He told me to stay out of his way.
He said I didn't belong in his world.
He called me a spoiled brat.
Tristan Malone was an a**hat of the highest power. The black sheep of the Malone family, so why had I been crushing on him since grade school? The...
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I ran from Tristan's room down the hallway with only one purpose—to get as far away from him as possible. I had to get to my bedroom unseen. I couldn't think about what just happened, not yet, not until I'd had a moment to process, and my heart wasn't jumping out of my chest.
Perhaps this was all a cruel joke.
Tristan was known to be an ass. He couldn't seriously mean for me to break up with Preston. I could call his bluff and do nothing.
But the ramifications that would trickle into my life if he did release the photos gave me heart palpitations.
Why would he do this?
Did he hate me that much?
If so, what did I ever do to him?
Was he jealous? Just a vindictive asshole? Was he bored? Looking for a new plaything?
My bare feet sunk into the plush carpet of the hallway as I raced away from Tristan. Only two doors to go and I'd be into the safety of my room. Then I planned to pack my shit and get out of here. I needed a day or two to clear my head and think this through methodologically.
With my mind racing in a whirlwind, I wasn't paying attention and didn't hear Preston's door open, not until I thudded into a hard body. Shit. I kept my eyes averted to the ground, afraid to look up and let Preston see my face. I was filled with shame, but I had done nothing wrong.
Heat colored my cheeks as an awkward silence filled the space between us. Preston's hands were on my shoulders, steadying me, my head spinning, fingers clinging to the bra in my hands. I could tell by his scent he had recently showered and the smell caused a pang in my chest to bloom.
"Uh, Hey, Ev." His fingers drifted down my arms in a familiar caress. "Hey," he said again when I refused to look up at him. "What's wrong? Is this about our fight yesterday?"
Of course, he would think it was about our fight. Why wouldn't he? It was logical, and Preston was a logical type of guy, not irrational and cruel like his brother.
I shook my head, my throat clogged with thick emotion. "It's just been a long night," I told him, my breath quivering. It was a pathetic excuse, and even I didn't believe me.
Neither did Preston. "Look, I'm sorry about what I said. I've just been stressed with school coming up and having to leave you." He hooked a finger under my chin, rubbing the pads of his thumb along my jawline. Preston was good with words. He knew just how to melt my defenses.
I glanced up finally and gasped. My fingers automatically lifted to the side of his skin-kissed face. "Preston, what happened to your eye?" With a light touch, I skimmed the purplish bruise that had formed. His eye, a beautiful shade of blue and green, was partially closed from the swelling. There was also a small cut at the corner of his lower lip.
