All the air rushes out of my lungs and my knees give out, sending me crashing back onto my bed.
Scrubbing my hand down my face, I try to drag my head out of the gutter and shove the image from my mind of her round little ass staring up at me with my glowing red handprint across it.
It doesn’t fucking work, though, and before I know what I’m doing, my hand is inside my sweats, my fingers wrapping around my length.
Tristan: You’re trouble, Pip.
Pip: Just the way you like me. Think how boring your life would be if I were a good girl.
Tristan: I always thought you were. You’re ruining the illusion.
Pip: Then you need to look closer.
“Yeah, or run in the opposite direction as fast as you fucking can, Carver.”
Tristan: I’m gonna crash. Got a stupidly early class in the morning.
Pip: Boo, you’re boring.
Tristan: I’m sure there are plenty of boys your own age who want to stay up all night talking to you.
Pip: What if I don’t want to talk to them?
Tristan: Night, Pip. I’ll see you for lunch tomorrow.
Pip: Can’t wait. *winky emoji*
“Christ, Pipsqueak.” Do you have any idea what you do to me?
Unable to leave it there, I send her a kiss emoji—because yes, my best friend’s little sister turns me into a fucking teenage girl—and then I shut our conversation down and shove my cell under my pillow in the hope I can shove my cravings for her away with it.
Unfortunately, it’s not that easy, and as I lie there staring up at the ceiling, all I can think about is her.
“Goddamn it, Violet.”
Giving it up as useless, I shove my sweats down over my hips and do the only thing I can that will rid me of my boner. Well, the only thing I’m willing to do when it comes to her.
“Fuck,” I hiss, jerking myself violently in punishment for once again having the image of her body in my mind while getting myself off.
There is something fucking wrong with me.
“Promise me, Tris. Promise me that whatever happens after this, you’ll take care of her. I need to know that she’s going to be okay.”
“Fuuuuck,” I groan, coming all over my hand like a pathetic douchebag who spends all his days locked in his room or watching a bunch of guys running drills and plays.
This time last year, I was getting ready for my second season as a Titan and living my best life.
Oh, how the mighty fall…
“Tris!” Her soft yet excited voice hits my ears as I stand outside the coffee shop where we agreed to meet for lunch, and when I spin around, I find her running toward me before she jumps into my arms.
“Oh shit,” I grunt, stumbling back and colliding with the wall.
“Oh fuck. I’m sorry, did I hurt you?” she asks in horror as she fights to get away from me.
“I’m fine, Pip,” I assure her, pulling her back for a hug when she tries to escape. “I missed you, kid,” I say into the top of her head, enjoying the warmth of her body pressed up against mine way more than I should.
I might have been back on this side of the country for a few weeks, but with both of us moving into new places, and me spending all my time working, training with the team or doing my own physio, we haven’t found the time to catch up in person.
Not that it really matters. As she pulls back from me and I look down into her eyes, it feels like no time has passed since she surprised me not long after I ripped my ACL by turning up at my front door to be my nurse. Sadly, she didn’t come armed to be that kind of nurse. Didn’t stop my overactive imagination though, as she helped me around my apartment and with the exercises I’d been given to build my strength back up.
“I can’t believe you’re really here.”
I hold my arms out from my sides. “You missed me?” I ask with a smirk.
“Meh.” She waves me off. “I’m starving, come on. We’ve gotta make it a quickie, remember?”
“I remember,” I mutter, following her inside and trying—and failing—to stop my eyes falling to her ass in the almost indecent shorts she’s wearing. “Decided against real clothes today then, huh?”
“Dude, you’re letting your age show. All the boys love them, right?” she asks loudly, looking over my shoulder at two unsuspecting guys who are innocently waiting to order food.
Both of them turn beet red as they run their eyes down her body, finally landing on her ass when she flashes them.
“Jesus, Vi,” I hiss, placing my hand on the small of her back and pushing her forward.
“What? It’s not my fault if the freshmen can’t handle it.”
“What happened to that sweet little girl who blushed the second someone said a bad word?” I whisper, barely able to believe that the firecracker with curves for days standing before me is the same person.
“She grew up, Tris. That girl is long gone. Poof,” she says, making a little explosion gesture with her hand. “Up in smoke.”
She might say it lightly and with a smile on her face, but I see the dark shadows in her eyes those words drag up.
Unable to stop myself, I drop my eyes down the length of her as my thumb brushes along my bottom lip. “So you have, Pip. How many guys do I have to warn off you in the next two years?”
She places her hands on her hips, her eyebrows jumping up. “Um… none. I am a strong, independent woman. I am more than capable of fighting off the guys who don’t give me the flutters.”
“The flutters?” I ask, but when her eyes alight with mischief, I realize my mistake. “No, don’t answer that.”
“Tris,” she says. Her brows pinch as she steps closer to me. “Are you blushing?”
“N-no, of course—”
“Next,” the guy behind the counter calls, thankfully rescuing me from whatever the hell I just walked into.
She’s just that annoying little kid, I tell myself. Roman’s irritating little sister… who now has a spectacular ass and a great rack. But still his little, off-limits sister.
Fuck. Why did I think coming back here was a good idea?
“What?” I ask, lifting my hand to wipe my mouth, assuming I’ve got a giant blob of mayo somewhere as Violet stares at me.
“Nothing. You look… happy,” she says with a soft smile.
“I am,” I confirm. “Being back here, it feels… right, I guess.”
“I was worried,” she confesses.
“Aw, Pipsqueak. You don’t need to worry about me.”
She glares at me, lifting one brow in the process.
“Tris, you’re my…” She sighs, seemingly unable to come up with the correct term.
“Friend?” I offer, although the word tastes bitter on my tongue.
“That seems a little weak after everything, don’t you think?” Reaching across the table, she squeezes my hand.