Lingus (41 page)

"That was," I let out a huge exhale because no word seemed to be fitting for a description. "Amazing?"

I felt his chest shake on top of mine as he chuckled. "Really, really amazing." Warm lips pressed against my chest. "I didn't know it could be like that," he said softly.

That same pressure in my chest from earlier made my heart feel huge. "Me either."

I'm not sure when we fell asleep in a mess of sweaty, warm, and heavy, but we did. I woke up some time later out of the blue to find that I was still on my back with Tristan's arm and leg thrown over me. I looked at the side of his face, noticing how much more beautiful and handsome he was in his sleep. He was perfect. His full lips, his face, but it was more than that. He was the sweetest person I'd ever met when he wasn't being a jackass, but if I was honest with myself, I liked it when he was a teasing jackass. A lot.

No one I'd ever met made me feel a fraction of what he did. No one. I doubted I'd ever meet anyone who could even be half the man and friend he was to me.

Then it hit me. The thing I felt in me, that tightening sensation wasn't pain. I loved this dork. This man who loved his dog, his mom, and me.

We were so caught up in each other after he told me that he loved me that I didn't say anything back, and I felt like a complete bitch.

So, I shook his arm, hard. He grumbled over me, blinking slowly and opening and closing his mouth like a goldfish. Those sleepy, green eyes made their way to my face. "What's wrong?" he mumbled.

Maybe it was a little dramatic, but maybe it wasn't, because now I was bursting with this feeling in my body that I couldn't completely understand but that I recognized. All those tears I'd shed while he was gone filming, and that guilt I felt the two times I went out with other men— it was all for the same reason. I'd been in love with him. I was in love with him. I pressed the tip of my index finger against his nose and leaned my head toward his. "I've loved you way longer than you've loved me."

Chapter 54

Good luck and I are never on the same page. Most of the time, I don't even think we're in the same book.

I kept expecting the other shoe to drop, or whatever the saying was, and that something terrible would happen that broke me out of the state that I was in. Emotionally, I was in absolute happiness or what I would consider to be Hawaii. Easygoing, carefree happiness.

So, when my period started the day after Tristan found out about the video with Zoey, and then told me he loved me— I wasn't surprised. I braced myself for worse, like my apartment burning down, cracking a tooth, or getting a yeast infection. Any of those would have been more along the lines of what I would've expected. I may have screamed in frustration, because I was so fucking ready to pull down his boxer briefs the first chance I got, but oh well. We'd only gotten a few minutes together before I was leaving his house and trying to make it back home to grab clothes and make it to work in time.

After work, I met up with Zoey at the yoga studio we frequented. Since I had to go back to the real world and start working again, we'd gone to our fall and spring routine, which consisted of a nighttime hot yoga class and dinner afterward. As soon as she saw me walking into the studio, she screeched.

"You slut! You did it!" she announced to a, thankfully, empty yoga studio.

I looked down trying to see what in the hell could've given away the fact that I'd slept with Tristan the night before, but I didn't think my bloated stomach would have been a giveaway. Frowning, I put my index finger to my lips to get her to be quiet. "Tell the whole world, Zo," I hissed, rolling my eyes.

She did this thing that looked like a bunny hop, bouncing forward off two feet twice. "Oh. Mah. Gawd," she squealed. Her small hands went up to cup my face and pinch my cheeks. "You're walking funny," she giggled.

"I'm walking funny because I'm on my period, and I'm cramping, damn it," I muttered.

"Or because an extra large sausage stuffed your bun last night," the little bitch cackled.

I threw a hand over my face before dropping my bag and mat onto the floor. "Oh, Jesus Christ, keep it down. My dad is going to freaking hear you."

Zoey laughed even louder, enjoying my embarrassment a little too much. I had to blame it on her hanging it out with Nicole more often without me. "How was it?" she asked.

Pulling away from her, I set my yoga mat and bottles of water down alongside hers and huffed. "None of your business," I teased. She knew damn well I would end up telling her something. Only seconds later, from my spot bent over, I looked up at her excited almond shaped eyes and couldn't help but waggle my eyebrows suggestively. "Fucking awesome."

"Oh mah gawd. Oh mah gawd," she panted, plopping onto her ass. Zoey rolled onto her back and kicked her feet in the air, reminding me of Yoda when he laid in the same position. "That is like, the sickest thing I've heard all month. "

I flinched at her words. I think even my ass flinched. Then, I burst out laughing, did she just....? "Zo, please, please, please, I'm begging you, please don't ever use sickest again. Ever."

"I thought it was making a comeback," she explained, frowning.

I snorted and pinched my nose to keep from doing it again. "No, it's not. Maybe if you did wakeboarding or— never mind, please, just don't do it."

She let out a frustrated sigh before pulling her legs close to her chest. "Fine," she consented like a small, chastised child would. Only she was my small, sweet Zoey.

"He saw the video," I whispered into her ear, trying to distract her from her mopey face.

She sat up faster than lightning, straightening her back. "No way," she hissed, eyeing the women who were filtering into the room.

Zoey had always known how apprehensive I was about the video, before and especially after it was done. Although the people she sent it to had no legal right to post it without her consent, there had always been a worry in the back of my brain that someday some asshole would do it. Luckily, no one had up until then. Years later, we'd talked about whether or not I would ever tell someone I was in a relationship with about what we'd done, but I never planned on it. Until Tristan. Only Tristan, if anyone, would understand why I did it. Either way, that wasn't public knowledge I'd pass onto any man entering my life. I knew people were vengeful, and there was no way in hell I'd risk some pissed off boyfriend sending the video to my dad.

"Yes, way," I told her, sitting down onto my own mat.

"What did he say?" It made me laugh that Zoey tried to whisper but really just managed to lower the pitch of her voice.

I shrugged and pulled my feet together to stretch. For a split second I debated whether or not to tell her the three best words I'd ever heard from his mouth, but I couldn't keep that from her. I had a feeling she'd been praying for me at night, or at least crossing her fingers frequently. "He told me he loved me," I said in the quietest voice I could manage.

Zoey opened up her mouth wide, and then slapped her palm over it. Whether she was screaming or squealing, I don't know, but her face turned bright pink. She got up onto her knees and threw herself against me, tackling me onto the soft carpet floor. "Kat," she whispered into my ear. "That's amazing." Kissing my hair before scampering off, she added, "You deserve all the happiness in the world."

"Thanks, Zo," I said with a smile. She really was the best girl in the world.

The teacher came in a moment later setting up her mat as close as she could in front of the mirrors, talking in hushed tones. At some point, while we were in downward dog I heard Zoey making a low whistling noise from next to me. Turning my head slightly, I saw her bright eyes on mine.

She whispered to me, "We need to do this more often."

I mouthed back a "Why?" It was bad enough I came once or twice a week with her.

Zoey winked at me before rolling her body into upward dog. "The camera adds ten pounds." I must have given her a quizzical look because she shook her head. "For Porn Wives."

Oh lord.

Chapter
55

"What do you want for your birthday?" Tristan's warm breath washed over the cartilage of my ear.

We were sitting on the couch next to each other with his arm looped over my shoulders, fingers tracing the valley of my collarbone. My eyes narrowed on their own while I tried to figure out if this was a trick or not. "You already got me a birthday present," I reminded him.

While some people may not like to celebrate their birthdays, I was not one of those people. I liked my birthday. I like birthday cake and balloons, and doing whatever the fuck I want because it's my day. Only this year, like last, I had to work on it. It could've been worse though. I reminded myself that it was early enough in the school year to where my students still didn't know me well and therefore, won't give me much hell. Yet.

His straight nose wrinkled as he made a face. "That wasn't your birthday present."

"Uh, you told me taking me with you to California was my birthday present."

"That was my grandma's birthday present to you," he clarified with a roll of green eyes. "I used her money. It doesn't count."

There were two things wrong with what he was telling me. I had never met either of his grandmas, which would merit a present and I never would. I could remember him explaining to me that one of them left him some money in her will. By some money, I meant a lot of money. It was the same money he used to buy his house and car. The lucky asshole. The only thing I got from my grandma when she died was a collection of creepy dolls. "That does too count."

"Kat," he muttered in a low tone. "Just tell me what you want."

I couldn't help but sigh, thinking. I knew how stubborn he was, and I knew that he wouldn't let it go so I thought more. Then it hit me. Sliding my hand over my lap, and then slowly letting it glide to where I could grip the thick muscle in his thigh, I squeezed. "I know what I want."

The perfect profile of his face was visible when he stiffened, staring forward. "What is it?"

"You—," I said with a squeeze. "In—," another squeeze accompanied my words and I heard him suck in a breath, waiting for me to finish. For me to tell him what he wants to hear. "An apron. I want you to make me a cupcake."

A loud whoosh expelled from his lungs followed by glaring in my direction. "You're cruel and that's not something I can buy you."

I tried to give him the most innocent smile in the world, but it probably came out looking like I was constipated. "I don't know what you're talking about, and you never said that I needed to tell you what to buy me."

He seemed to think about what I said for a minute too long, and I had to wonder what was going through his pretty head. "I'm not good with my hands—," he started to say before the noise that erupted out of my throat stopped him.

"Liar," I choked out, remembering the night he woke me up in Los Angeles with those hands. "You are good with your hands."

Tristan threw his head back and laughed, snorting at the end and it made my heart clench a little. "You're right, I am good with my hands."

"Asshole," I muttered, elbowing him in the rib. I pretty much asked for that answer but still. We both know
how
he was so good with his hands. "Prick."

"Aww, Kat," he groaned, realizing that he'd aggravated me. "I just meant that I'm not good at building stuff. I'm not creative at all."

I started to nod before he was even done with his sentence. As soon as he said he wasn't good at building things, I had to agree. We tried to put together an elevated feeder for Yoda and that didn't work out so well. The glare he gave me in response to my acknowledgement of his weakness only made me laugh. "What? It's true!"

"I could build something if I wanted to," he said indignantly, tightening the hold around my shoulders.

"You're right, you can," I agreed with him, trying my best to keep a straight face. "I'll buy you some Legos or Building Blocks for you to get started."

His face was a mask of cool and collected as he eyed my face blankly. But I knew him, I could see that there's something building under his eyes, something close to amusement and teasing. It felt like minutes of silence passed between our words. "You need me to go get your emergency panties from your car again?"

Chapter 56

As my wonderful luck would also have it, my cycle lasted three days longer than it should have. I wanted to send Mother Nature a big two-finger salute in thanks for being a cockblocker.

The week leading up to my birthday was spent doing lesson plans on the couch with Tristan while trying to forget that I'd seen the beast in his pants, and trying to avoid reminding myself that I was turning twenty-six. I could remember being twelve and thinking that eighteen was practically half a century away. Once I finally turned eighteen, I thought it would take forever to turn twenty-one. Somehow, right after I turned eighteen the next seven years went by in a blur. It was exciting but scary because I wondered how fast the next twenty-five years of my life would pass.

There was also something about twenty-six getting closer and closer to thirty that made me think of my mom much more often than I was accustomed to. It didn't help that I was on my period because everything reminded me of her and practically screamed out that I was right around the corner in my own life from when she’d lost hers. Could I imagine dying just a few short years from now? No, I couldn't. I had to remind myself each time my thoughts would go in that stray vector that I could easily die today, or tomorrow, six months from now, eight years from now, or hell, seventy years from now. I know that my mom wouldn't want me to live my life counting down to my death. I know that I wouldn't want anyone I love to live life expecting to die.