Page 4

CHAPTER 4

Jordyn

T ristan sets my boxes of books on the floor with a soft thud. My body hums from the proximity to him. Inwardly berating myself, I keep my eyes averted from his muscular torso and arms, irritated by how sexy I find his bulging muscles, not to mention the outline of his cock in those gray sweatpants. Dammit. Knock it off.

My eyes skip around the room, resting on a floor to ceiling bookcase in the corner of the room. I’m drawn to it, the smell of the wood infiltrating my nostrils as I inhale deeply.

“This bookcase…” I swallow hard, my reverent gaze sweeps over the cherry wood. “It’s gorgeous.” Stopping in front of it, my fingers lovingly stroke it.

Tristan steps beside me. “Wow. I’ve never seen anyone stroke wood like that.” My head snaps to his and he turns to me, a grin on his face. “At least I didn’t say, ‘I wish a woman would stroke my wood like that.’ Trust me, my friend, Alex, wouldn’t have been able to contain himself.”

I can’t help the teasing smile, a laugh threatening to bubble from me. “From what I saw, your wood was being stroked just fine on the couch. ”

A surprised laugh bursts out of him. “Oh, burn.” He steps closer to me, his expression softening. “Josh said you liked to read and would probably bring a ton of books, so I thought this was practical while adding a nice touch to the room.”

My brows shoot up in surprise. “You bought this?”

For a moment, something that looks like embarrassment flashes on his face. “Yeah.” He keeps his gaze averted as he pretends to examine the bookcase like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. For some reason, his reaction is tugging at my heart strings. “If you don’t like it, I?—”

“No, I love it.” My words tumble out in a rush, my palm flattening over the wood. “This is an amazing gift.” A sick feeling washes over me. “It is a gift, right? Or do I owe you money for it?” I barely have enough left to fill my gas tank this week.

“It’s a gift.” Green eyes lock with mine, seeing too much. “You don’t owe me anything for it.” The gruffness in his voice and the sincerity in his mossy eyes are profoundly affecting me. Almost as much as his touch, which is shooting electric sparks through my skin.

Sucking in a deep breath, I slowly exhale, doubt swimming through my veins. I want to believe he’s not a puck boy, but warning bells ring inside my head. You walked in on him getting a blowjob and fucking a girl. He didn’t even know her name. He’s definitely a puck boy.

Pulling myself from my thoughts, I flash him a tight smile. “Thank you.”

His smile fades, and I’m instantly filled with regret.

“Tristan, this is amazing.” I touch his forearm, ashamed of the jolt of current that flows through me when I touch him. He doesn’t look convinced.

Blowing out a breath, I give him an explanation I don’t owe him. But I can’t stand the hurt look from his face. “I’m not used to people doing nice things for me without expecting something in return.”

“Oh.” His brows furrow, an angry look on his face. “You deserve to have people do nice things without expecting anything in return.” He bows his head, running a hand through his short, dark blond hair. I can’t help salivating over the swell of his bicep.

His words draw me back to the present. “Josh mentioned that your stepfather cut your educational funding. I’m sorry, Jordyn.” He lowers his arm, shoving it in the pocket of his sweatpants. “It was an asshole thing for him to do.”

“Robert Fowler is an asshole.” My voice rings with an unusually strong vehemence as the anger swirls inside me like a storm. Surprise lights up Tristan’s face, and I immediately backtrack. “Don’t get me wrong, it was nice that he was funding my education. I certainly didn’t expect him to do that. But taking it away because I changed my major to something he deemed unacceptable is just….”

“Reprehensible?”

What the hell? Puck boy is smart. That doesn’t go with the image of jocks that live inside my head.

“Well, yeah. He’s a manipulative, selfish man, so I don’t know why I expected him to understand.”

The silence stretches between us, making me nervous. I begin rambling. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m extremely grateful you’re letting me live here.” Rent free. I choke on the words, unable to get them past the lump of pride lodged in my throat.

Clearing it, I continue, “I’m thankful I can pursue my dreams, having the freedom to major in what I want without anyone pissed at me for it. I just…” I grapple for the right words to convey how I feel about it.

“You’re infuriated because you were attending an Ivy League school in New York until he pulled his funding, yanking your dreams away, over something so frivolous like your choice of major. He placed conditions on your education, and as soon as you didn’t meet them, he yanked the funding, taking everything away, upending your life.”

Wow. He’s intuitive and understanding, making my opinion of him waver again.

“That’s it, exactly.” Confusion rolls through me. I can’t fathom how he understands what I’m feeling. The sleek SUV in the driveway and this house, which from all I’ve seen, suggests he doesn’t worry about money.

“How did you know I was attending an Ivy League school?”

Tristan cocks his head, intense eyes boring into me. “Umm… Josh mentioned it.”

I raise my brows, suspicious of the uncomfortable way he shifts, his eyes darting away from mine. Hmmm. Why don’t I believe him?

“Did he mention that Robert knows Josh isn’t smart enough or interested in taking over his lucrative jewelry business, and I was his backup plan after my mom married him? Did he tell you Robert forced me to spend my summer working in one of his stores, and I was miserable, hating every minute of it?” My chest heaves, anger coiling through me like a heater coil, melting my insides and turning them into a pool of lava.

His mouth hangs open in shock, his brows lifting in surprise. “No… He didn’t tell me about that.”

God, I’m an idiot. Why did I blurt out that shit?

Tristan nods. “What’s your major?”

“English Literature with a minor in Composition and Writing. I plan on getting my master’s in library science once I finish my undergrad degree.”

There I go again. The nerdy girl with verbal diarrhea and no acceptable social skills.

Surprisingly, Tristan relaxes, seemingly unbothered after my little meltdown. “I have no doubt you’ll accomplish your goals, Jordyn. I admire you for not giving up.” The genuine look of respect on his face does something to my heart, but I force myself to ignore it.

“Thank you.” My voice is softer than I expected, resulting in an uneasy silence.

He raps his knuckles against the bookshelf. “Well, I better leave you to unpack your things. If you need me, yell.” Pivoting on his heel, he heads to the doorway, but my voice stops him before he leaves my room.

“Can I have your number?”

He freezes, and I immediately berate myself. But the words hang out there, and I can’t take them back.

I rattle on, my words spilling from my lips like a damn breaking. “Only in the event of an emergency.” A nervous laugh escapes as I push a lock of blonde hair from my face. “It’s not like I’d just be blowing up your phone, sexting you.”

Sexting? Where the hell did that come from?

Tristan slowly spins around, a wide smile spreading over his face. “Dammit. I was hoping you planned to text me and ask if you could give me a blowjob, then ride me on the couch.” The laughter in his voice and his wink causes me to relax and smile at him.

Pulling his phone from his pocket, the used condom slips to the floor. He doesn’t notice, but I do. An uncomfortable feeling wells inside me.

“That’s a good idea to exchange numbers, roomie.” He hands me his phone so I can input my number.

He grins at me, not noticing the change in my demeanor. “I wouldn’t mind if you texted me memes or… whatever.”

I smirk as I enter my contact info. “Be careful what you wish for, puck boy.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I’m horrified. My head jerks up to find his smile gone, a hurt look on his face. Seconds later, a cold mask slides across his features.

“I didn’t mean?—”

“No, I deserve that.” He glowers at me. “You’d do well to remember that’s what I am, Jordyn. It’s better that way.” He snatches his phone from my hands and strides toward the door without a backward glance.

When it slams behind him, I sink to my knees in front of my suitcases. A long sigh comes from my lips.

“Great start to your new living arrangements.”