The Broken Sister Part 8

"Only because I'm sober. If I was drinking we would not be here."

"You only do it when you're drinking?"

"No. I do it because..."

"Because...?" he encouraged, his eyebrows raised.

"Because I was having fun at first. You know? Just being kind of wild and different and partying. It was fun to dress up. The attention from guys and I liked..."

"s.e.x? Yes, I do know. I enjoy it as well. Always have. I had fun doing it a lot in college too. Do you ever consider what the word 's.l.u.t' means?"

"I know what it means." Her tone was bitter and confident.

"I slept around in college. I was part of a fraternity. It was one party and girl after the next."

"I would have been that girl."

"But my point is, I wasn't a s.l.u.t, was I? I never once thought it about myself, nor did anyone ever call me that. It's a f.u.c.ked-up standard."

She raised her head up. "It's just how it is."

"But you just told me you are bad. Does Ally not have s.e.x? So you think having s.e.x is what makes you bad?"

"Yes."

"Does Ally?"

"Does Ally have s.e.x?" She started to blush. Ally would kill her for discussing this with some guy she didn't even really know. He nodded, waiting. His tone had been brisk, like get to it.

"Yes. Just not like me."

"So her way is better?" His gaze was frank on her. Serious. She was now nearly peeling at the skin on her wrist. How had the conversation gone to here?

"I have no idea." She threw her hands up. "It's just different. She's more discriminating."

"I wasn't very discriminating in college, either."

She brushed her lips together. "But you must find it a little repulsive in me somehow."

"I don't. Not at all," he said bluntly. "I find it repulsive that you're judged differently than me. Must mess with your head. I considered it fun. I could and I did. Why shouldn't you?"

She didn't know why. She just knew it was considered different. She also never expected any guy, a guy she might kind of like, to take her behavior quite like this. She always considered s.e.x something to be ashamed of, to hide from, not some kind of coming-of-age right she had every justification to experience, just like he was saying he had the right.

"Can we talk about something else?"

He smiled and bowed his head. "I'm sorry. You're right. I shouldn't have pushed it. Just so you know, nothing you said here tonight changes what I think of who I've gotten to know so far, nor do I expect anything from you. Okay?"

He was good. She'd give him that. Could he read minds? Maybe. Maybe he was some voodoo mind reader who could antic.i.p.ate what women thought in order to answer them. She pressed her lips together and finally nodded. He nodded back and there was something in his eyes again. What was it? It was almost tender towards her. She didn't know what to do with it.

Dinner came. Her rice pilaf with mushroom and pine nuts steamed while his steak, nearly pink, did the same. The service was impeccable, and she couldn't even find anything to narrate or complain about how she'd do it better. And it was kind of sinful good to be on the other side of dinning out at a fancy restaurant like this one.

Her stomach was hurting. The food looked daunting to get through. There was so much of it. She carefully picked up her knife and fork. She slowly, methodically, began mixing the food on her plate, kind of shuffling it around. She put small bites into her mouth, which she just barely nibbled on. She was good at this part, looking like she had eaten something. She just couldn't tonight. He'd get mad, no doubt; she'd seen the prices for this place. He'd be p.i.s.sed he spent so much and she barely ate it. Meanwhile, his eyes seemed to close in ecstasy as he sighed after a mouthful of steak and steaming potatoes. "That's excellent."

She paused and a giggle rose up her throat. She surprised herself. When did she giggle? But their last conversation... his enjoyment of the food, the thing she so struggled to find enjoyment from. But watching him somehow pleased her.

He opened his eyes at her giggle and a huge grin split his face as he caught on to what she must be laughing at. He held her gaze and there was something... potent about it. She didn't remember the last time she'd had fun with a guy. It was like their gazes kept getting hung up on each other and were unable to diffuse. When did she ever have this kind of rapport with anyone? Maybe Olivia. That would be the only other person. Ally and her got along but there was so much of a mother hen/caregiver feel to how Ally felt about her and treated her.

She didn't put but a few nibbles in her mouth, and quickly encouraged the staff to take away her plate. Guilt sat heavily on her heart to waste his money and the food. But her stomach nerves were ruling her appet.i.te. She had none.

Conversation went easier after that. She learned about his family. His mother, he said, was an art fanatic and his dad wasn't close to him. His grandfather, a strict, overbearing, and demanding man, was also the person Tristan most worshipped and wanted approval from. She found it oddly comforting and almost sweet to picture the man before her wanting his grandfather's approval as much as she wanted her mother's. It was a surprise to picture him with any vulnerability.

Again with the manners as they left. He let her walk first, opened the doors. She had to remind herself to slow down and let him, to appreciate the gestures that oddly made her feel extremely self-conscious. She wasn't really the kind of girl who had chivalry directed her way, so it made her feel like a fraud. He waited patiently for the valet to bring his car around and then smoothly tipped him as he again opened her car door with a gentle touch to her shoulder as she slid in.

She was a nervous wreck with him, but oddly she was having fun too. She liked him. A lot. More than she had any guy, probably ever.

"You're going to think I'm lame, but I have to be to work early. I have a meeting first thing, and some things to prepare beforehand. So do you mind cutting it early tonight?"

Her heart dipped. Such a perfect and easy brushoff. How could she argue? She agreed politely, and then stared out the window as Marsdale drifted by in a parade of streetlamps, shadows, and the flashing neon lights of convenient stores and gas stations. Various-use buildings were dark but a few night lights blazed around their perimeters. The town was pretty quiet for a Monday night.

He parked right in front of her door and turned his car off. He didn't even glance her way for permission. He was getting out. Instead of waiting so did she. He waited patiently, holding the front door of her place, as she went first. He followed behind and watched as she unlocked her door. She turned towards him. This time it was not quite clear if he was coming in or not.

He stepped closer and grabbed her hand. "Why do you seem surprised I walked in with you?"

"Are you expecting something? Or seeing me to safety?"

"End of a date, Kylie, girl gets walked to the door. Haven't you ever been on a proper date before?"

She shook her head. "No."

"Even in high school? The prom? Something?"

"I went with a large group and hooked up with a guy in one of my cla.s.ses."

He tugged her closer as his other hand came up to her face and he rubbed his thumb over her lips. "You're a funny girl."

"I'm not funny. No one thinks that. And I'm not a girl."

"You are funny. But I'll explain why some other time. And you are so a girl. I'm not attracted to guys." He smiled as his mouth came towards hers.

"I meant I'm not a girl like you mean. Like young and innocent."

His mouth was on hers then as he spoke, his eyes wide on hers, so close they were nearly cross-eyed. "I know what you meant."

Her legs started to give out as he held her up and his mouth was over hers in a kiss that went on and on. She was nearly draped over his arm, which was around her waist. He'd come in. They'd have s.e.x and she'd most likely not hear from him again. She kept her eyes closed. That was probably okay. He was probably better at it than most and there would be no alcohol, so it would be remembered. All of it would be remembered and felt.

Except his lips lifted off hers and he smooched her three more times before he mumbled, "Can I come over tomorrow?"

"Here?"

"Yes, here."

He smiled against her lips and then his lips opened and his tongue was back in her mouth again and she fell against him. Finally he groaned. "I have to leave. But tomorrow?"

Why did he have to leave? He had to know he could easily press to stay. But he was simply going to kiss her goodnight?

"I have to work with a partner on a project for my Sociology of Gender cla.s.s. I don't know when we'll finish."

"What project?"

"We have to write a theoretical explanation which uses existing social theories to add to the understanding of a sociological question. We had to draw questions at random and ours was 'The Phenomenon of Mr. Mom: Redefining Masculinity.'"

"Wow. The odd stuff one does in college. I'd kind of forgotten. One of my business cla.s.ses had a group project in which we were running a fake corporation named the XYZ Corporation and we all had these hypothetical situations come up and we had to react to them and then write about if we were successful or not. I swear I always ended up doing all the work for my partner or groups."

"I hate partner work. But I swear half my cla.s.ses stress the importance. A reflection of society and the workforce now, or so they claim."

"People skills, Kylie. Always needed." His grin was quick. He touched her shoulder. "How about I call you tomorrow? We'll keep it open."

"Okay."

He smiled again. "That's a hint you have to give me your number."

"Oh, right." He handed her his cell and she quickly put her number in. He took it and she heard her own phone ping.

"There, now you have my number. See you, Kylie."

He then spun and left her there. She stared after him, confused. Happy. Pleased. Floating. She shut the door and leaned into it. He'd kissed her again. It was all hot and bothered, and then he asked to come over? She was confused about what his game was, but whatever it was, it was potent stuff.

She scooted off the door and went to call her sister with news about her date and tell her that for once it didn't end in s.e.x, even though he now knew hers usually did.

Chapter Eight.

TRISTAN STARED GLOOMILY OUT his windshield, already berating himself. What the f.u.c.k had that been?

He glared more at the pa.s.sing streetlights until he swung his car into the parking lot of his apartment building. He had dated her. He had made more plans to see her. All he'd had to do was push her into her apartment and have s.e.x with her, and she'd have let him. She'd all but told him that at dinner. She was ready and willing. She had wanted him. He could feel it in how her body melted under his. In how her lips molded to his. In how her hands clung to him. And still, he walked away?

Why? Guilt? Was his conscience kicking up? He smashed his fist into the steering wheel as he finally got out. Of course his conscience was digging at him. He was using some mixed-up, messed-up girl to further his grandfather's agenda. He was taking a highly confused and emotional and screwed-up mess of a college student and planning on messing with her more.

He just hadn't expected Kylie McKinley to be someone he... what? He didn't know. He might like her. He was strangely, oddly, attracted to her. Which was not in the plan. She was so far from his or Tommy's type that he didn't know how he could be in this position. Maybe his brother had felt some of what he felt? Impossible. Tommy was shallower than a mud puddle. He wouldn't feel attracted to the vulnerability that poured out of Kylie, when her looks said the opposite.

Tristan entered the front door of his apartment and found Morgan in there. She had texted him during dinner she was there. It was part of why he'd ended it at the door with Kylie. Partly.

But now? He knew it was more that he couldn't hurt her for no reason. She might have accused his brother, but he was already convinced it wasn't in a malicious way to get money as the rest of his family thought. It was... what? He wasn't sure quite yet. A cry for help? That seemed entirely more likely than a scam for money. She was strangely honest about herself. He'd never been on a first date where the girl highlighted her faults and the things most would consider unattractive. He'd never known a girl like her. Woman, either. He didn't get why they seemed to connect and it felt strangely, impossibly-real. But no. That could not be. They were separated by a decade and every possible thing about their lives and the fact that he was after her to use her, discredit her, abuse her.

His entire insides twisted. He leaned against the front door in disgust. He wasn't so sure he could go through with it. But what then? What did he do? There was no denying she'd made hideous accusations against his brother. His grandfather was right; those could not stand. He had to neutralize her. But maybe, he could just figure out why she said it and get her to reverse it. Take it down. She had a screwed-up sense of having had s.e.x. Maybe her guilt and the odd sense that she was a s.l.u.t for doing it somehow twisted her brain into blaming it on rape, so she wasn't guilty of it.

Even the reasoning sounded weak to Tristan, seeing as how she was so honest with telling him what went on at school. Exactly like what Tommy had said. But all that Tristan saw was that Tommy was doing the same thing with his college experience as she was, but all anyone thought of Tommy was that he was some kind of hero. Kylie? Well, she was called a s.l.u.t. She was right when she had described it, but it also wasn't right. Not at all. The double standard of both of their behaviors.

Still, it didn't explain fully how rape became a part of it.

He hadn't expected her to have a whole nice family she cared so much about, who she didn't want to think negative things about her behaviors. Behaviors that weren't any different than he or Tommy had lived in school and they weren't bad. He just hadn't ever really thought it out before until he listened to the waif-like girl describe herself. Her shame brightened her cheeks and turned her stormy gray eyes darker with regret.

He threw his keys down and Morgan turned. She sat at his dining room table, delicate gla.s.ses set on her nose as she scoured through the paperwork set before her. "Hey there, handsome."

He entered his world again and put on hold the sickening things he was thinking about doing to someone he now didn't think deserved it.

But Tommy was his brother. How could he not do something?

"So I'm off work."

Kylie smiled into her phone. He'd called! She kept her voice even as she said, "Oh yeah? I'm still doing homework."

"Well, I'm outside your door. Can I come in and wait?"

Her heart tumbled all around her chest. Holy c.r.a.p, he wanted to just come in and hang out while she and Selma worked on their "Mr. Mom" paper. She didn't imagine Tristan would actually come here. She quickly opened the door and there he stood, grinning like a boy, which was incongruent with another of his dark suits and ties. He slowly slid the phone off his ear. There was something almost sensual about his movements and the way he held her gaze. She shook her head. No, it was her extreme reaction to him.

She glanced down. She looked unlike her best version of herself from last night. She had on loose baggy black sweats and layered tank tops. Her hair was sloppily pulled back because she hadn't thought he'd come. He leaned in and softly kissed her mouth before he stepped around her.

She shut her door and felt the heat filling her cheeks. It was impossible he was there! He made her small studio seem like a locker. Selma glared at her. She quickly recovered from the shock of his casual h.e.l.lo kiss.

"Uh, Tristan, this is Selma."

"Hey." Selma glared at Tristan, then at her. "I thought we were finishing this tonight."

Tristan smiled, at ease as he started to unknot his tie. "Just ignore me. I won't disturb you. I brought food and work. Chinese. That okay?"

Selma grumbled and Tristan set it on the small kitchen counter. He leaned in and kissed Kylie's lips again before he casually strolled to her bed and sat down, pulling out some files and a notepad. She turned back, shaken to the core that he'd shown up tonight. Let alone like this. So casual. So a.s.sumed. So like a boyfriend would. Selma hissed at her, "I had no idea you had a boyfriend. Let alone some business tyc.o.o.n."

Kylie shrugged. "I had no idea either."

She tried to concentrate. In the end it was impossible. She pretended and agreed with everything Selma projected for the paper and merely typed up whatever Selma said to. Her gaze was forever pinned on the man who was sitting on her bed. He was reading something with an intensity she lacked and focus she just didn't have right then. True to his word, he never disturbed them. Only when Selma dug into the food did he get up and grab himself some, all without disturbing them. Finally Selma was satisfied and left. Kylie shut the door on her and stared at the k.n.o.b for a split second longer than she should have. Her s.p.a.ce was so small. She could smell his cologne filling it up. It had been driving her crazy. She was half dizzy from being turned on. It was torturous that he was so there, but with Selma between them, it had been so innocent. He'd just been working. Reading, rather. She hadn't been half as productive. She turned and nearly yelped. He stood right behind her, almost blocking her in.

"Hi." His voice was soft, a sensuous whisper over her. She let out a small breath she hadn't realized she was holding. His hand came to her wrist and lightly rubbed up towards her elbow. Gooseb.u.mps broke out over her skin.

"Hi," she whispered back. Her eyes widened, held captive by his. "I didn't expect you to actually come here tonight."

"No? Well, to be honest, neither did I. I was heading home and then... I wasn't. I was going through a drive-through and parking out in front of here. Anyway, I don't think you spend a lot of time expecting much for yourself."

Thrills shot through her. What did he mean? His last statement was oddly quiet. He stepped forward and reached for her. "Hungry? You didn't eat."