Bad Things (Tristan & Danika #1) (22 page)

“Sounds good.
 
I’ll see you then.”
 

I was just hanging up when I caught sight of the sliding glass door opening, a rough looking Tristan stepping outside.

He was the picture of remorse as he approached me, giving me an endearing smile that made my heart twist.
 
“I slept in.
 
I didn’t mean to.
 
I promised you breakfast.
 
How can I make it up to you?”
 

I shook my head, waving that off and trying not to feel horrible about going out with his brother.
 
All of my reactions were off when it came to Tristan.
 
I should not have felt so broken up about the fact that he had slept with some random girl last night, and I should not feel guilty about spending time with his brother.
 
But, strictly friends or not, I felt both.

“I am fully capable of making breakfast,” I told him.
 

“I know, but I still wish I hadn’t slept in.
 
I
like
doing nice things for you.
 
I like spoiling you.
 
I like doing anything at all for you, as long as it makes you smile.”
 

I looked down, pretending to study my phone, blinking back ridiculous tears.
   

“What would you like to do tonight?” he asked, moving as close as he could get to me through the opening in the tree house.
 
“I’m getting my car back today, so we can go anywhere.
 
I’ll let you pick this time, and I’ll drive.
 
We’ll go wherever you like and I’ll treat.”

I swallowed.
 
“I have plans, actually.
 
Maybe another night.”
 
It hadn’t felt nearly as good as I’d thought it would to turn him down.
 

“Oh?” he inquired, still smiling.
 
“Another girls’ night so soon?”

“No, not that.
 
That’s not for a few days.
 
I’m just going out…with a friend.”

“A friend?
 
Just one?
 
She can come with us, or I could tag along with you.”

“It’s…not like that.
 
It’s just a dinner thing, with a friend.
 
Just the two of us.”

His smile died, his brows drawing together, though his expression was still just curious.
 
“Who’s this friend?”

I shrugged.

“Is this a girl friend or a guy friend?” he asked, just as though he had the right.

I cleared my throat.
 
“It’s a guy, though it’s not a big deal.
 
Like I said, we’re just going out to dinner.”
 

He nodded, rubbing his jaw and looking at his feet.
 
“It’s not your ex, is it?” he asked quietly, his voice low.
 

“It’s not,” I rushed to answer, a little defensive because I
had
considered that idea, albeit briefly.
 

“Just a friend, huh?” he asked blandly.

“Yep.”

“So why does it have to be just the two of you?
 
That seems more like a date to me.”

I felt my temper rise a bit.
 
“What if it
was
a date?
 
Would there be something wrong with that?”
 

He moved into the small opening, bringing his face close.
 
I was sitting cross-legged, and his hand found my knee, squeezing lightly.
 
“I thought you said you weren’t going to date for a while?
 
Didn’t Lucy tell you that you should avoid that for now, and didn’t you agree with her?”
 

“I thought we agreed we weren’t going to nag each other?
 
Wasn’t that on our stupid list?”
 

“There’s a difference between nagging, and expressing concern.”

“Now you sound like Lucy,” I said dryly.

“Who is this guy you’re going out with tonight?
 
Why have I never heard about these plans until today?”
 

I hated, absolutely
despised
, that he sounded like a concerned parent just then.
 
“How about we add this to our list?
 
I don’t get to ask you about who you fucked last night, and you don’t get to ask me who I go out with.”

He looked around, eyes wide.
 
“Watch the language.
 
The kids.”
 

The boys had moved on as soon as we’d started having grown up talk.
 
They were currently wrestling with Pupcake in the sandbox by the fence.

“You should fucking talk,” I pointed out sharply.

“I’ve gotten better, haven’t I?”

He had a point.
 
He’d improved his language around the kids faster than anyone could have predicted.
 

“Fine, I’ll drop it,” he said, his tone dark.
 
“What time is he picking you up?”

“I’m meeting him somewhere at nine.”

“That seems late.
 
And he can’t even be bothered to pick you up?
 
You can do better, boo.”

“You’re an ass,” I told him, taking exception to the bite in his tone.
 
“It was my idea to meet up.”

“Hiding him from me?
 
You worried I’ll scare him off?”
 

I let out a noise of frustration through my teeth, wanting to throttle him.
 

“Sorry.
 
I
am
being an ass.
 
I’m just feeling, I don’t know…overprotective?
 
The thought of you being alone with some strange guy makes me…worry.”

“Well, don’t.
 
Where I’m concerned,
all
the damage has already been done.
 
There’s nothing left to protect me from.”

He’d begun to back off, but at my words, he moved close again, studying my face, that big warm hand back on my leg.
 
“What on earth does that mean?”

I blinked rapidly.
 
I couldn’t believe I’d said something like that, and to
him
.
 
Already, there was sympathy in his voice, enough sympathy to have me blinking back tears.
 
I
hated
sympathy, but was somehow always strongly affected by it.
 
“It’s nothing.
 
Certainly nothing you want to hear about.”
 

“I certainly do.
 
Please
.
 
I want to know just what you meant by that.
 
What damage has already been done?”

All of it
, I thought.
 
“Nothing,” I said.

He didn’t buy that for a second.
 
“We’re friends.
 
You can tell me anything.”

I mulled that over.
 
Was that true?
 
I was in a mood to find out.
 
“Promise you won’t feel sorry for me,” I whispered, my eyes on the kids, making sure they were out of trouble, and out of earshot.

“I promise,” he whispered back, his other hand reaching into the tree house opening and pulling at my shoulder to tug me further out.
 
I let him, not even protesting when he had my legs out, his chest pressed against my bent knees.
 
“Tell me.”

I grimaced.
 
“It’s nothing, really.
 
It’s old news, and not even that big of a deal.
 
It’s just…you never have to be protective of me.
 
I can take care of myself, and even if I can’t, I know from experience that I’ll survive it, whatever it is.”

“I don’t like the sound of that,” he said softly, one of his hands moving into my hair.
 

Gently, he turned my head to look at him.
 
“What the hell does it mean?
 
Did someone
hurt
you?
 
Are you talking about your ex?
 
Do I need to go and hurt
him
?”

I shook my head.
 
“He was a mistake, and a royal asshole, but no, that’s not what I meant.
 
Though you can’t protect me from assholes, either.
 
That’s my choice to make.
 
What I mean is that I’m not some innocent kid.
 
I haven’t been innocent in a very long time, so don’t go thinking that you need to protect me, as though I am.”

“Is that really what you think?
 
That only innocents deserve protection?”

The bastard had pulled a Lucy on me.
 
Is that really what I thought?
 
As I considered the question, I realized that I did, at least as it pertained to me.
 

I was embarrassed by that realization, but it didn’t change my thinking.
 
My issues were too deeply ingrained for that.
 

I shrugged, turning my head to look away from him.
 
He didn’t let me, bringing his other hand to tip my chin up.
 

“Will you tell me what happened?” he asked, something in his tone making me think that he already
knew
.

“I will,” I allowed, “but not right now.
 
Okay?”
 

He didn’t look happy about that, but he nodded, his hands dropping away.
 

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

I didn’t know who was more out of sorts after that.
 

I had effectively spread my black mood to Tristan, and we steered clear of each other for hours.
 

I was slipping my feet into my tennis shoes, getting ready to take the dogs for a walk, when Tristan approached me with a cajoling smile.
 

That smile was nothing but Trouble.

“I just got a call to do a promoting job tonight.
 
Come with me.
 
It’ll be fun.
 
You can go out with what’s-his-name some other night.”

I glared at him, snapping the dogs into their leashes.
 

He took Coffeecup and Pupcake’s leashes, unfazed by my hostility.
 
I let him, not speaking until we’d nearly circled the block.
 
“I’m not changing my plans tonight.”
 

“Well, how late are you planning to stay out?
 
You could come by the club after you’re done.”
 

“Stop,” I said quietly, my expression hard.
 
“Why are you pushing this?”

“Are you really going to be out that late?
 
What exactly are your plans?”

“Just stop!” I nearly shouted, angry now
, at him—at both of us.
 
“You don’t get to go out and do whatever the hell you want, and then ask me about what
I’m
doing.”

He gripped my arm just above the elbow, stopping me.
 
“Is that what this is?
 
Are you mad at me about last night?
 
Is this
revenge
?”

“Why would this be revenge?
 
How
would it be revenge?
 
We’re just friends right?
 
We’re still sticking to that little list, right?”

He nodded, studying me.
 
He looked worried.
 
“You
are
mad at me.
 
Fuck, Danika, I’m sorry if I hurt—”

“Don’t,” I interrupted him.
 
“I’m not hurt.
 
I’m just fine, but we need to establish some boundaries here.
 
You can go fuck whoever you want whenever you damn well please, but you don’t get to keep tabs on me, just because I’m a girl.
 
That’s not happening.”

His jaw clenched, and he let go of my arm.
 

He didn’t say another word about it, but if I’d thought he was in a foul mood earlier, it was nothing compared to the dark mood that conversation put him in.
 

He went out before I did that night.
 
I was still getting ready when he left.
 
He’d barely said a word to me—barely looked at me, since we’d walked the dogs.
 

He barely looked at me now, just hovered in the doorway of my bathroom while I put on makeup.
 
“Be careful, boo, and call me if you need me.”
 

He left before I could respond.
 

I wore cuffed navy shorts, and a sleeveless, magenta, bib style silk shirt.
 
A pair of flip-flops made it a casual look.
 
I twisted my black hair into a smooth chignon at my nape.
 
Smoky eyes and soft pink lips was the extent of my makeup.
 
I wanted to look nice, but I certainly didn’t want to go overboard and give him the wrong impression.

Jared’s reaction when he saw me was enough to make me flush in pleasure.
 
“You look amazing,” he said, swallowing.
 
“You’re so beautiful.”

The brothers sure know how to make a girl feel good about herself.

Jared looked pretty good himself, in just a black T-shirt and jeans.
 
He had the skinny rocker hunk look down pat.
 
Aside from his build, he reminded me so much of Tristan that it made my heart twist just to look at him.

Dinner was friendly enough.
 
I bombarded him with questions about the band I was so curious about.
 
Everything about Tristan fascinated me, and the fact that he was in a band, and I’d met most of its members, but still hadn’t heard them play, consumed an unhealthy amount of my thoughts.
 
Tristan didn’t share much about the band, but his amiable brother was more than happy to.