Page 4 of Absinthe Dreams
"Uh, fuck no." I lean against the doorframe, scowling at her. "You're supposed to be in San Francisco. You go home. I'll stay."
She stares at me levelly. "I see you haven't changed."
"What does that mean?"
"It means you still think you can tell me what to do." She rolls her eyes. "You've always been an overgrown bully. But you aren't the boss of me, Trystan. You don't get to tell me what to do."
"I've never tried to tell you what to do."
"You've been trying to tell me what to do my entire life! Don't wear makeup. Don't go to prom. Don't go to UPenn. Don't do this. Don't do that. You're a broken record of commands and demands."
I grit my teeth so hard my goddamn jaw aches. Maybe she has a point, but she's leaving out the important shit. Like how she didn't need makeup at thirteen, or how I was jealous as hell that she was thinking about going to prom with some asshole who could never possibly deserve her. Or how she told me she was moving to the other side of the country for college, where I couldn't protect her.
But I can't tell her that, now, can I? She'll either laugh in my face or knee me in the balls and tear my heart out. The girl loathes me. Would set me on fire just to dance on my bones detests me. Nothing I say ever softens her any. It just seems to piss her off that much more.
And frankly, it makes me want to haul her into my arms and kiss that scowl from her gorgeous face every single time. Or push her up against the wall and plow into her until she's screaming my name. At this point, I'm not sure which I want more—to taste those lips or to bury myself so deeply inside her that she forgets how to breathe without me.
"Jade called Haven," I say instead of doing either of those.
"Of course she did." Chloe sighs heavily.
"You quit your job."
"That's not your business."
The way she says it makes it clear she doesn't want to tell me a fucking thing about it. I want to ask anyway. But I know better than that. "Maybe not, but your parents are worried. You need to go home."
"You need to stop telling me what to do. I'm staying here for a few days."
"Uh, hell no, you aren't. You're going home to deal with whatever mess you're trying to run from."
Clearly, that's not the right thing to say because she glowers at me like she wants to shank me with her keys.
"Of courseyou'dthink my life is a mess."
"What does that mean?" I growl.
"It means your life is so neat and tidy." She rolls her eyes so hard I swear I hear them. "You never even had to leave home to have it all figured out."
"Careful, princess," I snap, one brow arched. "You didn't exactly grow up hurting, either." Her father owns the biggest construction company in the state. He's worth billions, and he'salways given her and her siblings anything they want. She was a spoiled, pampered little princess who never had to work hard a day in her life.
My family may have money too, but I grew up with the sun in my eyes and dirt under my nails, sweating from the time the sun came up until it went down. During planting and harvesting seasons, no one gets a free ride on a vineyard.
"Maybe not, but that doesn't mean we're the same, Trystan. I actually had to leave the nest to build a life. Yours came predesigned for you." She sails past me, so close I smell her fruity scent as she passes. "And you're the only one of us afraid to rock the boat or live outside those neat little lines that came all colored in for you."
I snarl a curse, clinging to the door with both hands. Maybe it'll keep me from putting them all over her pristine body. I hate that she knows me so fucking well and doesn't know me at all at the same time. Thoseneat little linesshe hates so much? They're the only reason I haven't ruined her or our families.
"Also, I'mnotleaving," she calls over her shoulder. "Take it up with Wyatt if you have a problem with it. He told me that I could stay here."
Fuck my life. She's lying, and I know she is. Wyatt is unreachable. But she doesn't give me a chance to call her on her bullshit before she disappears down the hall.
I stare after her, a string of curses flying from my lips.
Thanos looks at me, huffs, and then pads after Chloe. Not that I blame him. Frankly, I'd follow her to the ends of the goddamn earth if she'd let me. But let's be real. I have a better chance of living just long enough for her to murder me in my sleep than I do of making her mine.
I want to do it anyway.
Christ, do I ever.
