Lingus by Mariana Zapata
The last three times, I'd let myself in because he was too sick to get up and open it himself, but now, I didn't know what to do. I was standing there, debating whether to knock or unlock it with my key when the door swung open to reveal Tristan in plaid sleep pants and a t-shirt that was a size too large. He still looked a little pale, thinner, and his eyes a bit dull.
"Why are you standing out here?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Why are you standing right by the door?" I replied, not wanting to have to explain why I was out there.
"I thought you were the pizza person," he said, stepping to the side after waving me into the house. "C'mon, I don't want old Mrs. Goldberg taking the open door as an invitation to come over."
I came in and toed off my shoes, earning a big smile from Tristan before following him into the living room. He had taken his comforter back upstairs from the look of it and maybe even cleaned a little. "Is she the cougar next door? She was staring at me when I walked over here."
He groaned before plopping down on one end of the couch. "She's crazy. I'm pretty sure she has cameras outside, because every time I mow the lawn, she always just happens to drive up. Even if it's at three in the afternoon during the week, she's just there. It's creepy."
"Do you mow the lawn with your shirt off?" I asked, sitting down on the other end of the big sofa with my short legs dangling off the edge. Tristan nodded at me in response and I shrugged. "Well there you go, she just wants to check out the goods. Don't be upset with the lady. I have a neighbor that sits on the stairs to check out girls in their running outfits."
He gave me a lazy smirk. "Do you let him look at you?"
"No way, I've told him before that if he checks out my ass when I'm going up, I'll kick him in the face. Once, he did it to Nicole, and she got right up in his face and told him she'd knee his balls back into his stomach. Now, he just ignores me and runs to hide when Nikki comes to visit." I told him with a grin.
He shook his head and positioned himself so that his back rested against the end of the couch. "I think Calum has his work cut out for him with your friend. Don't tell her anything, okay?" he asked, waiting until I nodded in acceptance. "Calum usually calls me at least four times a day, everyday. Since last weekend, I think I've heard from him a total of five times this entire week. He said he's smitten with Nikki. Smitten! How the hell does he even know what that means?"
I had to smile because Nicole had been the same way. "I talk to Nikki everyday, and she's only called me about three times, too. Once was the day after Josh’a party, when she could barely talk, and the other two times were just short conversations to tell me she's alive."
The doorbell rang right then, and Tristan hopped off the couch to get the door. I heard him talk to the pizza guy before coming back carrying a familiar cardboard box. "You have no idea how glad I am that you wanted a meat lovers pizza," he said, as he set the pizza box on the coffee table and headed into the kitchen. My eyes followed his plump ass cheeks as he walked around. The faint pain in my lower back was starting to get really distracting, so I got up to look at the various things set up on the bookcase and shelves surrounding the big screen television that was mounted above his fireplace.
There were pictures of a pretty woman with caramel colored hair and a really, really attractive, older, auburn-haired man standing together in front of a church. Another picture was of a much younger Tristan and Calum at DisneyWorld, each wearing Mickey Mouse ears. Then, there were several in various ages of a light brown haired little boy with bright green eyes, with the same man and woman in the first picture. I had to guess that these were his parents. "Tristan! Are these pictures of your mom and dad?"
"Yes!" he yelled back from the kitchen. The opening and closing of cabinets muffled his voice before he reappeared holding two plates, napkins, a glass of water, and a can of soda. He gave me that cute, crooked smile as he set the things down on the coffee table before coming around to stand very close next to me, looking at the same pictures I had just gotten done inspecting. He pointed at the first picture. "They renewed their wedding vows about five years ago." The more I looked at the picture, the more resemblance I noticed between Tristan and his father; they had the same jaw, mouth, and the same wild disarray of hair.
"If you look like your dad when you're his age, your wife is going to be a lucky, lucky woman." I laughed.
He scowled at me as he grasped my forearm to pull me toward the couch again. "I'm going to pretend like you didn't just imply that my fifty year old father is attractive."
"He is!" I giggled, sitting in the middle of the couch in front of one of the plates he'd set down.
Tristan waved me off, frowning, before opening up the pizza box and extracting a slice of pizza with just his hands and setting it onto my plate before putting another one on his. "Just eat, I don't want to lose my appetite thinking about you finding my dad..." he trailed off before faking a gag.
I elbowed him in the ribs, and then started eating the slice of meaty goodness. We each polished off two slices in silence before he pressed a hand against his stomach, moaning about how he hadn't gotten his appetite completely back yet. The pain in my lower back had gotten worse, and when I stood up to help him clean our mess, I felt it.
That familiar throb between my legs and lower stomach.
Suddenly, I felt wet.
Not the good kind of wet either, so I didn't think twice about shoving my hand between my legs to feel the proof of my body's doing.
Oh God, please, no.
Tristan, who was still sitting on the couch, leaned back against the cushion and burst into laughter. "Please tell me you peed your pants," he gasped.
Chapter 23
I wanted to die a quick death.
"Do you have a bathroom downstairs?" I asked him in a voice laced with dread and panic, fucking horrified that I started my period two days early.
He nodded and pointed to where the stairs were at, still laughing. If he were Josh, I'd kick him in the leg and then run but since he wasn't, I settled for speed-walking in the direction he pointed. My shorts and panties were on the floor the instant the door closed, and sure enough, all I could see was red. Everywhere. It looked like I'd slaughtered a small animal in my underwear. Shit! I used the bathroom and cleaned myself off as best as I could, when I heard a knock on the door.
"Kat? I can go buy you some panties and tampons from Target if you want," he said, quietly and evenly.
I wanted to die again. I wanted to die not because the situation was embarrassing, but because he'd just offered to go buy me undies and tampons. Josh would have done the same, but only after he rolled his eyes and huffed to make it seem like it was a big inconvenience. Then, he'd probably buy me extra large pads that looked more like diapers than anything, just to spite me.
"I have undies in the glove compartment of my car and a pad in my purse. Can you get it for me, please? My car keys are in my purse."
"Okay, I'll be right back," he said in the same voice.
I grabbed my underwear and shoved them under the tap in the sink to rinse them off, but when I picked them up, I noticed there was a stain on my shorts, too. Jesus. I grunted in frustration, standing there in Tristan's half-bath with no bottoms on. This wasn't exactly the way I'd envisioned myself having my panties off in his house, but this was my luck. I shouldn't have been surprised.
There was another knock on the bathroom door a few minutes later. Tristan's soft voice spoke up from the other side of the door. "I have your stuff. Do you need anything else?" There wasn't a remote sense of laughter in his tone, which made me feel a little better but casting a look at my soaked underwear and stained shorts, I knew there wasn't any way for me to get out of the bathroom with my dignity intact.
"I stained my shorts," I muttered, my face flaming red in embarrassment.
I swear he snorted but then it was silent. "Just come upstairs, shower, and I'll let you borrow some shorts or something."
My shorts were back on an ins
"Don't worry about it, it happens," he said, but his voice broke at the last syllable, and he snorted. "I'm sorry!" He pinched the bridge of his nose to stop the noise before making his way up the stairs. I was glad he'd gone up first and on his own, because there was no way in hell I would've let him walk behind me with the gigantic stain on my clothes. It was bad enough he was holding my emergency underwear in his hands; they were yellow cotton things with more stains on them than a motel room's sheets, but I didn't want to make it worse by flaunting my period disaster.
Making my way through his bedroom, I found him in his bathroom. He was messing with the taps to the shower a few moments later, while I crowded against the wall to keep my ass from view. Green eyes peered over at me from their spot across the room, but they looked a little too amused. "Are you going to get naked, or what?"
"Excuse me?" I let out what sounded like a hysterical giggle. Did he just...?
"Take a shower, I'm sure you have... some stickiness going on down there," Tristan tried to say with a straight face, but the corners of his mouth lifted up a little.
"I will, when you get out the bathroom," I was sure my voice was higher than normal, I could feel it. Was he seriously telling me to get naked in front of him? No way.
He left the stall door open and folded his arms across his chest. "Kat, you don't have anything I haven't seen a million times before."
His words cut me. Oh my God. They cut me, but they were true even if I hadn't seen proof of it yet. I knew he was only speaking the truth. I was stuck trying to understand what he was telling me. Who in the hell tries to see another person naked with so much nonchalance? I couldn't help but stare at him, stare at those lines of muscle that outlined his forearms, stare at the sharp jawline with a bit of dark scruff. It was his words that drove me to nod at him like a lunatic.
Fuck it.
Zoey, Nikki, and Josh had all seen me naked. It wasn’t like I had anything not to be proud of.
I peeled off my t-shirt to reveal the plain beige bra underneath, my eyes staying locked on Tristan's throat. I didn't have the balls to look him in the eye while I did this. A huge part of me couldn't even comprehend what I was actually doing until I was walking toward the stall, right next to where he stood, and then I was undoing the clasp on the back of my bra. It was strange that I blushed for the dumbest things, but my body seemed to be on my side because there wasn't a hint of red or pink anywhere on me. I was perpendicular to him, facing the shower stall while he leaned against the wall but this time, I looked at him over my shoulder.
"You haven't seen anything of mine before, Mag," I said calmly, flicking the clasp on my bra and slowly pulling one strap over my shoulder and arm, while the beige material bunched in front of my chest.
He didn't say anything, but I could see his eyes flickering from my face, to my throat, and then to the side of my chest; back and forth, back and forth, while I pulled the last strap over my arm and dropped the bra to the floor. My heart was pounding so fast in my chest it felt like it was going to explode out of its cage of bones with a vengeance. I didn't know the first thing about trying to be sexy, but I felt empowered by Zoey's speech earlier. I valued myself and nothing could change that. She'd be shitting her pants in excitement that I was being so bold, but ultimately, I don't think she'd be surprised. I had balls— I just didn't use them very often.
I smirked at Tristan's silence before shoving my shorts down my legs while also thanking the Holy Spirit that I decided to shave earlier. I hoped I didn't have a big red smudge on my ass. He stood still as a statue. I didn't think he was even breathing, but I stepped into the shower regardless ad closed the door behind me. By the angle I'd been in before, I knew all he got was a look at was me from the side, and now he only had a plain view of my ass, back, and legs. I pushed out any self-conscious thoughts from my head. In less than two minutes, I'd lathered up my lower body with the bar of soap he had in the shower, the scent I'd become familiar with was clean and simple, and rinsed off.
When I opened the door to the stall, I realized that Tristan wasn't in the bathroom anymore, but there was a towel hanging off the rack and the underwear and shorts I'd left on the floor were now missing. My clean period panties were sitting on the vanity sink along with a pad and what looked to be an old pair of boxers. Once dressed with his boxers grazing my knees, I made my way downstairs to find him sitting on the couch with his feet propped up on the coffee table and his arms folded behind his head.
He gave me a lazy smile and looked me over. It confused me. I wasn't expecting him to do anything after seeing me buck naked, but by the look on his face, it was like nothing happened.
"Better?" he asked me when I walked over to sit on the other end of the couch.
"Much," I responded as evenly as possible. I didn't want to make it seem like I felt any differently after that little ordeal, but it was hard to keep my face from giving me away.
"I put your clothes in the washer." he said, picking up the remote to turn on the television.
"Thanks for everything."
He smiled at me and then pointed behind him in the direction of the kitchen. "I have soda, juice, and cookies in the kitchen."
"Okay..." I trailed off, wondering about his random thought.
"That's what they usually give me when I go donate blood," he teased with a snort. "I wouldn't want you to pass out from blood loss."
"Tristan?"
"Yes?"
"Shut up."
Chapter 24
I was slowly aware of three things:
One, I could not feel my hand.
Two, I was unusually warm.
Three, I was not on my bed.
Very slowly, I slipped from dream state into consciousness, but my brain was running, trying to remember the details that led up to my three realizations. I slept in the same position every night; I was one of those heavy sleepers that hardly moved and right then, my body was positioned in a way that normally didn’t sleep in. Also, this unfamiliar clean scent lingered in my nostrils. The last thing I remembered was lying on Tristan's couch with my legs tucked underneath me while watching a movie and laughing my ass off. Tristan had the entire movie memorized, which only added to the fun.
I couldn't remember anything after about halfway through it.
"You chose the last one, so now we get to watch what I want," he exclaimed, already on his feet and heading to the shelves filled with DVDs.
I groaned loudly. "You're going to choose something terrible, aren't you?"
Tristan let out an audible, mock gasp. "You shall never speak those words in my house again," he faked a hiss. "My taste in movies is unparalleled."
So continued our evening and night, watching funny movies with the green-eyed jackass, who recited all of his favorite lines.
My saliva was thick and gross tasting, there was a thin layer of tartar on my teeth from failing to brush them the night before, which was fucking disgusting. Blinking, I had to squint at the amount of light filtering into the room only to face a wall of white. The white was moving closer to me, and then back away with each breath. I became faintly aware of something heavy and warm draped over my hip and back. What the hell was going on? I moved my head slightly up, only to come in contact with something very hard. I could also see a sliver of skin. My face was practically buried against his chest, and I had to assume the hard thing over my head was his chin.
I couldn't move my head down to see what was over me but it had to be his arm. My right hand was wedged under his ribs, and I couldn't feel it at all. To top it off, my feet were burrowed in between thick hair and bones. Maybe his feet? We were pressed together; my chest against his stomach because of his height advantage and it fe
I'd had three boyfriends in my life after high school; the first was a snuggler, the second I unfortunately had no idea, and the third was not. The two I'd gotten well acquainted with complained of my body heat, claiming that I was too warm but really, I got cold easily at night so that never made any sense. Even though they didn't like to spoon or anything, I'd missed the presence and the butt cheeks that would at least keep me company. My dear Zoey was one of those people who moved around a lot all night. Nine times out of ten, I got slapped in the face or kicked in the stomach when we happened to sleep in the same bed together.