Stirred (14 page)

“Fuck!” I screamed into the night, pissed at myself for pushing too hard and at Eden for caving into her fears. I stomped back over to the gyro shop’s back door and stormed through.

“Hey, what are you doing? You cannot be back here. Get out!” a burly, Middle Eastern guy ordered in a heavy accent.

“Fuck you!” I threw back, not the least bit worried when he tossed the towel in his hand and stumbled after me. He stopped at the kitchen doorway, but I felt his eyes on my back as I kicked the front door open and passed through onto the sidewalk. I turned back and flipped him off for good measure. “Dick!”

Still relatively early, the traffic was thick on Market Street, which pissed me off even more. This night could’ve been spent with Eden. It should’ve been, goddammit. I had no doubt I would’ve worn her out, had her begging me to stop. And eventually I would have, and we’d have lain on the thick rug in front of my fireplace and talked until dawn. Then I would’ve started all over again.

“Shit,” I swore as I jaywalked between cars on both sides of the road, receiving honks for my intrusion. That did nothing to improve my mood, and, with my hands on my hips, I stopped in front of the last car. “What’s your fucking problem, asshole?” I fumed, to which he visibly shrank down in his seat. “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” I added then continued to my car a block away. When I gained access, I just sat there with my fingers clenched around the steering wheel. “Motherfucker,” I cussed with a shake of my head. I paused to gather myself, but it was no use, and I bellowed, “
Goddamn motherfucker!
” as I punched the winged logo in the center. “Fuck,” I moaned one last time and, first, rubbed my sore knuckles, then the beloved emblem. My anger was now directed exclusively at myself.

I smoothed my hand over the steering wheel hub before starting the car and merging into traffic. The drive through Seattle and back across the 520 Bridge into Bellevue seemed to take forever, but at least I was a little calmer once I left my car in the underground parking lot at my Bellevue Towers residence. Not that it lasted long, because, after getting off the elevator on the forty-first floor and taking the short walk down the hall, I spied Trinitee sitting cross-legged on the plush carpet, her elbows on her knees and her back against my condo door.

I froze in my tracks and just stood there, staring, more pissed than ever. With an angry huff, I approached her and looked down.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I demanded.

“Hey, calm your ass down, Sean-boy. I just came to find out how it went.”

“None of your business,” I said and waved for her to get up and out of the way.

She gathered her backpack and stood, but remained in front of my door. “What’s crawled up your ass?”

With my hands on her upper arms, I physically moved her out of my way and unlocked the door then passed through, intent on slamming it in her face, but she wedged her backpack between us and shoved her way in. I could have pushed her back out—I should have, actually—but, as angry as I was, I didn’t want to risk hurting her. Instead I gave her the stink-eye as she made herself at home on my sleek black leather sectional. I chucked my keys onto the entry table and breezed by Trin, trying my damnedest to ignore she was even there.

“Come on, dude, gimme the deets,” she said. “‘Cause you know I’m not leaving ‘til I hear what went down.”

I stood at the long kitchen island counter, my back to her, silent and determined to stay that way as I mindlessly sorted through my mail. But, like she said, I knew she’d never let up. After several minutes, I tossed the stack of envelopes down, leaned both hands on the counter’s edge, and sighed.

“Dude, what the—”

I turned my head, catching her from the corner of my eye. “I don’t wanna talk about it, Trin. It’s really none of your business.”

With the little silver scales-of-justice charm dangling from her shoelace, she kicked her combat-booted heels up onto my cocktail table and said, “Well, since I’m the one who set it all up, I think it
is
my business.” She continued to grill me for details, asking if I’d gotten into Eden’s pants, if I’d fucked her stupid, like every other girl I’d ever pursued, but I refused to give anything away, until she sauntered up and laughed at my back then said, “Why so quiet, Sean-boy? Did you blow it? You did, didn’t you? You blew it. Flat-out failed.”

Sick of her flippant ridicule, I turned on her and got in her face. “No, actually, Trin, I
didn’t
fail. I
did
get into her pants, and I
did
fuck her stupid. Right on the fucking hood of her goddamn BMW. So shut the
fuck
up and leave me the
hell
alone. I don’t wanna talk about it anymore. Got it?”

With that, I pushed her aside and walked back into the master bedroom. Trinitee followed, hot on my heels. I sensed her wide smile and all the questions swimming in her eyes.

“Wow. Really?” she asked, but I was already locked down, on radio silence. She followed me to the bathroom and leaned against the doorframe as I brushed my teeth. “Geez, dude, if you succeeded, why are you so pissed off? Mission accomplished. Time to move on to your next conquest. Maybe a brunette this time, or even a blonde, something different for a change.”

I rinsed out my mouth and put my toothbrush away then looked her in the eye through the mirror. “I don’t wanna move on. I want Eden,” I said emphatically, leaving no doubt I was dead serious and wasn’t up for debate.

Her eyes danced with amusement. “Oh. My. God… Sean…”

I broke eye contact and bumped her out of the way as I pushed through the doorway and back up the hall. “I don’t wanna hear it.”

“Tell me you didn’t,” she said, chasing after me.

“Shut up, Trin.”

“You fell for her.”

“You don’t know what you’re taking about.”

“You fell for the mark.”

I spun around and snapped, “She’s not a fucking mark!”

Trinitee stopped short, her brow low, and her lips twisted into a knowing smirk. “This is a game, Sean. Remember? And she was the prize. You won. Game over.”

“I’m not playing your games anymore, Trin. And I’ll tell you the same thing I told her. This isn’t over. Not now. Not until I say.”

She pulled back a little and raised her hands. “Dude, desperation makes a person sloppy, and you’re totally losin’ it. I think you need to take a step back and reevaluate this situa—”

“Get out,” I ordered as I pointed toward the door, but she didn’t move, so I grabbed her arm above the elbow and pulled her along. “You think you’re so smart, Trinitee, above everyone else, playing God with people’s lives.” I opened the door and edged her out into the hall. “I guess you’re not so smart after all if you didn’t see this coming.” I started to slam the door shut, but she caught it with her booted foot, and that damn shoelace charm swung all over.

“What the fuck are you talking about, Sean?
You’re
the one who didn’t see this coming.”

I shrugged. “Yeah, well, I see it now, and if you, my best friend, can’t support me in this, then we have nothing else between us.”

Her eyes went hard and she took a step back. “You’re gonna let some bitch come between us, Sean? Is that how it is? After all this time, after everything I’ve done for you?”

I just shook my head and said, “G’bye, Trin,” then softly closed the door.

Though my head insisted I’d done the right thing throwing Trinitee out, my gut refused to relent and urged me to chase after her and apologize. Instead, I began pacing the long line of floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the shimmering skyline and tranquil waters of Lake Washington separating Bellevue from Seattle.

What the hell just happened? How had everything gotten so out of control? This whole thing with Eden had been Trinitee’s idea. Why was she so ready all the sudden to call game over? I snorted, because, to me, this wasn’t a game. Never had been, if I was being completely honest. I thought Trin knew that since she always seemed to know me better than I knew myself.

I wasn’t even sure why I was so angry with her, except that she didn’t seem willing to support me now that, for the first time in over two years, I felt an intense connection to another woman. And that’s when it occurred to me. Could Trinitee be jealous? Did her feelings for me run deeper than she’d ever let on? Had she been holding back since our failed attempt at more than just friendship? I’d been the one to pull away back then. I’d found it hard, no matter how beautiful she was, to think of her as anything other than a friend, something I valued way more than any chick I’d ever dated, at least up to that point. Trin and I had a remarkable friendship, and I didn’t want to risk losing that.

At the time, I’d told Trinitee that she intimidated me, which was partly true, but not because she was beautiful, but rather because she was so smart, certainly smarter than me. We both knew it. She never tried to hide that from me, unlike she did with most people. She’d said I was the one person she could truly be herself around—no fake persona, no mask to hide her abrasively sharp wit. I was sure the decision to remain platonic had been mutual, but perhaps Trin was better at hiding her true self than even I realized. I was beginning to think I’d misjudged her, what drove her, her motivation. And now I felt like shit for giving her that ultimatum, not to mention throwing her out with the impression I was done with her—and our friendship—forever. I’d let her believe I’d chosen a woman I barely even knew over her, over our friendship.

Fact was, in hindsight, I had, but she’d caught me at a bad moment, and while I wasn’t ready to call it quits with Eden, neither was I willing to throw away the closest relationship I’d had since Hayley. God, that wound was still so fresh, so raw, I couldn’t stand to think of it, of
her
. And Trin had been there in the aftermath of that whole Hayley debacle. She’d been there to pick up the pieces and, over time, had fashioned them back into the man I was now,
such
as I was, certainly not like I used to be before, but better than what I’d become right after.

I’d worked hard to reclaim my carefree nature, and while I hadn’t been entirely successful, I was surprised how much better I was now that I’d mastered the art of denial. I’d simply pushed the haunting memory so far aside, I hardly knew it was there at all anymore. Except sometimes at night, but those came in cycles, and, so far, I’d been good at predicting them and preparing for it. Nothing a stolen dose of my stepfather’s beta blockers couldn’t relieve. The drug was a wonder at easing anxiety.

Shit. As the last few years with Trinitee came back into sharp focus, I realized I’d overreacted and needed to fix the situation, to apologize then beg for Trin’s forgiveness, a hard thing for a proud man. I was trying to think of a way to do it without coming off weak, or worse—whipped—when I spied Trinitee’s backpack on the floor, tucked into the corner of my sectional. Well, at least that would provide an easy way in, a legitimate excuse to call her.

I pulled out my phone and speed-dialed her number. It went straight to voicemail. Unusual, but understandable after the way I’d treated her. After the tone, I left a message.

“Hey, Trin. It’s me.” I paused, unsure how to continue. “Um…look…I’m sorry. Really. I was way outta line earlier. What can I say? I’m an asshole, as you well know.” I let out a long sigh. “I said things I shouldn’t’ve said, things I regret. I hope you can forgive me. I don’t wanna lose you, what we have. You know how much it—how much
you
—mean to me. I’m pleading temporary insanity here, Trin. Okay? Just call me back, all right? So I can apologize directly. Oh, and uh…you left your backpack here. I’d like to return it, maybe apologize in person…face to face. Okay, Trin?” Another long pause. “All right, well…talk to you later, I guess. Bye.”

I hung up and grabbed a beer from the fridge, feeling like a prick, yet hoping I could somehow make up for it. But I wasn’t too sure she’d understand. I don’t ever remember Trinitee being so obsessed with one of her boyfriends that she’d pushed me aside. Dammit, I should’ve gone after her. Why didn’t I? God, I felt like such an asshole. And not just because of Trinitee either. There was Eden, as well, another situation I’d fucked up beyond measure and would now have to figure a way to fix. I needed to mellow out, have a drink, and think, but before I could even open the bottle, my phone pinged with a text message.