Stirred (15 page)

Trinitee:
  Drop it off in the morning. Starbucks at 9. I’ll need it for my 10am ethics class.

Me:
  I can drive by your place, drop it off tonight if you need it.

Trinitee:
  Morning is fine. See you then.

Me:
  K. See you then. And Trin? I’m really sorry. Forgive me?

I stared at my screen, at the confirmation it had been delivered and read, waiting for her reply.

It never fucking came.

I didn’t sleep much that night. I was too anxious about my meeting with Trinitee. I gave up around five a.m., hit the gym hard for two hours, then came home to eat, shower, and change, but even with all that, it was still too early for our arranged meet-up. But I drove out to the University District anyway, knowing it’d be hard to find parking with all the students rushing off to class. Turns out, I had to park four blocks away, but the sun was out, and I didn’t mind walking. At least I could take it leisurely, watch the shops open and kids make their run to class.

As I approached the crosswalk still three blocks away from Starbucks up ahead, I watched a Mercedes recklessly maneuver curbside into the loading zone out front of a copy and print shop. The passenger door popped open, and damn if Trinitee didn’t hop out onto the sidewalk. I stopped and raised my hand, ready to wave and call out for her, when she turned back toward the open passenger door and yelled something at the driver. That’s when the driver, a forty-something suit, jumped out from behind the wheel and stomped over to Trinitee like he had a twelve-inch stick up his ass.

He grabbed her by one arm and pulled her clear of the passenger door before he slammed it shut. Tension rolled off the guy like ripples in a pond, but all I could do was stand there and watch with what felt like a rock on my chest, wondering who the hell he was. With his back to me, he shook her once, but Trin just smiled, looking both amused and irritated, a look I knew well, like a once-playful cat, tail twitching and pupils dilated, now pissed and ready to strike. And yet, Trin didn’t, even when the guy released her with a small shove. Instead, she closed the gap and wrapped her arms around his neck. Trinitee rose up on her toes and planted a heated kiss right on his mouth.

“What the…?” I said aloud. “Who the hell is this asshole?” And why the fuck would she let him treat her like that—in public?

I received a few peculiar stares from passers-by and realized I was calling attention to myself, so, as I took a few steps closer, I threaded between the trees, lampposts, and electronic parking kiosks, determined to keep watch yet remain undetected. Mr. Stick-Up-His-Ass seemed to barely tolerate Trin’s kiss, standing stoically with his arms straight and his hands limp at his sides, until, a few moments later, when he broke her grip by prying her arms free and tucking them into her chest as he nudged her back a step.

Undaunted, Trin faced him boldly, more like the girl I knew and loved. He captured her chin between two fingers and tipped her face up to ensure he had her undivided attention. He said something to her, but, with his back still toward me and a truck passing by, I couldn’t make it out. Whatever it was, Trinitee nodded in acceptance before the man tapped her condescendingly on the tip of her nose.

That’s when I heard him say, plain as day, “That’s my good girl.”

Trin lowered her eyes to the pavement at her feet and wrapped her arms around herself as she tipped back and forth from her heels to her toes. Stick Guy leaned in and planted a chaste kiss atop her head then walked back to his car. I clenched my teeth as Trinitee wiggled her fingers at the guy. He didn’t respond that I could tell, but then again, it was hard to see through the blackened windows as the Mercedes stormed off in a rush, driving right past me. I turned my attention back to Trinitee, but had to duck behind a delivery van when her gaze, following the Mercedes, swept in my direction. A few seconds later, I peered around the vehicle just as Trin, with a girlish grin running ear to ear, turned and bounced happily down the street toward Starbucks.

What the fuck was all that?

Trinitee never told me she was seeing anyone. It wasn’t that the guy was older. She’d dated older men plenty of times—lawyers and finance types mainly—but never anyone she particularly cared for. She used them mostly, though not for money—Trin couldn’t care less about that. She was a trust-fund baby, not that I could judge since I was, too. Unlike me, though, money meant very little to her. So no, she used those men largely for information, like who was hiring, or offering internships, or for just basic observation, to hone her skills and add to her expanding legion of personality types she knew she’d someday draw upon. Sometimes though, Trinitee just hooked up for a good fuck, explaining their wives were often no longer interested or had boy-toys of their own.

I couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps Eden thought of me that way, as just some young, horny kid on the prowl for a wealthy cougar. Before Eden, I’d never even considered seeing an older woman. But then again, I’d never known anyone like Eden either. She didn’t look like any forty-year-old woman I’d ever seen, with her long, flaming hair that fell halfway down her back, eyes the color of springtime, toned, mile-long legs, and a body as rockin’ as any Victoria’s Secret model. And that mouth of hers with those perfect lips? Fuck. I got hard just thinking about it. But…I had to put that thought aside for now and focus back on Trinitee instead.

I wondered what was up with her, how long she’d been seeing that dick with the stick, and why she’d never spoken of him. More importantly, I wondered why she’d ever consider seeing a controlling tool like that, who treated her worse than she’d ever allowed in the past. Trinitee was not, in any way, shape, or form, the submissive type, and, as far as I knew, never experimented on that end of the spectrum either—though I could totally see her as the whip-wielding dominatrix.

Just thinking of her in some sexy, black, lace-up corset with thigh-high stockings, garter belts, and six-inch spike heels put a huge smile on my face, and that was the exact moment Trin first spied me as I walked into Starbucks for our meeting, with that undoubtedly enigmatic grin. It faded quickly, however, when I caught the poorly-hidden expression of shock on her face. Her normally pale skin flashed hot pink from her hairline down to the décolletage peeking just above her black V-neck T-shirt. She looked like she’d been caught with her hand in the cookie jar, which likely meant she was hiding something, and considering what I’d just witnessed out on the sidewalk, I had no doubt that something was Mr. Stick.

I contemplated grilling Trinitee about him directly, but, at the same time, I wanted to know if she’d be up front about him, without an inquisition, or hide the fact she was seeing someone older, just as I was. I approached her at our usual table, my smile weak. I did, at least, have the foresight to bow my head and appear properly contrite for having treated her so poorly last night.

“Hey, Trin,” I said humbly and waited for her to greet me in return.

But she simply folded her hands together along the edge of the table and looked up at me without a single word, just one raised brow, as if all she had the patience for was my groveling apology and nothing else. While irritating, I understood where she was coming from. So I swallowed my pride and decided to give her what she wanted, all the while wondering how she could change from the meek, simpering miss I saw out front not two minutes ago, to the pushy, domineering woman I knew so well. 

“Sorry, Trin. I was in a bad place last night and let my emotions get in the way. I was way out of line. Forgive me.”

She mashed her lips together and nodded ever so slightly. “Thank you. I accept your apology,” she said with forced grace. “May I have my backpack, please?”

I looked at her, my jaw slack in surprise that she’d been so short with me. I tried to shake it off though. “Are you all right?” I asked as I heaved her bag onto the table.

“Yes,” she answered simply.

“Well…what’ve you been up to?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Up to? Like…since yesterday? ‘Cause it’s not like we don’t see each other every day. Why do you ask?”

I shrugged, not sure where to go next, but wanting her to feel comfortable enough to talk to me. “I don’t know, Trin. You just looked so…flushed when I walked in. I thought maybe…” I shrugged again. “It just struck me as…odd, is all.” I stared at her, willing her to say something, anything, but she remained silent. “Dammit, Trin, this shouldn’t be so awkward. I hate it. I want things to go back to the way they were.”

She nodded in agreement. “I hate it, too, but I’m not sure if they
can
be the way they were.” In silence, she contemplated me for a brief moment. “You know, Sean, you were the one person I trusted enough to be myself around, but you were willing to throw that away, all for some woman you don’t really even know.”

I closed my eyes halfway through her statement, because she was right, but it wasn’t that simple, and it wasn’t all my responsibility either. “And you know all
I
asked from
you
was your support, because I’d finally found someone I thought I might have a chance with. After everything that happened with Hayley, don’t you want me to be happy again?”

Trinitee chuckled, albeit bitterly, and said, “Wise up, Sean. She’s married. And considering her age, she probably has been for a long time. Probably even has kids. So why would she risk everything for
you
?” With that, she stood up, threw her backpack over one shoulder, and peered hard at me. “I was only trying to look out for you. I don’t want another Hayley episode, ‘cause I don’t think you’d survive that. And if you disregard what I have to say and go after that woman then end up hurt, I’m not sure I can be there to pull you back together. I don’t know if I can do that again. It’s too hard. But hey, it’s your life, Sean. You do what you have to. And I’ll do the same.”

She gave me a sad smile and a nod goodbye then turned on her heel and walked away.

Stunned, I plopped my ass down into Trinitee’s vacated seat and stared after her.

“What the fuck was that?” I muttered to myself.

It sounded an awful lot like a kiss-off, like she was through with me. I knew it was the hurt talking, but…wow. Talk about turning the tables. I put a hand to my chest, that rock from earlier growing heavy and hot, ready to burn a hole clear through me. It was a familiar sensation, one I couldn’t seem to chase away.

I began to panic. I didn’t know what I’d been thinking last night, to have treated her with such disregard. Trinitee had been my closest friend for a solid two years now, an amazing study partner who constantly pushed me to be my absolute best, to not just excel, but tower over every other student—except for her, of course. I rarely out-performed Trinitee. But I always tried to, at least, and that was why I’d done so well. If she was no longer around to motivate me, I feared I might fall behind.

That fear was the pain I felt on my chest, and it suddenly brought back all the memories from the last time I’d felt it. Twice, in fact. I’d pushed both of those days so far from my mind, I sometimes wondered if they were even real or simply horrible nightmares.

The first was four years ago, when my father left us. He’d had an affair, and my mom found out. They stayed together for well over a year after that, going to counseling and working hard to fix their broken marriage. They’d even adopted a child they’d been fostering, a baby born to a drug addict. But that pressure only proved to divide them further, and Mom ordered him to move out. They divorced a short time later. After that, Mom devoted all her energy to my new baby brother, Robbie, who’d since grown into a remarkably loving, happy kid, regardless of his current circumstances and what had been done to him.