Page 51 of Dirty Little Mistake

I fell back on my pillow, clenching the covers tight to my naked body as blurry memories from last night flashed forward. Heat crept up my neck, flooding my cheeks. I ducked my head, wishing I could disappear into the sheets.

Nothing I'd said to Trystan was wrong, but the way I acted afterward was so embarrassing. I let my emotions get the best ofme, and I knew better. It made me vulnerable, and I didn't want to be.

The mattress dipped beside me, and every muscle in my body locked. I lay frozen under my shield of blankets, heart hammering so loud I was sure he could hear it. Maybe if I stayed still enough, this moment would pass like a dream.

"Coffee, water, or carbonation?" His voice was morning-rough, intimate in a way that made my skin prickle.

"What the fuck?" I mouthed silently into my pillow. What was he still doing here? Didn't he have, like, band shit to do?

"Cam," he whispered. I didn't move. I'd just pretend I was still sleeping, and maybe he'd go away. "Cam, I know you're awake."

Fuck.

I lowered the blanket. Trystan sat shirtless on the side of my bed. His hair was messy, and his blue eyes fixed on me. "How are you feeling?"

Oh, I don't know, embarrassed, angry, hungover, sad, and a little happy he was still here. "I'm okay."

"Good." He smiled. "You scared me last night."

"What are you still doing here?"

He reached forward, setting a cup of coffee on my nightstand. "You were so drunk you almost drowned last night. I wasn't leaving you like that, but if you want me to go now, I will." The bad part was I didn't want him to go. "But I don't want to, just so that's clear."

"Why?" I shifted in the bed, sitting, clenching the covers tightly to my chest. "You didn't want me to come to your concert, but..."

"That was a mistake." His shoulders tensed, hands curling into loose fists against his thighs. "All of it was a mistake. Do you remember what we talked about last night?"

"I remember everything." I nodded. "You were jealous because you thought I was hooking up with Owen." He pressed his lips into a tight line but nodded. "I'm not hooking up with Owen, but he has made his feelings perfectly clear, which I appreciate because I honestly have no idea where I stand with you."

"I know..."

"No," I shook my head. "You don't. See, you tell me you want me, and then you ghost me. Then you think you have the right to get jealous when you think someone else stepped up. I can't play these games with you, Trystan."

"I know they feel like games, but they're not." He sighed, shoving his hand through his hair. "Growing up, I saw how love can destroy you. I watched it destroy my mother until she couldn't even function like a normal human being."

"And then you watched her pick herself up and find the man she was meant for. You watched her fall in love with an amazing man who treats her right." He nodded. "Sometimes we get it wrong a few times before we finally get it right, and it hurts, but when you do get it right, you forget all about the hurt because you realize that was never love. It was lust or infatuation but never love." He smiled. "You have to kiss a few frogs before you find your prince, and that's what happened with your mom. Your dad and your mom weren't right for each other. It hurt, and now she's happy, but if she hadn't fallen for your dad, she wouldn't have you. Everything happens the way it's supposed to."

I had no idea where that came from. I knew nothing about love, and yet what I said felt so right.

His gaze lifted, meeting mine. "You're right."

Sighing, I reached out, resting my hand on his arm. "Look, no one knows better than me how much your childhood can affect who you are now, and I was totally willing to go slow with you until you were ready, but I can't do whatever this is with you."

"I know..."

"Your family is really all I have." The words scraped my throat raw. "They're everything to me, Trystan. Everything." My fingers twisted in the sheets until my knuckles went white. "I can't lose that. So maybe... maybe we just start over. Forget this happened. Go back to being friends..."I was putting him in the friend zone whether he wanted me to or not.

The last word hung between us like a peace offering. Or a white flag.

Trystan's jaw tightened, a muscle jumping beneath his skin. When he spoke, his voice was low, almost angry. "Go back?" He leaned closer, and I caught myself swaying toward him before I could stop it. "You think I could just forget? Forget the way you taste? The sounds you make when I touch you?" His eyes burned into mine. "You're not the type of girl a man just forgets about, Cam. Not ever." My chest tightened as the weight of his words settled over me. "I can't be just friends with you."

He shifted closer, the mattress dipping beneath his weight. "I fought it as hard as I could." His voice dropped lower, rougher. "God, did I fight it. But..." He ran a hand down his face. When he looked back at me, the raw vulnerability in his eyes made my breath catch. "I'm in love with you, Cam. And I'm absolutely terrified."

A hundred responses crowded my throat—anger at how he'd pushed me away, joy at his confession, fear that this was another game. But all I managed was a choked "I—I..."

"It's okay if you don't feel the same," he said. "Especially after the way I treated you, but I'm going to prove to you that I am your prince." His face split into a slow smile. "If it's not already too late?"

My eyes searched his for sincerity. "I honestly can't tell if you're serious because my judgment is clouded when it comes to you. So, if you are serious, you'll have to prove it."

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