Hate to Love You - Chapter 39: Chapter 39

Hannah
"Do you have any baby mama's?"
Tristan's lips quirked as he kept his eyes on the road.
"No."
"Are you sure?" I could see Bailey narrowing her eyes at him through the rearview mirror.
"Yes."
Given his strict stance on birth control, I didn't doubt his answer. If he had gotten someone pregnant, he wouldn't have abandoned them either. He'd have taken responsibility and stepped up as a father. He'd be a great dad; I was sure of that. He was too fun not to be.
For the past hour and a half, as we drove to the festival, Bailey had been quizzing Tristan on anything and everything. Some of her questions were insightful and informative, while the rest were random and uninformative. Like, "If you were stranded on a deserted island and could only bring one type of cheese, what would it be?"
Tristan's answer had been Cheddar — which I never thought he'd choose. So maybe Bailey was onto something with that one.
"On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate your dancing skills?"
Tristan took a moment to think about it. "I'd say a solid eight. I used to compete against my siblings in Just Dance, and I'd smoke their ass every time. The only one who could beat me was my mom."
"So you're competitive?"
"Very. Does Hannah like competitive guys?" he asked her, even though I was sitting right next to him in the passenger seat.
"Hannah finds competitive guys annoying. Especially when they talk about her like she isn't here," I answered, shooting him a faux-annoyed look.
He glanced at me, grinning. "Sorry, babe."
I couldn't help the small smile that fought its way onto my face and looked away, shaking my head slightly.
"What qualities do you like about her the most?" Bailey asked.
I tensed at this question, curious to know the answer, especially since I believed I had no redeeming qualities as a partner.
"Do you mean her appearance or her personality?"
"Hm... let's go with both, one from each."
"Easy," he smirked, "Her sass and her ass."
Bailey giggled while I groaned, letting my head fall back and hit the headrest. I should have known that would be his answer. What else was there to like about me?
But he continued, surprising me. "I also love how strong she is, and I'm not just talking about her physical strength. She's resilient, hard-working, and disciplined, but she also knows how to have fun — when she lets herself relax. She handles tough situations and comes out stronger, and that's seriously impressive. Plus, she can hold her own; you definitely think twice before messing with her."
I looked at him, shocked by that admission. He really thought all of that about me? The warmth of his words settled over me like the heat from a fire, and all I wanted to do was crawl into his arms like a baby and never let go. Because hearing that made me happy. He made me happy.
"I'm glad that you see that." Bailey nodded with approval. "So would you say you're attracted to strong women?"
He laughed, shrugging. "I guess. I haven't really thought about it. I've never been in a committed relationship, so I'm not too sure what my preferences are."
"Hmm. So then, what are your thoughts on commitment? Are you one of those guys who don't believe in it? Do you believe that love isn't real?"
"No. One day, I'd like to settle down, get married, have a couple of mini-mes — the whole nine yards. Just not for a while. Right now, I'm enjoying the freedom and all the possibilities that come with it."
Right. I had to keep reminding myself that Tristan wasn't mine to keep. Especially when, with each day, I felt myself getting too attached, emotions deepening beyond our initial deal. I'd be lucky if I still had him for the next couple of weeks. Things were bound to turn sour, sooner or later. Or he was going to get bored.
That thought sobered me.
I zoned out while Bailey continued to pester him with questions, watching the passing scenery as I thought about our situation. Had I screwed up by agreeing to this? Would it hurt when we split up?
I had purposely avoided thinking about any of it because, when I did, I felt sick to my stomach. I couldn't breathe. That was a bad sign, right?
I sighed, leaning my head against the window. This whole thing hurt my head and my heart. On one hand, I was happy — content in a way I hadn't been for a long time. But on the other hand, our eventual split felt like a dark cloud looming over our current relationship, a constant reminder that we had a time limit and the impending heartbreak that would inevitably follow.
Tristan had become an unexpected beacon of light for me, illuminating all of those wants and desires I'd long since buried in the wake of Dylan's destruction to my mental and physical well-being. Through Tristan's perseverance, his charm, and his genuine goodness — he'd become a bridge to a place I'd isolated myself from for too long. Being with him, touching him, and laughing with him made me realize that I was tired of being alone and distrustful. I no longer wanted to give Dylan any control over me, even subconsciously.
I wasn't stupid. I knew losing Tristan was going to hurt. I just wasn't confident in my ability to handle it. Would the end of our relationship leave me shattered and struggling to function? Would it be worse than my breakup with Dylan? God, I hoped not. I hoped that I was better than that.
I knew I still had a lot to work on, but things felt so much easier now. I felt lighter, happier, and more comfortable with myself. That's why if we split up, I wouldn't let myself regret any of our time spent together. Because as much as it would hurt, I'd try to look back on my time with Tristan with gratitude and fondness — for all the things he'd shown me: forcing me out of my shell when I was too scared to leave it and teaching me how to trust people, especially men, again.
I'd never hate him. I didn't think I was capable of it.
Tristan's hand, warm and possessive, settled over my thigh, and I jerked in surprise. When I looked at him, he gave me a cheeky grin, shooting me a wink before going back to focusing on driving.
The pit in my stomach deepened, overshadowing the warmth of his touch. I know I should have been happy about that little show of affection, and usually, I would be. But right now, the realization hit me hard — these fleeting moments of affection would soon become memories. His warmth, the casual intimacy, all of it would be gone.
Oh God. Was I going to be forced to watch him get with another woman? Marry her? Have kids with her? Wishing that was me? I didn't even know if I wanted kids. I didn't know if I could be a good mother — but I did know I didn't want him to have them with anyone else. But that was something for the distant future, and we didn't have one of those.
My eyes pricked at the thought, and I frowned. I wasn't going to cry. So I swallowed the lump in my throat and reached for his hand, intertwining our fingers. His hand squeezed mine, just like it did to my heart.
My eyes couldn't leave our joined hands on my lap.
It looked so right.
°•°•°•°
"Are you okay? You were really quiet in the car."
We had just stepped out of the car and Tristan had gotten several of the guys to carry our luggage to our tents. I was, of course, put in his tent, while Bailey had her own a little ways away from us. The tent I was sharing with Tristan was big and in a pretty private spot, with his car parked in front of it to hide it from other's view.
He had to leave to go sort out a few last-minute things, so Bailey and I were going to be on our own for a while. I'd probably only see him tonight when they lit the bonfire.
I forced myself to give him a reassuring smile. "I'm okay. I'm just tired. Didn't get much sleep, thanks to you."
He grinned. "Who needs sleep when you've got me?" Planting a quick kiss on my forehead, he added, "I've got to go. See you later, yeah? Take care of her, Bailey!" he called out to her before taking off towards a group of guys carrying heavy crates of alcohol. He immediately got to work, effortlessly picking up six crates stacked on each other. Both Bailey and I watched him work until he disappeared from our line of sight.
"I like him. He has my approval," she declared.
I gave her a bitter smile. "It's temporary, remember? You heard him in the car, he's not going to change his mind."
"We'll see about that." She smirked, like she knew something I didn't, and grabbed my wrist. "Now let's go explore and meet some new people before it gets crazy. We're going to turn that frown upside down."
°•°•°•°
She dragged me around to meet all kinds of weird and wonderful people, eventually succeeding at pulling me out of the weird mood I'd been in.
Vendors, organizers, and performers were in the midst of setting up their booths, stages, and equipment while tents and stalls were being erected everywhere you looked. Decorations were put up, creating a colorful and visually stunning backdrop. Someone finally managed to get all the huge speakers up because music began pumping in the background, still at a bearable volume. I was sure it was going to be deafening tonight.
People dressed in all kinds of attire, some of them in our team's merch and colors, while others wore the more typical festival wear. Bailey loved pointing out all the different outfits, especially the more risqué ones. She was no better than a man when it came to the girls in spandex.
After a couple of hours of wandering around and talking to strangers, we got hungry. So we bought some hotdogs from one of the vendors and sat down on some grass to eat them and people-watch.
She then dragged us to a tattoo booth and started discussing temporary tattoo options with the heavily tatted guy doing them. She eventually settled on a tramp stamp above her ass, getting a cute ocean-themed tattoo with pearls and seahorses, while I got a row of red mandalas down my nape.
Around one in the afternoon, the festival grounds began to fill up with thousands of people, gradually increasing as time passed. When the sun began its descent, we headed back to our tents to change. Bailey had meticulously planned and conveniently packed our outfits at the top of our luggage. She dressed me in a white corset sundress with off-the-shoulder sleeves and small purple flowers all over. My hair was pinned up in a messy but stylish updo, and she worked her magic on my makeup, finishing with bold red lipstick.
She rocked a cute silver mini dress with a low back, showing off her temp tattoo. Her smoky eye and nude lip looked professionally done — not something you'd expect to be done in a tent. We both opted for sneakers, not trusting the festival ground to stay clean and safe for any other kind of shoes.
Once we were ready, we walked towards the most crowded area, expecting to find the guys there. As predicted, they stood in a group, deep in discussion while groups of people, mostly girls, vied for their attention. Bailey groaned and said something about going to get a drink, but I stayed in place, my eyes going straight to him.
Tristan, with his arms crossed, listened attentively to another teammate, looking devastatingly beautiful. You never forgot how gorgeous he was, but when he stood next to people, it was more noticeable than usual. Sometimes it was hard to believe he was all mine.
For now, at least.
Sensing my gaze, Tristan's bright green eyes locked onto mine. The shift in his expression, from serious and focused to something darker and hungrier, was subtle but palpable. His gaze explored every detail of my attire and the extra effort I'd put in today, and a devious smile formed on his lips. It wasn't hard to guess what he was thinking. Probably the same thing as me.
Very dirty thoughts.
He patted one of the guys on the shoulder, excusing himself, and made his way to me. I straightened from my relaxed posture, waiting for him to reach me. When he did, I opened my mouth to say something, but all that left my lips was a gasp as he bent down, tucked his shoulder against my abdomen, and effortlessly lifted me onto his shoulder.
"Are you insane! Put me down!" I squirmed in his hold, placing my hands on his back and using them to lift my upper body just in time to see Bailey wave goodbye at me, grinning with a beer in hand.
"Tristan! We've already spoken about this!" I tried reaching behind me to pull the dress over my butt, wiggling my hips. "I'm going to flash everyone in this dress."
He simply put a hand over the material on my ass, effectively copping a feel while making sure the dress wouldn't ride up. I groaned in defeat, slumping into his hold. There was no winning with him.
As he carried me off, everyone's eyes followed us. Some girls even cast judgmental stares, most likely covering their jealousy while several guys cheered him on. I let my head fall so that I wouldn't have to meet any of their eyes.
There went any hopes of keeping our relationship under wraps. I should have seen this coming when I got involved with someone like Tristan. I realized that privacy meant two completely different things to us. For me, it was about shielding the entirety of our connection from the public eye. For him, it was about protecting the intimate details of our relationship.
It made sense, given his fame and lack of privacy. I probably should have been more clear about what I wanted, but oh well, it was too late now, and it wasn't like I was as careful as I could have been. I also didn't mind if all his female fans thought he was taken. It wouldn't stop all of them, but it might make some of them hesitate. That small victory felt like a win in a game I wasn't even sure I wanted to play.
"Where are you taking me?" I asked.
He slapped my ass, making me yelp and squirm in his hold. "We have an hour before the boys light the fire. I'm going to make the most of that hour by fucking your brains out."
"And you can't wait until tonight?" I huffed, blowing a strand of hair out of my eyes.
"Nope." He squeezed my ass cheek. "Saw you in that dress, looking good enough to eat, and couldn't resist the easy access. You should wear them more often. Dresses, skirts — that kind of shit."
"So that it's easier for you to fuck me?"
"Exactly."
"How romantic," I said dryly, eyeing his toned ass as he walked.
"That's me — Romantic Randy." He sounded cheerful.
I groaned in annoyance, but it was half-hearted. Already, my body was responding, nipples beading and anticipation igniting within me. I found myself wanting him to speed up, eager to reach our tent sooner and escape the prying eyes of the festival so that I could have him all to myself.
What had he turned me into?