Page 52 of Wicked Rockstar

“Because I was so awful, and you probably think I’m a lost cause. You were mad at me when we left.” She shrugged and I didn’t miss the tears that flashed in her eyes. “I’m guessing you realized all the reasons why Peter has never seen me as more than a friend.”

“I wasn’t angry,” I lied smoothly. “And you weren’t awful. Let’s talk about the event and create a plan.”

Tris groaned, burying her face in her hands. “It was … You were there. You know what happened. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Whenever I tried to talk to a guy, I became this babbling idiot.”

I chuckled, ignoring the way my chest tightened at her words. “You weren’t that bad. You were just nervous.”

She peeked at me through her fingers. “Killian, I told a guy I made stuff up and told another guy that I wanted to probe his brain for science. Who does that?”

I couldn’t help but laugh. I’d known Tris was trying to make a joke, but it went way over her date’s head. It was time to forgetthe possessive feelings that raged through me last night. Today was about fulfilling the promise I’d made to her. “Okay, maybe you need a little work, but that’s why we’re here. To help you figure out how to make flirting easier for you.”

The words felt strange on my tongue, and I had to push away the possessiveness that threatened to overwhelm me. I hated that all this practice was to bring her closer to Peter.

The dick didn’t deserve her.

“Right,” Tris said, straightening up. “So, what do you think I should do differently after what you saw?”

I forced myself to think objectively. “You need to relax. You’re so tense; it makes the guys nervous, too. Think of it as a conversation, not a date. You can talk to anyone. I’ve seen it.” While Tris might seem shy now, she’d been the first to introduce herself to new people when we were kids. She had a spark inside of her.

And that spark was barely lit right now.

Fucking Peter.

Trissa nodded, hanging onto my words. She pulled out her phone, tapped the screen a few times, and then typed in a word. “Okay, relax. Got it. What else?”

I snatched the phone out of her grip.

“Hey, give that back.” She leaned over the table to reach for her device, and I had to force my eyes away from the spot at the vee of her shirt and the hint of cleavage that was exposed.

“Nope.” I pocketed her phone. “You don’t need notes. You know all of this. I’m just reminding you to be the same fierce, friendly person I used to know.”

She crossed her arms.

Good. No reason to look now.

The waitress interrupted us to take our order, diffusing the light tension between us.

“Tink. You don’t need a step-by-step plan.”

She sighed. “But I liiiiike plans.”

“I know you do.” And for all of her impetuousness, I knew it truly happened after a lot of thought. Tris liked to be in control. So she’d internalize something, and when she acted, it seemed like an in-the-moment decision. But it wasn’t, not for her.

I wanted to bring back the core of who she was. It still pissed me off that Peter hadn’t noticed or cared that Tris had made herself small to be by his side.

She tapped her finger on the table. “Okay, I’m ready to hear the rest.”

“You could try some light touching,” I said, wanting to gag at the suggestion. “Nothing major, just a hand on their arm when you laugh. Like when Mason took your hand.” I had to draw in a breath and remind myself this was about Tris. Not me. “It relaxed you. That works for us, too. And use eye contact. Don’t shy away from that.”

Last night I reacted on instinct. Buying her building—or at least having my offer accepted. Feeling possessive. Forgetting that keeping her safe was not my job.

Today was a new day. I had to rememberwhyI was doing this. Guilt and freedom were my goals. She never should’ve been on the yacht when the boat raid occurred. She deserved more than a basic apology from me. And hopefully by participating in this farce I’d finally purge her from my heart. It was a win-win.

This decision to help her had nothing to do with the flash of hurt in her eyes and the pain of sadness that tightened her jaw when she recounted the despair she felt when I walked away from her and never looked back.

“Like this?” Trissa reached out and placed her hand on my forearm. The touch sent a jolt of electricity through me, and I had to resist the urge to jerk away or pull her closer. I’d just about forgotten that I’d told her to use light touches with dates and we were practicing that.

“Yeah,” I managed, my voice rougher than I intended. “Exactly.”

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