I shove my hands back into my hoodie. Time ticks. Tristan isn’t slow, but he weighs his decisions. I saw him do so when he was the Ghost, but the habit belongs to Tristan himself.
“It does have something to do with me.” The planes of his face are sharp. Hard. A serious expression on his face all night. “Since I’m your bodyguard and all.”
I clamp down on my lower lip. This is not what I signed up for.
“I brought Hallow up because I wanted you to have a say,” Tristan explains, his voice low but steady. Does he think I’m a horse, about to get spooked? “Your friends have said you’re getting a bodyguard. Who do you want footing the bill?”
“Hadrian.”
Tristan gets that funny look on his face again. “Is there a reason for your preference?”
Yeah, I don’t want Ren all up in my business. “It’ll be better for your business—him paying double—won’t it?”
Tristan’s jaw ticks. “My business is just fine.”
Great. One more misstep for the night.
Perhaps it’s the kid in me, always wondering if mum had enough money for groceries, that makes me stockpile money. Wouldn’t he want the same? Pad the coffers of his new business.
“Oh, well?—”
“I’m going to take the spare bedroom. You cool with that?”
I’m more than ready to go hide in my bedroom. “Yeah. Make yourself at home. I’m going to, um. . .”
Drown myself in the shower.
I flee down the hallway, which leads to two bedrooms, the bathroom sandwiched between. When I glance over my shoulder, I see him pull out his phone again.
I grab clothes from my bedroom and take shelter in the bathroom.
“Oh, shit.” I wiggle my toes, realizing I need to trim my toenails. This is exactly why I wouldn’t make it onLove Island. Though, in all fairness, when I woke up today, I didn’t expect to find myself suddenly living with a man.
“Your crush no less,”Sammie’s ghost tells me.
I shoot her a look in the bathroom mirror. She smirks, but when I blink, her image dissipates.
Which means for the first time in hours, I’m finally alone. I take a deep breath, trying to clear my mind.
You’re gonna be fine. I repeat the mantra over and over again. Except when I step into the shower, I realize I only grabbed a giant cotton T-shirt. It’s so oversized that the soft fabric barely touches my skin, but it occurs to me I should have grabbed some shorts. Hopefully, Tristan will have wandered into his room when I leave the bathroom.
Or maybe he’ll be waiting to use the bathroom.
“Shit.” The bottle of shampoo in my hands slips. Itclatters against the white tub, the noise causing me to grimace. Hot water pelts my face, my hair tangling in front of me. I drop to my heels, grabbing at the damn bottle that keeps sliding around. “Fuck’s sake!”
Why hadn’t I spotted the man before he shot at me?
My palms slap over my eyes, pressing until I see color. It distracts from how my chest constricts, but it does nothing to stop the water running between my fingers. But it’s not water from the showerhead. It’s tears.
This is from Cade.
CHAPTER 3
Tristan
Iflick off the last remaining overhead light and let out a sigh. Without the glare of the lights, the pressure on my head slightly eases.
It also helps that there are no more overly tanned men and women prancing around in swimsuits. Seriously, no man, reality star or not, needs to be walking around in a Speedo.