Tristan took the stairs to his apartment two at a time. He thought of a cold shower, then falling back into bed and more dreams of Josie. But the thought of seeing her in the flesh kept him motivated. Today, he’d be a half hour early for his shift.
Josie approached the Darkroom knowing that Tristan would already be a couple of hours into his shift. She walked down the sidewalk, flitting between other pedestrians. She slid down the urban hill, watching the sun disappear into the bay. The orange hues looked like flames on the water. Soon the night would come, that purple-blue polka-dotted sky that embraced her like nothing else. Josie turned the corner and sighed at what she found there.
Tristan was leaning against the brick, smoking a cigarette like it was his last before execution. She watched as his eyes squinted when he inhaled and the long fingers of his free hand tapped against his thigh. When finished, he threw the cigarette into the street, letting it roll downhill and out of sight. She stepped closer, finally gaining his attention.
His lips volleyed between a half smile and nervous frown as he took in her appearance. Every curve of her body called to him, every nerve ending felt frayed and drawn to her. Free from the oversize hoodie, she looked amazing, and he instantly felt the familiar stirring of lust.
Silently, Josie made her way over, grabbing his hand to tow him along. She didn’t shy away from his shocked expression. They ducked into the alley and she pushed him against the wall. Her small, frenzied hands ran from his belt buckle, up the hard planes of his chest, and around his neck. His eyes flicked back and forth between her mouth and her cleavage, while he denied the temptation to return her touch.
Her slight pucker hovered just below his, her heels giving her the perfect height to reach him. Their ragged breaths washed over each other while the heat radiating between their bodies created an almost visual aura of need. She had always taken her conquests with no apologies, but with Tristan it was different. More than she wanted him, she wanted him to want her too. Josie hung there, just out of reach, waiting to make sure he would not reject her. She wasn’t sure if he gave in or gave up, but she moved forward when his eyes fluttered closed.
Josie crushed her mouth to his, finding purchase on his delicious bottom lip. He moaned against her mouth, only fueling the hunger that grew inside.
Unable to resist any longer, Tristan pulled her flush against his body. The way she molded to him, a perfect puzzle piece, told him this was right. They were a mess of roaming hands and lips, a dance of lust and claim-staking kisses. They were reunited after what seemed like a lifetime of purgatory, though the moment would be short-lived.
Tristan reluctantly pulled himself from her lips, willing his physical and emotional need to dissipate. Josie attempted to pull him closer, but he found the strength to resist.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, annoyed with his resistance.
“I mourned you,” he said.
“I’m not dead.”
“I didn’t believe you were dead at first. I begged my mom to take me to New York so that I could look for you. Well, until I found out there’re eight million people there.”
“You were a kid.”
Tristan shook his head.
“I was pissed at your dad. So mad that he took you away from me just for a better job. Now I wonder if that’s really why you left, if there wasn’t more to it. You broke my heart, McKenzi, and here you are. It’s just too much.”
She didn’t correct her name. Instead, Josie was silent as she tried to work out his declaration. Was she too much? She’d never been too much for anyone. She’d never even been enough.
“I loved you from the first time I saw you,” he whispered, placing a soft kiss against her neck. “We were seven years old. Your hair was in braids. You were new to school and had nowhere to sit at lunch. You marched over and offered me your pudding if I’d let you sit down.”
Josie blinked, trying to visualize the scene through his words. She’d never wished for her memory to come back, scared to tap into the darkness locked away. Now that she knew there was more than pain, she wished for the ability to reminisce.
“Did you let me sit down?” she asked.
“Hell, yes. It was chocolate pudding.”
He smiled at Josie, his green eyes bright as he tried to push the images from his head into hers. She started to return his smile before she caught herself and corrected it. Was this guy for real?
“No one falls in love when they’re seven,” she stated, dropping her hands from his body and taking a step away.
“‘The magic of first love is our ignorance that it can ever end,’” Tristan quoted. “Of all the things I’ve ever been unsure of, my feelings for you were never questioned. It wasn’t puppy love or teenage infatuation, it was real. You loved me too, Mac.”
“My name is Josie.”
She took another step back, fearing the sudden shift in direction. She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. Lust, greed, hurt, pain, fear—these things she knew. She knew nothing of love.
Tristan had romantically loved only two people in all of his twenty-two years, and each of them had broken him in her own way. McKenzi had provided him an innocent beginning, paving the way for many of his firsts. Their relationship had been exciting and fun, built around a solid friendship. With her gone, he’d lost so much more than just a girlfriend. Fiona had destroyed him to the very core, crippling his trust and his future. Every rational fiber screamed at him to use caution, remain distant. Still, here he was professing his faith in love, surprising even himself.
Josie thought about what a contradiction Tristan was. His exterior was industrial-strength steel, designed to keep intruders out, but beneath that lay a kind and honest soul. She squeezed her arms tighter around her body, wondering if he could save her. Did she want to be saved?
“I’m not McKenzi. She’s dead.”
Josie needed to make this clear. She felt his curiosity, his adoration, for who she used to be. McKenzi once had him. Josie would never deserve him.
Tristan stepped toward her, cautiously closing the distance between them. He felt the warning in her words. He understood the significance of her arms wrapped tightly around herself, her fingers clawing at her ribs.
“But Josie’s not dead.” He spoke softly, placing his large palm over the left side of her chest. “Every second, your heart valves push blood through here and snap shut, creating a thump, thump.” He paused. “Thump, thump. You can hear it. It’s proof that you’re still alive.”
Josie sucked in a deep breath, her brain reeling from his words. Her eyes looked everywhere but at his face. She knew his sympathetic gaze would unravel every bit of her protective housing. After a few breaths of silence, she looked anyway.
The blue neon light from the bar’s sign reflected down the alley and across his face. His embellished skin glowed sapphire every other second, the blinking rhythm casting him as a saint, then a sinner. He was a beautiful stranger, fucking up her world.
“I can’t do this,” she said firmly, stepping back so that Tristan’s hand fell away. “My past is not even mine. I don’t want it.”
“That’s not true,” he challenged. “You sought me out, Josie. You found me. You followed me and watched me. You’re drawn to me just like I am to you. That’s why you’re here.”
She winced, feeling his words cut her with truth.
“No, I’m here because I want to fuck you.”
Tristan felt the weight of her audacious statement sitting heavy on his chest. If he had been a lesser man, she would have crushed him with those words. He recognized a defensive maneuver when he saw one.