Forever Could Be Ours

Chapter 14. | Feeling of Home

ALEXANDER

"Don't give me that look, Holden."

Half the USYD Campus might fall for his warm chocolate gaze, but Tristan knows I'm a private person and his best friend. He won't win this one, no matter how convincing he looks.

Tristan takes a large sip of his coffee, humming in response to my casual threat.

No matter what I say as defense, he won't believe a single thing coming out of my mouth. I understand him. I wouldn't either.

"I was correcting assignments." My convincing is just as bad as when I'm convincing him I won't call it a day before midnight at Manning. Droplets of water drip down from my hair and I run my hand through the wet strands with an exhale of defeat.

Tristan uses the palm of his hands to lift himself on the counter and taps his chin with his finger. "How could you take a girl home for the first time and decide not to tell me?"

He almost sounds insulted that I didn't invite him to my chaotic situation. "You could have asked for a condom, I know you don't have any in your drawer."

Because you used them all in one night with Rebecca Stephens after winning 6-2 against Mount Giants, asshole.

"I didn't need a condom," I shrug, earning a flash of amazement in return. My eyes widen when I realise what he's thinking but I don't get the chance to explain.

"You did the navel road? Damn Alex, I didn't think you'd have it in you–"

Navel Road. Noun, a single distinct meaningful emergency element used if the condom breaks or is typically shown if the condom stash is empty. Taught by our friend Marco, his favorite solution for skipping protection and the quickest way to a list of sex diseases.

"No, Tristan, for fuck sake. No navel road, no condom, we didn't sleep together. We had a casual sleepover." I mentally want to hit myself square across the face for saying that out loud.

Casual sleepover? What the fuck are you thinking, Reid?

"Casual sleepover?" His reaction is as predicted, his tone implying skepticism and doubt. "What are you, a fourth-grader? You know you could have invited her down right? I'm certain she would have enjoyed our company instead of being trapped in your bedroom."

I scrunch up my nose. "You make it sound like I treated her like Rapunzel."

"I'm not saying you're Mother Gothel, yet, introducing her could have been the minimum gesture. You must really like her if she slept in your bed." Tristan's head tips upstairs, the smirk growing when he realizes my face picked his bait.

Tristan is aware of my personal house rules. He can bring home the entire cast of Carmen, but nobody steps inside my bedroom - and in no circumstances sleeps in my bed. Not that I've been living the celibacy, but if I did have sex with a girl it would be at her place and I would be gone before she could get dressed.

I don't see myself as someone who's inherently protective but if Hayleigh ever walks around in her laced panties and a shirt in front of another guy, I'm gonna lose it.

Okay, I might be a little bit overprotective. It appears that all it takes is something valued to make you consider breaking every single bone in your best friend's body for looking in the wrong direction.

"I couldn't introduce her because of Mere," I say.

As expected, Tristan's eyebrows knit together in confusion. "Why would Mere be a problem?"

"Because..." My sentence is cut short by a pause, not knowing the direction of my explanation, hiding my anxiety through a deep exhale.

Tristan is the most understanding friend anyone could ever ask for, but this is so wrong, I feel embarrassed. I know for a fact if I murdered someone he would stand prepared with a shovel and gloves ready to dig a hole, no questions asked.