Addicted...

Chapter 12

Trystan starts putting his clothes back on and he just chuckles at my disturbed, shocked face.

"Your staring is a bit blunt you know." Trystan states. I just look away briefly and when I look back at Trystan he is sitting on the couch again.

"Take your shot Becka." I know what he's trying to do. He's trying to change the subject to distract himself from the fact that he just exposed his darkness to me.

It's true what they say... Don't judge a book by it's cover. Because Trystan was naked before me, yet I didn't see any of his scars. Then I think I know something about him and I find out I don't. I misjudged him. I know he's broken and bruised, but I didn't look. I didn't know. I'm fucking pathetic.

I grab my shot of choice from the living room table and throw it down my throat. I take another and do the same. I repeat the action once more and Trystan's voice becomes clearer.

"Becka stop. Becka! I thought we're just playing a game. What the fuck. Stop. You'll get sick."

I ignore Trystan altogether and down the last shot that is standing on the table. I stand up and I almost trip over the edge of the sofa and I walk to the other side of the living room table. I grab a bottle of vodka and the whipped cream and walk to my room. Trystan stays quiet the whole time just watching me.

I slam my door shut and fall down next to my bed. I lie there on my stomach for a while, scolding myself.

I sit up with my back against my bed with my legs towards my closet. I hear a faint knock on my door but I ignore it. My eyes brim with tears when my door opens.

"My eyes are closed. I promise I did knock, I just had to make sure you're fine. By the way. We are never playing that game again. I'm going to fuck up a window if we do. I don't want you getting upset. I don't understand girly emotions hormones stuff but I know that shit that just happened isn't normal for girls. Or any girl. Neither for you. I know you get more upset. Fucking ouch!" Trystan suddenly cuss out in pain. He fell over the end of my bed because he was walking while babbling to me.

A heartbreaking sob rakes through my body. "Open your eyes doofus." I get out through sobs. Trystan sits down next to me and takes a large swig of the vodka he brought with him. I do the same and I calm down a bit. I try stealing a glance at Trystan and I can see he is crying silently.

I reach out and take his hand in mine and just like he did with my hand, I turn his hand so that fingertips are facing upwards and I kiss his fingertips one by one. Gently. I caress his coarse hand with my lips as if he is a fragile piece of porcelain. He's already broken enough...

***

I forgot about having a hangover last night so Trystan and I had a race of vodka shot drinking. Not our best idea ever.

I get up and take a cold shower to sober up.

I am calling in sick to work today. Gemma just has to cover for me. And technically I'm not lying about being sick. I puked before I got in the shower.

I stroll back into my room to look for my phone to call Gemma. I can't find it anywhere so I walk to the living room to search for it. As soon as I enter the room I see Trystan on the sofa in only his sweatpants. No shirt.

No shirt!

On top of that he's pouting.
He's pulling funny faces. And he has my phone in his hands. He's taking selfies?

Holy fuck!