Tristan
I HADN’T EXPECTED her to be so docile. It was a direct contradiction to what Taylor had written about in his journal. For a minute, possibly a second, a seed of doubt started to grow, but I squashed it down. I was doing this for me, for my family. I had no proof that she was the same girl Taylor wrote about, only a sneaking suspicion; the names matched, the description matched, and I’d found a few pictures of her in that same journal.
What had happened? How had she pushed him over the edge? Why hadn’t she told someone? She was so young; so was he. Granted, I knew an apology was probably in order, but I didn’t even know what the hell I was apologizing for or how to do it. I was torn between feeling guilty about how he’d supposedly treated her, and furious that she’d been responsible for him jumping off that bridge.
My body gave an involuntary shudder, pissing me off all the more. I wasn’t this guy, the one hell-bent on revenge. I didn’t even recognize the foreign feeling anymore. On the outside I was the same; but inside it was like a storm was brewing, just waiting to implode from the inside out. I gripped the edge of the desk and took a few soothing breaths, closing my eyes, returning my focus to the words on those pages, the words that sealed my fate, the ones that sealed hers.
She’d helped destroy him.
So by rights — I should destroy her. That’s how life worked, the yin and the yang.
If my parents could see me now. Yeah, it wouldn’t be pride; then again, they’d done nothing to help. If anything, they’d been the first catalyst, followed by her.
Her bright blue eyes flashed in my line of vision.
They matched that blue streak in her hair.
The one I couldn’t stop staring at, the one that kept distracting me from my lecture. I hadn’t actually planned on ending class so early, but the woman was too distracting. One look and I was just as lost as he’d been. She was like a poison, one I needed to suck out, to destroy.
Falling for her would be easy.
Getting her to fall for me would be the hard part. Relationships were built on trust, and I was going to gain hers. But first? A healthy dose of fear and respect. After all, I knew exactly how her mind worked. She responded to challenges. Fear gave her courage. So I was going to be a damn fearsome professor — and she’d love me more for it.
Guilt nagged again as the harsh words about Mel came flooding into my line of vision. If what he’d written was true, she’d been in hell with him.
I pushed it away.
I wasn’t the good guy anymore — the one who never swore, drank, or did drugs. I was going to become him, if only for a semester. I would use his journal as a guide, and, in the end, God willing, I’d find peace.
I patted the journal in my coat pocket. “It’s okay. You’ll finally be at rest.” I was going to discover what had really happened if it killed me. I owed him that much.
Guilt nagged again… I swallowed it down, unwilling to admit that everything I did was driven by fear. The pill bottle in my pocket rattled. I slapped my hand over it and swore aloud.
He’d found the only way to be free.
I didn’t want that same destiny.
CHAPTER FIVE
“Do you still love me?” she asked one night while we were lying together in bed. I always stayed at hotels with her, never at the house. I didn’t want to mix business with pleasure.
“Of course I do, baby.” The lie was smooth, effortless. “Why?”
“You seem distant.”
Because I was, because she was nothing to me, a body, a means to an end, an entertainment, a pet, a project, a distraction. Didn’t she realize by now? I didn’t feel things; it was impossible with all the drugs I’d taken for my sickness, or whatever the hell my parents called it. Please, if I was a sociopath, I would have been bombing things. Instead, I bullied kids, I entertained myself, and I did drugs. There were worse things in the world. Right? —The Journal of Taylor B.
Lisa
“JUST HOLD STILL!” I yelled, holding up my phone while Gabe gave me the finger. I grimaced and dropped the camera away from my face. “Nice, thanks for that.”
“I’m a giver.” He smirked.
Saylor, his wife, smacked him on the arm and rolled her eyes.
“Ouch.”
I scrunched up my face when he leaned in and took Saylor’s mouth with his, kissing her senseless in the local Starbucks like they were doing a romance scene in a movie. I coughed.
They didn’t pull apart.
So I took a picture.
I earned another finger, but Gabe still didn’t dislodge from his wife.
“Whoa!” Wes’s voice sounded from behind me. “They been at it long?”
“Are all newlyweds disgusting?” I voiced aloud.
Wes moved around the table with his wife, Kiersten, and gave me a goofy shrug. I wanted to roll my eyes, but Wes was too nice and hot. Let’s not forget the hot part. Both he and Gabe were like walking poster boys for GQ. Both blond, now that Gabe had decided to dye his hair back to his original color. It was like staring at two really bright superstars.
Hating them was like hating the Easter bunny. Try all you want, but you’ll eat every piece of chocolate in the basket, just you wait.
“So, classes?” Kiersten leaned forward. “I heard you got stuck with that hot new psych prof.”
Wes growled low in his throat.
“Down boy.” I braced my hands on the table and laughed. “Besides he’s not that hot.”
“A girl passed out.” Kiersten’s eyebrows shot up. “Like in class.”
“Dehydration?” I shrugged, taking a sip of coffee.
“Or…” She leaned forward. “…the rumors are true.”
“Rumors…” Gabe backed away from Saylor, his lips swollen. “…are always based on truth.”
“So you really did do a naked dance in your underwear last week after getting drunk downtown at Pike Place Market?” I tilted my head and waited while Gabe rolled his eyes and popped his knuckles. “Exactly.”
He opened his mouth.
I took a picture.
With a grimace, he snatched my phone away from me. “Never thought I’d have to tell you to lay off the pictures, Miss Paparazzi.”
I slumped in my seat. “It’s for an assignment with that hot professor.”
“Aha!” Kiersten jabbed her finger at me. “I knew it.”
I pinned her with a look. “Sarcasm, friend, sarcasm.”
“Boys get girls pregnant,” Gabe offered, while Wes choked on the coffee he’d just stolen out of my hand.
Serves him right!
“Don’t date them.”
“You’re going to be a great dad.” I smiled sweetly. “What? You’re just going to lock your girls in their rooms and go—” I mimicked his voice. “—uh, you see boy parts are bad, they make girls have lots of babies, like rabbits, and you know how rabbits make dad nervous and—”
“Hilarious,” Gabe’s eyes narrowed. “And please don’t talk about kids yet…”
Saylor laughed quietly next to him then squeezed his arm.
My heart dropped.
A very long time ago, I’d wanted to be that for Gabe, then Taylor happened and well… I shuddered, blocking out the painful memories, the things I’d done, the things he’d done, the things we’d done.
“You okay?” Wes asked, his voice soft. He was way too perceptive for my taste. If I’d wanted to share, he’d be the guy I’d talk to, but I was a vault. Sharing meant admitting my guilt, and admitting meant I’d probably go insane just like he had.
“Yeah…” I straightened in my seat. “…I just don’t want to fail my class, and I need to write down nonverbal cues and take at least one picture. And pretty sure I need to ace this first assignment on account that I was late to my prof’s class, and I got in trouble.”
“He spank you?” Gabe’s eyes mocked across his coffee.
“Yes, Gabe,” I said calmly. “Because that’s how they punish bad students here at UW — wi
th a yardstick and a smile.”
“I wish.” He whistled. “What I wouldn’t give to have Saylor—”
I plugged my ears.
He threw his head back and laughed while Saylor turned bright red and put her hand over his mouth to shush him.
“So…” Wes ignored Gabe as was his usual and leaned across the table. “…why don’t you take pictures of people here in the coffee shop? I mean, ask permission, but most people here are super interesting, right? Studying? Stressed out? Tired?” He pointed to a guy in the corner. “He looks like he’s running on five cups of coffee and one hour of sleep. Go ask, take the picture, make some notes, project done.”
“You make it sound so easy,” I grumbled.
He grinned. “I’m Wes Michels.”
I hung my head lower and grimaced.
“Phone.” He held out his hand and stood.
Within minutes, not only had he snapped two pictures for me but had taken notes on two pre-med students who had stayed up all night cramming for what they’d assumed would be a pop quiz, only to find out that they’d been in the wrong class on the wrong day.
“And that’s why I'm not pre-med.” Gabe shuddered.
“Really?” Kiersten asked. “I thought it was because big words scared you?”
“Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious. What now?” He nodded. “Keep talking, Kiersten, or keep walking.”
“Spell it.” She smirked.
“So this professor…” Gabe changed the subject. “If he tries anything, use the Mace or the rape whistle.”
“Right.” I nodded. “I’ll be sure to do that. In class. With a hundred other students. When he looks at me cross-eyed.”
“Good,” he huffed.
“I was kidding.”
Saylor patted Gabe’s shoulder. “Gotta let the baby birds out of the nest someday, Gabe.”
“No, that’s actually not true, and this is why—”
I leaned forward and banged my head against the coffee table a few times. “Okay, guys, as much as I love all this fun banter and exhausting dialogue, I really need to go finish this assignment, so you two—” I pointed at Gabe and Saylor. “—kiss away. And you guys—” I pointed at Wes and Kiersten. “—go solve world hunger or something.”
Wes tapped his chin . “Done.”
“Wise ass.” I grinned. “Now, you guys go be all mushy and hot elsewhere. I’m going to finish this assignment if it kills me, and then I’m going to go take a nice long walk.”
“And think about your hot professor?” Kiersten asked.
“Bye, guys. See you at the benefit.”
“Dress nice!” Gabe called as I walked off.
“Wear pants!” I called back as I pushed open the door to Starbucks and rammed smack-dab into heat.
My bag fell onto the ground with a thump. “I’m so sorry.” I bent to pick it up and noticed the shoes.
Brown shoes.
Ones that belonged to feet. Feet that I recognized from before. My gaze slid up the dark jeans and settled on a trim waist, finally landing on the same scowl I’d seen a few hours back.
“Maybe if you weren’t so late all the time, you wouldn’t be in such a hurry?” Professor Blake’s eyebrows shot up as he offered me his hand.
Left with no choice but to take it, I grasped his fingers, gasping as the contact singed me from head to toe. Hot professor was a serious, serious understatement. Swear, his gray eyes saw through my clothes.
His breathing changed just briefly before the mask went back on. He nodded to the papers clenched tightly in my hand. “Working on your assignment?”
“Yup.” I rocked back on my heels. “Caffeine’s my drug of choice and all that.”
He smiled.
Not a mocking smile, but a real smile, one that I felt all over my body like someone had just attached me to a freaking tanning bed and turned it on high. I took a step back, nearly colliding with another body leaving Starbucks.
“Whoa! Class meeting!” The male voice said from behind me. “Hey, do I get an A if I spot the professor out of class? You know like seeing a bear in the wild?”
Professor Blake’s eyes darkened as he turned slightly away from me. “No, Mr. McHale.”
“Damn.” He crossed his arms and laughed.
“Assignment’s due at midnight,” Professor Blake said in clipped tones then sidestepped both of us and walked into the coffee shop.
I exhaled in relief and started walking toward my dorm.
“Hey, wait up!” Jack called from behind me. “You finished yet?”
“No.” I wanted to kick every pinecone I saw but refrained, just barely. “I have a few more to write down.”
“Me too.” He smiled warmly. “Let’s do it together.” He blushed and then shook his head. “I mean the assignment.”
“I knew what you meant.” I laughed. “I’m a girl. We don’t think on that same… level.”
Jack eyed me up and down. “More’s the pity.”
“You gonna try to flirt or work?”
“Can I do both?”
“No.”
“Fine.” He slugged his backpack over his left shoulder. “Let’s go watch people.”
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 th
en 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?”