restored love

14

OLIVIA

Tristan went back to his apartment and I chose to hang with Alyssa for longer until I felt tired. I let out a weary sigh before unlocking the door to his apartment.

I flick the light on and nearly jumped in shock as I notice a figure sitting on the couch. I held my hand to my chest. "Holy shit Tristan," I murmur to myself.

He scared the shit out of me. "I thought you went to bed." I say, hanging my jacket on the coat rack.

He didn't answer. "Tristan," I call out as I walk towards the couch to face him.

I freeze once my eyes catch on to the bottle of alcohol in his hand along with the empty bottles piling up on the table. 

My heart began to pound as I clench my sweaty palms into tight fists. His eyes shoot up to meet mine, "I can't sleep." he slightly slurs.

Oh, God. He's drunk. I start to back away and he stands up. "Tristan please." I try to plead with him, holding my hand out to stop him. He finishes the rest of his drink in one large gulp.

"Why are you walking away from me?" he asks, furrowing his brows.

I clear my throat as I freeze in my position. "I'm not." I try to say as convincingly as possible.

If Tristan wasn't drunk he would have known I was lying because of how watchful he is but now that he's drunk, he'll believe my lies.

He walks up to me and my head immediately drops. My eyes studied the floor beneath us.
Don't look at him.
He'll hurt you if you look at him.

"Olivia," he says, his tone playful.

"Yes," I whisper.

"Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?" I could hear the amusement trickling in his voice. He wasn't attempting to frighten me. He was just being Tristan but fuck I was terrified.

I shake my head. "Tristan please move back." I say, chewing on my bottom lip nervously.

I could smell the alcohol in his mouth. I wanted to throw up. He goes silent for a second before moving away from me. "Stay here." he slurs.

It's Tristan. Not my father. Tristan won't hurt me. I try to reassure myself but my hands would not stop trembling. "Sit down on the couch Olivia," he demands.

I approach the couch and sit down slowly. He walks over to the kitchen and I watch him carefully. He grabs two bottles of water from the fridge and chugs them. I shift my attention back to my shaky hands as I begin to rub them against the fabric of my trousers. I let out a small hiss as I gaze at the red inflamed skin coating my palm. I hear heavy footsteps and I force my attention back to Tristan, who sat with me.

"I'm not completely sober but I'm well enough to ask you what the fuck just happened," he says, placing his cup of coffee on the table.

I turn to face him. His eyes were full of concern and confusion. "Nothing happened." I say, shaking my head.

He tilts his head and arches his brow. "Try that again. Maybe be a little more believable." That's the Tristan I know.

I sigh as I turn back around, looking at my fingers as I fidget nervously. I hate this. I hate always having to cause a scene whenever I sense alcohol. Because of him. The man I once called my father. Every time I smell alcohol, I'm back in Arizona. Laying on the ground after my dad beat the absolute shit out of me. His repulsive breath fanning over my face as he whispered his hatred toward me over and over again.

"Olivia you know I would never hurt you," Tristan whispers, pulling me out of my thoughts.

"I know. I just hate alcohol and the smell of it. You were drunk I was scared." I admit in a light whisper.