Tryst (2 page)

Chapter 1

Bentley

Stepping foot back in this town, I feel more claustrophobic than a prisoner. A prisoner on death row. In solitary confinement. Then again, I'm pretty sure right about now I’d rather the solitary confinement.

I haven't been back in this wasteland in six years. Not since the day we laid an empty casket six feet deep. The memory still haunts me. I still see the anguish on my father’s face, and the despair and hatred painted on my mother's. The imprint of the memory weighs on my chest like an invisible ton of bricks, crushing against me with no chance for relief.

As I pop a Xanax, washing it down with some water, I attempt to ease the shaking in my hands. It's no use. Before I can catch my breath, my mind returns to that horrid day.

I arrived home late that night, riding an unfamiliar high. I didn't usually venture out into the evening, at least not by myself. I had always played it safe. That night though, I didn't have much of a choice.

The recruiter would only be there until morning and if I missed that entrance interview I'd have to put my dream of attending Princeton on hold. So there I was, returning home almost two hours after I normally locked my door for the evening. I had eased my way through the interview and was walking on cloud nine. I hadn't even noticed the flashing light on my phone indicating the missed calls and voicemail, as my phone was on silent during the interview.

I knew Cora wanted me to call her after, to celebrate, but I wasn't expecting so many questions. I was sure she would be up for her habitual clubbing the next night, so I'd just send her a quick text with the promise of a salted caramel muffin and a matching macchiato in the morning. I knew my sister well enough to know there is nothing she wouldn’t forgive for a sugar fix.

Nothing could have prepared me for what I heard after entering my voicemail code. As her words sounded in my head, my ears rang and my heart tightened. The panic in her voice matched with the screams. She was out of breath, but I could hear her crying and begging for me to answer. It was the final scream and crunch of her phone smashing that re-plays itself over in my mind. I turn my memory to earlier that same day, as I think back on Cora as she was before that terrible evening.

Cora was my twin, my other half (albeit completely opposite). We were two peas in our very own pod. Cora was vibrant. She was tall and beautiful. She was willowy and bordering rail-thin, although she played it in her favor. I, on the other hand, am short and curvy, usually awkward, and average in a very girl-next-door kind of way.

She was always popular and had a line of boys waiting at her beck and call, yet the girl could barely make it through her freshman classes. Of course, that didn't matter much since she managed to convince our mother to withdraw her from school so she could pursue her modeling full-time. She had been pretty successful small-time, and some big fish had even started scoping her out as she was about to sign a major modeling contract.

The night of my interview was the night she decided to go out to commemorate her success. I was supposed to meet up with her and Electra but the interview ran late and I never made it. That voicemail is the last memory I have of her. The last time I heard my sister's voice was when she was begging me to help her, begging for anyone to help her. Those who knew Cora and me would find it hard to believe she and I had grown close.

Once we turned seventeen something just kind of snapped in place. She realized we would both be going off on our own and she wouldn’t really have me anymore. Cora had also come to notice more and more of our mother’s hostility, even sticking up for me a few times. That was the start of mending our broken relationship. I remember those times and I miss her something fierce.

As my mind crosses back to the present, I'm hit with a rather unpleasant reality. I truly am back in a place I swore I'd never return, mentally and physically. As I make my way through the snow-covered road, trying to see through the freezing rain pelting my windshield, I drive past my childhood home. I can’t help the pain building in my chest at the memories of a devastated childhood. I shudder at the thought of what would happen if my mother knew I was in town.

Having spent the last six years doing my best not to be found, I speed up and continue to drive to the hotel. After dashing through the slush, and mucking up my shoes and pants, I get inside.

I approach the counter, pretty sure it was built with giants in mind. Seriously, I realize at 5'2” I'm rather tiny, but holy hell, I can barely see over the desk. I give the girl my name for my reservation and start looking through my purse for my wallet. As I am rummaging through my endless waste-bin of a purse, some guy, clearly not paying attention to where he was going, damn near plows me over.

I step back slightly to push him off my backside, turning to a huff and a gaggle of giggles. Giggling, really? I wait for him to acknowledge the woman he nearly trampled, but it seems he is busy texting and admiring one of the women pawing at his arms. I use the term woman loosely, since she could be eighteen, but more than likely she is in her mid-teens playing dress up with her mom’s makeup, and he’s too dumb to realize. Feeling my anger intensify, I open my mouth and let my poison tongue get the best of me.

“You know, if you weren't so busy checking if your life-sized Barbie has hit puberty and if her tits are plastic or not, you might have noticed it wasn't a damn wall you just tried to dry hump."

I swear, the shit eating grin that came across his face is something just begging to be smacked off. With what, I had yet to decide. My fist? My purse? Or maybe a good old fashioned cast iron frying pan like grandma used to use. Yeah, definitely something that would leave a mark. Hell, if I wore high heels I might even be tempted to bitch-slap him with one of them.

Of course, while I'm standing here imagining the demise of his Colgate smile, he's actually opening his mouth and starting to speak. Clearly annoyed I'm not listening, he clears his throat for effect and starts again, eager to earn my attention. 

Seeing that he has, his voice half-catches in a laugh, "I can assure you, you’re anything but a wall. Maybe a speed bump, or a hurdle, but definitely not a wall."

I stand with my arms crossed waiting for some form of an apology for the near trampling, instead I get some back-handed compliment.

“You are rather tiny, or maybe I should call you fun-sized. I could definitely see myself having some fun with you. I mean you’re pretty hot in a naughty librarian kind of way. You know, the kind with the nerdy glasses and hair in a bun, but once you take them away you're left with a pretty face and a body you could bang for hours.”

My mouth drops for a second before I collect myself and give him a piece of my mind.

“Well naughty librarian or not, you’re the last thing I would be banging. In fact, I bet you aren’t banging much of anything. Judging from your body mass, I’m betting you’re overcompensating with all of those muscles. I’ll wager the muscle your sporting below your belt probably isn’t big enough to accommodate even my
fun-size,
as you put it.”

His eyes sparkle and I realize this is a losing battle. This man doesn’t know when it’s best to just shut up.

“I don’t need to overcompensate, baby. I can promise my dick is more than adequate to take you for a joy ride. I can’t promise you’ll be able to walk once I’m done though; you might have to crawl. Mm, yeah the idea of you on your hands and knees, now that sounds like my kind of fun.”

Hmm, yeah he thinks he's clever. As I get ready to retort with something less than savory, the girl behind the counter informs me she needs my ID and credit card. I hand it over and she runs it through, then passes it back with a smile while stating my name, much to my chagrin.

I hear the audible gasps and whispers from the idiot's harem behind me. His confusion is apparent since he didn't catch it. Not that I’m surprised, I’m pretty sure in this moment he is too busy taking a picture of one of their asses.

I try hard not to listen, but I still manage to hear a few of their lingering questions. Is that really her? Do you think she'd sign something for me? Isn't she supposed to be agoraphobic? Do you think the rumors are true? I am silently begging the counter girl to hand me my damn room key so I can get the fuck out of this lobby. Didn't their parents ever teach them common decency? I mean really, shut the fuck up. I'm not sure how much more of their incessant questions I can endure.

I finally snap, and the words come flooding from my mouth, "Yes, I am really her. No, I'm not signing shit. My books sure as fuck aren't meant for little girls. I am more than capable of leaving my home, I just prefer to be left the hell alone, and lastly, I'm sure many of the rumors are true. Now, if you don't mind,” I state, while grabbing my room key, “shut the fuck up and mind your own damn business, or his.”

I nod toward the ass still sporting the smirk.

One of the girls, obviously the leader of this little clique, steps forward and quips, "I'll talk about whomever and whatever I want, and if I'm old enough to fuck then I'm sure as hell old enough to read about it.”

I feel the Cheshire grin pass over my face. Silly girl, she seemed to be under the impression that her comeback was clever, instead she sounds like a two-bit skank. I stand there, twirling my room key for a few moments before turning and walking toward the elevator. As I hit the up arrow, I twist back in her direction, my grin still evident.

"If you so desperately need something useful to do with that mouth of yours, I'm sure pretty-boy here can offer you something much more fulfilling than charming conversation. That is, assuming he's big enough to fill a mouth as large as yours."

As the elevator dings, I enter, while the sound of his laughter permeates through the lobby.

Tristan
 

Damn, my night just took a serious fucking left-turn. Who the fuck is this woman, with her sassy ass mouth? I need to get her to follow her own advice, and wrap those filthy lips around my cock. Now that I've set my sights on that tiny ball of hellfire, the two girls undressing me with their eyes while licking some sticky shit off of their lips, have my dick crawling up inside me afraid of being swallowed.

I search out an escape route, finding it as my phone chimes. I lie and tell them something important came up and I'll have to take a rain check, making sure to leave before either gets my phone number. Truth be told, I've lost all interest, and I have no intentions of looking them up.

Now I'm on a mission, and I need some intel that I’m hoping Ele can deliver. It shouldn’t be too difficult since she’s here for the author signing. I don’t usually come to these things, but after doing Ele’s fourth cover, she begged me to come along as her cover model. I’m fucking thrilled I accepted, especially knowing that sweet little piece of ass is one of the event authors. I’ll have to find out who she is, because I have every intention of claiming her rocking little body. Yeah, I know it might sound conceited, but that little ball of sunshine from downstairs will be mine- it's just a matter of when and where.

Getting into the elevator, I adjust myself. Just the thought of the things I’d like to do to her tight little ass has left me with a serious fucking hard on. That little hell-spawn’s dirty mouth had a direct reaction on my dick, and now I’m stuck sporting major wood that I’d rather Electra not see.

Last time she caught me hard, we got into a very awkward conversation about her being willing to scratch any itch I need tended. She did back off though, once I told her I don’t see her like that. Electra is more like your best friend’s little sister, fun to flirt with but deadly if you cross that line. I respect her friendship too much to ever jeopardize it.

Approaching her door, I debate how the fuck I should ask about some random woman, when I wasn’t even paying enough attention to hear her name. I mean, what the fuck am I going to ask,
hey do you know some tiny little hot chick with a dirty mouth in need of some serious sexual punishment
?

Yeah, I'm sure Electra would love that-asking a chick who offered sexual favors about a woman I’d damn near beg for them. Truthfully though, I know she’d help me out anyway. I'm sure if I was able to give her a name she might be able to tell me something, but I was too busy responding to Aggie's text to catch it.

I pace in front of her room, not sure what the hell has come over me. Hearing voices from inside, I move in closer wondering who she’s with. Whoever it is, sounds really pissed off about something. I move even closer to the door- my ear practically up against it, listening as the voices get louder. I should have realized they are growing louder because they are right on the other side of the door.

Before I can comprehend what’s happening, the door opens and it's too fucking late. I'm falling forward, about to smash my face. Instead of falling to the ground, I land in some very nice cushioning.

Of course once I look up, I realize that cushioning belongs to one sexy, foul-mouthed hell-spawn who looks like she is ready to tear my balls off and feed them to the alligator the hotel keeps as an attraction. I pick myself up, but before I can even apologize she’s pushing past me and into the hall.

Once she passes the doorway, she turns back to me, "So what, assault isn't good enough, now you’re stalking too?"