Senseless Attraction (18 page)

      I imagined him lifting heavy boxes with his muscles flexing before I shook myself out of it and replied.

Interesting. How many girlfriends hav u had?

      Oh. My. God. Had I really texted that? Yes, yes I had. My heart was beating like crazy.

Why so u can warn S?

No, just curious.

Two serious ones. U?

      How embarrassing; I knew I shouldn't have asked.

 Zero.

Really???

Honest remember? No hassling though.

I wouldn't. Better go, just met up with the guys.

      Maybe I shouldn't have told him; I immediately regretted it. Would he tell the other guys? I doubted it because he wouldn't talk about me in the first place. Was it going to be awkward tomorrow? Probably, and I only had myself to blame.

      Stuff honesty.

* * * * *

Saturday morning, I woke to find my phone flashing as I rolled over stretching. I opened it up and read the text from Tristan. It said that he couldn't make it today; he had to do something for his mom.

     Groaning, I hit my bed. I knew I shouldn't have said anything. I should never have thought that we could have that type of friendship. I didn’t know what I was doing. But I did know the texting had to stop, and no more personal questions.

I
went to work at the library like normal, but still couldn't help myself from looking to the back corner at the table Tristan and I usually sat at. Just to see if he’d managed to get out of whatever his mom had asked him to do. That was, if he hadn’t lied in the first place.

      Every time I did look and saw he wasn't there, it made me a little more disappointed and a little more upset with myself—for being so open with him in the first place.

      After work finished, I went straight to my bag, and opened my phone to check it, letting out a sigh when I saw nothing. Besides the message from Corbet saying he’d be late tonight. He decided he was still going to stay even though Sarah wouldn't be there, because Sarah would be out on a date with Tristan.

      “Whoa there, girlfriend, easy on the phone before you break it with that super grip you have going on.”

      I looked down at my hand. I did indeed have a tight grip on the phone; I lessened it, turned it off, and threw it into my bag.
I am not turning it on again until tomorrow, or even Monday
, I told myself, hoping I would actually listen.

      “Hey, where's your spunky friend today?” Michelle asked. This was the first chance we had to speak all day; it had been really busy.

      “He had other things he needed to do.”

      “Did he tell you the other day that he texted me? I was so excited until he said he already had a girlfriend. How come you didn't tell me that part?”

      “It's only new; I didn't think it was official yet.”

      So he was now calling Sarah his girlfriend.

      “Oh, well, that’s cool if it's only new.” She looked over her shoulder to the waiting customer. “I better get back to work. Have a good rest of the weekend, girl.”

      “Thank you and you too.” I smiled, grabbed my bag, and walked out into the cool afternoon air.

      During the drive home, I listened to the new CD I had bought a couple of weeks ago by Adele; her voice was so strong and beautiful. I pulled into my driveway and found that my dad's car was there. As I was walking into the house, Dad was making his way out the door carrying an arm-full of case notes. I tried to move out of his way in time, but it was obvious his mind was on other matters, and he still managed to collide with me.

      “Ah shoot,” he said as the case notes floated to the ground. “Sorry, honey I didn't see you there.”

      “That's all right, Dad. New case I presume?” I asked, bending to help him pick them all up.

      “Yeah, and right now, I wish I hadn’t taken it on. Look, it's going to be a very long night. I've left some money on the counter for you guys to grab some takeaway. No driving after eight, and no scary movies; I know what they do to you.” He was down the stairs on his way to the car when he yelled over his shoulder, “Say hi to Sarah and Corbet for me. Love you, hon. Be good.”

      “Always am.” I smiled. I didn't have the heart to inform him it was only Corbet staying tonight.

      I still had a fair amount of time to kill before Corbet arrived and we'd head off to the video store and grab some takeaway. So I chose to do the only thing that kept my mind busy and didn't start thinking about other things that started with the letter T. I got out my workbooks from school and began my homework.

      Around six, I was in the kitchen folding the clothes I’d gotten off the line when the doorbell rang. I was thinking that it had to be Corbet arriving early, but as I opened the door, my hand flew to my mouth to hide the gasp and startled cry wanting to escape.

      Tristan stood on the other side, only he looked a little worn. He was leaning against the doorframe with a pained expression. Any wonder with that cut on his lip, an already-bruised cheek, and his black tee had tears in it.

      “Oh, my God, Tristan, what happened? Are you okay? That was a stupid question. Come in here now.” I grabbed his arm and dragged him over the threshold, proceeding on into the kitchen where I sat him down in a kitchen chair, raising his face up to the light to get a better look.

      I
tsked
at him and shook my head. “How did this happen, Tristan? No, wait, let’s get you cleaned up first.” I went over to the kitchen sink, to the cupboard under it, and grabbed out the first aid kit. Then I filled a bowl with warm water and grabbed a rag off one of the piles I’d already folded.

      I stood in front of him, placing the bowl and kit on the table. After wringing out the rag, I grabbed his chin so he would look up again.

      “It's not as bad as it looks. Just a few scratches,” he said, wincing when his lip cracked and started to bleed.

      “I'll be the judge of that, thank you.” As gently as I could, I placed the towel on his lip; he didn't even flinch.

      Once the bleeding had stopped, I moved onto the scratch he had in his hairline above his left eye. One I hadn't noticed the first time I saw him. Again, as gently as I could, I wiped away the dried blood. I opened the first aid kit, searching through it, saying, “Huh, huh…”
when I found what I was looking for, the antiseptic cream.

      “This is going to hurt,” I apologised.

      “It's all right,” he said, rolling his eyes.

      “First, are you going to tell me what happened?”

      “Not likely.”

      “I thought so. Just...if you ever want to talk, I'm here.” I didn't wait for a response. Instead, I dabbed his lip with the cream I'd applied to my finger. He let out a small hiss, then nothing, staying perfectly still. I moved onto his forehead and then realisation hit me—how close I was standing to him, how his warmth seemed to reach out to me, how his legs must have automatically spread for me to be standing in between them. I blushed, quickly finished, and stepped back.

      “All d—done,” I stuttered. “Unless, of course, there’s somewhere else.” I laughed. He didn't laugh with me, only looked into my eyes and then removed his tee.

      Lord Almighty, what a sight it was.

      I knew he was built, but nothing could prepare me for the washboard six-pack, pumped chest, and glorious-looking, soft caramel skin. Once again, I blushed and looked away quickly from his smirking face.

      “I, ah…I don't see anything.”

      “On my back, Alexandra.” He chuckled.

      I walked around him and gasped. “Oh, they're beautiful.”

      He looked over his shoulder, seeming confused. “What, the cuts?”

      “No, I…um, I mean your tattoos.” His whole upper back was covered in scrolls. I couldn't help myself. I reached out with one finger and traced some of them until my brain registered what I was doing. “Sorry,” I uttered, pulling my hand away.

      “It's fine.” His voice sounded deeper, almost like a growl.

      I busied myself with the task at hand. I went back over to the sink, emptied the already-bloodied water, and refilled it with some fresh warm water, while rinsing the rag under the flowing stream. Without making eye contact, I walked back to his stunning back. Because I knew if I did happen to meet his gaze, that I would blush again, which he'd find amusing.

      I wrung out the towel and began on one of the four cuts he had on his lower back. Like his forehead, they’d already dried, so it was going to be harder to get that blood off. He was kind enough to let me work in silence and admire his bare skin while doing it. Even though I had a million and one questions burning away inside of me, I didn't ask any. If he wanted to tell me, he would in his own time, if at all.

      I was on the last one, applying the antiseptic cream and healing tape over them so they wouldn't be sticky for him when he placed his tee back on.

      Why had he come here?

      Upon finishing, and again, without thinking, I leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on his shoulder.

     “All done,” I said. Then gasped, my hand flying to my mouth. I slowly stood up straight and took a step away.

      “Stop.” Tristan growled. He was mad at me for doing what I just did; I couldn't blame him. I didn't know what came over me; it was just automatic.

      “I—um, I'm really sorry,” I couldn't look at him; I continued studying the floor. “I don't know why I did that. God, I'm so, so sorry. It won't happen again;, not that I think that you'd be hurt again and come here for me to patch you up, but you know. I mean, I won't get all up in your personal space...”

      “Alexandra.” Tristan sighed.

      “Sorry,” I squeaked.

      His feet moved into my view on the floor—gulp— meaning he was standing right in front of me. Still, I couldn't handle looking into his eyes. All I wanted to do was crawl under my bed and die of embarrassment.

      He grabbed my chin in a gentle grip and pulled my face up to meet his intense gaze. Only it didn't work, I managed to look anywhere but at him. He let out another sigh and placed both hands on each side of my face, stopping my head from moving, so I closed my eyes.

      “Damn it, Alexandra, look at me.”

      Boy, did he sound mad.

      I reluctantly opened my eyes. He already had my neck cranked up so I would be looking straight at him. He didn't look so mad, but he had definitely sounded like it before.

      “Only you call me Alexandra. Well, besides my dad, but it sounds better coming out of your mouth...” I bit my bottom lip before I could say anything else that I would regret.

      He smiled down at me. “Thank you for taking care of me—”

      “Well, I didn't really do anything; it's just lucky I already had the kit under the sink, because my dad always informs me that you can't be too careful; you always should have a first aid kit in the house. So at least he's right about one thing. Oh, I don't mean that he's always wrong, because he's not, just sometimes he can be a little overprotective—”

      “Alexandra,” Tristan barked. Not that his bark stopped my rambling, it was when one of his fingers ran along my bottom lip. “Can’t you just let me thank you without having you rattle on about nothing?”

      “That’s a bit rude; it wasn't about nothing. I was explaining to you about how my dad—”

      “I guess not.” He chuckled. He removed my glasses, placed them on the table beside us, and slowly lowered his face to mine. His lips headed right for my own. He smiled when he witnessed my eyes widen in shock, then his lips touched mine, and every sane thought left my body.

      I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and pulled him tighter, hearing a moan escape him, which made me feel pleased about myself. For some reason, I thought that it was too gentle for my liking, not that I wasn't really enjoying myself. I was shocked with myself to find that I wanted to pull myself up higher, and wrap my legs around his waist so I could bring him as close as I could to me. That was, until I remembered he had a sore lip and the front doorbell chimed.