Hate to Love You - Chapter 30: Chapter 30

Hannah
My legs still felt weak as I bent over the bathroom sink.
Oh my God. Tristan fucking Beckett had just kissed me — gone down on me. And it had been one of the most incredible sexual experiences of my life.
I reached for the cold water tap, turning and turning until water finally started to trickle out in a weak stream. Cupping my hands, I waited until I had a handful to splash my face. It helped some, cooling my burning skin. Drying my face with a hand towel, I sat down on the toilet lid, relieving my trembling legs of my body weight.
I still couldn't believe what had just happened — what I had let happen.
As soon as I came to my senses and grasped the gravity of my actions, especially when I remembered the house full of people, I quickly made an excuse about needing the bathroom and practically bolted out of there.
It wasn't that I regretted what had just happened, but I felt overwhelmed and lost. I didn't know what to do or how to act anymore. We had never actually discussed things, so I was treading dangerous waters.
In my current state, my immediate instinct was to call Bailey. Because she'd know what to do in this situation, and she could tell me how to navigate the awkwardness that was bound to come up. But I couldn't because my stupid phone was still in my bedroom. And that was where he was.
After five minutes of sitting in silence and overanalyzing everything, my guilt forced me onto my feet, and I left the small bathroom. To my surprise, I found Penelope in front of my bedroom door, her right ear pressed against the wood as if listening for something. She was so focused that she didn't notice me approaching from the bathroom. If she'd come after I left, she wouldn't have heard anything, but the sight of her there still sent a wave of unease through me.
Had Amanda put her up to this?
"What are you doing?" I asked, folding my arms and surveying her with a suspicious frown.
Penelope jerked away from the door with a startled yelp, her round eyes betraying her panic as she realized she'd been caught. Her mouth opened and closed rapidly, searching for an excuse. "Uh... I-I was just seeing if you guys wanted a-anything? P-pizza just arrived."
Before I could answer, my door swung open to reveal a disheveled Tristan. His shirt was wrinkled from where I'd fisted it, his hair mussed from my earlier tugging, and his lips slightly swollen and red from our kisses and... other things. There was no mistaking what we'd been up to. The realization that Amanda would undoubtedly hear about this sent a surge of frustration through me, but I had no way to stop it.
Tristan's gaze cut to mine, looking for something, before he looked back down at Penelope — who stared up at him like a deer in headlights. His brow furrowed as he leaned against the doorframe, attempting to project a calm he clearly didn't feel. "Can we help you?"
"P-pizza?" she squeaked, taking a small step away from him.
He looked down at her empty hands with a raised brow and shook his head. "I think we're good, thanks."
Penelope's already flushed face reddened further. She fidgeted, her hands fluttering like trapped birds as she struggled under the weight of our combined stares. "Oh. In th-that case, I'll just... go." With a nervous wave, she fled.
Once she was out of sight, the tension between us seemed to thicken. We turned to face each other. His eyes traveled down my body, lingering on my bare legs before returning to meet my gaze. His expression was a lot more guarded now, nearly impossible to read.
"You going to run away again?"
His question made me tense, but only because he'd hit the nail on the head. Biting down on my cheek, I metered my response to keep the peace. "No. I just needed some time to process... what happened."
"What happened?" He clenched his jaw. "You mean what happened between us?" Dropping his arms, he came closer, holding my stare. "If you're having second thoughts, then you come and talk to me, Hannah. You don't tuck tail and leave me to wonder what the fuck I did wrong."
He was angry.
I opened my mouth to respond, to explain myself, but he kept going. "If I've hurt you or made you angry — or if I've triggered any bad memories — you need to tell me. Whatever it is, we discuss it together." He stopped in front of me, looking down with simmering green eyes. "No more running, okay?"
He called it running, but I called it self-preservation. And I couldn't promise not to protect myself.
"Sometimes I need space to think by myself," I explained, dropping his gaze. "We crossed a line we can't return from tonight, and I don't know how to navigate this new us. It... unsettles me." Scares me was more like it, but admitting that would make me feel uncomfortably vulnerable and weak.
He lifted his hand to cup my chin, gently tilting my face up to meet his. "When you need some space, you just have to say so." His expression softened. "But don't you think you'd get a lot more answers about us if you spoke to me? I agree that we can't go back to before, but we're not something new either. It's always been like this between us, Hannah. We've just been fighting it. Aren't you tired of fighting it? Because if not, all you're doing is delaying the inevitable."
"What us?" I whispered. "What are we? Fuck-buddies? Because I'll die before I'm ever someone's fuck-buddy."
His hand left my chin to slip under my hair and curl around my nape. "No, you'll never be my fuck-buddy." He glanced to the side briefly before locking eyes with me again. "I'd love to sit down and clearly define us — because we certainly have a lot to talk about. But not right now. And not in a hallway where anyone could just walk up on us."
I blinked, suddenly aware of how exposed we were out here. Who knew if Penelope was lurking just around the corner, still trying to eavesdrop? Although with Rihanna's voice blaring from downstairs, it was doubtful she could hear much, but the risk was still there.
I went to invite him back into my room but hesitated. I didn't completely trust myself around him, especially not around a bed. The possibility of what could happen gave me literal butterflies. I never got to see him naked, and for some reason, I had this strange urge to rectify that. Which was so ridiculous — because when was I ever desperate to see any man with his clothes off? I wasn't blind, but I'd never felt this burning curiosity before.
"Hannah."
His voice pulled me from my thoughts, and I looked up to see a glint of amusement in his eyes. "I can practically hear your brain running on overdrive," he said softly. "You think too much." He leaned down and pressed his lips to my forehead, then to my temple, sending a wave of warmth through me. "Let me stay the night."
Uncertainty continued to prickle at the edges of my mind. Even after everything we'd just done, I couldn't shake the nagging voice in the back of my mind — the one that reminded me how tired I was of regretting decisions I'd made too quickly and then hating myself for the mistakes that followed.
"Sex isn't the answer right now, Tristan."
He chuckled, stroking the sensitive skin below my ear with his thumb. "Of course not. I promised I wouldn't fuck you today."
"Does that mean you'll keep your hands to yourself?" I raised an eyebrow, skeptical.
"No, it means I'll keep my dick to myself. My hands and mouth will be all over—" I quickly covered his mouth just as someone appeared at the top of the stairs.
My brows furrowed in instant distaste when I saw who it was. Amanda, dressed in a shredded black tube dress, emerged from downstairs carrying a small tray with two frosted cupcakes. Her cleavage drew all the attention because it was one cough away from a wardrobe malfunction. She didn't look surprised that we were both out in the hallway, her eyes locking onto Tristan.
"Want a cupcake?" she asked, ignoring me entirely as she walked over. She then picked up one of the cupcakes and offered it to him. "I made them for you."
I rolled my eyes at her. "The day you actually bake anything is the day this house goes up in flames. Do you even know how to make toast?"
Her face flushed deep red, the anger unmistakable even as she plastered on an exaggerated, toothy smile — so fake it was almost painful to look at. Tristan's chuckle at my words only added fuel to the fire.
"I helped bake them," she ground out, her voice strained from holding back a retort. "They're not for you, so why do you care?"
"Really?" I raised a brow, glancing at the cupcake before plucking it from her outstretched hand and taking a bite. The familiar flavor hit me instantly — coconut and Nutella, one of Jenny's signature creations. "Wow, these are delicious. Be sure to thank Jenny for me when you see her."
I couldn't help the petty satisfaction that bubbled up inside me; messing with her was almost too easy, especially knowing she wouldn't snap back the way she usually did, not while he was here. Without waiting for a response, I took the second cupcake, ignoring her outraged gasp as I turned to head back into my room. Tristan followed behind without offering her so much as a glance and once we were both inside, I slammed the door in her furious face.
If she didn't get that hint, she was truly the most self-absorbed person I'd ever met — and her closest competitor was standing behind me, hair still tousled from my fingers.
"You guys really don't like each other, hey?"
I let out a dry laugh. "Is the sky blue?" Closing my eyes, I forced myself to take a steady breath, trying to clear the irritation before explaining, "No, we've never gotten along. Bailey thinks it's because Amanda feels threatened by me. I always thought that was ridiculous — Amanda's always been prettier and way more outgoing than I ever was. But now... I'm not so sure." I shook my head, eager to steer the conversation away from my biggest headache. "Looks like you're staying over, because there's no way I'm opening that door again. Want a cupcake?" I held up the uneaten one.
Tristan smiled, his eyes sparkling as they dropped to my lips. "You've got frosting on your chin."
I gaped. "And you're just telling me now?" Did that mean I finished my epic exit with frosting on my chin? Ugh.
Before I could wipe it away, his hands shot out, catching both my wrists as he pulled me close. My heart stuttered as he leaned in, his lips grazing my chin before his tongue gently licked away the frosting, trailing upward to meet my lips — where he pressed a slow, toe-curling kiss. No tongue, just the intoxicating heat of his mouth against mine.
His kisses made me stupid. Every coherent thought vanished as I focused on the delicious feel of him, all the tension leaving my body as I swayed closer. It was a good thing he was holding my hands or I might have squashed the cupcakes against his chest. When he finally pulled away, it took me a few seconds to open my eyes and return to reality.
I forgot we could do that. Kiss. It was all still so new and exciting, and I only wanted more.
No, wait. Not more. Still not a good idea.
"We're not doing a very good job at this whole talking thing," I murmured against his lips.
He made a small sound of disagreement, pressing another kiss to the corner of my mouth. "We're talking right now, aren't we?"
I let out a small breathless laugh. "I'd love to see you talk to your other friends like this. So, tell me, who's the best kisser on your team?"
He nipped my bottom lip playfully. "Me."
I could certainly vouch for that. He might actually be too good.
The thought made me pause, and as I lingered on it, I sobered enough to pull back with a frown. I freed my wrists from his grip and took a step back, feeling the rush of cool air replace the warmth of his body. The closeness was dangerous, and I was beginning to understand the risks of getting swept away by it. Distance was better, especially if I wanted to keep a clear head around him.
"I don't think we should continue any of this until we've spoken about what we're doing and where we're going with it."
The teasing light in his gaze faded as he realized I was serious and he nodded. "Alright." His eyes searched mine, the heat still simmering beneath the surface, only now, it was tempered with concern. "What's on your mind?"
Where did I even start? Instead of everything I thought I would say, I found myself asking, "Have you ever had a girlfriend before?"