There's no other reason for why this hurts so bad. It physically feels like he's ripping my heart out of my chest and having another woman stomp on it while he just stares and smirks. I feel the same blade that sliced through my heart that morning in the house now cutting up my insides. My stomach drops, and my core aches so hard that I can't help but wrap my arms around my middle. The pain from the sight in front of me feels like it's clawing its way out of my body, shredding me from the inside out.
I see the blonde throw her head back with a laugh, touching Tristan's chest as she does so. Tristan's smile grows when she doesn't remove her hand and instead presses closer against his body. He leans forward to whisper something in her ear, causing her to blush and giggle.
The knife in my gut twists deeper with every glance between them. My arms tighten around my stomach, as if trying to keep my insides from spilling out, whether from the blade or from the sickness that I feel.
I can't watch this. It's one thing to hear him reject me, but another to watch him move on right in front of me. I don't have the strength for this. I stand up, ready to tell Jason off for dragging me to a place like this for a business meeting.
He turns away from his conversation with his buddy and looks up at me with a startled expression. "You're leaving?" he asks incredulously. I restrain my urge to grab his collar and shake him for his daftness.
"Yeah, I have to get back to the office," I say quickly, grabbing my purse. "Sorry we couldn't chat. I'll call you next week if I still have questions." With barely a wave goodbye, I turn to walk—orrun—from the bar.
Except, at some point Tristan has spotted me and decided he wants to come over to say…something. Anything out of his mouth will butcher me right now. I feel the anger start churning in my still-shredded gut, slowly and messily holding my body together.
With one hand in his pocket and his other arm slung casually around the blonde's shoulders, he's walked over to our sitting area and is looking at us with a tilted head and a curious expression.
"Remy, Jason, didn't think I'd run into you two here," he smirks. "Isn't it too early to leave the office? You can hardly be overachievers from a bar."
"Spoken exactly like someone who's never had a real job," I spit. I can't help it. I don't even mean it, but I hate that we've reverted to jabs about my nerdiness.
I also hate that he's touching someone else. My stomach churns again.
Tristan's lips thin as they press together at my comment. But if he wanted to say something else, he doesn't get the chance because at that moment Jason comes up behind me and slides his arm around my waist. He tugs me against his chest.
"Aw, come on, Remy, that's not fair," Jason defends. I stiffen, both from his touch and from thinking I'm about to be ganged up on. "It's hard work throwing weights around and still having the energy to charm a lady. Give him some credit." I don't have to turn around to know he winks at the blonde and gives her a sleazy once-over. I can feel it in the way the girl blushes and turns her face into Tristan's neck with a smile.
Tristan's arm tightens around her and I know him well enough to see the fury now dancing in his eyes. Suddenly I flash back to the last time he was around Jason—and how much he seemed to hate him. But that had felt like jealousy. Only, that doesn't make sense anymore, seeing as Tristan is making it very clear right now that he's not interested in me.
Once again, I marvel at the fact that Tristan's actions were for the sole purpose of getting in my pants. I replay his possessive ‘you'remine’ declaration from the night of the house party when he pulled me away from Jason.
And fight the urge to vomit when I now hear it through this new understanding of him.
"It looks like I'm not the only one doing a little charming," Tristan observes, looking directly at me.
Jason chuckles and pulls me tighter against him. The closeness makes me sick, but I refuse to pull away and let Tristan think he's the only one that's moved on. "What can I say, I haven't been able to get Remy out of my head since we ran into each other a few weeks ago." He turns to nuzzle into my neck.
Tristan's eyes bore into mine even as I feel Jason's face against my skin. There is an intensity—afury—that I've never seen in him before.
I hold his gaze, unwilling to back down. I don't shield my own anger from him, either. Let him see how much I hate him right now.
"Yes, you definitely seemed to make an impression on her at that party," Tristan drawls. The corner of his mouth ticks up in a cruel, condescending smirk.
The leash on my fury snaps. With every patronizing comment, I feel us dragged further and further back to where we were before I moved into the house. Where he's once again the arrogant, boorish womanizer that I always thought he was.
The realization that I may have been right about him hurts worse than the pain of losing the man I thought he was.
"Some of us need more than a quick fuck in a bathroom to keep us interested," I taunt. Without breaking Tristan's gaze, I interlace my fingers with Jason's on my waist. I don’t miss the way his eyes flash down to the contact. "Jason understands that women are worth more than that, that theydeservemore than that."
Tristan laughs mockingly. "It's cute that you think Jason wants anything more than to bend you over and fuck you into submission. I can assure you he doesn't want you for your mind." He looks me up and down with a scoff, as if disgusted by my very presence. My blood freezes at the glance before he's even finished his thought. "After all, the only thing men want from women is pussy. That's all most women are good for, anyway."
I feel everything in me freeze, from the tip of my nose down to my toes. I inhale a sharp breath, trying to still my heart and stop my lungs in an effort to hold myself together, even as every piece of me wants to shatter onto the floor.
All the fight leaves my body. It seeps out of my pores as if I had sweat it out from Tristan's single blow. I'm left without any anger, without any urge for revenge, or disappointment that he could be so cruel.
I'm left with only pain—mind-numbing, agonizing pain.
I look at Tristan, uncaring that every last piece of my façade has fallen. I let him see my pain. I let him see what his words do to me. I'm so numb that I can't even manage any tears, though I would probably let him see those, too—let him see what those words can do to a woman.
Jason laughs awkwardly from beside me, taking a small step away. "Damn, dude, way to demolish any hope of a good night. For both of us." Sure enough, the blonde has pulled away from Tristan with an angry pout and walked away without another word. I don't blame her, because I can't bring myself to care about the fact that Jason just admitted he, too, only wanted me for the night.