I fell into step beside him, and when the coast was clear, when he was jabbering on about homework, I looked over my shoulder to see Professor Blake watching me from the window at Starbucks.
“Hey, you coming or not?” Jack asked. His smile was easy, nonthreatening.
I couldn’t figure him out; then again, I didn’t have to overanalyze everything.
“Yeah.” I quickly turned back around. “Yeah, I’m coming.”
CHAPTER SIX
It was almost too easy, bending her to my will, allowing her to think she was important. I wanted to see how far I could push her, so I broke up with her. I’ve never seen a girl cry so much in my entire life. Hell, she had to have medically dehydrated herself. When she was done wailing, I nodded toward the door and crossed my arms. She stomped out and slammed the door behind her.
Minutes later, she came flying back in and wrapped her body around mine, kissing me forcefully across the mouth. “I can’t live without you,” she whispered.
And I laughed, because I had a dirty little secret. She was going to have to, and I’d laugh — from hell. I’d get the final laugh. “I know, baby, I’m so sorry.” I kissed her back, satisfied that the game was still on, that she was still clueless to who I really was, what I really was, and what she meant to me. Absolutely nothing. —The Journal of Taylor B.
Tristan
WARMTH FROM THE coffee mug seeped into my palm. I stared down at the steaming dark sludge. Bitter. The coffee was bitter. Or maybe it was just my life? Possibly me? Nothing gave me any sense of satisfaction — coffee, food, sex. Ha, now that was a good one. Sex. Did I even know how to perform anymore? Not likely. After all, I’d been the good guy, the golden boy, the one who didn’t do things like get girls pregnant or steal their virginity on prom night. My name wasn’t Taylor.
It was easy to see why she’d become a sort of addiction to him; she’d be that way to any guy with working eyes. Getting her legs out of my head had taken a lot more thought than I’d originally intended.
I gripped the cup in one hand and pulled out my iPad with the other. I still had some work to finish but hated the feeling of being alone in the classroom. I needed noise, a distraction. Odd, how a constant hum of voices soothed me. Funny, it hadn’t really soothed him — it had led to his destruction.
Class, not voices.
“Tristan?” A voice interrupted my dark thoughts.
I lifted my head and damn-near ran for the door. “Wes.” My voice croaked. “It’s been… a while.” Try years. Lots and lots of years. I tried to look busy shuffling papers, but Wes was one of the guys — way too nice, way too available. He plopped down across from me and leaned forward, his eyebrows arching in interest.
“Let me guess. You’re the new hot professor.”
I almost spit out my coffee then tossed my pen onto the stack of papers I’d just shuffled, which hadn’t needed shuffling. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Got the girls going crazy.” He sighed loudly. “Man, some things never change.”
Or they do. Like, a lot.
“Right.” I laughed, making direct eye contact with the guy. “I didn’t know that word had spread…”
“It’s college.” Wes leaned back, finally giving me the space I needed. “What did you expect?” His mouth dropped open at my shrug. “What last name you go by these days?”
Wes knew way too much about me, but then again, he would. He would know everything about me, about my family. Everything except Taylor. No, that had been our dirty little secret, covered up very nicely by our ridiculous resources and total lack of morals.
“Tristan Blake.” I licked my lips and offered a half-shrug. “My usual.”
“Ah… decided to leave out…” Wes grinned knowingly. “Good call. Don’t want any assassination attempts or kidnappings. That would probably ruin your credentials at the job. By the way, why are you working? Thought you were in DC?”
What was this? Twenty questions?
I shifted the coffee in my hand and tried to appear nonchalant. “I needed a change. You know how things are up there, all work and no play.”
“Right.” Wes nodded, his eyes turning a bit skeptical. “Which is your MO, so why UW?”
“Actually, I have a lot of work I still need to do.” I pointed down at my iPad and shrugged. “Can we catch up later this weekend?”
“The benefit this weekend.” Wes didn’t even blink. “Your dad said he’d send a rep. I’m guessing that rep is you?”
Damn it. I really needed to learn to check my other calendar. “Yeah, most likely.”
“Great.” Wes stood and held out his hand.
I shook it firmly.
“See you Sunday!”
He motioned for a redhead to follow him; his wife, I guessed. She was tall, lithe, gorgeous, pretty much exactly the type of girl that I’d imagined Wes would settle down with. I’d seen her enough on the news to know they were an ideal couple, and I shuddered to think about how crappy of a friend I’d been when Wes had gone through his cancer. Yeah, I’d sent him cards and called a few times, but nothing compared to actually being in Seattle while he struggled. No, the only thing that could have brought me to Seattle was my own selfishness.
Gabe and Saylor, another couple who had been on the news non-stop since it was discovered that the pop star was actually alive and not dead, followed them out, both offering me tentative looks as if they weren’t quite sure if I was a friend or someone they needed to steer clear of. It’s possible it was because I wasn’t smiling and probably looked about ready to break my pen in half — not their fault. Mine. All my fault. Like everything else.