Page 43 of The Best Kind of Forever
“Mm-hm.” I tuck my hands into my jean pockets, evading his gaze to the best of my ability. Jesus. It feels so hot out here. Why is it so hot? I’m sweating like a pig, my heart’s racing about a million beats per minute, and there’s not enough saliva in my mouth to help me form more than a one-word response.
Thankfully, Bristol doesn’t comment on my clear nervousness. Either he’s polite, or he’s not super perceptive. “Were you looking for Hayes?”
“Ah, I, yes?”
“I think he’s at lunch with his agent right now. Can I give him a message?”
“Oh, no. That’s okay. Thank you.” We both stare at each other for an unusually long amount of time, neither of us moving, and then I finally rally the courage to scuffle a few inches back. God, kill me now. Have a sinkhole open underneath me.
“Why don’t you come inside?” Bristol proposes, angling his body so I have clear passage. “Hayes should be back within the hour.”
Wait for him? And tell him what? That I let my father infiltrate my mind and poison all my thoughts like some kind of egg-laying parasite? No, Aeris. Respectfully decline. Tell him you have to bathe your cat. Tell him you have jury duty, and you may or may not be in the process of putting away a serial killer. TELL HIM ANYTHING.
“Okay.”
Agh! No!
I politely make my way past Bristol, and once my feet step over the imaginary line I’ve drawn in the imaginary sand, my fight or flight response kicks in. This is bad. If I don’t tell Hayes the truth, he’ll know I’m hiding something. If I do tell him the truth, he’ll think I don’t trust him. There is no winning in this situation.
“Do you want some tea?” Bristol offers, walking over to the open-plan kitchen.
“I’m okay. Thank you.” I shrug my purse off my shoulder and sit down on the couch.
With a heavy stare, I watch as Bristol turns the burner on and places a kettle on the stovetop.
“I’ll make some just in case.”
I trade my aimless fidgeting and focus on a distressed hole in my jeans, curling my fingers around the white threads. “So…”
“Why are you really here, Aeris? You look upset.” The brazenness of Bristol’s words cut me like the serrated edge of a knife, and I stiffen, drawing in a breath that fails to slow my stumbling heart rate.
“I…I guess I’m just having second thoughts,” I answer in a timid voice, flinching upon hearing my insecurities fizzle to the surface.
“Second thoughts about your relationship with Hayes?” Bristol takes a seat across from me, and even though he’d presumably be on Hayes’ side, he’s looking at me with a kind glimmer in his eyes.
More nerves take flight in my stomach, and I scratch my fingernail against my knee through a lattice of fraying strands. “I guess…”
“I know you aren’t asking for my two cents, or my advice, but I’d be a terrible friend if I didn’t tell you how much Hayes likes you. I’ve never seen him this way with anyone before. He never stops talking about you. He’s the happiest I’ve ever seen him.”
He talks about me? He’s over-the-moon-happy to be with me? I’m so stupid for even tricking myself into thinking I had something to worry about.
“It’s hard for me to be completely vulnerable with him. And it’s not because I don’t feel safe with him. I just…haven’t had the best luck with relationships in the past.” The tears have yet to materialize, but if this conversation turns into a therapy session, they’re going to make a very unwanted appearance.
And suddenly, my pants aren’t a sufficient distraction anymore.
Bristol nods. “That’s understandable. Hayes is still getting used to the relationship scene. He means well, but I don’t think he really has a clue what he’s doing. If something’s bothering you, you should talk to him.”
“Even if it might cause an argument?”
“Arguments are healthy for couples to have. And I know Hayes has a bit of a temper, but I assure you that he’d never do anything to make you regret opening up to him. Communication is important to him. You’re important to him. Whatever it is that you want to discuss with him, he’d be more than happy to hear you out. A relationship only works if both parties are honest and receptive.”
My breath stalls. “You’re right.”
He then leans into me, lowering his voice to a whisper. “I know I’m not Hayes, but I know him well enough. I’m all ears if you need some extra help.”
Bristol doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who would lie, much less lie to save his friend’s ass if said friend was being an idiot. Maybe being honest with him will help me tackle this thing with Hayes.
A bomb of anxiety detonates against my breastbone. “Hayes hasn’t slept with a sponsor’s daughter, has he?”
