.”

“I have to warn you, this is going to burn your throat and you might throw up.”

I ignored him, pushing the spoon into my mouth, planning to swallow fast.

I hadn’t even pulled it out before cinnamon was shooting out of my mouth and nose as I went into a painful fit of coughing. I grabbed for the water, took a long swig, and spit that out too.

My throat felt on fire, eyes tearing up and running in mere seconds.

“Oh my God, it burns!” I gasped, going for another drink. I did this three times, then started to look around for paper towels. Not seeing them right away, I moved to Tristan and started rubbing my tongue on his very nice shirt.

The bastard deserved that and worse.

He was laughing so hard he was doubled over.

“I hate you,” I told him.

“Hey now!”

“This is disgusting. It’s stuck to the roof of my mouth! Ick!”

I went to the sink and started rinsing again, then back to his shirt to scrape my tongue again.

“My nose is running! My mouth is burning!”

It took a while, but when I felt recovered enough, I whirled on him. “That was awful. I can’t believe you made me do that.”

His eyes were twinkling; he couldn’t stop smiling. “You know I adore you, but there are times when I just like to torture you. It makes me happy.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. I focused on the obnoxious part and ignored the part that made my stupid heart pound faster. “Well you don’t have to look so satisfied about it!”

There it was, that most Troublesome smile. “Oh, boo, you of all people should know that this isn’t how I look when I’m satisfied.”

I supposed I’d walked right into that one. Infuriatingly, I blushed. “Don’t you use that tone on me,” I warned, but it was so feeble that I knew it didn’t faze him.

We watched our show while the cake baked. He behaved himself, staying on his couch. I didn’t even have to insist. He just did it. I eyed him suspiciously all the while, not trusting it.

We were eating his chocolate cake when I caught him staring at me.

Not just staring. Eating me up. He was gazing at me with an unabashed longing in his eyes that I couldn’t let stand. I could only take so much.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I told him, setting down my fork, my voice turned as cold as I could manage.

He kept doing it, until his faced transformed into a too warm smile, a soft, affectionate stare.

“Like what?” he asked, and I knew that he was toying with me.

Torturing us both just to get a taste of the old feelings.

“You know. I will leave. I mean it.”

“I’m not doing anything. I’ve just…missed you. I’m glad to spend time with you again.”

I knew he was full of it. “We can’t go back, Tristan. We can’t take any of it back. We can’t pretend that you are just you, and I am just me. There is too much bad history between us to pretend.”

Something passed over his face. It was hard to name all of the things I saw there with just one brief glimpse. Pain, regret, hope?

I discounted it all, even while I felt it myself.

“This is nostalgia that you’re feeling. It is transient. It will go away.”

He swallowed hard, looking anguished for one brief moment before he washed his features back into that soft smile. “For you, maybe. But not for me. Want to know how I know?”