Page 32 of Pucking Unhinged
Tristan swats me on the butt as I walk away toward Bianca, and I hear him saying something about the sauna to whoever is on the phone with him.
Bianca rolls her eyes, but she’s grinning, tugging me along the polished marble corridor toward the spa wing.
“So are we going to talk about that kiss?” Bianca finally asks, glancing over her shoulder because my legs aren’t as long as hers, and after last night’s activities, I’m sore. I’m having a hard time keeping up with her, and I don’t feel like telling her that Tristan and his…girth is the reason why.
“It’s new. I’m not sure what it means,” I hedge as we step into the spa’s reception. The place gleams with glass and cedar, the air fragrant with eucalyptus and heat. “He’s a good kisser,” I offer, and that part is true. He’s the best kisser. I could kiss himall day and not get tired of it, and I hope when all this is behind us, that I’ll get the chance to test out that theory.
Bianca cuts me off with a shake of her head. “I mean his fixation on you. His father is so cold. One minute he acts like he likes someone and the next he’s like a stranger.”
Her tone is wistful, but it lands like a slap to my face. It hits me all at once, and it’s something that I hadn’t considered. Mr. Vale is with Emily to have access to her daughter, and Bianca one hundred percent on board with it. I pretend I’m looking around because I know I can’t hide my expression of disgust.
I suspect Bianca is just experiencing Mr. Vale’s mask slipping, and she needs someone to talk about it without admitting the illicit affair she’s been carrying on with him.
My stomach twists. Could she be evil? Sure, but she could also be a dumb twenty-year-old girl who was lied to by a manipulative man. None of this is going to end the way she thinks it is, and for that I feel sorry for her.
I stiffen because so much is on the line right now. I don’t have time to dwell on anything because we’re ushered into the sauna corridor, past frosted glass doors and hushed attendants in pale cream-colored uniforms. Steam curls faintly in the air, and if this was any other circumstance, it would be a relaxing environment.
“I wouldn’t really know, I don’t spend much time with Mr. Vale,” I say, forcing the words past my throat.
Bianca smiles like she thinks she’s smarter than I am. Like I don’t realize what’s going on. She thinks she’s slick, and that I’ll give her some sort of information that will settle her uneasiness about the man double her age who is supposed to be madly in love with her mother. She tucks a piece of her short hair behind her ear, dimples flashing as she tilts her head.
We’re shown into the dressing room, which is really just a fancy locker room. Bianca starts undressing before the attendant even leaves, and I follow suit, wrapping myself in a robe before Itake my underwear or bra off. I hadn’t thought of this part when Tristan told me to suggest coming here to Bianca. In my mind, I’d be clothed the whole time, but I wasn’t focused on how weird it would look to her for me to go into a sauna with my clothes on.
Bianca looks over at me, wrapped in her tiny towel, and raises an eyebrow inquisitively. I tell her, “The towel felt itchy, hopefully they won’t mind if I swipe this instead.”
She laughs like I’m just the silliest, and when she turns, I notice the deep purple bruise on the back of her upper arm. It’s in the shape of a hand. I can point out the finger marks, and I don’t have to stretch my imagination to wonder who the culprit is. It has Mr. Vale written all over it. I’m sure it hurts, but I’m not sure she realizes the bruise is there. I mean, I guess she could just not care who sees it.
Once we’re inside the sauna, Bianca stretches her legs out on the bench, shrugging like this place isn’t bad, but it’s nothing to write home about. I catch myself glancing at the door, and I have to remind myself to relax. Tristan is in control, and I’ve done my part. I just need to wait.
“I want what you have with Tristan. The way he watches you? Most guys don’t act like that, Winter. He doesn’t blink when you move. Like he’s afraid if he looks away you’ll vanish.”
“He’s very special to me,” I tell her. It feels weird talking about Tristan to anyone else. It feels like a violation, almost. We’re so connected, so secluded in the little bubble we’ve created together that prying eyes are an unwelcome invasion. I don’t know this girl, and I wish her the best wherever she ends up after today, but I won’t be giving her any insight on what I share with Tristan.
He’s mine, and I’m his. There’s no room for anyone else in this equation.
Bianca studies me for a beat, her usual smirk softened into something almost thoughtful.
I look away, focusing on the curl of steam rising off the stones, willing the conversation dead. Because no one, not Bianca, not anyone, will ever understand. What Tristan and I have doesn’t fit into words.
And I’ll never let anyone twist it into something it’s not.
People think Tristan gets a bad rap because he’s gruff, demanding, impossible to be around. But they don’t understand. He isn’t like that because he wants control for himself, he’s like that because being separated tears us both apart.
Is it typical? Probably not. Will it change? No, and I can’t say I want it to.
It’s like some invisible string is pulling at my chest, tightening the longer I sit here without him. I should be sated after last night, but that doesn’t stop the craving for him. I want his attention. I want his eyes on me. I want my hand tucked inside his, where I feel safe.
I keep replaying the moment in the locker room when he called me baby for the first time. His voice was so unguarded, that single slip of a word he let fall…baby.It still makes my chest ache, makes my throat tight. He didn’t even realize he said it. But I did. I heard it, felt it, and I don’t think I’ll ever forget what it did to me in that moment.
The steam presses in around me, but all I can think about is him.
I hope he comes for me soon.
Because the truth is, I’m just as dependent on Tristan as everyone thinks he is on me.
“So is it just sex or do you actually like him?” Bianca presses. When I don’t bite, she smirks. “I just find it fascinating how intense he is with you. I mean, I get it…you’re very beautiful. But he is too. It’s not like he couldn’t have anyone he wanted.”
I let out a soft laugh, shaking my head. “It’s more complicated than liking someone.”
