Addicted...

Chapter 19

Trystan is goofing off between the stalls. Putting on ridiculous clothes and modeling for me. Right now I must say he's rocking a torn fedora and massive sunglasses. I can't help but laugh every time Trystan comes up with a new item idea. To be honest in the hour we've been here Trystan only fooled around. We don't have clothes yet.

I just giggle when I see Trystan reaching for a bright and patterned scarf that is discarded from the rest of the items on sale. I pull Trystan away from the temptation of putting ons something else that is cringe worthy. We really need to find clothes now.

We don't search far until I find a loose fitting black long sleeved shirt with white stripes. I match it with a jean short that looks like it was just a regular jean that was cut off at an earlier stage. I also get cheap beach flip flops to match seeing I only have my combat boots here.

I proceed to help Trystan find clothes because if he has to do it alone he'd most likely get that torn fedora with a jock strap. Not that he'd look bad, because let's face it, it's Trystan. He can make a potato sack look good.

I find him a black ripped skinny jean with a perfect fit black T-Shirt that only has white and grey stripes over the shoulders. Trystan luckily also wore his combat boots so he has an outfit.

Now for the part of getting back to that shitty motel to get wasted and wash our current clothes we have on. I'm just thankful for Trystan making me forget about this morning with his silliness. His constant corny jokes is not only making me laugh, it's making my stomach hurt.

No one will ever know how much I appreciate being with this amazingly good looking smug asshole right now. He might have just saved me from having a panic attack today and that is something no one has ever been able to do. What the fuck is he doing to me?

With that thought in mind a heavy silence falls over the car until we get to the motel.

***

The motel doesn't have a washing facility so I'm currently scrubbing both Trystan and my own clothes with my hands. This wouldn't be the first time in my life that I have to scrub clothes like this. Only difference is this time I'm doing it voluntarily.

I hang our clothes over the gross sofa I didn't want Trystan to sleep on. I guess it's true what they say, you've got to make use with what you have.

I could really use a drink right about now. This has been a long day. I walk over to the bed where Trystan is already drinking his second beer. I take a can for myself and sit as far away from Trystan as possible.

We sit in silence. Neither one of us are willing to start a conversation so we just slurp on our drinks. I look down to my lap where I'm sitting cross legged. I kind of like this outfit, but some of my scars are on display and it irritates me knowing Trystan pities me because of it. I play with the hem of my shirt nervously. I took my bra off too because I like how this shirt is so loose fitting but it covers everything as well.

"You know Becka, you're fucking with my mind right now." Trystan is the first to break the silence but to say I have no idea what he means is an understatement.

He must notice my perplexed look because he continues, "You shut me out completely one moment and the next you allow me to sleep next to you with my hand resting on one of the most perfect tits I've felt. You tell me you don't want pity, but yet you display your scars for me. You talk to yourself telling yourself how goddamn ugly you are when in fact you're sitting there right now, so fucking unaware of how beautiful you really are."

I stare at Trystan with furrowed brows and my jaw on the floor. What the fuck?

I stand up and walk around the bed to the couch to get a bottle vodka. I open it and drink straight from the bottle. I only feel satisfied when I've emptied half the contents down my throat. The burning sensation in the back of my throat and on the tip of my tongue is the best feeling ever.

I take a few more gulps and close the empty bottle and place it on the couch. I turn around to head towards the bathroom but I walk straight into Trystan. Fuck no. I can't deal with this right now. He's such a dick.

I try to walk past him but he gently tugs my arm and pull me back towards him. I don't even have enough time to process what is going on when his lips engulf mine.

I stay frozen in the spot. Not reciprocating the kiss because I just drank a whole bottle of vodka. My breath is probably reeking of alcohol. Trystan had two beers but his breath doesn't smell like anything. How the fuck is that possible? I push Trystan away and walk past him to the bathroom. If I'm going to be making out with a sex god I at least want to smell like something other than an alcoholic.

I put a bit of toothpaste on my tongue and gargle it with a sip of water. I walk back out to see Trystan sitting on the couch with his head in his hands with his elbows on his knees. I hear him cussing himself for forcing himself on me. He must not have hear me come out of the bathroom.

I take a stand in front of Trystan and gently lift his arms from his knees. He looks up at me, studying me with great curiosity. I push his chest back slightly so his back is resting against the back of the couch. With his hands still in mine I slowly put my legs over his so I'm straddling him. I place his hands on my ass and fully lower my body onto his, feeling his bulge press against my wetness.

"Tell me Trystan, is it forcing yourself on someone if the other person wants it too?"