Chapter Text
(Mid-October – Thursday Afternoon, at Jac’s)
I wasn’t going to let him come over.
All day I’d been avoiding him — dodging his glances, laughing too loudly at things that weren’t funny, pretending that I hadn’t felt his hand on my lower back between third and fourth period.
But he still texted after school.
Tristan: “Physics, right?”
Me: “Sure.”
Tristan: “I’ll bring snacks.”
Me: “Whatever.”
He shows up at 4:12 with two Snapples, a bag of pretzels, and that crooked half-grin he always uses when he knows I’m lying.
Jess opens the door. Glares. Walks away without a word. Tristan doesn’t flinch.
I don’t even bother pretending we’re going to study. I lead him straight upstairs.
Once the door is shut, he sits on the edge of my bed, hands dangling between his knees like he’s not sure if he should touch me.
I take the decision from him.
I kiss him. Hard.
It’s fast, almost desperate. I climb into his lap, fingers already pushing his jacket off, tugging at his collar, anything to stop the questions I don’t want to hear.
He kisses me back just as eagerly, but something’s off.
He slows down.
His hands settle on my hips like he’s trying to steady me, not take more from me. His lips linger against mine like he’s savoring this, not trying to get it over with. His eyes open mid-kiss and search mine like he’s looking for permission.
I pull away.
“I thought we weren’t doing feelings,” I whisper.
His brow furrows. “I’m not… I mean, I’m just here.”
“Then stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like this means something.”
He blinks. “Jac—”
I kiss him again to shut him up.
It’s not romantic. It’s not slow.
It’s strategy.
If I can keep this physical, keep it simple, keep it skin and lips and tangled bedsheets and nothing else, then maybe I won’t have to admit what’s happening to me.
Afterward, we lie there in the half-dark of my bedroom, breathing hard. My heart’s racing, not from the rush, but from something I don’t want to name. I turn my head to look at him. He’s staring at the ceiling, mouth slightly open, chest rising and falling like he wants to say something but won’t.
I beat him to it.
“So, still friends?” I say, too brightly.
He looks at me, slow. “Is that what you want?”
“Isn’t that what we said?”
He hesitates. “Yeah.”
I nod like that settles it. Like the tight feeling in my chest isn’t screaming at me to run.
He leaves twenty minutes later. He kisses my temple before he goes.
I pretend it doesn’t undo me.