20 Days In His Bedroom

Chapter Twenty five

"What would you like to drink?" Tristan asks.

"Nothing, thank you." I smile politely.

"No, you should," he says, already signaling the bartender.

Two glasses of whiskey are placed in front of us.

"Wait—I don't drink," I say, nudging the glass back toward him.

"Are you kidding me?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Nope, I'm serious." I grin.

"Weird," he mutters, taking a sip. Then, without hesitation, he downs the second one too.

"You come to a place like this and don't drink?"

"I didn't exactly come here on purpose. I just needed a place to think."

"Here? With all this noise?" he laughs.

"I know, it's dumb," I admit.

"You're not dumb," he says, shaking his head. "But this place isn't exactly... quiet."

"It's better than nothing." I shrug, trying to convince myself more than him.

"You wanna talk about it?" he asks, gesturing for another drink.

"About what?"

"Whatever's messing with your head."

"I don't think you really want to hear it."

"You'd be surprised," he says, smirking. "I give the best drunk advice. Wait till drink five."

"I don't trust drunk men."

"Maybe that's the kind you need to talk to," he says with a grin. "Come on, tell me something."

"I'm Twyla. Eighteen. I lost my parents in a plane crash and haven't found them. I have no home. I've been staying with a guy I barely know, hoping he'll let me stay a little longer."

"Wow," he says, raising an eyebrow. "Varmint?"

"What?"

"You called him a varmint."

"Oh." I laugh nervously. "It's... just what I call him."

"And this varmint—what's he like?"

"He kissed me," I say quietly.

"That's it?"

"Yes. That's it." I frown. "He wouldn't do anything more."

"So you sleep in his room and he just kisses you?" Tristan leans back, almost impressed. "Is he human?"

"People keep saying that, but yes—that's it. It's not like that between us."

"Why not?"

"I don't know. Maybe because he's lying to himself. He says he's not dating anyone, but I know he is."

"So let me get this straight. He says he's single, kissed you, lets you stay with him... and still acts like you don't matter?"

"I never said I don't matter to him." I bite my lip.

"Does he matter to you?"

I stay quiet.

Tristan watches me closely. "Wanna dance?"

"Oh no," I laugh. "Trust me—you don't want to see that."

"Come on, live a little."

He doesn't wait for my answer. He pulls me up and takes my hand, dragging me to the dance floor. I burst into laughter, completely caught off guard.

"Dance," he says.

"I don't know how!" I shout over the music.

"Just follow my lead."

He wraps his arms around my waist. I quickly push him away.

"What are you doing?" I shout.

"Relax," he says, leaning closer. "You need this."

"Back off," I say firmly.

He ignores me.

Just as I try to step back, Kyle appears—and everything stops.

He grabs Tristan by the collar and shoves him. The music doesn't even have time to react.

"Kyle, stop!" I scream, grabbing his arm.

"Don't touch her," Kyle growls at Tristan.

"He didn't do anything!" I cry out.

"Who the hell are you?" Tristan snaps.

"I said don't touch her," Kyle repeats, his voice deadly calm.

"Oh, is this the guy you're crashing with?" Tristan smirks. "The one who's not interested?"

Kyle punches him. I scream.

"Kyle!" I try to hold him back. "Please, stop!"

"Get away from here," he barks at me.

"No!" I stand in front of him, trying to block him.

"Go away!" he shouts, his eyes blazing.

"What are you even doing here?"

"That's all you care about?" he growls.

"Kyle, please—"

"You love him," he says suddenly. "Just say it."

"No!" I cry. "I don't even know him!"

"Then why protect him?"

"Because if he doesn't matter... you do!"

He pauses.

"I'll call the police!" someone in the crowd yells.

"Kyle," I whisper, pulling his arm again.

"Go away," he tells me.

"She'll call the police!"

"Let her."

"I care!" I say, desperate. "Don't throw everything away like this!"

"You don't care. You're a liar."

"I do care, Kyle! Please, leave him alone. I'll go with you, just... please stop."

"I'm not leaving him alone." He turns to Tristan again.

"Kyle, you asshole!" I scream, and the second I say it, I regret it—but I needed to snap him out of it.

He shoves Tristan again. I stand in front of him and push back.

"I said leave!" he yells.

"Kyle, what are you doing?! You're going to ruin everything! I need you!" My voice cracks.

"Twyla, get out of my face."

That's when Tristan pulls out a gun.

I freeze.

"Shoot me, then," Kyle dares him.

"Get out of here or I'll fire!" Tristan threatens.

"None of this means anything to you?" I scream, tears streaming down my face. "If you touch him again—I swear I'll jump into that pool and end it!"

"You won't," Kyle says, but his voice falters.

"Watch me," I whisper—and run.