Boys and Girls, Part IV: Why I Love to Hate You

Chapter 4 – Sweet Seduction

“So what’s this bloke’s name again?”

“Stan Spankman,” Jacy answered unenthusiastically.

Ewan recognized Jacy’s tone instantly. “Not such a great guy, eh?”

“No,” she answered. “He’s what we like to call a super-super senior. He throws one hell of a party but can’t seem to haul ass out of this school. My guess…Spankman purposely flunks out so that he can keep meeting younger and younger girls.”

“That’s sick,” Ewan answered.

“Yeah,” Jacy agreed. “Guys need to stay within their own age group.”

Ewan shook his head. “No, love, I mean it’s sick to go after girls in general.”

Jacy’s jaw dropped, but she couldn’t resist smiling at Ewan’s silliness. “You are horrible.”

Ewan hooked an arm around Jacy’s shoulder playfully. He pulled her in and kissed her on her forehead. “You know I’m just teasing you, Jacy.”

Jacy shyly tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and smiled at Ewan’s playfulness. Ewan had willingly agreed to accompany Jacy to this party, even though none of her other friends – including Ryan – had the energy nor the inclination to attend.

Jacy would never have gone to a party as gaudy or overdone as Spankman’s without Stephanie, Delaney, or Lani to act as a social shield. But with her new look, Jacy was finding it more and more common to want to attend these things.

Jacy was also confident standing next to Ewan, who was so fashion-savvy for a guy. Ewan had decided that he didn’t want to look too “Euro-gay” for his first American party, so he was actually wearing some baggy jeans and a nice dress shirt rolled up at the sleeves. His curly mop of dark brown hair framed his handsome face, and he just looked so…hot.

Jacy didn’t look bad herself. She was wearing a white skirt with ruffles and a black halter-top that showed off her newly toned arms and shoulders. Sure, she still wasn’t as thin as most of the bimbos around her school, but she still felt attractive all the same.

As she and Ewan ascended the steps toward Spankman’s house, the familiar gaudy holiday lighting that always seemed to adorn the place was up. Christmas lights, giant Easter novelties, and a slew of other tacky holiday decorations illuminated the place. Ewan lifted an eyebrow.

“This bloke’s got awful taste.”

Jacy laughed. “As long as you avoid Spankman, you should have a good time.”

****

Tristan was on his fourth beer already. Now that football season was over, he couldn’t help it; he instinctively went for the alcohol and could only pray that he wouldn’t develop a beer gut in the off-season. He was seated on the couch while a gorgeous blonde and a voluptuous redhead were basically molesting him with their feminine touch. He wasn’t going to complain though.

The blonde, whose name Tristan couldn’t remember, ran a soft hand through his blonde locks. “What happened to that gorgeous hair of yours, Tristan?”

He shrugged his shoulders and took another sip. “I got a haircut.” Duh. Yet, Tristan felt compelled to explain the obvious when he was around girls of their ilk.

The redhead, whose name Tristan also couldn’t remember, began to run her hands up and down Tristan’s thigh. Even though Tristan was wearing khaki pants, he could still feel the sensations of a woman’s touch. As her hand slid farther up and stopped right over his crotch in plain view for all to see, Tristan got hard. He was a warm-blooded male after all.

The redhead leaned over and whispered in his ear. “Care to take this party upstairs?”

His dick was saying yes, but Tristan didn’t want to make the effort.

The redhead leaned over once more and whispered again. “I’m sure Emily would love to join us.”

Emily. That was the blonde’s name, and – holy shit! These girls wanted a threesome…and the good kind! Tristan regarded them coolly – not wanting to show that he was very interested. If not because he actually liked these girls, but for the fact that all men were biologically programmed to jump at the idea of a threesome comprised of his self plus two chicks.

Tristan casually placed his half-full bottle of beer down on the coffee table in front of him. Loud music changed to a ballad as he got up. The blonde and redhead simultaneously lifted their hands to Tristan so that he would pull them up to their feet. He did so; he was a Southern gentleman after all, and they began heading for the second floor when something caught his eye. He stopped to look as the girls continued to ascend the stairs without him.

Jacy – looking beautiful in a black halter and white skirt, both of which showed off her lovely new figure – was slow-dancing with that same guy that Tristan had seen at the airport that day. Today, Mr. Tight Pants was wearing looser jeans and a nice dress shirt. Jacy’s arms were lovingly wrapped around the tall guy’s neck, while the his arms were wrapped around her waist. They looked into each other’s eyes so adoringly, despite the height difference, and ultimately looked like a bona fide couple.

Tristan suddenly grew limp. The sight of Jacy and her new beau made him feel…a little disheartened. He didn’t particularly like Jacy, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t want to kiss her again…or something else. The idea that another guy had his hands all over her just made Tristan mad for some inexplicable reason.

Maybe he, himself, was the only one reacting to Jacy in this way. It bugged him. There were definitely numerous points against the temperamental brunette, yet Tristan couldn’t force himself to turn away from her. Something about Jacinda Hewitt spelled forbidden, and for Tristan, that spelled trouble…because he was instantly drawn to that which he could not have.

The hypnotizing music eventually stopped and gave way to a more upbeat tune. Jacy’s date excused himself before leaving her side. Jacy stood awkwardly by herself and continued to swing her hips to the music. Her forehead glistened with sweat, but she didn’t look gross at all. She looked sexy…like a hot female who had just been engaged in some strenuous physical activity. Tristan looked toward the stairs one last time.

Aww fuck it.

He carefully made his way over to Jacy.

****

As soon as Tristan Carter got within four feet of Jacy, a scowl appeared on her previously happy visage. He didn’t seem deterred by her blatant dislike of him.

“You can’t physically assault me here,” she warned, raising her eyebrows. “I’ve got plenty of witnesses.”

Tristan’s expression remained unreadable. He was obviously unmoved by Jacy’s comments. He continued stalking closer to her. Jacy looked around uncomfortably to see if Ewan was returning with the drinks he had set out to get. Tristan eventually stopped but not before he was a mere foot in front of Jacy. When he stopped, he continued to stare at Jacy with crystal blue bullets of scrutiny.

Jacy shifted nervously. “What do you want?”

Tristan arched his eyebrow, and Jacy gulped. Something about his expression made her wary of what he was thinking.

“Who’s the guy?”

“What guy?”

Tristan looked impatient. “The motherfucker you were dancin’ with.”

Jacy snapped back in disbelief. “How can you talk about someone you’ve never met like that?”

Tristan shrugged. “It’s pretty damn easy to dislike strangers.”

Jacy regarded him with an annoyed expression on her face. “Not that it’s any of your business, but Ewan happens to be…” a brilliant thought flickered in Jacy’s mind. She improvised. “…my boyfriend.”

It could have been a figment of her imagination, but Jacy could have sworn she saw a twitch in Tristan’s perfect features. He didn’t look particularly happy with this bit of news.

“Your what?” he gritted out.

“My boyfriend,” Jacy repeated pulling her halter down a little. “Ewan’s my boyfriend.”

“What kind of name is Ewan?” Tristan asked. His irritation was becoming more obvious with each passing minute, and Jacy loved it.

“He’s British.”

“Oh?” Tristan asked, cocking his eyebrow. “Of course. That explains the pants.”

Jacy furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. “What?”

“Your boy sure likes the tight jeans, doesn’t he?” Tristan asked, amusement dancing in his blue eyes.

“I think men and women should be free to wear whatever they want,” Jacy said in the haughtiest voice she could manage.

“Uh-huh,” Tristan said skeptically. “Or you just say that to justify your boyfriend’s preference for gay man’s attire.”

Jacy huffed in indignation, eliciting a smirk from Tristan.

“What are you dating a European for?” he asked as if she was nuts. “You may as well date a homosexual.”

Jacy tried not to reveal anything in her expression, but it was difficult. Tristan was getting warmer without even realizing it. She was having too much fun right now to tell him the truth about Ewan.

“I fell in love with Ewan’s sexy accent,” she answered as if the answer was obvious.

“I’ve got an accent too,” he added, as if it was a contest.

“Yeah,” Jacy replied, “but Ewan’s accent makes him sound so…sophisticated and refined and…intelligent.

Tristan’s nostrils flared. Oh shit, this was way too much fun. “What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?” he grumbled.

Jacy placed a finger next to her temple as if she were in deep thought. “Ummm, that you’re not very bright?”

Jacy heard the distinct sound of Tristan’s knuckles cracking. Uh-oh. Was he going to sock her for her comments? She was becoming a little more frightened now that she thought about it.

Tristan’s breathing grew noticeably heavier. Jacy was sure his blood pressure was rising at that very moment. His eyes – now narrowed blue ice picks – regarded Jacy with the utmost intensity.

Tristan slowly made his way forward, completely closing the gap between Jacy and himself; he kept his eyes on her the entire time. Jacy could feel the male heat radiating from his body as he completed his invasion of her personal space. When Jacy attempted to move backward, Tristan dropped a hand to her waist. It wasn’t a harsh grip, but it was firm enough to prevent Jacy from moving away from him any further.

She raised her big, hazel eyes up to meet his steely blue gaze.

“I’ll scream.”

“Be my guest,” he taunted in a deep whisper.

Jacy was never one to back down from a challenge. She took a deep breath to call for challenge, but that was the exact moment that Tristan chose to cover Jacy’s mouth with his own. Jacy’s protests were muffled as Tristan invaded her mouth forcefully and without remorse.

****

Tristan slipped his tongue into Jacy’s mouth. He tasted her again, and it was a double treat because he could taste the beer that Jacy had no doubt been drinking all evening, in addition to her own sweet flavor.

“Mmm,” he groaned as he continued to plunder her mouth. Tristan’s brought his other hand to Jacy’s waist and pushed his body into hers. Jacy was still protesting, but her pleas were growing quieter with each passing second. He was turning her…he knew it. In a few more seconds, she would melt into his arms, and –

“Did you eat garlic?”

Tristan pulled back abruptly from his embrace with Jacy. He looked at her with the most offended expression on his face. “Excuse me?”

Jacy regarded him with distaste. “Your breath…

“What about it?” Tristan gritted out.

“It’s not good.”

Tristan threw his head back and closed his head. Since, when had anything ever been easy where Jacy Hewitt was concerned? When he had finally gathered enough patience to speak with her, he pierced her again with his ice-blue eyes. “No, I did not have garlic.”

“Oh. Then it must naturally stink.”

Goddamn! Tristan had never had the urge to hit a woman before, but with Jacy…he wasn’t so sure.

Jacy put a sympathetic hand on Tristan’s shoulder. “It’s okay. There are some decent over-the-counter remedies for what you have.”

Tristan narrowed his eyes. “Thanks for the advice.”

Jacy shrugged. “I’m gonna go look for my boyfriend now.” Without another word, Jacy retreated in the opposite direction, leaving Tristan by himself – stunned and reeling from bruised male pride.

He breathed on his hand and sniffed at it. Nothing? This woman was fucking nuts! He swore silently before moving toward the staircase. Fuck Jacy and her gay-ass faggot of a boyfriend! I’m gonna get myself some prime California pussy! With that, Tristan ascended the stairs, eager to do what he did best, with a very willing pair of women.

****

A/N: Please my male European readers, DO NOT be offended. I do not share Tristan’s sentiments. He is a typical boorish American in many ways, and his prejudice toward gays does not reflect this author’s feelings in any way, shape, or form. Much love!