The Arrangement Anthology (104 page)

"Sean," I whisper. This is the way things were supposed to be, soft and sensual. Pure and perfect. His lips find that place on my neck and I gasp, digging my nails into his skin.

You're dreaming
, I tell myself and get lost in the bliss. I forget that Sean and I are done. I refuse to remember what his mother said or the trade he made that ensured we were through. Even though it was my decision, I can't bear it. It feels like I'm made of glass, and brick upon brick was pressed upon me until I shattered.

There's nothing left except this heat and my nails on his hot skin. I hold onto the dream for as long as I can following it as far as it will allow me until a heart beats steadily beneath my ear, and we still. The two of us stay like that, holding each other like the world is dying around us and we're the only two people left to face the remains, alone.

CHAPTER 9

The sunlight shines in my face, rousing me. Pulling up my arm, I drop it over my eyes and moan. God, my head hurts. That's when I open my eyes. Last night comes flooding back and I feel Trystan's arm draped across my naked hips. He sleeps next to me, holding me in a way I've always craved, but Sean would never tolerate.

I don't know how I feel, I'm caught between horror and denial. This didn't happen. It's not what it looks like, is it? We just embraced each other—I needed comfort and he gave it. But where did we stop? Did we stop? Clutching at my face, I sit up.

I can't remember.

The necklace with the ring is still on the floor next to Trystan, glinting in the sunlight. How many years has he worn it? Who was she and what happened to them? They're questions that I can't ask, and the answers won't make any difference. He's going to hate me for this. He's been holding a torch for this girl for God-knows-how-long and then I come along. Oh, God. I can't face him. What's he going to think? It was supposed to be a hug, an embrace, a small kiss. How did we end up like this?

Trystan's eyes open slowly when I sit up, and he tenses when his gaze drifts to my bare skin. I have the blankets pulled up to my chest, concealing the front of me. Last night comes back to him, at least in part. I see the rush of memory flood his eyes. I touch his hand, lacing our fingers together, and hold onto him tightly. "It's all right, Trystan." But my voice shakes and he can tell that I'm not all right.

"Oh God. I took advantage—" he gasps, before his jaw locks, nearly having said the wrong name, and pulls his hand back. Those sapphire eyes look away, guilt-ridden. He finishes speaking. "Avery, I shouldn't have."

Tucking a piece of hair behind my ear, I ask, "Shouldn't have what, exactly?" I don't want to look up at him, but he's too silent for too long. The only sound I can hear is the way he breathes when he's upset, or excited. My skin is instantly covered in shivers, reacting to something that is out of reach—a memory that was never made. It slipped through my fingers like rain, but my body remembers and reacts to him.

Trystan has his head tipped down with that long dark hair covering his face. He pushes it back, and flicks his gaze up to meet mine for half a second. "I was kind of hoping you could tell me."

We stare at each other. Nothing. No one speaks. I can't remember and neither can he. I start to mutter things I shouldn't say. "If we did everything, I'd feel it, right? I've always felt it the next day with Sean, but he doesn't hold back."

His lips form a tight line, before he spits out, "Just because I didn't hurt you doesn't mean I held back, assuming things went that far." Trystan looks around, but there are only empty bottles on the floor. "Damn, my head hurts."

"I didn't mean it like that." I try to clarify, but I can't. His touch was nice, gentle. It was the difference between being fucked and making love. I haven't had much experience with the latter. I'm playing with my fingers, weaving them together and turning them, twisting them as I explain. "I meant that after I've been with Sean, I can feel it. But, I don't feel any pain and nothing's sore. So how do you normally tell?"

Trystan's eyes dart back and forth like he's remembered something. "Condoms. I always use them." We both start looking through the blankets, but there's no trace, no wrappers, nothing to indicate he used one. Trystan finds his jeans before he pulls one out that is still sealed, unused. "Fuck."

I laugh nervously. "That doesn't mean anything." He glances up at me like I'm stupid. "What? Just because we didn't use one, it doesn't mean we did it. I mean, maybe we just made out and fell asleep."

"Naked?" He's ready to roll his eyes, but doesn't. "Avery, Occam's Razor—the simplest explanation is usually the correct one. In this case, we slept together. Please tell me you're on the pill or something." He watches me, with regret pressing heavily on his shoulders.

I nod. "I am, but Trystan, there's no way to know if we did." He stands there, half-dressed, staring at me. "So let's act like we didn't."

"I don't forget lovers like that. Sex means something to me. You do something to me." He rubs his hand over his face and doesn't look at me while he says the rest. "It's like you're a lightning rod—you evoke every memory of someone I want to forget. I would have never gone after you because, even though I like you, I'd always think of her. Pathetic, isn't it?" He laughs bitterly and shakes his head. When he finally glances at me, he adds, "And don't worry, I won't tell anyone anything."

I pull my blanket higher and try not to smile. "A chivalrous rock star? Isn't that interesting?"

"Don't tease, not about this." The look on his face is barren. I can't read what he's thinking at all. I don't know if he feels like he betrayed his lost love or me.

"Trystan, I'm not. I needed to be held and comforted. I think you did, too. That's all it was, right? You shouldn't feel guilty. I kissed you, remember?" I touch his leg and he looks down at me before he sits next to me on the blankets. He gazes into my eyes with too much sorrow for one person to bear. "We're friends, aren't we?" I don't mean to sound needy, but the hitch in my voice tells everything.

"Of course." There's not an ounce of hesitation once he realizes I care about him. I've lost everything and I'm being forced to start over in a life that's been hellish for too long. He wraps his arms around me and kisses me on the cheek. "It was just this one time. An alignment of the stars."

"Always the poet." He smiles shyly, but still looks guilty. "Trystan, I'm not ready for another relationship. Go put your necklace back on and no one will know."

He nods. After a moment he says, "Just don't tell Mel. I think she has a thing for me and I'm pretty sure she's castrated a man for lesser things." He shudders and smiles. "Plus, your boss is scary as hell and your ex, well, let's just say they'll all kill me." He looks at the ring in his palm before putting the chain back on.

Smiling, I assure him, "I won't tell anyone." Trystan holds my gaze for a moment before looking away. "And thank you. Last night was rough. Spending it with you, for the parts I remember, helped." He blushes and tries to hide it behind his hair.

"Any time." I put my hand on his shoulder and he looks down at it and then back up at me.

We stay like that for a second, until the uncertain moment passes. Suddenly, he's the man he was yesterday, before last night happened. "So, tomorrow's here. It's time to face the day, your insane boss, an assassin, and your sadistic ex. What do you have in mind, because I know there's no way in hell you're going to wait for Sean to tell you what to do?"

A grin slowly spreads across my face. "You know me so well."

CHAPTER 10

After I tell him what I want to do, Trystan protests. "There's no way you should do that, Avery. Let me go."

"Yeah, the rock star should just show up at Henry Thomas's house and ask if he's been trying to shoot me. Good plan." I roll my eyes.

"Avery, dear, I mean this in the kindest way possible, but how are you still alive?" Trystan is dressed with a faded t-shirt and a worn flannel shirt on top, coupled with a pair of ripped jeans and his Chucks. I have to admit that he's easy on the eyes. He leans back against the chair and winces. We're sitting in his old kitchen. There's dust everywhere.

"What?"

"You zealously used your nails on my back. It looks like I was mauled by a bear." My face flames red and I lunge at him to slap him. Trystan laughs. "Holy shit! You blush? You're a call girl, how are you still blushing when a guy mentions sex?"

We've been sitting at this little table in the horrible home he grew up in. It's horrible because I know this place is haunted for him, but he won't let us leave until the plan is revised. I swipe at him and miss. Trystan pulls his arm away, chuckling, "Easy there, Call Girl. I have enough marks on me to remember you by."

"Jerk."

"Don't do it if you can't talk about it later."

"So says the man who may or may not have slept with me last night." I roll my eyes. Again.

"No, I definitely slept with you. I remember pressing your knee into your chest at one point, but you were still dressed, sort of." He smiles wolfishly and I know he's teasing me, trying to see how red I can turn. "I'm not sure when the clothes came off or what you did with my boxers. They're MIA."

My jaw drops! "You're going commando?"

"Not by choice, Call Girl. For all I know you ate them." He laughs and I lunge at him again. This time I knock his elbow and he tips back in his chair. The motion almost knocks him over, but he rights himself at the last second.

"Nice move, Catwoman."

"You know I like pussy."

I make a face at him. "You did not just say that. That's something that Jon would say, not you."

"Why? Because it lacked eloquence? All men want it, Avery. You should know that by now. Love songs, at their core, are only interested in getting into your core." He's still smiling widely and I can't tell if he's serious or teasing me.

I blink twice. "Where's the Trystan I know, because this version is a little too honest for me."

"Honesty is what makes a person. At the end of his life it's one of the things people remember. Your legacy isn't left by fame or fortune. It's left by the footprints of compassion and honesty." He has no idea how astute he is, or how alluring his words are—they're so profoundly simple, modest, and perfect. No wonder why everyone loves him. Well, everyone except Sean.

"There he is, the real Trystan Scott. Okay, now that I have the normal version of you back, tell me what we should do or I'm out the door."

His dark brows furrow as his lips press together. Finally, he mutters, "You're so stubborn."

"The word you're looking for is stupid." I bat my eyelashes at him and toss my hair over my shoulder for emphasis. Trystan doesn't react. He sits there with a stern, Sean-like disapproving expression. "I can't hide forever."

"You shouldn't have to, but wait for Sean to find out. You said he'd know shortly." Trystan tips back in his chair and folds his hands behind his head. "Let him do it."

"You don't know what he traded."

Trystan leans forward and the chair goes with him, the first two legs slamming down on the floor. "I have an idea, but I don't really understand why you care. You left him, didn't you?"

"I…" I didn't want to. I wanted him to come after me, to chase me, and convince me that we belong together, but he didn't. Instead, Sean promised he was leaving and I wasn't going with him. He'll return to his fake fiancée in California and I'll stay here and be Miss Black's pawn for whatever the hell she wants on Long Island. "…don't want to talk about it."

He puts his hands up, palms toward me. "Fine by me."

"So, then let's go."

"All right, but I'm coming with you."

I sigh as I pick up my purse and make my way to the door. "Trystan we've already been over this. I have to talk to him alone."

"Yeah, not happening."

I turn and wave a finger in his face. "Don't make me call Gabe."

"Gabe is already outside if the guy is any good at his job." Trystan sighs and finally caves. "Fine, but you only have five minutes. Then I'm coming in."

"I can take care of myself." I think about the pilot and a cold feeling grips my chest. It freezes me to the core and makes me feel sick. The scene replays in my head until there is blood spilling across the floor, creeping toward me like the monster I've become.

"I believe you." His voice drops like he knows I've done something I shouldn't have. He watches too closely, and sees too much. It makes me uncomfortable.

I turn quickly so those knowing eyes can't read mine. "Great, then let's go."

_____

The deal had been for Trystan to drive me to Henry's and then wait in the car, but along the way, we stop and pick up a guy who looks like he ate a pickup truck. Trystan's bodyguard is all muscle. He doesn't speak or look at me. He just sits there, way too big for the space in the back of Trystan's limo, with his dark arms folded over his massive chest. Each bicep is the size of a bowling ball. Damn, the man is huge.

He glances at me with a look that could kill. Black eyes narrow in on me and when he finally speaks, his voice is way deeper than I'd thought. "This is idiotic."

"Wow, do you always talk to Trystan's friends that way?" Okay, that sounded bitchy, even to me.

It doesn't faze him. "I only speak to Trystan's friends that way. You should have listened to Ferro."

I glance at Trystan and give him a death look. "You told him?"

Trystan is slumped back into the seat across from me. It showcases his age. I forget that Sean is older. Trystan has a lazy confidence that speaks volumes. It says he's doing what he thinks is best and that I'm a moron.

Jabbing his thumb at the bodyguard, Trystan explains, "I had to tell him. As it is, he wanted to kill me for disappearing last night and not telling them. If I get shot, they don't get paid. It's the ultimate job failure when you're in his profession. Hence, the irritation at your impending idiocy." Trystan offers a crooked grin.