Annalise pushed her cup aside with a decisive motion. "So between all these ways to fight back, we have a real shot at stopping this?"
Natalie nodded. "If we move fast, yes."
We spent a little longer going over details and a game plan, Annalise taking notes in her phone. For some reason, she wanted to take charge on this whole project, and I was content to let her.
I was exhausted. I had fashion week coming up. I had a man I was trying to make fall for me. And again, I was just exhausted. She seemed to have enough energy for the both of us, powered by what, I didn't know.
But thinking about her words on the drive here, what Tristan had done to me in high school had affected her almost as much as it had me. Maybe even more? After all, sometimes watching someone you love suffer is even harder than enduring it yourself.
As we headed back to the car and passeda little kid zooming down the slick sidewalk on a scooter, laughing as his mom called after him to slow down, I was still that strange swirl of emotions. But I did know one thing for sure.
This was the right thing to do.
Twenty
Tristan
Watching my brother as he went for another huge bowl of spaghetti, dumping a shitload of parmesan on top, I asked him, "So what's the homework situation like for the weekend?"
See? I was learning. Every damn day, I made it a point to ask him about each subject, going over upcoming projects, posters, book reports, every single thing that was happening in his school life.
I'd given him a planner too, and sometimes he actually remembered to write stuff in it.
It'd been weeks since we'd had an emergency late-night project. Sure, it was bound to happen at some point in the future, but for now, I would call this a major win.
He shrugged. "I just have some math."
"Just math? That's not bad."
Not bothering to answer, he took an enormous bite from his fork, letting the rest of the noodles fall back into his bowl. Someday, I'd really have to work on his table manners. If he ever got over his shyness around girls and actually went on a date, she'd for sure be repulsed watching him eat.
But that was for another day. Baby steps. Some mom that had chatted me up at the eighth grade open house had told me somevaluable advice that had served me well so far... to choose your battles with kids this age.
While he dug in for another bite, I looked away at the kitchen surrounding us, my mind as usual drifting toher.
What was she doing right now?
That was always my biggest question. It was driving me insane not to know where she was, who she was with, even her goddamn name. This was by far the weirdest relationship I'd ever been in. If one could even call it that.
What was this exactly?
I had no fucking clue. And I hated that fact with a passion.
We'd shared what I thought was an incredible night when she'd come over here for dinner, despite the hiccups that had occurred. She'd been so understanding though, going with the flow, not mad or annoyed at Archie interrupting what was supposed to be a romantic rooftop date.
And my God, it had been romantic. And fucking hot. That massage she'd given me had been my sustenance for the last week. And the hand-holding too.
Never in my life had holding hands with someone felt so right, or been a big deal. To be honest, I didn't think I'd ever really indulged in it before, probably because it seemed kind of pointless. Any time I had, it was most likely because she'd reached for me.
For the first time in my existence, I'd reached forher.
And what does she do?
She ghosts me for another entire week.
A fucking week. What the hell was this about?
I knew for a fact that she'd had a great time, the way she'd smiled and laughed, her cheeks turning pink behind her mask. You couldn't fake that kind of physical reaction.
