Page 13
Story: Wicked Rockstar
My grip tightened on the glass, the cool crystal a stark contrast to the heat of my palm. Was he proposing to her? After all these years of stringing her along? The thought sent a jolt of pain through my chest, a feeling I thought I’d long since buried.
Wait.
I narrowed my eyes to get a better look. It wasn’t a ring box. Even from this distance, I could see it was a larger piece of jewelry resting on top of the dark velvet lining.
Her shoulders tightened, and I wished I could see her face, to read the emotions I knew would be written there, but she stayed seated, not once giving me a chance to figure out what her reaction meant.
I nursed my drink, staring at them and almost losing track of time. I decided to run to the restroom before I headed to the back to meet the guys. It was better to go now before I ran into Peter or Tink once again.
The second I exited the bathroom, I realized my mistake.
I’d waited too long.
Trissa had just emerged from the women’s room across from me. She seemed to be in a daze. Although, I’d probably look that way too after having to listen to Peter drone on about himself for longer than fifteen minutes.
I needed to leave before she noticed me. It had been years since I was her go-to person. Years since we’d even talked. I was an idiot if I thought she’d even want to see me right now.
I ran a hand roughly through my hair, the familiar action momentarily grounding me.
She froze. “Killian,” she said breathlessly, her voice a mixture of surprise and something else I couldn’t quite identify. “What are you doing here?” She glanced at the men’s restroom door across the hall and then back at me.
All the reasons to walk away were right there in front of me. There was no use getting involved in their mess. And after years of convincing myself I didn’t care about her anymore, why was my first instinct to see if she was alright? Why did I even care after all this time?
I shrugged.
Trissa’s eyes narrowed, a crease forming between her brows. “After ten years of radio silence, you just happened to be standing outside the women’s restroom.” She glanced behind her. “Oh, are you waiting for someone else?” Her naïveté was adorable and frustrating all at the same time.
“Tink.” The nickname slipped out before I could stop it, familiar and foreign all at once. “Are you okay?” I asked, my voice gruff with suppressed emotion.
“I’m fine.” Her chipper voice grated on me. I knew I’d seen something earlier.
“Are you though?” I growled, concern and frustration mingling in my tone.
She shook her head, a strand of hair falling across her cheek. “It’s nothing you need to worry about.”
Unable to resist any longer, I gently pulled her toward the end of the hallway, which was darker and more private. The sequins of her dress brushed roughly against my hand, sending jolts of electricity through me. When she didn’t fight my handling, I tilted her chin up with the pad of my finger until our eyes locked. “What did he give you?” I pressed.
Her hands fluttered to her chest. “It was a pin.”
I waited, giving her the space to continue.
Her throat bobbed with her forced swallow. “Of a bird.”
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” The words exploded out of me before I could stop them. Peter was the biggest self-involved asshole ever. How could he not remember Tink’s massive fear of birds?
That day was firmly etched into my mind. The three of us were at the local park. Tris was eleven, and we were thirteen. We’d been standing on a low wooden bridge with her sitting on the top ledge between us. A flock of aggressive pigeons startled her, causing her to fall backward into the pond.
She’d been terrified. I’d never forget the image of her as she stood, bent at the waist, covering her head, curled into herself as the birds circled overhead. I immediately jumped in after her, lifted her into my arms, and safely carried her to the shore. Peter joined us soon after, helping to calm her down. It killed me when she reached for him.
“Shit, Tink,” I said, the nickname slipping out again before I could stop it. “He didn’t remember, did he?” There had also been a time in her childhood with her dad, when birds surrounded her at a park and scared her. The incident with us only reinforced her fear.
She shook her head. “No, but really it’s not a big deal, Killian. It was a long time ago.”
Why it surprised me that she could so easily forgive his actions, I don’t know. I guess I’d thought that after all this time she wouldn’t be so blinded by Peter. That she would’ve figured out on her own what a self-serving ass he was.
She might not have thought she needed comfort, but I couldn’t stop myself from reaching for her. My arms firmly banded around her, enveloping her in my warmth and pulling her snugly to my chest. Trissa melted into my embrace. The familiar scent of her shampoo—lavender and somethinguniquely Trissa—washed over me, bringing with it a flood of memories.
The world around us stilled as I held her for the first time in far too long. I stroked her back. This moment achingly familiar like no time had passed at all, yet the weight of the years between us hung heavy in the air.
Wait.
I narrowed my eyes to get a better look. It wasn’t a ring box. Even from this distance, I could see it was a larger piece of jewelry resting on top of the dark velvet lining.
Her shoulders tightened, and I wished I could see her face, to read the emotions I knew would be written there, but she stayed seated, not once giving me a chance to figure out what her reaction meant.
I nursed my drink, staring at them and almost losing track of time. I decided to run to the restroom before I headed to the back to meet the guys. It was better to go now before I ran into Peter or Tink once again.
The second I exited the bathroom, I realized my mistake.
I’d waited too long.
Trissa had just emerged from the women’s room across from me. She seemed to be in a daze. Although, I’d probably look that way too after having to listen to Peter drone on about himself for longer than fifteen minutes.
I needed to leave before she noticed me. It had been years since I was her go-to person. Years since we’d even talked. I was an idiot if I thought she’d even want to see me right now.
I ran a hand roughly through my hair, the familiar action momentarily grounding me.
She froze. “Killian,” she said breathlessly, her voice a mixture of surprise and something else I couldn’t quite identify. “What are you doing here?” She glanced at the men’s restroom door across the hall and then back at me.
All the reasons to walk away were right there in front of me. There was no use getting involved in their mess. And after years of convincing myself I didn’t care about her anymore, why was my first instinct to see if she was alright? Why did I even care after all this time?
I shrugged.
Trissa’s eyes narrowed, a crease forming between her brows. “After ten years of radio silence, you just happened to be standing outside the women’s restroom.” She glanced behind her. “Oh, are you waiting for someone else?” Her naïveté was adorable and frustrating all at the same time.
“Tink.” The nickname slipped out before I could stop it, familiar and foreign all at once. “Are you okay?” I asked, my voice gruff with suppressed emotion.
“I’m fine.” Her chipper voice grated on me. I knew I’d seen something earlier.
“Are you though?” I growled, concern and frustration mingling in my tone.
She shook her head, a strand of hair falling across her cheek. “It’s nothing you need to worry about.”
Unable to resist any longer, I gently pulled her toward the end of the hallway, which was darker and more private. The sequins of her dress brushed roughly against my hand, sending jolts of electricity through me. When she didn’t fight my handling, I tilted her chin up with the pad of my finger until our eyes locked. “What did he give you?” I pressed.
Her hands fluttered to her chest. “It was a pin.”
I waited, giving her the space to continue.
Her throat bobbed with her forced swallow. “Of a bird.”
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” The words exploded out of me before I could stop them. Peter was the biggest self-involved asshole ever. How could he not remember Tink’s massive fear of birds?
That day was firmly etched into my mind. The three of us were at the local park. Tris was eleven, and we were thirteen. We’d been standing on a low wooden bridge with her sitting on the top ledge between us. A flock of aggressive pigeons startled her, causing her to fall backward into the pond.
She’d been terrified. I’d never forget the image of her as she stood, bent at the waist, covering her head, curled into herself as the birds circled overhead. I immediately jumped in after her, lifted her into my arms, and safely carried her to the shore. Peter joined us soon after, helping to calm her down. It killed me when she reached for him.
“Shit, Tink,” I said, the nickname slipping out again before I could stop it. “He didn’t remember, did he?” There had also been a time in her childhood with her dad, when birds surrounded her at a park and scared her. The incident with us only reinforced her fear.
She shook her head. “No, but really it’s not a big deal, Killian. It was a long time ago.”
Why it surprised me that she could so easily forgive his actions, I don’t know. I guess I’d thought that after all this time she wouldn’t be so blinded by Peter. That she would’ve figured out on her own what a self-serving ass he was.
She might not have thought she needed comfort, but I couldn’t stop myself from reaching for her. My arms firmly banded around her, enveloping her in my warmth and pulling her snugly to my chest. Trissa melted into my embrace. The familiar scent of her shampoo—lavender and somethinguniquely Trissa—washed over me, bringing with it a flood of memories.
The world around us stilled as I held her for the first time in far too long. I stroked her back. This moment achingly familiar like no time had passed at all, yet the weight of the years between us hung heavy in the air.
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