Backdraft - The Secret Life of Trystan Scott #2 (7 page)

Answer her
.

Trystan’s fingers twitched, dying to respond.
He wasn’t sure if she was scolding him or asking him how to get
started. A sick feeling crept up from his gut and lodged itself in
his throat. He swallowed hard, trying to force it down, but it
wouldn’t go away. Every part of him said that this was Mari, this
was her question.

Trystan’s fingers tapped out a response on
the keyboard. Carefully constructing his reply, he crafted each
word so she’d know. His answer was plain and simple. There were no
excuses or pleas, just the naked truth. Trystan’s finger hovered
above the button. He wanted to click, he wanted to post the reply,
but it was so risky. There were ways to track things back to him.
He knew that, and with the number of people trying to find him,
Trystan couldn’t click.

He deleted his post and closed the laptop,
knowing that he had to wait until tomorrow. He’d ask her when he
showed her what he was working on. The thought made him feel
better. Lying back on his bed, Trystan pictured her face as he
sang. The memory was burned into his brain and he loved it. Closing
his eyes, he could see her face, her brown eyes filled with curious
flecks of gold surrounded by a cascade of curls that were soft as
silk.

Trystan closed his eyes and for once, fell
asleep with a smile on his lips.

_____

Trystan heard his dad moving around when he
was finishing up in the shower. Damn it. He’d taken too long.
Toweling off fast, Trystan pulled on a pair of tattered jeans and a
tee shirt. His clothing had seen better days. He hid it by layering
his shirts with a flannel or button down shirt. He let the front
hang open, which still gave him that neatly messy look.

Before he could reach the door, his father’s
voice rang in his ears, “I’ve got tickets to the hockey game this
weekend. I thought me and you could go.” His voice sounded softer
than usual. Trystan turned slowly, carefully, and looked his old
man over. “It’d be like old times.”

“What old times were those?” he asked,
knowing he shouldn’t.

Trystan’s dad looked down and sighed. He was
wearing a gray suit with a jewel-toned blue tie. It brought out his
eyes. Damn, they looked alike. It made Trystan’s skin crawl to
think he was turning into his dad. He wanted nothing to do with
him. Starting a new life somewhere else was a dream. He thought
about it day and night. The only think holding him here was Mari.
How many times had Trystan wanted to run? How many times did he
nearly walk away and leave everything?
Too many
, he thought
bitterly.

“Don’t be like that. I do the best I can.
This was something I could do. Give me another chance, kid. I
promise you—”

“Your promises don’t mean much. Not anymore.
I’m not the little kid who used to wait for your approval. I gave
up on you a long time ago. There’s no point in pretending... not
anymore. As soon as I graduate, I’m gone and I’m never coming
back.”

“Trystan... ,” Dad said, stepping toward him.
It was hard to look his father over, hard to see how normal he
seemed in the light of day. Wearing that suit, smiling that smile,
he could be any nice guy, but Trystan knew better. He was the jaded
drunk who’d hit him faster than he could blink.

“It’s okay, Dad. There’s no need to pretend
anymore.”

His father look genuinely confused, “Pretend
what?”

Trystan was so disgusted that he couldn’t
even say it.
Pretend you care about me—pretend you love me.
Instead, he closed his eyes and shook his head. Trystan turned on
his heel and left without another word.

By the time Trystan got to school, he was
late. He sat down in homeroom, but Tucker didn’t say anything. No
commentary on his tardy, no threat to dock his grade.

When the bell rang at the end of class,
Tucker stopped him, “Mr. Scott.”

Trystan stopped. He stared straight ahead,
not wanting to look at the man. It was like Tucker had radar for
screwed-up students, and he was sniffing out what was wrong with
Trystan. The thought made his skin grow cold and clammy. No one
could know that part of his life. Ever. And Tucker was getting way
too close to the truth.

Tucker waited for the other students to pass,
“Want to tell me why you were late today?”

Trystan shrugged, “Had better things to
do.”

Tucker
hmmmfed
, but didn’t say
anything else about it. Instead, he said, “I’ll check on you and
Mari later today. You’re a good kid, Scott, but you need to be
careful. You’re walking the line and it’s too damn thin—too easy to
fall on the wrong side.”

Trystan’s gaze lifted and met Tucker’s. He
wanted to say,
You don’t know what you’re talking about—you
haven’t lived my life
, but he was silent. Trystan nodded once
and walked out, leaving Tucker watching his back as the room filled
with the next class.

Trystan sat through his classes, not paying
attention to anything. The lump in his throat didn’t abate last
night. It didn’t fade while he slept. His concern over Mari’s
question twisted into worry. What if she was really asking? What if
she intended to sleep with someone she didn’t care about? What
could he do about it?

Nothing
, he thought, gripping his
pencil so hard that it snapped. The crack was audible. Trystan
ignored the looks of his classmates, including Seth who sat shaking
his head next to him.

After the bell rang, Seth walked out next to
him, “Thought you would have hit that last night, but obviously you
didn’t. What happened to promising to stay away from
her
?”
he said referring to Mari. “Do your promises mean nothing?” there
was a joking quality to his voice, but it hit way too close to home
for Trystan.

Trystan rounded on his friend, shoving Seth’s
shoulders hard. Surprised by the sudden hostility, Seth flew back
into the lockers, tripping several students in the process. When
his back slammed against the metal doors, Seth’s face pinched with
anger, “What the fuck, man?” Seth stood and walked back toward
Trystan, shoving him back. Trystan tried to keep walking, but Seth
wouldn’t shut up, “She’s nothing but a
bitch
,” he enunciated
the word, spitting it at his friend’s back, “a tease,” he said it
slowly, but Trystan still didn’t turn. Seth’s anger got the best of
him and he added, “A little cun—” but before Seth could finish
speaking, Trystan was on him.

The word made him snap. No one could call
Mari that. Trystan threw his books to the floor and charged Seth,
ramming his shoulder into Seth’s stomach. The two slammed into a
group of lockers. Trystan’s fists punched into Seth’s sides, one
after the other. Seth screamed at him, returning every punch, but
Trystan was a better fighter. After years of beatings, he knew how
to take a hit. His body moved, taking Seth’s shots in less
vulnerable places or moving out of the way, so Seth’s fists missed
Trystan entirely.

It didn’t take long for a group of kids to
circle around them. They chanted
fight, fight, fight
.

Trystan thought that was stupid, standing
around them in a circle and cheering them on to fight.
What do
they think we were doing? Dancing?
Just as the thought entered
his mind, Seth’s fist connected with his stomach. Trystan folded in
half and rammed Seth with his shoulder. Neither of them could
breathe. Blood dripped down Trystan’s lip and he wondered if it was
his.

Before anything else could happen, Tucker
stepped between them, yanking them apart. “Get to class!” Tucker
yelled at the crowd. The kids groaned, slowly walking away when
they realized there was nothing else to see. Tucker glanced at
Trystan with a look of exasperation on his face, “Get to where
you’re going, Scott. Seth, my room. Now.”

“You’re just gonna let Trystan walk?” Seth
argued, following after Tucker but looking over at Trystan with
malice. His broad shoulders were tense, the muscles in his arms
still taut and ready to punch something. This wasn’t over. That
much Trystan knew.

Tucker didn’t look back. He walked at a pace
that was fast for him, forcing Seth to keep up and release some
that anger burning in his body. He snapped over his shoulder,
“Scott’s already taken care of; you on the other hand need some
guidance. Not another word or I hand this mess over to the
principle and you both get suspended. Rumor has it that one more
suspension gets you expelled.” Seth groaned dramatically and
trailed behind Tucker and out of sight.

Trystan headed straight for the stage, rage
still flowing through his muscles. He couldn’t control himself.
He’d never hit Seth like that before. They’d rough-housed, wrestled
and that kind of thing, but this was a fight. Trystan threw punches
not caring where they landed, as long as they did some harm. He
couldn’t process what was happening. Up until then, Seth had been
his best friend. The guy always had his back, but this was insane.
It was like he was forbidding Trystan to be with Mari, like Seth
would make him choose between them.

What kind of friend would do that? Maybe he
missed something. Maybe it wasn’t what it looked like, because it
looked an awful lot like jealousy—but that didn’t make any sense.
Seth didn’t like Mari. Trystan’s arms were still tense. His fingers
clenched over and over again trying to work it out, as he bounded
up the stage stairs and walked behind the wing. It was dark, as
usual. He made his way to the basement door and pulled it open.

Descending swiftly, Trystan stopped at the
bottom to see Mari with her legs hanging over the end of the couch
and her dark hair fanned around her beautiful face. The little
white tee shirt she wore clung to her body. He watched her chest
rise slowly, as she drew in a breath. Mari’s eyes were closed like
she was daydreaming, thinking about something wonderful. The way
her pink lips pulled up slightly at the corners gave her a ghost of
a smile. Her foot swung and he was treated to a full smile, though
he didn’t know the cause.

Mari’s eyes opened, and she saw him standing
across the room. “Oh,” she said startled. Her hands slipped to her
sides like she was going to push herself up.

Trystan crossed the room quickly, before she
could sit up. Grinning down at her, he asked, “Hanging upside down
off the end of the couch, are we?”

Mari smirked, “Maybe.” Trystan laughed and it
was contagious. Mari’s soft laugh filled his body and warmed him,
chasing away the rest of the animosity he felt toward Seth.
“Definitely. I wanted to see if my hair could touch the floor if I
leaned over the side.”

“Does it?”

She nodded, “Yup.” Mari’s eyes were focused
on his mouth. Trystan squirmed a little wondering why she was
looking at him like that. “What happened to you? There’s blood on
your mouth.”

Trystan straightened and tried to dab it
away. “Nothing. Seth and I don’t see eye to eye on something. It
didn’t end well.”

Mari slipped off the couch and stood up in
front of him. She licked the back of her thumb and ran it over his
mouth, removing the rest of the dried blood, before wiping her
hands on her jeans. The touch was light, gentle. Trystan’s stomach
felt like it was floating. How she could do that, how she could
reach out and touch him without thinking twice was... he didn’t
know what it was. The nurse wore gloves when blood was involved,
but Mari didn’t seem to think Trystan was anything to be worried
about. She trusted him in a way that surprised him.

Mari looked down and when she met his eyes
again, Trystan asked her softly, “What does it feel like to sleep
with someone you don’t love?” Her eyes widened and she looked up at
him. Her lips parted like she wanted to say something, but her jaw
just hung there suspended. Trystan became serious, all traces of
humor stripped away by the question, “Do you really want to know?”
Do you already have someone picked out? Did you give up on your
dreams? Was I the one that pushed you to do it?
He stared down
at her, hating himself. Breathing hard, heart fluttering, he
watched her. Her brown eyes didn’t stray from his.

She didn’t apologize, she didn’t explain. She
just stood there, watching him breathe like everything was normal.
After a moment, Mari smiled sheepishly. “You knew that was me. I
figured you would.” She looked down at her fingers, as they twisted
in her hands.

He stepped closer to her, “Of course I would.
And I knew what you meant, too. I just couldn’t write it there. Too
many people are watching, looking for me.” He wrapped his fingers
around hers as he spoke, suspending the nervous wringing of her
hands.

Mari didn’t pull away. “So, what’s it like?”
She sounded curious and it killed him. It killed him that she
asked—that she wanted him to tell her it was good. He could hear
the hope in her voice.

Trystan watched her dark, rich eyes. There
was a hint of something in her voice, like she’d given up on her
ideal. Guilt gnawed at him, like he was the one who pushed her to
it. What was he supposed to say? That sleeping around helped him
forget about his life? That he used it to hide from reality for a
while. In those moments, it felt like time was suspended, like
there was nothing to fear—like he could survive the lot he’d been
given. But now, seeing the look on Mari’s face, he couldn’t say
that.

Sleeping with her would be different. He
lowered his lashes, and glanced at her hands. Swallowing the lump
in his throat, he finally said, “It’s not worth it, not compared to
what you could have.” His thumb stroked the smooth skin on the back
of her wrist. His heart pounded harder. It felt like a confession,
like everything he’d done until now was wrong—like he knew his
salvation was standing in front of him.

“Compared to what I could have?” she
repeated. “And what’s that, Mr. Scott?” One of her dark brows
lifted. It made her look jaded and he didn’t like it. Cynical was
something Mari was not. There’d been a pureness that attracted him
to her. The way she lived her life with her whole heart was brave.
She put herself out there and was willing to take chances that he
never took. That demanded admiration, even if she didn’t realize
it. Now, it seemed like she was thinking about chipping that away.
The thought killed him.