Page 22

CHAPTER 22

Jordyn

C helsea looks around as we step inside Sinful Sirens. “Nice facility, although not nearly as posh as the one in New York.”

“It’s not sleazy, which is what matters to me. Ray Carbaugh, the owner, is amazing. Wait until you meet Gary. He’s my favorite security guard. He doesn’t tolerate any bullshit, but he’s as sweet as pie to the dancers.”

Chelsea gives me a sad smile. “I’m sorry you have to do this. Your stepfather is such an asshole. I’m gonna hit him in the nuts and make it seem like an accident when I see him at the game tomorrow.”

“I won’t stop you.” I hitch the bag on my shoulder higher. “Come on. I have Ray’s permission for you to be backstage with me. Gary will stay with you while I dance.”

“If Josh or your stepfather knew you were doing this, they’d shit.”

I roll my eyes. “They’re the reason I’m doing this. But it must remain a secret. I can’t get kicked out of Tristan and Josh’s house. I’m not paying rent.”

“Like I’d ever tell those assholes anything.” Chelsea levels me with a look when I stop in front of the door. “Does Tristan know you dance here?”

“Hell, no. Why?”

A huge smile lights up her face. “Even though he’s an ass, I’d love to see his face. He’d be so fucking pissed.”

My heart accelerates at the thought before I mentally scold myself. “I don’t care what that asshole thinks.” Yanking the door open, I stomp inside, angry at myself because I’m lying.

“Yeah, I see that,” Chelsea mutters.

I don’t say another word as I throw my bag down. “Will you do my hair and makeup?”

“Of course.” She’s already rummaging through my bag, pulling out my makeup and curling iron. Envy flows through me as I watch her. I wish I could be that excited about something. I’m hoping the fake smile on my face hides my misery.

“What do you know about Alex?” Chelsea’s attempt at casual is about as subtle as a bulldozer. I smirk as I take off my street clothes, watching as she pretends to focus all her attention on my makeup palette.

“He seems nice. Hasn’t made any comments about ass fucking anyone.”

Chelsea jerks her head up. “As mad as I am that Tristan hurt you, saying and doing are two different things, sweetie. Could there be another reason he said that?”

My brows draw in. “What happened to wanting to rip his cock and balls off?”

She levels me with a look. “That was before you said he went for a run, and when he returned, he had dirt on his face and grass stains on his sweatpants. You also said his eyes were bloodshot.”

I shrug. “Yeah, that’s true.”

“You assumed he was doing something awful, like fighting or fucking someone. But could it be something else? ”

Scooping up my clothing from the bag, I begin dressing for tonight’s performance. “Like what?”

“I don’t know. But he wasn’t acting like a puck boy when the two of you were fighting in front of the clinic. He looked more like a broken-hearted man.”

“Chelsea.” My heart squeezes inside my chest. “I don’t wanna think about this right now.”

“Okay, I’ll drop it.” She plugs in the curling iron before turning to me. “But maybe you should give him a chance to explain.”

For a minute, I nearly cave. But then I picture the arrogant smirk on his face when he was talking to Josh and the conversation about Janelle, the puck slut. “No, he doesn’t deserve it. The first impression I had of him was correct. I just need to avoid him as much as possible until I can save up enough money to move out.”

Chelsea nods. “I support whatever you wanna do, love. You know that.”

I finish dressing, then walk over to her and give her a hug. “Thanks. I know you do.”

I change back into my street clothes but don’t bother removing my makeup. I just want to go home.

The drive seems to take forever. Relief fills me when Chelsea finally pulls up to the house. This has been a long, exhausting day, and I’m ready for bed.

“You really don’t mind me sleeping with you? I can sleep on the couch or floor. I really don’t mind.” Chelsea says as she steps beside me on the sidewalk in front of the house. The lights are on, indicating someone is home.

“Of course, I don’t mind.” I picture Tristan slumped in my desk chair asleep when I woke up this morning. I’m not ready for a repeat performance of that incident.

Waving my hand, I change the subject. “Finish telling me about Dr. Grayson. Was he really having an affair with a student?” As I step onto the front porch, I crash straight into a hard chest. Strong arms grip me as I stumble, but he steadies me.

“Tristan.” His name leaves my lips as a breathy whisper, making me hate myself.

“Where the hell have you been all day? And why haven’t you responded to my texts or calls?”

“Oh, so that’s why you turned the volume of your phone off,” Chelsea says from behind us. “Is Josh home?”

“No, he’s at a party. I told the asshole we have a game tomorrow and that he shouldn’t go, but he doesn’t fucking listen.” Beneath the porch light, Tristan’s angry green eyes turn to me. “I’ve been worried about you.”

“Tristan, what the—” Alex stands in the doorway, a frown on his face as he takes in the scene before him. “Jesus Christ. I went to the fucking bathroom, and you disappear.” His gaze slides to Chelsea, and a wide grin splits his face. “Hello again, gorgeous.”

“Tristan, let go of me. It’s none of your business?—"

“You skipped class.” He loosens his hold but doesn’t release me. His eyes narrow as he examines my made-up face and curly hair. “Why are you wearing so much makeup? And your hair is curly.”

Chelsea puts her hand on his. “Let’s take this inside so you don’t wake the neighborhood. It’s late.”

Alex steps behind Tristan. “I agree with legs. Let’s go inside.”

“Legs?” Chelsea gives him a puzzled look.

“They’re a mile long, sweetheart. And the nicest pair I’ve seen. ”

Chelsea laughs, tossing her hair back flirtatiously. “I appreciate the compliment. Help me get these two inside so they can talk.”

“You heard the woman.” Alex grabs Tristan’s arm. Although he lowers his voice, I still hear him. “It’s a bit chilly tonight. Your girl looks cold.”

His words have a magical effect. Tristan immediately wraps his arm around me and ushers me inside.

“I’m not his girl,” I snap at Alex.

Chelsea follows, rolling her eyes. Alex brings up the rear, shutting and locking the door behind him.

Tristan starts on me again. “You didn’t answer my question. Why?—”

“I don’t need to.” I yank my arm away, reaching a breaking point. “I can’t do this right now, Tristan. Just leave me the hell alone.” I whirl around, running up the stairs.

As I flee, I hear Chelsea say, “Tristan, give her some space.”

Running into my room, I slam the door behind me and throw myself on the bed. I wish I never would’ve come to WHU and met Tristan Harrington.