Page 89 of Twisted Fate

“I’m serious.”

I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him forward until our lips meet. I close my eyes and kiss him hard, my fingers gripping the ends of his hair as a lump forms in my throat. He grips my waist and lifts me onto his lap, taking control of the the kiss as his tongue teases its way into my mouth. I gasp against his lips when he presses against me, my heart racing when his fingers trail up my shirt until they reach the edge of my bra.

I pull away enough to look at him, my chest rising and falling fast. “Maybe we should slow down,” I suggest, every nerve in my body tingling with need. Everything escalated so fast, I need a minute to catch up.

He shifts me back onto the couch. “Are you okay?”

“Of course,” I say. “That was...I have a lot to think about.”

He nods, his eyes flicking back and forth across my face. “You do.”

I glance at the floor, pressing my lips together. “I haven’t made this thing between us easy for you, and I’m sorry. I thought the first day I met you would be the last day.” I lift my gaze until our eyes meet. “It’s no secret that when I did see you after that day, it wasn’t a good thing. I dreaded those moments when you popped up out of nowhere with your hidden agendas and ridiculous fae charm.”

He chuckles, and I shoot him a look.

“We challenge each other every single day; it’s our thing,” I say.

He tilts his head to the side, a hint of a grin playing at the corner of his mouth as if he agrees.

“It was easier to hate you than to admit I had feelings for someone who kidnapped me, someonefae, who I didn’t know existed until said kidnapping.” Glancing away, I sigh. “I’m rambling. I promise there’s a point to this whole thing.”

“I’m listening,” he says.

“I’m still struggling with...this. You’re so sure of yourself when it comes to us, and I’m over here with no idea what I’m doing. Every other aspect of my life is under my control, for the most part. Everything has a plan. That’s how I’ve chosen to live—it’s what keeps me sane. So, when you came along and I fell for you, I panicked. You being in my life forced me to consider a different future for myself than the one I’ve had planned forever. You didn’t just nudge me out of my comfort zone, Tris, you freaking launched me so far away from it, I’m not sure what it feels like anymore.”

“Aurora—”

“No, listen for a minute.” I need to get this out. “I’m not saying this is going to be easy, but...” I flick my eyes up until they reach his. “I want to try.”

Tristan leans in and cups my cheeks, his thumbs skimming across my face. “You’re too good for me,” he whispers, and rests his forehead against mine.

“That’s not true,” I say. “Please, tell me you’ll try, too.”

He kisses my brow and offers a soft smirk. “Oh, I’m all in, sweetheart.”

Forcing myself to take a break from everything fae-related and get back to focusing on school, I text Grant to meet up to get our presentation done. I was lucky to get another elective class with him this semester after working together during our last class turned out to be mutually beneficial.

He sends me the address for his apartment a few blocks away from campus, and I head over there mid-afternoon.

“It’s open,” he hollers from inside after I knock, so I turn the knob and let myself in.

“Hey,” I say as I walk into the kitchen where I find him chopping vegetables at the island counter. “You’re cooking.” I glance around at the clean, white cabinets and cupboards that line two of the walls, forming an L shape with gorgeous gray marble countertops. He has all stainless steel appliances, including a fridge with an ice dispenser like the one I’ve always wanted. I never pegged Grant as someone who had a fancy-ass kitchen, but this thing looks like it should be featured in a home and style magazine.

He tosses me a lopsided grin when I look at him. “Iamcooking. I thought we could eat and then work. Food is always better than homework.”

I lean against the counter and watch him chop a few more pieces off a carrot. “You don’t have to convince me. I’ll do anything to avoid this presentation at this point. Can I help with anything?” I ask, glancing at the garlic bread on the counter.

He wipes his hands on his pants. “Uh, sure. Want to slice some tomatoes?”

“I’ve been waiting my whole life for this moment.” My tone is light with sarcasm.

He laughs. “Perfect.” He walks around the counter and hands me a knife, setting me up with a couple of tomatoes and a cutting board.

I slice into one of them, Grant watching beside me, his shoulder brushing mine, as if he’s worried I’ll screw it up. The idea brings a smile to my lips...until my head starts spinning. Squeezing my eyes shut at the familiar sensation, I drop the knife and grab the counter.

“Easy there,” he murmurs, his hand flat against the small of my back.

“W-what . . . ?”

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