Wreck Me (Nova #4)(15)
Author: Jessica Sorensen

“That’s good… that I’ll get to see you.” He seems conflicted though, like he kind of wants to run away, and I kind of want him to because I’m having the same problem with him as I did the first time.

Push.

Pull.

Run.

Stay.

Tristan doesn’t know much about my life, but he knows more than most, like how long I’ve been sober, how many tattoos I have, and then he met Conner. But he doesn’t know the story behind Conner, or know about Mason, know what my story is, where my scars come from or how severe they are both mentally and physically. Then again, no one really knows my story.

Only me.

And the stars.

I also learned a few things about him, like how he used to be addicted to drugs. I wonder if he’s clean right now.  His eyes do seem clearer, and he doesn’t appear twitchy or out of it. Still, sometimes it’s difficult to tell.

Suddenly, his adorable smile enlarges and I realize I’ve been staring at him for at least a minute.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks curiously.

I shrug with indifference even though my heart accelerates. “Like what?”

His eyes sparkle mischievously. “Like you’re picturing me naked. You know, the same way you looked at me back when we first met.”

The corners of my lips threaten to turn upward. “Not funny.”

“Oh, I wasn’t trying to be funny. Just stating a fact.”

I roll my tongue in my mouth, biting back a grin. “Cute. Really cute. I forgot how cute you are.” My voice drips with sarcasm.

“Aw, and now she’s calling me cute.” He presses his hand to his chest, appearing touched, but his voice is playful, flirtatious. Still, beneath it is a hint of nerves just like there was the night we hung out.

Nervous or not, I’m already getting in over my head with him again so I do the only thing I can think of and change the subject.

“So have you been living in North Carolina for a while?”

He seems thrown off by my random, non-flirtatious question. “Yeah… I left for a little bit but have been back for a few weeks now.”

I inch out of the way as an older guy walks up to go inside one of the outhouses. “Are Nova and Quinton with you?” I look around for them.

“Yeah, Nova and Quinton are here. I actually just got back here this weekend.” He stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jeans and rocks back on his heels. “I had to go home for a little bit.”

“Where’s home exactly?”

His face twists with animosity, but it seems like a subconscious reaction. “Wyoming.”

“Wyoming?” I slant my head to the side and inspect his expression intently. “Are you lying to me?”

“Um, no. Why?”

I point at myself. “Because that’s where I’m from. I actually moved here like five years ago.”

“Really?” His brow arches. “What town are you from?”

“Grey Oaks.” I don’t bother telling him that I’m technically from The Subs because even now I’m ashamed of that fact. Honestly, if I told him I was from there and then told him about my past, he probably wouldn’t be that surprised.

“Get out,” he says. “I’m from Star Grove.”

“You’re such a liar.” How could that be possible? How could he possibly have lived only an hour away from where I grew up? “You are fucking with me, right?”

“I’m being serious.” His expression matches his words, making me believe him.

“That’s so weird that we only lived like an hour away from each other.”

“I know,” he agrees. “I’m surprised we never crossed paths.”

I’m not, considering how many pretty boys stepped foot into The Subs. I only ever saw one and he’s one I wish I’d never seen.

When thoughts of Conner claw into my mind, I try to clear my head. “I’m still confused though.”

Now Tristan looks confused. “About what?”

“About you and Star Grove and the fact that I thought only cowboys lived there,” I tease, unable to help myself. He’s making me so anxious that I feel like I’m going to explode from the jitteriness.

“Well, maybe I’m a cowboy at heart,” he says with a devilish grin. “Of course, that really all depends.”

“On what?”

“On if you’re into cowboys.”

“I know you’re not a cowboy.” I hitch my thumb through the loop on the tool belt. “You don’t have the look.”

He chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “And what look would that be? Cowboy hats and cowboy boots?”

I shake my head and do a little strut, exaggeratedly using my shoulders and legs. “First of all, you don’t have the bow-legged walk.” He laughs at me and I touch my hair. “And you don’t have hat hair.”

“Hat hair?” he questions. “What’s that?”

I ruffle his hair, which is amazingly soft. “You know the flat style your hair gets when you wear a cowboy hat.”

He’s grinning at me, his eyes deepening to a shade of ocean blue as he gives me the same look guys do whenever they’re getting turned on.

I quickly withdraw my hand, vowing to keep my fingers to myself from now on.

“Okay, you caught me,” he says as his lustful gaze becomes more sweltering than the sun. “I’m not a cowboy.”

“Good, because I’m not into cowboys.” And now I’m flirting again. Great, just great. I’ll be a disaster for repeating history if I’m not careful.

My scars suddenly feel ten times thicker and heavier, reminding me why I have the no guy’s rule. Pull or not, I didn’t come back to repeat my mistakes. I was given another chance at life and promised myself I’d do better and that it wouldn’t be about me. Promised I’d figure out why I’m here, which isn’t to flirt with guys, even hot, entertaining one’s who protected me one night.

“So other than this and visiting home, what have you been up to?” I ask, desperate to keep the conversation simple.

He shrugs, seeming a little sad. “Not much, but that’s kind of my M.O.”

“I doubt that’s true.”

“Nope. It’s totally true.” He’s attempting to smile it off, but it’s clear he’s bothered by his words.

“Well, what do you do in your free time now?” I ask, partially because I want to get to the bottom of if he’s sober without actually having to flat out ask.