Chapter 16: Chapter 16

Amy

Seth leans forward, setting his elbows on the table. His gaze locks on mine. “So what’s up with you and Tristan?”

“What do you mean?” I ask, immediately lowering my eyes to the table. What a stupid thing to say. Seth was there the night of the party when Tristan announced his ownership of me. He’s seen how Tristan singles me out in the game. Playing coy makes me look stupid.

“He never gives a shit about the girls in the game,” Seth says, thankfully ignoring my faux pas. “Why does he seem to be singling you out?”

My stomach flutters. I wish I didn’t like all the attention I’ve been getting from Tristan. “I honestly have no idea.”

It’s all I’m giving him. I really don’t want to talk about this.

He nods slowly. “I just don’t want to come between you guys if… If there really is something going on between you.”

I shake my head sharply. “There’s nothing going on outside of the game.”

His eyes dart up over my shoulder. “Uh-oh. Speak of the devil.”

A gust of cold air sweeps over me, sending an ominous chill down my spine. I twist around to find the object of my nightmares standing tall and imposing at the entrance of the coffee shop. His bright-blue eyes lock onto mine and that familiar smirk makes its appearance. He saunters over to our table like he owns this damn coffee shop.

When he reaches our table, he touches the tip of my nose. “Cheer up, little one. I’m not here to ruin your date.”

I grit my teeth. “Then why are you here?”

He glances over at Seth. “I just wanted to say you’re welcome to Seth here.”

Seth’s eyes grow wide. “Um…okay.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” I bite out.

Tristan’s grin grows wider. “It means Amelia is mine, and she’s only on this date in the first place because I allowed her to come.”

Heat washes over my face. Oh my God, he’s really doing this.

I should have known.

“Is that right?” Seth's eyes probe into mine.

“No,” I say immediately. “He’s not supposed to be here. The only reason—”

I halt at the warmth of Tristan’s hand on my thigh. He leans in my direction, hovering over me like he’s my damn boyfriend.

I wish his touch didn’t feel so damn good.

“Don’t get sassy with me, Amelia,” Tristan leans closer to my ear and whispers, “Not if you want that ten K.”

Rage pulses through my veins. I grab Tristan’s hand and lift it off my thigh as I scoot my chair to the side.

He smirks once more, clearly unaffected by my anger.

“So, Seth…” Tristan smiles sweetly. “Tell me what you like about Amy.”

Seth’s eyes grow wide, and embarrassment prickles over my skin. “Don’t ask him stupid fucking questions like that. You’re not my dad.”

Tristan grins, lightly kicking my foot with his own. “I’d love to be your daddy.”

When I cover my face with my palms, Tristan chuckles. “Tell me, Seth. I’m curious.”

“Uh…” Seth laughs nervously, and I want to crawl into a ball and die. “I think she’s really pretty.”

~Really~ pretty. He must be exaggerating because he’s uncomfortable.

Tristan runs his fingers through my hair, but I keep my face hidden in my hands. “Oh, she’s gorgeous, but is that all you like about her?”

I set my hands down and whip my head in Tristan’s direction. “This is literally our first time hanging out. Stop being a weirdo.”

Tristan grins. “Oh, but the first time I hung out with you, there were a lot of things I liked about you. Loved, really. You outlined for me exactly why you don’t like football, do you remember that?”

My mind goes blank. Does he really remember our first conversation? I lean forward, my intrigue getting the better of me. “What did I say?”

His smile grows wistful, his eyes vacant, as if he’s seeing into the past. “You said if you can’t understand what’s going on in the first half hour, it’s an ‘objectively inferior sport.’ Those were your exact words. You said you understand soccer and basketball just fine on first viewing. You’ve never been able to understand football. You said sports should be free of nuance. They’re primal, you said.”

“Jesus Christ,” I mutter. “Do you remember every damn thing I’ve ever said?”

His eyes grow bright. “I probably do. I haven’t gotten enough of you over the years, so I’ve run the few moments I’ve had with you in my head over and over again. It was all I had, so I treasured it.”

My heart squeezes like a vise. Why does he do this to me? That’s maybe the sweetest thing a man has ever said to me, and yet I can’t trust it.

As if the spell is broken, Tristan’s tender gaze fades, and he leans back into his chair. “Anyway, I kind of agreed with her that sports should be primal. They’re sort of our outlet for our animal aggression.” He smiles. “I didn’t like that she insulted my sport, but I loved that she made me think about it in a way I never had before. And, Seth—” he lowers his chin “—that was the first time I ever talked to Amy. So I think it’s a fair question to ask what you like about her.”

Seth’s cheeks are a little pink. Damn Tristan for making him so uncomfortable.

Yet at the same time, I’m grateful he shared this with me. I’m not crazy. Even when I know he’s lying to me, how could I not start liking a man who remembers with accuracy a trivial conversation we had as sophomores in high school?

“Alright, well, I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone.” Tristan stands up from the table and grabs his backpack. “Don’t get too cuddly with him, Amelia.” His eyes grow intense, sending me a silent message.

~We have an agreement.~

Thank God, I don’t actually believe in our agreement. If I really thought I’d be getting that ten K, I’d be on the floor panting like a dog if Tristan commanded me to do it.

Instead, I can remain cool and aloof until I get my final revenge.

“Bye, Tristan,” I say, trying to mimic the smirk he always gives me.

Tristan smiles as he reaches into his backpack and pulls out a purple and gold jersey.

“See you later, my little Amelia.” He puts the jersey over my head, like a dog collar. “Wear this to my game tomorrow night.”

My face grows hot, and my stomach flutters against my will. I’ve never gotten into the football craze like everyone else at Pacific Crest, and sometimes it makes me ache inside.

A part of me wants to be a frivolous college student, instead of a shy introvert who spends all her free time writing naughty Jane Austen fanfic.

How can I depict human behavior with Jane’s accuracy and acerbic wit when I’m never out in the world to observe it?

“Fine,” I mumble, pulling the jersey off my neck and stuffing it into my backpack.

“Alright, then.” Tristan smirks one last time before turning on his heel and heading for the restaurant’s entrance.

Seth clears his throat. “Okay, well… I feel like I got my answer there.”

There’s nothing I can say, so I let my gaze fall to the wooden table. I don’t want to see in Seth’s eyes what he’s thinking of me.

That I’m as charmed by Tristan as every other idiot on this campus.

“I don’t want to get in Tristan’s way,” he says. “He’s not a reasonable guy. I mean, he already got in a fight over you once before, so—”

“I’m sorry, what?” I nearly shout.

“You didn’t hear about that?”

My face grows as hot as a broiling oven. “No. When was this?”

“After you left the party a few days ago. I don’t know the details, but Nick told me it was about you.”

“Was it like a fist…or, uh…a physical fight?”

He shrugs. “All I saw was him shove this dude against a wall. I don’t think he’d put his football scholarship in jeopardy by getting in a real fight.”

My thoughts grow so fuzzy, I barely even hear Seth’s goodbyes. It feels like only a split second later that I’m sitting alone at the table and Seth has disappeared.

What does it mean that Tristan would get into a fight over me?

Serena’s words come tumbling back into my mind.

~“Making that bet was gross, but it doesn’t convince me that he’s out to get you. What does he have to gain?”~

What ~does~ he have to gain? Even if he wants to embarrass me, why would he go to this much trouble to do it?