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TWENTY-FOUR
perfection's disguise
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WITHOUT SO MUCH as a warning knock,I threw open the door to Tristan's room. It was the middle of the afternoon the next day, and I knew if he wasn't out by now there wasn't much he'd be doing inside. I marched straight in as if the place was my own, placing my hands on my hips in a manner that could only be described as no-bullshit.
My eyes settled on the neat nature of his spacious bedroom, then sharply flickered to meet his own.
"Sienna, Jesus! What did I tell you about knocking?" he spat in annoyance, turning down the volume on his ridiculously oversized television. "If this was the other way around, all hell would break loose."
"When you and Giselle have sex... you're... careful right?" I asked abruptly, ignoring the fact that he had even opened his mouth.
I was a woman on a mission-his hissy fit about something so trivial as knocking wouldn't deter me from the real task at hand.
"Wh-what? What the hell, Sienna?" Tristan proceeded to choke on his own astonishment.
I allotted him a brief moment to collect himself, rolling my eyes. As if the question was that bizarre. I wondered when he would stop lying to all of us about his trysts with Giselle. We weren't naïve, and it wasn't like they were the only ones sleeping with each other. Rosie, Zeke, Isaiah and I beat them to the jump.
Which, now that I thought about it, was a little odd. Usually, multiple relationships within a tight knit group made things slightly difficult. 'Slightly' being used loosely. But with us, I guess we knew that none of it would be of real importance until we saw each other again the next summer.
"Answer my question," I demanded.
"No! The fuck are you talking about?" His bewilderment was written all over his structured face in big bold letters.
Tristan squinted at me dubiously, as if he could decipher my thought process by studying my face. That was laughable, he knew me better than that.
"So that's a no? You're not careful?" I asked calmly, lifting a full brow.
"That's not-I mean no, I'm not going to answer your dumbass question. What the hell are you on about?" Tristan recovered quickly. He ran a hand through his already tousled hair.
He looked as if he hadn't left his room all day. Which was most likely true.
"Why not?" I pressed.
"Because fuck you, that's why."
I stepped aside to dodge a well fluffed pillow. Scowling at him, I scooped it from the cherry hardwood floor and tucked it securely into my side in case I needed ammo.
