Lingus by Mariana Zapata
I made a drowsy beeline to my bedroom, pushing him aside. The heat of his presence behind me singed my skin as he followed me through my small apartment. Pushing open the bedroom door, I went into my bathroom first to brush my teeth before I passed out with a dirty mouth. Tristan stood in my bedroom, and from what I could see in the reflection of my mirror he was yawning these huge gulps of air. "You...okay...to...dwive?" I meant to say drive but with the toothbrush in my mouth, it sounded like something else completely.
He shrugged, looking away from where I was at to pick up some photos I had stuffed into the crevices of my vanity mirror. "Do you care if I look through your stuff?" he had the decency to ask.
"Go fow it," I said, spitting into the sink, and then rinsing my mouth. I didn't own anything that I was ashamed of besides the small array of dildos I had stashed in the top drawer of my nightstand, and even then, this was Tristan. I wanted him to think of me as more than a fucking sister or friend. Hmm. For the briefest second, I contemplated asking him to look in my drawer for something. That would be the ultimate test. If he flinched, I was fucked but if he didn't... I shut down that train of thought. I wasn't doing it. Once I was done washing my face, I headed into the bedroom to see what he was doing. I hadn't seen him in the reflection of the mirror in a couple minutes and it was making me a little nervous.
"You look just like your mom," Tristan said quietly from his spot on my side of the bed. He was sitting and holding a picture frame of my dad, mom, and I at Disneyland when I was eight. It was the last vacation we ever took together and one of the dearest things I owned. We all looked so happy that it pulled at my heartstrings each time I saw it.
"It reminds me everyday that life is really short," I said while trying to kick off my boots. They were fake, brown suede and went up to my knee, which meant they were a bitch to take off.
Tristan patted his knee after tearing his eyes away from the frame and setting it back in its rightful spot. I set my foot on his leg as he tugged the boot off from the heel. "I'm sorry you lost your mom so young, Kat," his voice was soft like melted better. "But I think she probably would have wanted you to appreciate life for the both of you." His big hands squeezed my calf as he yanked the boot off and threw it in the direction of the open closet door. He patted his knee again, and I put my other foot on there. "Has your dad dated anyone since she passed?"
My snort was almost too low to be heard. Dad dating anyone? Ha. "No way. He loved my mom like crazy. Now that I'm older, he's a lot more open with me about his feelings," I began explaining. "He told me not too long ago that he could never love anyone else if he tried," the last few words came out as a whine, because I was tearing up while thinking of my mom and dad and the love they lost.
My other boot was off a second later as Tristan began pulling me onto the bed next to him and draped an arm across my shoulder. "Don't cry," he said, pushing my hair out of my face.
The tears were right there, some teasing me while others fell to their demise after making the long trek down my cheeks. I hated death, especially when I thought of losing someone I loved. "It makes me so sad that my dad is alone now." I attempted to wipe at my face with my fingers but Tristan beat me to it. "I only see him like twice a month now, and it makes me feel like a terrible daughter."
"I'm sure he's okay with knowing that you're happy and well," he purred gently against my temple and a few more tears sprung out of my eyes. "C'mon, don't cry."
I sniffled, trying to control my emotions while he yawned again, blowing hot breath all over my face. "Gross," I grimaced, wiping at the cheek he'd just blown steam over. He smiled smugly like he did it on purpose, or at least enjoyed making my face feel nasty. "Are you okay to drive?" I asked and before my question was even complete, he yawned for the millionth time. "I guess not."
I was stuck between telling him to stay the night and... telling him to stay the night. Letting a sleepy friend drive home was just as bad as letting a drunk friend drive home in my book. Both were tragedies waiting to happen, and I'd feel devastated if something happened to any of my friends if they fell asleep driving and I could've prevented it. The only thing was though, I felt awkward suggesting that he to stay over. What I meant by feeling weird was that I wanted him to stay over, sure, but I really wanted him to stay over on my bed. Naked. Maybe spooning if it wasn't too much to ask for.
God, my life was a joke.
"Just sleep here, Yoda will be fine at home." I finally snapped out of my mental battle long enough to suggest.
Tristan looked at me through heavy-lidded, green eyes. He was so tired an astronaut could've seen the signs from outer space. "You don't mind?"
I rolled my eyes and got off the bed, wiping at my face one last time before toeing off my socks. "I wouldn't be suggesting it if I did." I started unbuttoning my jeans just a couple feet away from him, ignoring the silent alarm in my head that told me this was inappropriate. Seriously? The guy just slept with who knows how many girls the past weekend. If anything, I should have been embarrassed taking off my clothes in front of him because there was no way my body was up to par with what he was used to. But I wasn't. Zoey and Nikki's words swam through my brain, reassuring me of my assets. Fuck him and his friendship.
His eyes went back and forth between the clumsy fingers on my buttons and my face. "Thanks, goldie," he said in a voice so low it could have been considered sleepy, but I'd like to think that was not the cause.
My hands quickly started pushing my jeans down my legs then tugging at the hem to pull them off because they were so tight. "There's an extra toothbrush under my sink," I told him, throwing my pants into the closet. He just sat on the bed, hands on his lap, looking back and forth between my black boyshorts and my face.
"Okay," he said, not moving an inch off the bed to look for the toothbrush.
"Alright..." I turned around to face my big dresser when I peeled off my t-shirt. I knew for a fact my ass cheeks were hanging out of my underwear, but fuck it, with the amount of exercise I did, I knew you could bounce a roll of quarters off of it. Plus, my bathing suit bottom was a lot skimpier than some boyshorts I owned, so it wasn't like I was really being indecent. After taking off my bra and slipping on a sports bra, I turned around to catch those piercing eyes dart away from me quickly, he was up and in the bathroom a second later.
Flicking off the overhead light, I turned on my side lamp before crawling under the covers. A few minutes later, Tristan's sinewy frame stood in the doorway as he took off his t-shirt. I couldn't lie, I squinted in the darkness to try and catch the masterpiece that was his upper body in the dim lighting. He walked around to the other side of the bed before unzipping his jeans. "I can't sleep with pants on," he admitted, almost apologetically.
"Me neither."
His eyes flickered up to mine for a brief moment as he shoved his jeans down his long legs, and then climbed onto my bed.
Oh my God.
I blessed the seven angels as I watched the muscles in his arms, back, and abs ripple.
A man that hot should have a squeaky voice. Be dumb. Have a tiny wiener. Even have chicken legs. A third nipple! Or, big nipples!
Anything to balance out the perfection that he was overall, but fucking — and I don't mean literally — Tristan was just perfect and I kind of hated him for it.
He smiled at me smugly, and then wiggled between the covers. I had to wonder whether or not I'd just said any of my thoughts aloud, but I didn't think so. "Read me a bedtime story?" he tried to ask, but laughed instead.
"Shut up," I groaned, tearing my eyes away from his pillowy pecs to turn off the side lamp. My bed was big enough for me. It was a queen-size, but with both of us on it, I couldn't move my hand more than a couple of inches without risking the chance of grazing bare skin that didn't belong to me. Damn it. "Goodnight."
"Night, Kat," he replied. I sensed the movement of his hand before the heat of it. He brushed his fingertips across my palm, squeezing lightly for just a moment.
I
"Kat?"
"Yes?"
He let out another yawn. "You're my favorite person in the world. Goodnight."
I was trying to just manage to breathe, and then think after his words. By the time I realized I should have responded, his breathing was low and even. He'd fallen asleep, and I felt like I just cured cancer. How the hell I managed to fall asleep after that, I wasn't sure. I was aware that at some point, I woke up after dreaming that I peed in the middle of a grocery store. I was secretly paranoid I may have actually peed on myself for the first time in twenty years, not including the little pees I'd experienced laughing. I squeezed my thighs together and thanked Morpheus, the god of dreams, for not being a cruel jokester.
As I came to my senses, I realized that I wasn't on my side of the bed anymore. I was still facing the bathroom door but in the middle of the bed, and there were lips on the back of my neck. Dry lips with warm breath trailed down the length of my neck while a big hand with calloused fingers grazed my bare stomach and hip, pressuring my bladder just the slightest bit. There was a chest so close to my back that I thought if I were to lean back just an inch or two, I'd be pressed against it.
I couldn't help the shiver that rolled through my spine or the goosebumps that prickled up along my arms at the feeling of lips and hands.
Was he awake?
I wanted to know, but I didn't move.
Lips touched the crook of my neck and shoulder but this time they were wet. Then, a second later the mouth disappeared. The hand stayed on my hip and only warm breathing washed over my neck. This was so inappropriate...
I didn't move an inch.
Chapter 36
With a heavy heart, I picked up the phone to call my dad the next afternoon. The previous night's conversation with Tristan had shaken me deeply. Frank, my dad, and I had always had a great relationship. We were each other's best friends for almost ten years after my mom died. My dad always made an effort to stay home and do things with me each chance he got. He didn't go out or do things with his friends unless he took me along. It wasn't until high school that I truly appreciated how great my dad was. It was with that in mind that I felt like a terrible daughter since I hadn't paid him a visit in so long.
"Which jail do you need me to bail you out of?" he answered on the second ring.
The laugh that exploded out of me was loud. "Oh, please!"
Frank chuckled on the other end. "I'm just kidding, baby. How are you?"
Settling onto the couch, I peered at the picture on my side table of the both of us at my high school graduation. "I'm good, dad. Are you okay?"
"Cool as a cucumber, Kitty. I'm waiting for my next customer to get home and trying not to fall asleep in the meantime. How are the girls?" he asked, knowing I understood that he included Josh with that group.
"They're all good. Nikki is getting married, did you know?" I already knew that he probably did. The old man stalked his Facebook account every chance he got and Zoey was always posting something on there.
"I just got the invitation a few days ago. I made plans to go to the casino with Mike that weekend but buy her something from the both of us," he said before telling me all about the trip he was taking with his best friend to Louisiana. I told him a little more about Nicole's wedding in Vegas, and then about finishing up my book. We talked easily for a few minutes before he dropped the bomb on me. "No new boyfriend, Kitty?"
I groaned as a response. "Not a boyfriend, just a new friend."
My dad snickered loudly. "Men can't be friends with pretty girls unless they have feelings for them, baby. "
"Well this one seems to be an exception. Trust me."
He made a noise like he was thinking before exhaling. "Whatever you say, but if you want me to knock some sense into him—"
"Dad! You wouldn't hurt anyone if I paid you to," I laughed, remembering the times he'd gone out of his way to avoid getting into arguments with people.
"I wouldn't, but I know people!" the silly man answered.
Chapter 37
"Girls versus guys."
Nicole let out an unladylike snort. "More like girls versus bitches."
Josh cackled as he tied his bowling shoes. "In that case, I'm on the girls' team."
Tristan turned to look at Calum who sat next to him, smelling his pair of shoes with a face that was a little too curious and not enough disgusted. "You're definitely a bitch, Cal."
"Babe, do you think I'm a bitch?" Calum's deep voice asked Nikki, who was sitting in front of the keyboard typing names away for each of the lanes.
"Baby, I promised you I would never lie to you, so please don't ask me to start today," she said without blinking, her eyes locked on the screen in front of her.
Zoey, who was sitting right next to me on the lane we'd designated for the females, laughed and gave me a high-five at Nicole's response. Tristan and Calum were sitting on the opposite side of the lane and bickering over who was a bigger bitch. "This is going to be fun," she announced with a big smile on her face.
She'd been gone for a little over a week, and I'd missed her pretty face. The night before, Josh and I had gone to pick her up from the airport, before staying over at her apartment to watch the first three Harry Potter movies back to back. Yes, we were an overgrown bunch of geeks who banded together to read all of the books and cried when Dumbledore and Dobby died. I think Josh had a secret crush on one of the characters from the movies but he wouldn't admit which one.
"Kat and Joshua, you're up first," Nikki said.
"I'm going to kick your fanny, Booger," Josh claimed, going up to the center to retrieve his ball at the same time I did.
"You probably are considering all the experience with balls you have," I snickered with a wink.
The blonde snapped his fingers in my face as he brought his dark blue ball up to his chin, preparing to bowl. "You wish you've had as much ball experience as I do."
He bowled a strike on his turn while I only managed to knock down 8 pins total. We gave each other a high-five before returning to our respective seats on opposite ends. About an hour later, we'd moved around the seats a bit. Zoey, Tristan, and I sat on our original lane, while Nikki sat on Calum's lap between turns, and Josh settled for glaring at the happy couple when he could. We, the females, had won the first game.
As fate would have it, Calum was just as terrible at bowling as Tristan. He kept saying, "I was on a league!" but obviously, he’d been on the same one as Tristan— an imaginary league. Or possibly one with bumpers, was another of my best guesses.
Zoey rested her feet on my lap as Nikki and Calum went up to bowl against each other. "I talked to Ryan this morning," she said with a naughty look in her eye.
"That's cool," I said slowly, raising an eyebrow in her direction. Tristan was sitting right next to me with his forearm brushing mine, but his attention was focused on the lane. I mouthed out a "What?" to her, because even though Zoey was pretty random, this was unexpected. She talked to Ryan at least three times a week and had never made an effort to let me know that she had spoken to him unless there was gossip. Or, the time she had asked him to prescribe her cream for her hemorrhoids and he flipped out.
She winked at me so dramatically I had to turn my head slightly to make sure Tristan wasn't looking at her. "I didn't know you were going to a wedding with him," she drawled out.
That bitch.
I loved her.
His arm stiffened, it was the smallest fraction of a movement and barely noticeable. "Yeah, he asked me last weekend when Josh decided to ruin my face." The bruise on my face was more yellow and brown by then, rather than purple, blue, and red.
"It was an accident!" he bellowed from the other side.
"Mind your own business!" Zoey waved the nosey turd off. "I'm glad you're going with him instead of that skank he was going to take before. She's such a slut, and you know for me to call someone a s
It was Tristan and Zoey's turn to bowl, so she held up her index finger asking me to give her a second while she went up and bowled nine before picking up her spare. Tristan, on the other hand, knocked down a total of six. That was the equivalent of a strike by his standards. I couldn't hear what they were saying to one another because their voices were surprisingly low and the music was too loud, but Zoey punched him in the arm on their walk back to their seats.
"Good try," I laughed when I passed by my auburn-haired friend on the way up to the lane as he tugged at my ponytail in response.
"You're going down, bitch," Josh hissed from my right, already prepped and ready with his ball.