‴ Wild Flower

nine

chapter nine
-tw sensitive subject-
✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

ITS BEEN WEEKS, and Tristan's apartment was full of boxes, open suitcases, and all my bags from home.
The moving was closer than ever.

The new apartment looked like a real house.
Everything became real. 

I was sitting on the floor, bare face and my hair pulled back, i was quite exhausted.

We had been drowning in errands all week—finalizing paperwork, making phone calls, arranging deliveries. It felt like every second was consumed by something, and Tristan had been busy with work through most of it. His hours at the office didn't leave much time to help, so i spent most days packing on my own.

But now Tristan was across the room, standing over a box he was taping shut with smooth, deliberate movements. He didn't say much as he worked, his dark brows furrowed in concentration. His shirt clung to his back in a way that made it hard to look away, but his serious expression kept me from saying anything.

His broad shoulders stretched the fabric of his shirt, and the way he stood—so tall, so solid, he affected me.

Tristan was very attractive.

My gaze traced the strong line of his jaw, the faint stubble that only added to his effortless masculinity. His arms, so defined even when relaxed, crossed over his chest as he shifted his weight, and it was suddenly hard to focus on anything else.

He wasn't just attractive in the way I'd thought other men were before. He was something else entirely.

I broke the silence instead. "I got a gig tomorrow," I said, my voice casual, though I didn't look up.

"What is it now," he asked, his voice was low and effortless. It always was.

"Just a small shoot," I said. "It's nothing big, but it'll help." I knew im not gonna be a big model.

I wanted that my whole life, but I was realistic.

Tristan straightened, tossing the tape dispenser onto the coffee table. He leaned against the couch, his eyes fixed on me now. His gaze had a way of making you feel exposed.

"Why didn't you start earlier?" he asked, his tone direct. "With the way you look you could've been doing this for years." He added, and he was right.

Girls with features like mine got successful at a very young age. I was tall enough, slim and skinny, and my features were bright. My hair was long and blonde, and my eyes were big and green, what agencies look for at young girls. And I knew that fact, i gave up.

My whole body froze from his question.
"There was no time." I said quietly with a sad smile.

That was not how I wanted him to find out, but i had to. It was a part of me, and so as Tristan now. Whether I was ready for it or not. I owed him that.

Tristan tilted his head slightly, his dark green eyes narrowing. "What do you mean?"

I hesitated, my stomach twisted. I could feel his gaze on me, waiting, his presence both steady and overwhelming. I knew I couldn't dodge this. Not with him. He wouldn't let me. And maybe he shouldn't.

"I couldn't do it then. When I was younger," I tried to get it out, but I couldn't. Just kept talking nonsense.

"Why not?"

I felt like I can't breathe, like something took all my air out. "I, I wasn't in the right place for it," I said slowly, my voice almost a whisper. "I was sick."