The Arrangement 15 Read online

  Trystan takes my chin and holds my gaze. "All those things are behind you. What's ahead of you? Where do you want to go from here?" His blue eyes are a shade darker than Sean's, with flecks of amber scattered like golden coins tossed into the sea.

  When he releases me, I confess, "That's just it. There is nowhere to go. I have no money, Miss Black won't let me leave, and I'm not stupid. I know she doesn't want me on Long Island to be a madam. She's lining things up so it'll look like I was the one in charge if things go to Hell and not her. She'll be protected behind her wall of thugs and filing cabinets. I'm barely a call girl, nevermind a madam."

  "How many men, or uh—women—have you slept with?" He almost blushes asking the question. The way his gaze drops is so sweet and unlike anything I've ever seen him do.

  I bump his shoulder. "I told you, I'm the worst call girl there ever was—I had one client, who I only slept with after falling in love with him, and the other clients didn't get sex." I laugh because it seems too ridiculous to be real.

  He looks at me like it can't be true. "Are you serious? You've only been with Sean?"

  I shrug. "It's not like I felt like dating after my parents died, and I didn't want to get knocked up. It would have made life impossible." My goofy smile fades and I roll onto my back, away from him, rubbing the chill off my arms. "I pushed away every guy who tried to get to know me. Well, except Marty, but he was gay."

  "Was?"

  "Don't get me started on that. My eye will twitch and I'll go all bitch-o on you, and I'd rather not. Remember? We're looking ahead. So, what's in your future, Rock Star?" I glance over at him and wonder what secrets he'll reveal.

  Trystan is too quiet, and when I glance his way I notice how he's looking at me. I like it and I don't. Conflict rears within me, because he seems great, but – Sean.

  You left Sean and Sean left you. That's over.

  Trystan slides next to me and pushes up on his elbow. Looking down at me, he says, "I don't know. You tell me."

  "Trystan…" I want to say no, but I can't. I want the embrace he's about to offer. I want the comfort that Sean's never given. "You're not over her."

  "And you're not over him." He doesn't move. "Tell me you're not curious, that you haven't wondered about it, about me."

  Through my lashes, I look up at him and tell him the truth. "Every girl alive wonders about you."

  "So, one night and nothing more. A kiss to comfort, an embrace to heal a weeping heart—I'm not him—you're not her. We both know that, but we don't have to be alone." Trystan is leaning over me, his body only brushing mine when he breathes. He doesn't move. He remains poised above me, looking down. He smiles once and then it fades. "If you want me, for anything, I'm right next to you." He kisses my lips lightly, once, before he returns to his blankets.

  I don't know what to do. I love Sean. I want Sean, but he's gone. I told him I couldn't do it anymore and gave him back his ring. Then he said to his mother that we were nothing, and that he was leaving. Sean's gone. That part of my life is over and thinking about it makes me want to cry, balling into my pillows.

  But Trystan's words ring in my ears. Look forward. Would a night in his arms be so bad? I want to be held and told that everything will work out. I want to feel loved, and right now I don't, but there's a cure less than two feet away. I could reach out and touch his shoulder. That's all it would take.

  What do I want? It's a simple question, but I don't know the answer. Actually, I know what I want, but it doesn't exist. I want Sean. I want his arms around me and I want him to do everything in his power to keep me. Instead, he handed me off and made a trade with his mother. I was gone before our bed was cold. The thought weighs heavily on my heart.

  People don't change. I once thought I wanted the monster within, but it's much darker and more dominant than I thought possible. I can't handle it—I can't handle Sean—and I can't be with someone who frightens me. I don't want to be with anyone anymore, but Trystan's offer lingers in the back of my mind.

  People do things like he suggested, a night together, to offer comfort and companionship. I like him, I do, but I'm not over Sean. Trystan is clearly stuck on someone else. It seems foolish to be with someone when it's not the one you want. But what do I know?

  CHAPTER 7

  Closing my eyes, I roll over and try to find sleep. But the water comes, and the nightmares turn real. Somewhere between wake and sleep I can't stand it any longer. I jut upright and scream, waking the man next to me. The windows glow pale yellow from the street light and I remember where I am. I can't breathe.

  "Avery?" Trystan's voice is soft, and his hand gently touches my shoulder. "Are you all right?"

  I shake my head, unable to speak. "I have a cure for that. Hold on." He's up, disappears, and comes back with a couple of bottles and plastic cups. "Drink up."

  "What is it?"

  "Something that will make you forget the pain," he looks into the cup, "for a little while anyway."

  "What makes you think—"

  He cuts me off. "I don't think, I know. When life punches you and you can't punch back, this is what happens. Deal with it tomorrow. For now, drink up." He pours the same mixture into his own cup and clinks it to mine before taking a swig of the contents.

  I do the same and nearly spew. "Holy shitty fat cow!" My jaw hangs open as I try to get the taste out of my mouth. "What the hell is this?"

  "Knockout juice. Pray the house doesn't catch fire." He takes another swig and blinks as if he can't focus.

  I already feel it. My stomach is empty and this tastes like a funky mixture of hard liquor. My head feels strange, but I take another sip and can't help making faces. "This stuff tastes like tar mixed with gasoline."

  "Avery, dear, stop drinking tar." He finally smiles sincerely and I see his shoulders lose some of their slump. The tension that was held deep within him begins to fade as we sit and talk about nothing.

  Finally, I say, "You weren't asleep, were you?"

  Staring into the bottom of an empty cup, he sighs and tosses it aside. "What makes you say that?"

  "You were sitting up before I opened my eyes. I remember." I go to tap my temple and poke myself in the eye. I blink once, shocked that I missed. "I don't drink much."

  "No kidding." He laughs, and then adds more seriously, "Yeah, I was up. This place is Hell. There's no peace here." He looks around like he can actually see demons crawling the walls. "That's where he smashed my head into the wall, and over there, that's where he—"

  Shivering, I reach over and my fingers touch his bare skin. Trystan stops speaking and looks over at me. I feel so lost, like I'm in a freefall that will never end. I can't stand it. I need someone to hold me and whisper words of comfort in my ear. Something inside me stirs from the intensity of his gaze. When Trystan places his hand over mine he doesn't speak and neither do I.

  Maybe it's the drink or maybe it's me, I can't tell, but I don't want him to let go. I want his soft, tender touches. I want him to be Sean. I want so many things that they float through my mind in a myriad of flutters, as gently as a butterfly's wing. I'm drawn to him, to those lips, and that mouth. Trystan never pretends, but this is make believe. This can't happen. We're both in love with someone else, but he doesn't let go and I don't move away.

  Slowly, Trystan slides his palm up my arm to my shoulder. He tips his head to the side and says, "Come here." When his arms wrap around me, I tuck my head under his chin—the way I've wanted to with Sean so many times. As I'm held to his chest, I can hear Trystan's heart is beating hard. His skin is so warm and perfect. I stay, tracing the muscles of his bare arms down to his wrists.

  Trystan assumes nothing. He steals no kisses and his hands don't roam. He's a good man and I wish I could mend his heart, but the most I can offer is a brief reprieve.

  I feel the cold chain against my arm, and pull away slightly to look down at it. I lift the object and turn it over in my fingers. He watches me, saying nothing. When I put it down, the ring falls i
nto place against his chest. Trystan presses his eyes closed and wraps his fingers around the ring. "Here I've been telling you to let go of the past, but I wear mine around my neck." He yanks at the chain and tosses it to the floor.

  Worry rushes through me. I know how hard that must have been. I want to ease his pain and forget mine—just for a moment. It's an innocent thought at first, something meant to be soft and caring. Before Trystan can speak, my lips find his, but things are different this time.

  CHAPTER 8

  We aren't on a couch and I'm not sober. The world is tipping sideways and it feels like I'm about to fall off the edge and be devoured by monsters. Trystan is my anchor so I cling to him, holding on tight like I'll die if I let go. He does the same and that soft kiss, that simple sweeping of lips changes.

  Trystan's hands find my cheeks and he traces the lines of my face, learning the curves of my mouth as he does it. His kisses are tender, though he holds me firmly. I know I'm desired and there's no question that I'm his in that moment, but he doesn't hurt me. There's no pain, not with him, it vanishes and I feel steady for the first time in months.

  The way Trystan touches me, the way he tastes me—every aspect is unique to him. The way his tongue strokes my lips and tangles with mine is all his own, the tender touch of his hands on my skin, and the way his thumb pulls my lower lip out ever so slightly so he can suck it into his mouth. My stomach twists as I forget myself. The pain and worries recede as I let him slide his hands over my curves, leading him with my own. The kisses grow hotter and more demanding, more breathless until they aren't enough.

  My shirt disappears and I shut my eyes. He lets me move how I want, touch where I want, and take what I want. We forget for a while, and the world that pains us washes away, lost in a drunken lust. I'm not bound or told to face away. He lets me roll him onto his back and cover his chest in kisses before I straddle him. He unbuttons my jeans and slips his hands under the waistband as our hips rock slowly. No one speaks. I hear him sigh or maybe that's me, I'm not certain anymore. Then he digs his fingers into my back, guiding me—showing me what he likes—where he wants to be kissed.

  For a moment, I'm lost and I've forgotten, until her name slips from his lips in a whisper almost too quiet to hear. I don't think he knows he's said it. I don't stop and neither does he. Trystan's beautiful body is covered in sweat when he finally rolls me over and pushes up one of my legs. My jeans are gone but my panties are still on. I blink and smile. The haze grows thicker and I can't stop thinking about Sean.

  Trystan watches my eyes as he slides his mouth over my body. I trail my fingers along his back, pulling him closer, wishing for things that cannot be. Trystan holds my knee tightly to my chest and rocks against me promising me things to come, of what it'll be like to have him inside of me.

  I'm lost. This feels like a dream and although my fingers and my mind know this isn't Sean, I want him to be, so he is. My head feels heavy, and it's too difficult to think, but I refuse to surrender to the sleep that's pulling at me. I will not feel the water around my neck again. I want to feel flesh on flesh, the slick warmth of his body as we lie together. I can no longer tell what's real. Course fingers run over my body and passion flames within my soul. It's a dream. The way he moves is different and I can't understand why.

  "Sean," I whisper. This is the way things were supposed to be, soft and sensual. Pure and perfect. His lips find that place on my neck and I gasp, digging my nails into his skin.

  You're dreaming, I tell myself and get lost in the bliss. I forget that Sean and I are done. I refuse to remember what his mother said or the trade he made that ensured we were through. Even though it was my decision, I can't bear it. It feels like I'm made of glass, and brick upon brick was pressed upon me until I shattered.

  There's nothing left except this heat and my nails on his hot skin. I hold onto the dream for as long as I can following it as far as it will allow me until a heart beats steadily beneath my ear, and we still. The two of us stay like that, holding each other like the world is dying around us and we're the only two people left to face the remains, alone.

  CHAPTER 9

  The sunlight shines in my face, rousing me. Pulling up my arm, I drop it over my eyes and moan. God, my head hurts. That's when I open my eyes. Last night comes flooding back and I feel Trystan's arm draped across my naked hips. He sleeps next to me, holding me in a way I've always craved, but Sean would never tolerate.

  I don't know how I feel, I'm caught between horror and denial. This didn't happen. It's not what it looks like, is it? We just embraced each other—I needed comfort and he gave it. But where did we stop? Did we stop? Clutching at my face, I sit up.

  I can't remember.

  The necklace with the ring is still on the floor next to Trystan, glinting in the sunlight. How many years has he worn it? Who was she and what happened to them? They're questions that I can't ask, and the answers won't make any difference. He's going to hate me for this. He's been holding a torch for this girl for God-knows-how-long and then I come along. Oh, God. I can't face him. What's he going to think? It was supposed to be a hug, an embrace, a small kiss. How did we end up like this?

  Trystan's eyes open slowly when I sit up, and he tenses when his gaze drifts to my bare skin. I have the blankets pulled up to my chest, concealing the front of me. Last night comes back to him, at least in part. I see the rush of memory flood his eyes. I touch his hand, lacing our fingers together, and hold onto him tightly. "It's all right, Trystan." But my voice shakes and he can tell that I'm not all right.

  "Oh God. I took advantage—" he gasps, before his jaw locks, nearly having said the wrong name, and pulls his hand back. Those sapphire eyes look away, guilt-ridden. He finishes speaking. "Avery, I shouldn't have."

  Tucking a piece of hair behind my ear, I ask, "Shouldn't have what, exactly?" I don't want to look up at him, but he's too silent for too long. The only sound I can hear is the way he breathes when he's upset, or excited. My skin is instantly covered in shivers, reacting to something that is out of reach—a memory that was never made. It slipped through my fingers like rain, but my body remembers and reacts to him.

  Trystan has his head tipped down with that long dark hair covering his face. He pushes it back, and flicks his gaze up to meet mine for half a second. "I was kind of hoping you could tell me."

  We stare at each other. Nothing. No one speaks. I can't remember and neither can he. I start to mutter things I shouldn't say. "If we did everything, I'd feel it, right? I've always felt it the next day with Sean, but he doesn't hold back."

  His lips form a tight line, before he spits out, "Just because I didn't hurt you doesn't mean I held back, assuming things went that far." Trystan looks around, but there are only empty bottles on the floor. "Damn, my head hurts."

  "I didn't mean it like that." I try to clarify, but I can't. His touch was nice, gentle. It was the difference between being fucked and making love. I haven't had much experience with the latter. I'm playing with my fingers, weaving them together and turning them, twisting them as I explain. "I meant that after I've been with Sean, I can feel it. But, I don't feel any pain and nothing's sore. So how do you normally tell?"

  Trystan's eyes dart back and forth like he's remembered something. "Condoms. I always use them." We both start looking through the blankets, but there's no trace, no wrappers, nothing to indicate he used one. Trystan finds his jeans before he pulls one out that is still sealed, unused. "Fuck."

  I laugh nervously. "That doesn't mean anything." He glances up at me like I'm stupid. "What? Just because we didn't use one, it doesn't mean we did it. I mean, maybe we just made out and fell asleep."

  "Naked?" He's ready to roll his eyes, but doesn't. "Avery, Occam's Razor—the simplest explanation is usually the correct one. In this case, we slept together. Please tell me you're on the pill or something." He watches me, with regret pressing heavily on his shoulders.

  I nod. "I am, but Trystan, there's no way to know if we did." He st
ands there, half-dressed, staring at me. "So let's act like we didn't."

  "I don't forget lovers like that. Sex means something to me. You do something to me." He rubs his hand over his face and doesn't look at me while he says the rest. "It's like you're a lightning rod—you evoke every memory of someone I want to forget. I would have never gone after you because, even though I like you, I'd always think of her. Pathetic, isn't it?" He laughs bitterly and shakes his head. When he finally glances at me, he adds, "And don't worry, I won't tell anyone anything."

  I pull my blanket higher and try not to smile. "A chivalrous rock star? Isn't that interesting?"

  "Don't tease, not about this." The look on his face is barren. I can't read what he's thinking at all. I don't know if he feels like he betrayed his lost love or me.

  "Trystan, I'm not. I needed to be held and comforted. I think you did, too. That's all it was, right? You shouldn't feel guilty. I kissed you, remember?" I touch his leg and he looks down at me before he sits next to me on the blankets. He gazes into my eyes with too much sorrow for one person to bear. "We're friends, aren't we?" I don't mean to sound needy, but the hitch in my voice tells everything.

  "Of course." There's not an ounce of hesitation once he realizes I care about him. I've lost everything and I'm being forced to start over in a life that's been hellish for too long. He wraps his arms around me and kisses me on the cheek. "It was just this one time. An alignment of the stars."

  "Always the poet." He smiles shyly, but still looks guilty. "Trystan, I'm not ready for another relationship. Go put your necklace back on and no one will know."

  He nods. After a moment he says, "Just don't tell Mel. I think she has a thing for me and I'm pretty sure she's castrated a man for lesser things." He shudders and smiles. "Plus, your boss is scary as hell and your ex, well, let's just say they'll all kill me." He looks at the ring in his palm before putting the chain back on.

  Smiling, I assure him, "I won't tell anyone." Trystan holds my gaze for a moment before looking away. "And thank you. Last night was rough. Spending it with you, for the parts I remember, helped." He blushes and tries to hide it behind his hair.