Chapter 26

26

NINA

The door slides open with a soft creak, and Tristan slips into my room as silently as a cat. I’m expecting him, but my belly flutters at the sight of him, even as I raise an eyebrow.

“How did you get rid of Dylan so quickly? I thought he’d keep you up all night playing Halo .”

Tristan grins wickedly. “I played the yawning card.”

I furrow my brows questioningly.

“I started yawning—they’re contagious and all—until your brother practically begged me to go to bed.”

“Devious.”

He pulls me close and kisses me, turning me to Jell-O in his arms. When we break apart, his expression turns serious.

“Nina, I don’t want to keep sneaking around like this anymore. Dylan is my best friend. We need to tell him about us.”

I struggle to control my ragingly blissful emotions so they don’t show too much on my face. I strive to maintain a shred of dignity even when my instinct would be to kick my feet under the covers and scream my joy. Tristan wants to talk to Dylan, which means there is something to tell.

“Okay. Let’s do it tomorrow.” Even through the excitement, I feel a stab of anxiety in my gut. “How do you think he’ll take it?”

Tristan runs a hand through his dark hair, his brow furrowing. “Honestly? I have no idea. He might be shocked… or he might punch me in the face for messing around with his little sister behind his back.”

“Hey, I’m a grown woman! I can mess around with whoever I want.” But secretly, I’m worried too. Dylan has always been overprotective of me, especially when it comes to guys. Finding out about me and Tristan… his best friend and the guy I’ve supposedly hated for years… well, it might just break his brain.

Exhaustion washes over me as I stifle a yawn. The events of the day, combined with the little sleep we crammed in last night, are rapidly catching up with me. “Look, your tactics carried over to me.”

Tristan slips out of his clothes and snuggles under the covers with me, pulling my back flush with his chest. “C’mon, let’s get some sleep. We’ll figure out how to break the news to Dylan in the morning.”

We curl up together, Tristan’s muscular arms encircling me from behind as we spoon. Cocooned in the warmth of his embrace, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against my back lulls me to sleep in no time.

The light feels too bright as I wake the next morning. Did we oversleep? I sit up, dislodging Tristan, and grab my phone. But a quick check of the time tells me the glow is just the snow outside multiplying the sunshine, making it seem like it’s later in the day than it actually is. I also remember that it’s December 26, which means my parents will leave for church soon, if they haven’t already, to help with the post-Christmas cleanup like they do every year. So it will be only Dylan in the house. He might sleep in late. But with him, you never know. He could wake up early just as easily and ask Tristan to join him for a run. Wretched athletic types.

“Come back here,” Tristan groans in protest. “I want my pillow back.”

“You have to go to your room.”

Tristan mutters nonsensical protests, still half asleep.

“Come on, it’s the last morning. Then after we tell Dylan, we can stay in bed as much as we want.”

The mention of my brother makes him open one lid, his gaze more alert than his sprawled pose would suggest.

I drop a kiss on his temple and slip out of bed and out of my room, heading straight for the bathroom, eager to start the day with a hot shower. Just as I’m about to step inside, a pair of powerful arms wraps around my waist from behind.

“And where do you think you’re going?” Tristan’s deep, sleep-roughened voice sends heat prickling at the back of my neck.

I lean back against his chest, a playful grin on my face. “I was just about to take a shower. And you should be back in your room.”

Tristan pouts against my shoulder. “What if I need a shower, too?”

I stare down the hall. All is quiet. Mom and Dad’s door is open, the bed made, meaning they’re gone. And Dylan must still be sleeping. It’s a risk, I should say no.

“Can I come in?” Tristan grazes his teeth down the curve of my neck and that settles it. I quickly pull him into the bathroom with me and lock the door behind us.

We shed our clothes, leaving a trail of discarded garments on the floor. As we step under the warm spray of water, Tristan pulls me close, his hands roaming over my slick skin. I tilt my head back, letting the jet fall over my face as Tristan’s lips find my neck, trailing scorching kisses along my throat.

He lathers shampoo in my hair, the massage of his fingers on my scalp so good it makes me feel like I’ve been washing my hair wrong my entire life.

Just as things get heated, a loud pounding on the bathroom door startles us both.

“Nina! I need my electric razor!” Dylan’s voice, tinged with impatience, echoes through the door.

I groan, reluctantly pulling away from Tristan. “Can’t it wait, Dylan? I’m showering!”

“Just open the door and hand me the razor, okay?”

“Can’t you wait fifteen minutes?”

“No. You take forever in the shower; I’ll use Mom and Dad’s bath. Just need my razor.”

When I don’t respond, he knocks again. “Come on, Nina, open up.”

Tristan and I exchange a panicked look. We can’t let Dylan find out about us like this! Thinking quickly, I exit the shower and pull the curtain tightly closed, concealing Tristan behind it. I grab a towel, hastily wrapping it around myself before snatching Dylan’s razor from the counter.

Mouth parched with worry, I crack open the door, thrusting the razor into Dylan’s waiting hand. “Here, take it and go!”

I try to shut the door, but Dylan wedges his foot in the gap, preventing it from closing. “Wait, I need my shaving cream, too.”

My stomach drops as Dylan pushes his way into the bathroom, his gaze darting suspiciously toward the shower. Please don’t let him notice Tristan, I silently pray.

“Why are you acting so weird? You have someone hidden in the shower?” Dylan asks, frowning.

I force a laugh, trying to sound nonchalant but sounding deranged. “Of course not! Don’t be ridiculous.” I follow his gaze to the pulled curtain but can’t see anything. Tristan must’ve flattened himself against the tiles.

Dylan hesitates, his eyes narrowing. After what feels like an eternity, he finally nods. “Fine. I’ll just grab my shaving cream and go.”

Relief floods through me as Dylan reaches for the cabinet, his back turned to the shower. But before I can let out the breath I’ve been holding, Dylan’s gaze drops to the floor where a pair of unmistakably male boxer briefs are casually tossed on top of my pajamas.

With the reflexes of a jaguar, my brother spins around and yanks the shower curtain open with an angry jerk.

Tristan stands there, completely exposed, his hands barely covering his privates. Dylan’s eyes widen in shock, his face quickly contorting with rage.

“What the fuck?” Dylan roars, his voice echoing off the bathroom tiles. He jabs an accusing finger at Tristan. “What the fuck, man?”

Tristan opens his mouth to respond, but no words come out. He looks like a fish on the hook under Dylan’s furious glare.

Dylan takes a menacing step toward Tristan, his fists clenched at his sides. Oh, gosh, he’s going to kill him! I can’t let that happen.

Without thinking, I jump between them, my arms outstretched to keep them apart. “Dylan, stop! This isn’t what it looks like!”

“The hell it isn’t!” Dylan snarls, struggling to push past me. “You weren’t trying out naked yoga in there, were you?”

As I struggle to hold Dylan back, my towel slips from my body, pooling at my feet. Great, now I’m fighting my brother naked. Could this get any more humiliating?

Dylan’s eyes flicker down to my exposed body, and he quickly averts his gaze, his anger momentarily replaced by discomfort. “Good grief, Nina, cover yourself!”

He backs out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. The sudden silence is deafening, broken only by the sound of my racing heart.

I slowly turn to face Tristan, who’s still standing in the shower, shell-shocked. We stare at each other for a long moment, the gravity of the situation sinking in.

Tristan’s jaw sets in a hard line that I don’t like. We get dressed in tense silence, and then have no choice but to open the bathroom door and face the music.