If You Hate Me: Chapter 15

“Oh my God, did you steal your brother’s car?” Essie’s jaw nearly hits the sidewalk as she rolls her suitcase to the trunk.

“He left me the keys. Driving it freaks me out.” It’s practical, considering he makes millions a year, but I’ve never driven a car worth more than fifteen-thousand dollars, so getting behind the wheel of his Tesla makes me nervous. But making Essie Uber or take the train was silly when Flip said I could use it.

We hug briefly, and I help her heft the bag into the trunk. We hustle into the car and out of the chilly September rain. I fight a cringe as I take my place behind the wheel. Pre-away-game sex with Tristan is turning into a full-body event. Muscles I didn’t even know existed hurt. I’m not sure what it indicates that he feels the need to have extra-intense sex anytime we won’t have it for more than twenty-four hours.

“Trixie Rixie, are you having trouble sitting down?” Essie inquires as she moves my purse from the passenger seat to the floor. She tucks the fortune cookie that fell out back inside.

I focus on leaving the Toronto airport without getting into a fender bender. It’s the worst. “How was your flight?”

“It was decent. The guy next to me was hot, which is much better than my last flight, where I ended up beside a grandfather who farted every fifteen minutes and seemed shocked by the smell.”

“Was the hot guy also nice?” I’m not above distracting her.

“He was self-absorbed. Talked about all the money he makes in finance. I did a lot of nodding and smiling. I also drank three glasses of wine, so that helped quell the boredom. His pretty face was a bonus.” She adjusts her position. “Nice try changing the subject, but you sat down rather gingerly. I’ve been dying for details, so spill them.”

“Some details are rather filthy,” I warn.

“I would expect nothing less from Tristan, considering he’s best friends with your brother and the stories floating around on the bunny sites are unreal. There has to be some truth to them.”

I avoid the bunny sites like the plague. I already know enough about my brother and his sex life. And I have no desire for any insider scoop on Tristan. But I finally have privacy to speak to Essie, so I fill in the gaps—there are many—in the dirty story since Tristan and I started sleeping together.

“Holy shit. He really is filthy. I can’t believe he ate the cucumber.”

“Yeah. He really commits.”

“I also can’t believe Flip hasn’t suspected anything,” she muses.

“He’s pretty busy with his own social life.”

“Does that bother you? Especially since Tristan is the same way.”

I consider telling Essie about the woman Flip brought home who Tristan had previously slept with but decide that’s one situation I don’t need to relive. “It’s awkward witnessing it firsthand,” I tell her. “There’s almost always someone in his bed. He had a long-term girlfriend in high school, and our parents have been married for over thirty years. It’s not like he’s had bad modeling.” I wave that away. “Anyway, I don’t need to psychoanalyze my brother, and you’ll probably see him in action when they get back tomorrow night.”

I pull into the underground lot and park my brother’s car, help Essie unload her suitcase, and take her up to the condo.

She lets out a low whistle and crosses to the wall of windows. “Wow, now that’s a view. The waterfront is amazing from here.”

“Right? It’s a great location.”

Essie surveys the rest of the condo. “It’s a sweet pad.”

“It is. Minus the single bathroom and the ladder to get to the loft.”

“Yeah, that’s a weird design flaw.”

Once we get Essie’s suitcase into the loft—no easy feat—we catch up while we make dinner together. I work in the morning, so Essie will visit friends from university while I’m gone.

The following evening, we’re snuggled together on the couch in the loft, eating buttered popcorn and watching a movie, when Flip and Tristan return from Ottawa. They won the game, and Flip and Tristan scored a goal apiece.

“Hey, sis! Hey, Ess!” Flip shouts.

“Hey!” we call back.

“Gotta shower off the sin,” he says, probably to Tristan. Two seconds later, the bathroom door closes.

Tristan grumbles something, and his suitcase rolls across the floor.

Essie side-eyes me and whispers, “Now we’re getting to the good part.”

I roll my eyes. “Nothing will happen while you’re here.”

“We’ll see how true that is, won’t we?”

Less than a minute later, Tristan pops into the loft.

“Hey.” I give him a questioning smile. This should be interesting.

“Hey.” His gaze shifts to Essie as he pulls himself up. “Essie, it’s been a while, eh?”

“It’s been a few years.” She pops a piece of popcorn into her mouth. She hasn’t seen him in the flesh since freshman year of high school.

He tucks his thumbs into his pockets. He’s wearing distressed black jeans and a long-sleeve shirt pushed up to reveal his delicious forearms. The look does a fantastic job of highlighting all his exceptionally defined muscles. His gaze shifts from us to the TV and back again. “What are you two up to?”

“Uh, watching a movie.” I motion to the TV. It seems obvious.

He kneads the back of his neck. “You look pretty cozy.”

We’re currently sharing a blanket. “Do you want to join us? We’re only about twenty minutes in.”

His brow furrows, and he bites his bottom lip.

Essie glances between us and holds up her insulated wineglass. “I need a refill.” She tosses off the blanket and untwines our legs. We’re both wearing shorts, those terrible-but-comfy reading socks, and hoodies. “I’ll be back up in a few. Holler if you need anything.”

Tristan’s eyes go to my mostly bare legs.

“Maybe bring the bottle up,” I say.

“Will do.” Essie skirts around him and disappears down the ladder.

Tristan glances over his shoulder before he moves closer. He leans down, bracing a hand on the back of the couch. Aside from looking confusingly upset, he smells fantastic. Two days of stubble decorates his cheeks. I bet that would feel great rubbing all over my lonely, neglected pussy. “Are you spooning with Essie?”

“She’s my best friend. Why do you look upset?”

“I thought I’d get some time with you. Alone.” He fingers the end of my ponytail, and his lips brush my cheek. “Come to my room when everyone else goes to sleep so we can spoon naked.”

“I haven’t seen Essie in months. I live here, Tristan, at least for the next little while. You can wait until Essie goes home before you get me naked again.”

He backs up. “How long is she here?”

“Until Sunday.”

He buries his face against my neck. “I haven’t been able to touch you for almost two days, and you’ll be up here, all cuddly.”

“Are you jealous?” I ask.

“No.” His brow furrows. “Wait. All you’re doing is cuddling, right? With your clothes on.”

“Oh my God.” I laugh. “You are jealous.”

“I’m not. I just had an away game. Back to this cuddling business—you and Essie just snuggle? That’s it?”

He seems so skeptical, like he can’t believe it’s possible to touch someone and not want to take their clothes off.

“We’re affectionate people. We like to cuddle. So that’s what we do when we watch a movie.” It’s affection without intention. I wonder how many people touch Tristan without wanting something from him. “Maybe a weird concept for you, but not for us.”

“Oh.” His palm rests against the side of my neck, his gaze slow to lift. “I don’t know why I asked that.”

My heart clenches. Sometimes he’s such a broken little boy. “Maybe because you and my brother have slept with the same woman at the same time.”

Something like shame flashes behind his eyes before they drop. “Maybe. I didn’t want to cuddle with them, though. Or Flip.”

“Good.” I was nervous last night. My brother and Tristan routinely share a room during away games, and Flip can’t seem to keep his dick out of a vagina for more than twenty-four hours these days. Not that I’m any different, but at least it’s the same dick, as opposed to his vagina variety.

“Did Flip bring someone back to your room?” It’s hard not to look away.

“I said I wouldn’t fuck anyone else, and I didn’t.” His thumb sweeps across my jaw, and his palm shifts to rest against my throat.

“What’d you do then? Just watch?” I hate that he can feel my nervous swallow.

“No. Of course not.” His expression softens. “I went to Roman’s room and fell asleep on his couch.”

The wash of relief scares me. “Oh.”

“Were you worried?” he asks.

“I didn’t want to be.”

“It’s just you I want, Bea. I meant it when I said it.” He brushes his nose against mine. “Now that we’ve cleared that up, can I kiss you?”

“Yes, please.”

“Fuck, I love that coming from your sweet mouth.” He slants his over mine and groans as our tongues tangle.

“Hey! Can someone help me? Climbing a ladder with full arms is impossible!” Essie yells.

Tristan breaks the kiss. “I missed the way you taste. I need to be in you.”

My vagina really loves that idea, but the logistics are not the best. “Same, but you’ll have to wait.” I push on his chest. “Coming!”

He straightens and adjusts himself while Essie passes the stuff up before climbing into the loft. She flops back on the couch. “You joining us, Tristan?”

He glares at the screen and runs a rough hand through his hair. “Pass. I’m gonna hop in the shower when Flip’s done. You girls enjoy yourself.”

He climbs back down, and after a moment his bedroom door closes.

Essie gives me a look.

“He’s jealous,” I whisper.

“Because we’re watching a movie together?”

“Because we were making physical contact.”

She arches a brow. “Boy has it bad.”

“For my pussy.”

She makes a noise as she tops up my glass, but her smile is sinister.

“What is that look?” I gulp my wine.

She daintily sips hers while grinning. “Nothing.”

“It’s not nothing. You’re scheming.”

“Since tomorrow is Friday, we need to plan a girls’ night. I want to meet Hemi, Hammer, and Tally. We should go to a club.”

“Tally is only seventeen.”

“Fake ID?”

“Her dad’s the team coach, Hammer is the goalie’s daughter, and Hemi is their PR person. Fake ID or not, it wouldn’t go over well.”

“Hmm… Okay. Girls’ night in tomorrow with Tally, and then Saturday club night?”

“That would work.”

“I bet you a visit to Vancouver that once the boys get wind of our plans, they’ll stalk us to the bar.” Her eyebrows bounce on her forehead.

“Oh, I see where this is going.”

“You and me on the dance floor.”

“He’ll lose his mind.” I grin. “The sex will be out of this world when it finally happens.”

“Intergalactic, baby.”

Flip goes out after his shower. He returns with two giggly women as Essie and I are getting ready for bed. He disappears into his room with them. And then the real fun begins.

Essie looks beyond disturbed as the moaning-giggling continues from behind his bedroom door. “How often does this happen?”

“Fairly regularly. And it’ll continue for some hours, so use these to minimize the emotional scarring.” I pass her a set of plug-in earphones. It’s easy to lose wireless headphones in bed. It took me two nights to learn that unfortunate lesson. Especially when my left earbud cut out halfway through an epic fuckfest.

Essie crams the earphones in and pulls a pillow over her head.

I’m about to do the same, but my phone buzzes with a message. I’m unsurprised it’s Tristan, but the content is unexpected.

My stupid heart clenches. I need to get a handle on these feelings.

In the morning, I wake to the smell of freshly cooked bacon. I climb down the ladder and find a woman I’ve never seen before making breakfast. “Hey. I’m so sorry. I hope I wasn’t too loud,” she says with a slightly chagrined smile.

“I had to get up for work anyway. I’m Rix, Flip’s sister,” I explain.

Flip’s bedroom door opens, and two more women come out, both dressed in Flip’s T-shirts and sporting epic cases of bedhead. My brother is behind them, wearing boxer briefs and a sleepy half smile.

“You were busy last night,” I observe. I swore there were two women with him when he came in, so the breakfast-making third one is a mystery.

“Sure was.” He kisses the breakfast-maker on the cheek. “This smells great.”

“I figured we could all use a nutritious breakfast after last night,” she says brightly.

Yeah. This is super weird, but she’s cooking, which is better than most of Flip’s bedroom friends. Essie comes down from the loft, and Tristan eventually joins us too. He seems as surprised by Flip’s entourage of women as Essie and me.

After breakfast, Essie and I both head out. I have to work a half day, so Essie is once again visiting some friends who live in the city—they’re lucky enough to work from home. But she meets me at the office mid-day, and we stop at the grocery store to pick up stuff for our girls’ night. It’s the first time since she’s moved that I have a grocery-shopping partner. I’ve missed the little things.

Stocked with essentials, Essie and I head to Hammer’s place and make dinner with the girls. They absorb Essie into the group like she’s been part of it the entire time. Roman stays long enough to eat—he goes back for seconds and thirds and keeps complimenting us—then leaves to meet Hollis and Ashish to talk strategy about the upcoming season.

We don’t get home until late. There’s a rare note on the counter from Flip saying he’s next door watching a movie with Dred. My phone buzzes with new messages from Tristan after I’ve crawled into bed.

Essie snuggles up beside me and snickers. “Are you going?”

“No. You’re here. He can wait another forty-eight hours for pussy.” I compose a response:

I send him a selfie of Essie and me snuggled in bed together. It’s a grainy, terrible photo.

“Oh my God, he’s desperate for you,” Essie whispers.

“Desperate for my vagina, you mean.”

I’m about to compose a reply, but Flip comes home. Alone for once.

On Saturday, Flip and Tristan have an early practice and a promo thing in the afternoon. Essie and I make breakfast together and lounge around, soaking up the comfort of being together. In the afternoon we take over the guys’ bathroom, and Essie does my makeup since she’s a wizard with contouring. I’m not big on the nightclub scene, but Hemi has connections thanks to the team, so we’re going to some exclusive place and dressing up like thirst traps.

Tristan and Flip return from their day of volunteering at a food bank as we’re leaving. I’m fastening my strappy heels while Essie checks her clutch for her ID.

“Essie, looking good,” Flip says.

She gives him the bird. “Don’t say things like that to me unless you want me to projectile vomit all over your expensive shoes, Flip.”

He frowns. “I just said you look good.”

“Yeah, but your tone was all bow-chica-wow-wow, and that’s a no all the way around.” Essie turns to me. “You ready to roll?”

“Where are you going anyway?” Flip asks.

“Out with Hemi and the girls,” I reply.

“Weren’t you together last night?” Tristan asks.

“Last night we had dinner because Tally is underage,” I explain as I slide off the stool.

Tristan’s eyes pop when he catches the full effect of my outfit. “You’re going to a bar dressed like that? What bar?”

I pretend I can’t remember the name. “Some place downtown.” I check my phone. “The Uber arrives in three minutes. We should head down.” I smile brightly. “You guys have a good night. Don’t wait up.”

Essie says nothing until we’re in the elevator. “Based on the way Tristan couldn’t take his eyes off you, there’s an eleven million percent chance that they’ll end up at the bar with us.”

“Probably, yeah.”

Three hours and many text messages later, Flip, Tristan, Dallas, and a bunch of other guys from the team are sitting at a table reserved for people with deep pockets. Hollis and Roman opted out because the club scene is not their jam, and Hammer didn’t want her dad to hover like a bodyguard.

Essie, Hemi, Hammer, and I are shaking it on the dance floor.

“Tristan has zero chill,” Essie says as we move to the beat. One of her hands is on my hip and my forearms are resting on her shoulders, like we’re slow dancing. I glance at the table. He’s frowning in our direction. Flip gets up to dance with some woman. Dallas keeps trying to engage Tristan in conversation, but eventually, he gives up and turns to one of his other teammates.

We spend most of the night dancing, and Tristan spends most of it watching us. He doesn’t look particularly impressed. At some point, Flip goes home with a woman, and when my feet feel like they’re about to fall off, we hit an all-night diner. Tristan goes back to the condo. I fully expect him to be asleep when we get there, so I’m surprised when I open the bathroom door after Essie and I finish brushing our teeth and he’s standing on the other side. His button-down is open at the collar, and the sleeves are rolled up. The forearm porn is delightful.

“Essie, I need fifteen minutes alone with Bea, please,” Tristan grinds out.

“Cool, yup.” Essie moves around him and rushes for the loft.

Tristan steps into the bathroom and closes the door, flipping the lock. “This fucking dress.” His gaze rakes over me, and his nostrils flare.

I cross my arms. “I look good.”

Tristan pokes at his cheek with his tongue and shakes his head. “No, you don’t.”

“Well, fuck y⁠—”

“Good doesn’t begin to describe how you look tonight. You are fucking sinful.” He takes a step forward, and I take one back, bumping into the vanity. “I couldn’t leave the table all goddamn night because of the constant hard-on.”

“That must have been frustrating.” I grip the edge of the vanity.

“I thought my head was going to explode with the way you and Essie were all over each other. I assume that was intentional.” He plants a fist on either side of me and his knee presses against mine.

“Maybe a little.”

“I wanted it to be me out there with you.” He drags his tongue across his bottom lip. “Please don’t make me wait until Essie goes home.”

I part my legs. Between one blink and the next, Tristan seals his mouth over mine and lifts me onto the vanity. I expect him to tear my clothes off, but instead he cups my face in his palms and slows the kiss. Our tongues tangle and his hands roam, easing down the side of my neck. His lips follow, and he nuzzles in. He wraps his arms around me as he fits himself between my thighs and lets out a plaintive sigh.

“I hate not being able to touch you,” he mumbles.

“I’m here now.” I run my fingers through his hair, surprised by the affection.

“I don’t want to need you.” His lips move along the edge of my jaw. “But I do.”

This time when he kisses me, it’s not soft; it’s desperate, frantic even.

He starts rocking his hips. His hands are everywhere—in my hair, palming my breast, squeezing my ass. He shoves my dress up to my waist and yanks my panties down, then drops to his knees. He pulls me to the edge of the vanity and rubs his face all over my pussy, like a cat marking its territory. He groans as he licks up my center and latches onto my clit. I grab a fistful of hair and clap my other hand over my mouth to stifle my moan. In less than a minute, I’m on the verge of an orgasm.

He rises, his cock already in his fist. He crushes his mouth to mine and rubs the head over my sensitive clit. I pull his wallet free from his back pocket and search for the condom.

“Fuck. I stopped carrying them around when the away games started,” he admits. I don’t have time to unpack that because he adds, “I know you take the pill. I got tested after our first time. I’m clean. We could go bare this once. But only if you want to.” He swallows hard, like he’s waiting for me to deny him.

“Okay. We can go bare.”

He lines us up and both our gazes drop as he pushes in, one slow inch at a time.

“Oh, fuck.” His head drops to my shoulder, and his breath leaves him in ragged pants. “You feel so fucking good, Bea. Why do you have to feel so good? It’s never enough. I always want more.” He turns his face into my neck and his lips part, teeth sinking into the flesh as he makes a tortured sound. “My control is really frayed right now.”

I run my fingers through his hair. “It’s okay if you need to lose it.”

One hand curves around the back of my neck. “You should hold on to something,” he grinds out.

I grip his forearm and wrap the other hand around the nape of his neck.

As soon as I do, he starts fucking me. Hard and fast. Pulling out to the ridge and slamming back in. I can’t stop the moans that bubble past my lips. He releases my hip and covers my mouth with his palm. He leans in close, lips brushing my cheek. “Shh, little Bea, Essie’s in your bed right now, listening to you get fucked.”

I whimper and clench, the orgasm a few dirty words away from dragging me under.

He bites my earlobe. “You gonna come all over my cock, like a good girl?”

I bite his palm to keep the moan from slipping out. My legs are shaking, nails digging into his skin.

“The next time I get you alone, I’m going to fuck you for hours.”

I come so hard the world goes dark for a second and comes back into focus in a burst of white and stars. Tristan crushes his mouth to mine, swallowing my cries as he pounds into me. I can’t stop coming. It goes on and on, endless pleasure that’s so intense it’s almost pain.

“Fuck. Shit. No condom. I’m sorry.” He pulls out, angling his erection toward the sink. For a second I contract around nothing. And then his calloused fingers slide inside me and find a rhythm, dragging the orgasm out.

“Fuck.” He warms a washcloth for me and gently cleans me up, then tosses the cloth in the towel hamper. He tucks himself back into his pants and I push my dress down. We’re still both fully clothed, apart from my panties being on the floor.

He takes my face in his palms and kisses me. He’s back to being gentle.

When he finally breaks away, I say, “You know Essie is leaving tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah. But I needed you now.” He wraps his arms around me and rests his cheek on top of my head for a moment. “Tell her I’m sorry…-ish.”

I push on his chest. “No you’re not.”

“You’re right. I’m not. She’s the one who gets to hold you tonight.”

I roll my eyes. “You have to go. I need to pee.”

He kisses me on the cheek and leaves the bathroom.

Essie is lying in bed when I return to the loft.

“Sorry about that.” I’m mortified.

“Never apologize for getting laid.”

I disappear behind the screen and change into my pajamas, then climb into bed beside her on the futon.

She rolls onto her side. “How much longer can you do this before Flip finds out?”

“He can’t. And it ends when I move out.” I should already have a place secured, but Tristan and Flip keep shooting down every apartment I find.

“You really think you two can quit each other like that?”

“It’s just sex.” It sounds like the lie it is.

She makes a noise but doesn’t call me out. “Well, Vancouver is always an option. And it’ll be a lot easier to stay off his dick if there are thousands of miles between you.”