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“You don’t want to?”
Jesus. What kind of a question is that? “God knows how long I’ve wanted to.”
That’s the closest thing to a confession I’ve ever said, and her arms tighten around me. She understands quickly, and thank God for that because I’m way too wound up to explain. “How long, Tris?”
“Probably since you came to school wearing that god-awful Black Sabbath T-shirt even though you didn’t like their songs. All because you knew I loved the band. Or maybe when you hugged me in front of the whole school. Me, the loser no one wants to hang out with. Or maybe when you fell asleep holding my hand.”
It takes her a few beats before she replies, “So why won’t you come back to bed?”
With a sigh, I scrub a hand across my face. “Because if we continue doing this, it will reset my brain. It will rearrange everything I know is true. It will convince me that you’re mine, and there’s no way I will let you leave my bed for another man.”
She walks in front of me, gripping my arms with her small hands. Our clothes are still wet, but she’s bundled in a thin bedsheet. The crisp night air didn’t bother me earlier, but I see goosebumps peppering her skin, so I open my quilt and wrap it around both of us.
I refuse to look at her eyes because if I see even an ounce of pity, it will end me. Instead, I focus on her slender shoulder. But I’ve forgotten how stubborn Allie can be. She grabs my face and pulls it down, so now I don’t have any choice but to stare at her flushed just-fucked face.
“Tristan…”
“There’s nothing I want more than to spend my days with you, Bun. As your best friend, sure, but also as your lover. I want to be buried inside of you, making you moan, making you tremble with pleasure. But if you’re inviting me to bed again to gain more experience in the sexual department so you can sleep with someone else … I’m sorry, but I can’t do that anymore, Bun. I thought I could, but apparently, I’m a weak man when it comes to you.”
Instead of a hundred different scenarios I pictured in my head, Allie does the complete opposite. She rests a palm on my cheek, and the contact has me reeling. Her touch always does this to me. I know I should pull back and stand my ground, but there goes my weak ass leaning against it and feeling her skin on mine.
“Can I tell you something, Tris?”
“Sure. As long as it’s not about another guy.”
Allie laughs softly and smiles. “I lied.”
Something heavy settles in my stomach. “About what?”
“I’m not going out with Bryce, Melissa’s brother.”
My brain cells are quite possibly at their limit because I stare at her stupidly. “What? Wasn’t this all?—”
Allie rolls her eyes, not unlike the way Lucille did. “Because I’ve been waiting for you to make the first move for years! When Gram told me you looked at me like I was your crush, I tried to shrug it off. Then I realized you always dropped everything for me, never said no to my craziest requests, and more importantly, you always listened to me. Always.” A soft smile plays on her lips. “It didn’t matter if it was something trivial or stupid. You listen to me.”
Allie has rendered me speechless. All this time, I thought it was a one-sided love between us. I can’t believe it. Part of me refuses to believe it. So instead of responding to all those sweet words that make my heart explode with happiness, I point out the safest subject. “Gram, huh?”
She lifts a shoulder, throwing me a lopsided smile. “This was her idea. She thought that maybe you’d eventually ask if you knew there was competition. You did have competition back in college, but you still didn’t do anything.”
“Those dicks weren’t your type.”
“True.
I can totally picture Lucille convincing Allie and both of them scheming while they drank tea. “The whole ‘take my virginity’ thing, was that her idea too?”
Allie purses her lips and looks down, but not before I spot a deep blush on her cheeks. “Oh, no. I might have gone a bit overboard with that one. I took it to the next level because go big or go home, right?”
I laugh and pull her to me, squeezing her ass. “Then we definitely should go back to bed. Wouldn’t want all that scheming to go to waste.”
4
ALLIE
I twist my hair in a bun and slot a pencil through it, tugging to make sure it won’t come loose again.
The floor of my tiny studio is full of clutter—bubble wraps, stickers, packing boxes, and more than a dozen ceramic mugs from my Limited Edition drop. These are one-off designs, and one customer has purchased five of them.
After putting on my favorite instrumental playlist, I begin my work—scooping foam peanuts into the box, wrapping each mug with bubble wrap and nestling them between the foam, and adding my handwritten note. I finish every parcel with the shipping details on the top plus a colorful sticker, which I smooth down with my thumb.
