Crap.
I squeeze Tristan's arm hard, and he glances down at me.
“I don't regret my choice,” he says, exhaling and glancing over at Creed with a brief scowl. “Take your time; I don't want you to regret yours.”
“What's that supposed to mean?” Creed drawls, but Tristan ignores him, tugging me along by the hand. Creed sighs, but lets us go.
Surprisingly, Tristan takes me back to his dorm, sets me up with fluffy towels, and a shower, and by the time I get out, he's brought some pajamas and clothes up from my room.
“You better not have planted a camera in my dorm,” I whisper as I towel-dry my hair, a black robe wrapped around me. Pretty sure it's Tristan's. Just wearing it gives me a little thrill.
He's sitting on his couch, silhouetted against a long window with a view of nothing but the moon, stars, and the distant rolling hills. He's got a glass of alcohol in one hand, and he looks so much older than eighteen. But in a good way. Like, I can see the sort of man he'll turn out to be in a decade or two.
“Not a chance,” he says, sipping his drink as I come over and sit on the opposite end of the couch, perching myself on the arm. “And just so you know: I wasn't aware we were being filmed in the library. That wasn't a game; it was a moment of weakness.”
I pause for a moment, putting the towel in my lap.
“I knew that. As soon as I saw your face, I knew.” I look down at the floor, my mind briefly wandering back to that moment, my greatest humiliation. “They could be playing the long game, you know.” Harper's words poke and prod at the edges of my mind, but I refuse to let them in. I won't let myself believe that. Doubt is truly a harsh enemy.
Tristan doesn't say anything, and we sit there in silence for a while. I glance shyly over at him, wet tendrils of hair hanging in my face. We just had sex! a small voice in the back of my mind calls out, and I have to resist the urge to do a girly dance of excitement, maybe squeal a little.
Later.
I'll do that later.
Right now, there's this quiet peace between me and Tristan, and I'm loving it too much to disrupt it.
“I didn't think I'd be here this year,” he continues, tapping his fingers against the edge of his glass. “That's why I tried so hard last year to get first in our class. I wanted to make sure I could get into a good college when the time came, considering I was destined to spend my year at some military academy, or maybe even a public school.”
“God forbid,” I joke, but I can tell he's serious about it. He planned for everything, made sure I was set up to be taken care of, and tried to secure his own future at the same time. “But I'm glad you're here.”
“Windsor must really care about you, to put up with me,” Tristan says, looking over at me, his silver eyes a dark charcoal color in the shadows. The only light on currently is the small one in the kitchen. It's barely enough to see by.
“He must,” I whisper, curling my hand around the front of the robe. Wind knew that if he didn't pay Tristan's tuition, he'd be gone and out of my life, and yet he did it anyway. Why? My heartbeat starts to pick up, and I feel overwhelmed with emotion suddenly. “What would've happened if he didn't pay your Infinity Club dues?” I ask, glancing over at Tristan again.
His face darkens and he takes another sip of his drink.
“Considering the things I know?” he asks, turning to look at me. “They'd probably try to drown me, too.” Tristan stands up and puts his glass on the edge of the kitchen island, turning to face me as he leans up against it. I consider asking him how many girls he's slept with, the same way I did with Zack. But I have the idea that maybe I don't want to know. I'm guessing his number isn't five. “Do you want to sleep here? Or would you rather I walked you back to your room?”
I only have to think on that for a split-second.
“I'd like to spend the night, if that's okay.”
Tristan smiles at me then. A real smile. Not one of his cocksure smirks, or wicked scowls, or anything of the sort. No, this is well and truly genuine.
“If that's okay … Jesus, Marnye. Far too sweet. You're gonna give me a fucking cavity.” Tristan moves over to stand beside me, holding out a hand to help me up. He leads me into his room and watches as I crawl into his sumptuous silken sheets. They feel so good on my legs that I end up stretching and rolling around like a total weirdo.
