I release his hand and shove at his shoulder, making him laugh. “Stop,” I mumble.
His laughter dies. “Seriously, do you want me to go over something again? I know this particular section is tough.” He flips the pages of my book, pointing.
I rest my hand on his arm and he turns to look at me. “Why are you being so nice to me?”
It’s a legitimate question. He doesn’t do nice. He said that himself last night. He’s proved that time and again. So why is he helping us study for our test? He’s already taken this course. He should be sleeping in or rolling around in bed with some pretty girl, not wasting his time trying to teach Kelli and me statistics.
His lips part and his eyes go blank. Like a curtain dropping, masking any emotion that he might’ve been feeling only a moment ago. “I’m doing it for Kelli.”
I slowly shake my head. “Don’t lie to me, Tristan.”
“I want to get in your panties? This way you’ll owe me?” He lifts his eyebrows.
Okay, there’s a glimpse of the real Tristan. Maybe. “So now you’re trading your stats skills for sex?”
He smiles. “Whatever works, right?”
“You still want to have sex with me?”
“You don’t have to fish for compliments.” He reaches for my face, presses his thumb to the corner of my lips. “I’d fuck you in the bathroom right now if you said you were up for it.”
“Gross.” I swat his hand away and he chuckles. I really hope he’s joking. Well, sort of. Being here with him like this, acting so normal on a Sunday morning in a Starbucks, I don’t know what to think. How to feel. He’s…sweet like this. Trying to help us out, patiently explaining everything, going over each example step by step. Who knew Tristan had it in him?
“Do I have to want something from you when I offer my help?”
“I don’t know. Do you? I get a sense you don’t normally help anyone.”
He frowns. “I don’t.”
But I’m willing to help her. Why? This goes beyond wanting to get her naked. Or…no. No, it doesn’t. I’m just so damn intrigued by this girl I’ll do just about anything to get her to come around and see my way of things.
And my way of things involves getting her naked. That’s it. End of story.
“So why me?” she asks, prodding me in the side with her index finger.
Damn, she’s pushy. And pretty. So pretty. No makeup on, her dark blonde hair in a ponytail on top of her head, skin clear and smooth, those questioning eyes watching me, waiting for me to what? Give her a proper explanation?
How can I do that when I don’t understand my motives myself?
“Because you’re extremely fuckable?” I wince the moment the words leave my mouth and she glares. Girls at a bar on a Thursday night three drinks in love it when I say they’re fuckable. They fall for that line every single time.
Sunday morning at a Starbucks cramming for a stats test…I’m thinking fuckable doesn’t work.
“You make me sound like a dirty stuffed animal. ‘Oh, she’s so adorably fuckable’.” Alexandria makes a face.
“Maybe that was a bad choice of words,” I start but she cuts me off.
“You think?”
“I know,” I stress. “And I take it back. You’re not fuckable.”
Oh, look at that. Her expression changes and she looks downright sad that I took back the fuckable remark. Make up your mind, gorgeous. You either want my attention or not.
“Are you two fighting?” Kelli asks as she settles back into her seat.
“I’m done.” Alexandria pulls her book away from me and slams it shut, then stuffs it into her backpack. “Either I’ve got this or I don’t. Thanks for your help, Tristan,” she says, not even bothering to look at me as she stands. “See you tomorrow in class, Kelli.”
She buzzes out of the Starbucks before Kelli or I can say anything to stop her.
“That was weird,” Kelli says slowly, sipping from her drink. “What just happened?”
“I don’t know.” I study the door, wishing she would come back. Wishing more that I could chase after her. But I don’t chase after women. Not like this. The conquest happens because they come to me. I draw them in like bees to honey. It’s easy. Smile, say something flirty, drop an innuendo, make eye contact, touch them and bam. They’re yours for the night. Sometimes they’d like to be yours beyond the night but I never let them get to that point. Not really. Unless they’re psycho and have wedding dreams from the first moment they meet you.
I had one of those my freshman year. Scariest shit ever. She was a straight up stalker. Gabe and Shep found it hilarious.
They would.
“You said something to offend her.” Kelli states this, not asking like a normal person would.
“I don’t know.” I throw my hands up into the air, frustration slipping through my veins. “She’s hard to read.”
“She says the same thing about you.”
I go still. “She does?”
Kelli nods, still sipping from her drink. The stats book lies between us, totally forgotten. Now that Alexandria is gone, I don’t want to help. I don’t even want to look at that stupid book.
Sorry Kelli.
“What else does she say about me?” I ask when Kelli still hasn’t said anything.
“Nothing much. She’s trying to resist you.”
No shit.
“She likes Steven but isn’t into him.”
“And you know this how?”
Kelli arches a brow. “Are you worried Steven is going to steal her from under your nose?”
“There’s nothing to steal. I’m not interested in her in that way.” Kelli’s brow goes even higher. How does she do that? “I’m serious. Steven wants to buy her flowers and take her out and make her his girlfriend. I just want to get her naked and have sweaty, amazing sex with her.”
“You don’t usually spend so much time in hot pursuit of one girl,” Kelli points out. “You’re not acting normal.”
“What is normal anyway?”
“For you? Let’s see.” She taps her finger against her pursed lips, contemplating my question. I practically squirm in my seat. I don’t want to hear this, especially from Kelli who’s been watching me for a while now. “One woman after the other, one for every night of the week. A little moody, a lot grumpy, always giving your friends shit when they decide to settle down.”
I don’t look at her. She’s right.
“I’m getting the sense that when it was the three of you against the world, you were happy. Comfortable. In your element.” Kelli pauses and I glance up to see that she’s watching me with what—sympathy in her eyes? Please. I get more tail now than I ever did when I had to split it with Gabe and Shep. “They’ve changed it up on you and you’re scrambling. The lone wolf among all the salivating women lined up wanting a piece of you.”
“Is that how you see it?”
“Kind of,” she admits. “Is that all you see when you look at Alex? Another piece of ass?”
No. And that’s the scary part. I would never admit that to Kelli. She wouldn’t understand. Or she’d run off and tell Alexandria. Fuck that. If I can’t work up the nerve to admit it, then no one else is doing it for me.