The Devil Wears Girl Jeans [BEING EDITED]

The Devil Wears Girl Jeans (Chapter 35)

I guess I should've been happy that Tristan was at least talking to me again, right?

Wrong.

Since the second that Halden had slammed the door behind us, Tristan hadn't uttered more than six words to me, those six words being, “I'll explain when we get there.” He had every right to be mad at me for kissing Seth, but I mean c'mon, this was the first time we'd actually communicated in almost a month, and he wouldn't even look at me.

I fidgeted in the passenger seat and sighed, sneaking a glance at Tristan. He stared straight ahead, his dark hair tucked neatly back into a knit cap, looking so familiar but entirely different at the same time. His face was still the same, but his green eyes were dull, now devoid of the happy spark that had always been there. Something had hurt him pretty badly, and I had a feeling that I might have had something to do with it.

After driving for nearly ten excruciating minutes, we turned on to Dallas's street which was a relief. I'd had a knot of dread in my stomach ever since Tristan had told me he was missing, and at least now we had a place to start our search. Not that he was here of course, but there was always a chance that maybe he'd left behind a clue or something.

Tristan pulled into the driveway and stopped behind Dallas's car, jumping out to open my door for me. Wherever Dallas was, he'd either walked there, or been taken there against his will. I refused to even consider the second option as a possibility. Dallas wasn't gone, he couldn't be.

“Ready?” Tristan asked quietly, putting his hand on my lower back and guiding me towards Dallas's front door. I tried to ignore the way that his touch sent a jolt of electricity throughout my body, especially since we'd been apart for so long. It felt foreign, but I'd be lying if I said it wasn't comforting.

My heart hammered in my chest as Dallas's mom opened the door for us, but I was unsure if it was due to worry over Dallas, or because Tristan was suddenly so close I could feel the heat of his chest through his t-shirt. I decided that it was because of Dallas, but a little part of me still wasn't convinced.

Dallas's mom eyed us both nervously as we greeted her, and she lead us to his room without saying a word.

“I don't know why y'all think you're going to find something the cops didn't.” she muttered as Tristan dug through a pile of dirty clothes, “They already said there's nothin' suspicious here. You both need to stop pokin' around in stuff that's bigger than ya. They said he'd come home on his own, and I don't doubt that.” She crossed her arms over her massive chest, and with one last spiteful glance at her sons room, she turned and slinked off down the hall leaving us to figure things out on our own.

“Okay. So you definitely need to explain this to me. If she already called the cops, why are we here?”

Tristan sighed and tossed an old shirt to the side. “I came over last night to pick him up for lacrosse practice, and his mom answered the door and told me that he was busy and couldn't go. It was a lie, obviously, because I looked over her shoulder and he was standing there with this dead look in his eyes. It was like... It was like he was a zombie. He'd obviously been crying, and it was just...it was scary man, it didn't even seem like he was the same person at all. But, uh, anyways, she told me to go without him, and so this morning I came back and knocked on his bedroom window, but he wasn't in there.”