I rushed to the bathroom door and slammed the door shut. I went to the sink and turned on the cold water. I leaned down and considered drowning myself in. I considered opening my jeans and stuffing my dick into the sink, too.
This was bullshit. This had to stop.
I couldn’t touch her again. I couldn’t kiss her. I couldn’t fuck her.
I had to keep to the plan.
Just keep her alive.
12.
(Winter)
I lost track of the days because they all started to blend together. The first night was the worst though. Tripp ordered food and went to pick it up. He left his gun under the pillow on the bed and told me to kill anyone who wasn’t him.
We ate in silence. We barely talked. I lay in the bed that night as he stood on the balcony. Part of me wanted to wake up and find him next to me, but that didn’t happen. He slept on the floor.
It then became rinse and repeat.
We left the motel to walk for food, to do laundry, and I got Tripp to break down and actually take me to the beach. That lasted all of twenty minutes and consisted of him constantly looking around, not enjoying himself. Yeah, we weren’t there on a vacation. We were there to hide and survive. I was fully clothed, couldn’t enjoy the atmosphere. I locked myself in the bathroom after that for an hour and cried. When I emerged, Tripp was on the balcony again, on his cell phone. One hand to his ear, the other waving like crazy.
He was pissed.
Probably about taking care of me.
I had been nothing but a liability from day one - not just to Tripp either.
That night I considered bolting. If it meant stealing his car, then I would do it. I could get on the highway and go east. As far east as I could make it before I’d figure out a plan or get caught and killed.
I fell asleep with intentions of doing just that. When I woke a few hours later, Tripp was at the door. Sitting at the door, asleep. One leg up, a hat down over his face, his keys in his hand. It was like he knew what I was thinking. He was fucking with me even worse than when he talked to me and touched me.
The worst part of it all was feeling stuck. I didn’t want to go home because there was no home for me. The converted garage was owned by the MC. It had been Rocky’s place and now the MC had their hands on it. Which was fine. This wasn’t my dream house or dream town. I was like a wave in the ocean; just going with the flow. Moving along, pushing to the shore, pulling back, doing it again and again.
I was outside on the balcony watching the water, a nice breeze blowing from the side. I begged my mind to slip away. It started to do just that when I heard the door slide open.
Tripp then stood next to me. Black jeans. A white shirt that seemed unfair to fit his body the way it did. For the love of everything, I could see the ripples of his stomach when the wind pushed the shirt tight to his body! I couldn’t remember the last time I felt really turned on and really able to be pleasured. There was a difference between coming and feeling good while coming.
We stood there for a little bit.
“At night,” Tripp said.
“What?”
“That’s when we’ll go down and walk around. I promise. I know you want to go down there right now. But I don’t want to risk anything. I’ve been talking to Stoney and he’s had guys around the house for days. No sign.”
“Do you trust him?”
“Do you?”
I smiled. “I don’t know.”
“Yeah, well, we’re going to be seeing him tomorrow anyway.”
“Oh?”
“I have to fight Harlan.”
I heard the words and froze for a few seconds. “Wait. You have to fight Harlan?”
“Yeah. When I was there the first time, he suggested it. He wants to see me fight. I figured it would only be fair. Plus, I haven’t had a fight since…”
I saw Tripp turn his head.
I reached for his arm. “Hey. What happened?”
He pulled away. “Nothing. It doesn’t really matter.”
He started to move toward the door and I scrambled to do anything to keep him near me. My brain ran fast.
“Beer?” I called out.
“What?”
“You and me. Beer. I mean, let’s get something to drink. Beer and pizza? Something to eat? It’s almost the end of the day anyway, right? We can hang out, have a couple drinks, maybe talk?”
“Now you want to talk?”
“If it breaks up this tension,” I said. “I hate this, Tripp. I know you don’t want to be here. Neither do I. So… you can ask me anything.”
“Did you ever fuck anyone else in the MC?” he asked, so quick and bold, as though it had been burning in his mind for a while.
“No,” I said. “I’m not that kind of person, Tripp. I haven’t been with… I’m not that kind of person.”
Tripp didn’t make a move, didn't change his expression. “I have one more question.”
“Okay.”
“Plain or pepperoni?”
I smiled. “Pepperoni works for me.”
And a side of you, Tripp.
13.
(Tripp)
I threw the crust into the box and let out a groan. I was full. We sat on the floor, my back against the wall, Winter across from me, legs bent, hugging her knees. There was a pizza and a half gone and we were well into our second six pack.
“You can’t waste the crust,” she said.
“Like fuck I can’t,” I said.