Page 16 of Wicked Beasts
“I would like to keep professional distance,” he says finally, saying nothing I don’t already expect. “But if it would make you feel more at ease?—”
I am surprised, unable to tear my gaze away from him as I hang on every word he speaks.
“—maybe I can fit something into my schedule.”
“Do you mean that?” My eyes light up, overjoyed by his suggestion.
He nods, finally letting his gaze meet mine again. “I don’t mean to be so unfriendly, Miss A—” He smiles as he catches himself. “Amara. I just have a lot going on.”
“Oh, no, I wasn’t implying you were unfriendly at all! I completely understand that you’re busy.”
“I’ll let you know when a good time is, then?” he says as he starts down the hall, pivoting as he turns to face me. I nod so much, I feel like my head is about to snap from my neck. “Enjoy your weekend.” A friendly, perfect smile crosses his face as his cheeks warm with color, and he gives me a gentle nod before turning around, his hands returning to his pockets.
My eyes then find Mortimer at the end of the hall, staring at me in the silence. Suddenly, the hallway feels much darker and grim without Tristan brightening it.
I clench my jaw and quickly escape to my bedroom to hide from his judgmental eyes.
Thirteen
Ifeel like a schoolgirl harboring a baseless crush on her aloof yet charming professor. Part of me chides myself, feeling too old for such silly antics, yet another part wonders why age should dictate my heart's whims. I refuse to let the shadows of bitterness from previous relationships dim this moment and stifle my infatuation. What is so wrong with desire? With embracing the thrill of attraction? We have next to nothing in common, and yet, that’s exactly what fascinates me about him.
Thoughts of the haunting portrait and the nightmares slip away, eclipsed by the exhilarating anticipation of our future plans. While nothing is set in stone, I can’t help but be drawn to the tantalizing possibilities that lie ahead, each one more tempting than the last.
Not even Manu's persistent grouchiness can dull the glow of my spirits the following morning.
“Good morning!” I chirp loudly as I push open the kitchen door, basking in the warm embrace of sunlight that floods the room. It spills through the window above the sink, illuminating the kitchen in a golden hue, the colors reflecting off the pots and pans like a brilliant rainbow dancing with my jubilant mood. He exhales sharply through his nose, his gaze glued to thenewspaper, but it’s a small acknowledgment nonetheless. I can’t help but feel a flicker of triumph; perhaps I’m finally breaking through his cold exterior.
“Good morning, Amara!” I respond to myself in a gruff tone that mocks Manu as I retrieve a mug from the cabinet. “What’s got you in such a good?—”
The words die on my tongue as I catch sight of Tristan outside, his bare torso glistening as he hoses down a surfboard. My thumb glides over the cool surface of the mug, each stroke echoing the cadence of my heartbeat as I watch the muscles in his back flex and contract, a rhythmic performance under the light. I walk closer to the window, as though I’m pulled by a magnet.
Part of me is instantly slightly relieved to see he at least doesn’t spendallhis time studying. The rest of me—well, I can’t help staring.
His fingers trace the board with an intimate touch, wiping away grains of sand, as if cleansing it of secrets left from the ocean. I find myself mesmerized, my lips parting slightly as I swallow against a sudden dryness in my throat.
“You never seen a man hose down a surfboard before?”
I jump at the sound of Manu’s voice suddenly beside me, tearing me from my fantasy.
“I—uh—well, I don’t surf,” I stammer, scrambling for a defense. “You don’t getthispale in Hawai’i by going to the beach.” I steal one last glance at the droplets splashing against Tristan's chest before turning away from the sink to pour myself a cup of coffee, letting the memory linger. “If we were meant to be in the ocean, we’d have fins and gills.” I glance back at Manu and gesture toward my neck as I waggle my fingers. “As you can see, I have neither. Besides, I wouldn’t want sharks coming into my home. I imagine they feel the same towards us.”
“You fancy him.” The words mock me, and suddenly, the brightness of the kitchen seems muted as a chill creeps through my bones.
“Fancy?” I scoff, the sound escaping like a startled breath, as if the very idea is ridiculous. I glance back at him over my shoulder. “How oldareyou?”
His laughter, rough and mocking, fills the room with a troublesome energy, making the light itself recoil. I’ve never heard Manu laugh before this moment, and I’m swift to conclude that it deeply disturbs me.
“I don’tfancyhim,” I declare, feeling like I have to defend myself, my voice breaking the uncomfortable tension between us. I turn back to my coffee, carrying the mug to the table, where I carefully open the glass jar and let sugar cubes tumble into my drink with the small metal tongs. “But I’m not blind either. Anyone with eyes can see he—” The sentence crumbles, lodged in my throat as Tristan steps in through the side door. I tighten my jaw to keep the words trapped in my mouth.
“Can see that who what?” he asks, his hand gliding over his muscular and newly sunkissed chest. Warmth floods my cheeks, my ears burning with bashfulness as I start to stir my coffee. His smile flickers like candle light as he glances down at my mug. “Do you need a spoon?”
I glance down, horror washing over me as I see my finger resting in the dark liquid. A jolt of embarrassment rushes through me, and I yank it out.
“Oh, no, this is just how…I prefer to taste it,” I murmur, a nervous laugh escaping me just before I pop my finger into my mouth. The bitterness of the coffee lingers on my tongue.
I can sense Manu’s scrutinizing eyes boring into the side of my head, but I refuse to meet his gaze as I quickly slip my finger out of my mouth.
“How was the beach?” I ask Tristan as he crosses the kitchen, hoping to distract him from my moment of mortifying awkwardness as I wrap my hands around the mug.
