Counterpart (Succubi & Incubi Assn.) (12 page)

His fingers were moving at a slow pace as they dialed. My hand
worked on its own accord, playing with his hair on the back of his neck.
Inside, I was finding this disgusting. But I was doing this for Tristan. I was
doing this for us.

I heard someone mutter a
hello
on the other end. Geoff took a
while to get his act together and remember what he was doing. “Uh, you know the
fight between
Preston
and
Tristan that I canceled?”

There was a short answer that followed. My demon had made a
head-start, making her way slowly towards my mind. She knew what was coming.
She didn't need to be a psychic to know. We had him in the palm of our hands,
right where we needed him.

We were just waiting for the words to be spoken, and then it was
game over.

“There's been a change of plans. It's back on.”

“Did you hear?” Melinda barged into my room at an odd-godly hour of
the morning. I kept my eyes shut—trying to ignore the fact she was here. It
wasn’t working as much as I would’ve hoped.

“Did you hear? Did you hear?” I felt her weight on my bed and I
almost punched her when she started bouncing. Eventually, it got the best of
me.

“All I can hear is your annoying voice waking me up. Go away.”

“Maya Simmons,” I felt her palms dig into my shoulders blades. “It’s
Tristan.”

At the mention of Tristan my eyes snapped open. “What?”

She leaned back and named everything that really wasn't necessary.
“Well, Josh told Brady, who told Seth, who told Liam, who told Noah, who told
Kelly, who told me,” she took a deep breath, “Tristan’s fight is back on. It's
next week. Isn't that amazing—totally random considering he just got told no,
but so wicked!” she squealed.

I really didn’t see how Melinda was this wide awake right now. What
time was it anyway? My eyes flicked to the clock and I was sure that I would’ve
punched her if she wasn’t my friend. “It’s
3AM
in the morning.”

An arched brow was my reply. “Did you hear anything I just said?”

I sighed and let my head fall back against the wall. “Yes, I know.”

“Oh, you and Tristan are on talking terms now?” she challenged.

“Nope.” I draped my arm over my eyes. “Not at all.”

After I had completely disgusted myself by letting Geoff touch me, I
immediately came home and scrubbed off his scent, the memories, and even his
sweat.

By the time it was over, my demon had taken as much as she
could—seriously, she was really hungry lately. I was getting sick of her doing
this but it wasn’t like I could exactly stop it from happening. When it comes
to sex, she takes over, it’s almost like I’m not even there, but I am. And I
know what I’m doing.

I just hope she wasn’t hungry for at least a while.

But nonetheless, I still hadn't heard a word from Tristan. Even
though his fight was back on, he still wasn't going to be the one that told me.
I had to find out from Melinda, who found out from Kelly, who found out... from
other people. And if all those people knew, then I obviously wasn't one of the
first that was told.

And I couldn’t help but feel disappointed about that.

“Then how did you know?” she asked curiously. I could feel her eyes
narrowing on my frame, suspicious at how I got the information.

I cursed inwardly, digging my brain for an excuse I could use. I
didn't tell her what I did today. I wasn't planning on telling her. She didn't
need to know. It was one of those dirty little secrets you just didn’t tell
anyone.

“Um...” I pushed away the disappointment that was lingering from the
fact that Tristan didn't tell me, and thought of an excuse. “Kelly told me.” It
was the best I could come up with. I didn't even know who Kelly was—I probably
had a class with her—but Melinda didn't need to know that I had bad socializing
skills.

“Oh, the bitch told you before me,” she muttered.

I moved my arm away and saw her staring down at her phone like it
was an imbecile. “Can I go back to sleep please?”

She looked back to me and a quizzical expression passed her face.
“What is this sleep that you speak of?”

I rolled my eyes. “Please go away, or get laid. Either or, just let
me go to sleep.” I loved her. I really did. But the fact that she could stay up
a whole night and not even feel the exhaustion the next day, was tiring for me.

“Fine.” I felt her move off my bed and her footsteps walked towards
the door. “Oh, by the way, Tristan called.”

Suddenly, I wasn't tired anymore. “He what? Why didn't you tell me?”

“Because your grumpy ass was negative as soon as I walked through
the door.”

I scrambled off my bed and ran to find my cell phone, which was
buried under a pile of clothes and hidden deep in my jeans pockets. “How long
ago did he call?”

My fingers were fumbling to unlock my screen and the brightness was
almost enough to make me blind, but not even I could ignore the excitement that
surged through me.

“About an hour ago.”

An hour ago?

I turned around and glared. “Why didn’t you tell me an hour ago
then?”

She thought about her reply for a second, and then she looked at me
with that
duh
face that some people—like Melinda—could pull off
perfectly. “Because I was letting you sleep, geez, sorry for trying to be
considerate.”

She was out the door before I could grab something to throw at her
face, and I heard her snickering all the way to Jamie’s room.

I couldn't ignore the fact that I was eager to talk to Tristan. My
mind wondered on what he called for, what he wanted to talk about and while I was
looking for his name, I even wondered if he was awake right now.

But I wanted our friendship back. Not this non-existent, one-sided,
cold and silent predicament that we’ve been in the past few days.

Other than the other night, Tristan’s name was easy to find. I
needed to collect myself quickly, but I didn’t know why I was looking forward
to hearing his voice. It’s just Tristan.

Nothing big.

“Hello?”

My heart raced rapidly.
Oh God, what's happening to me?
“Tristan.” His name felt like a relief as it passed my lips. “Hey, Melinda told
me you called.” My voice was surprisingly calm and I took a seat at the end of
my bed.

“Maya,” he breathed my name like it was a delicacy on his tongue. “Yeah,
I called. Um,” I heard him intake a long breath and then exhale. “I was
actually wondering if I could see you.”

He wanted to see me right now? At
3AM
? Is this guy crazy? Am I crazy enough
to accept it?

“Yeah sure, where do you want to meet?”

Apparently I was.

****

It was a warm night tonight so I was dressed in a pair of sweats and
a tank top. I didn't care who saw me. It was nearly
4AM
. Who would even be awake at this time?
Well, considering the news of Tristan’s match being sent to anyone and
everyone, apparently a lot of people were awake.

I wrapped my arms around my middle and tapped my foot against the
concrete. I was sitting on a bench underneath a tree that was at a local park.
A lamp sat lit a few feet away from me, showing me the footpath to get around.

This park held a lot of memories over the past year and a half. It
was one of the places I liked to go to—mostly for inconvenient reasons, like
smoking weed with Melinda or drinking by myself. It was a place made of
memories. More importantly, it was the place Tristan and I met for the first
time.

“Do you remember this tree?”

I turned around and saw the man himself, leaning against the tree
casually. He seemed like he just woke up, wearing a worn-out pair of jeans, a
plain black shirt, and his hair looked like he just ran his fingers through it
and he was done.

“Of course I remember this tree. You looked like a guy trying to
sell drugs.” My lips pulled up into a grin, which made him chuckle and take a
seat next to me.

“And you looked like a girl looking for drugs.”

It was true. It was a weird day, but it turned out fine.

More than fine really.

“God, I hate this winter crap,” I said, trying to breathe as much
hot air onto my hands. Why didn't I buy gloves? Whose great idea was it to go
out while it was freezing?

Melinda’s.

“Here, Maya Moaner. Hold this and shut up.” Melinda passed me a
freshly made mocha from Starbucks and I sighed in relief at the warmth. We
walked out of the warm building and onto the wet streets. It had stopped
raining a few minutes ago and I really hoped it didn’t come back for at least
another century.

“Hey, do you have a smoke?” she asked, patting at the pockets of her
trench coat, “I must’ve left mine in my dorm.”

“Yeah sure.” I pulled my hand-bag in front of me and searched around
for the packet. “Fuck.” I checked my pockets, but nothing. “I must have dropped
them in the park. Hang on, I'll go get them.”

I handed her my mocha and ran across the wet pavement to the nearest
park. We had come here during lunch and decided to get a coffee before heading
back to campus.

The park wasn't as crowded as it would be during the summer, but
there were a few college students scattered here and there, sitting under
trees, sharing a smoke, drinking coffee.

I walked at a fast pace, scanning the ground we walked on. I arrived
at a bench that we stopped at, and looked under it, finding nothing but cement
and discarded rubbish.

No smokes.

“Looking for drugs?” a male voice asked, sending a jolt through me
and almost making me hit my head on the bench as I came up.

He looked around my age, with a long lean body that was covered by a
trench coat. My eyes wandered the length of him quickly. I couldn’t tell if he
had any muscle on his body, but he was on the skinny side, so if he did, it
probably wasn’t much.

Vibrant blue eyes that didn’t even seem real to me watched with an
arched brow, and I was almost sure he knew I was looking at him. A few strands
of his brown messy hair had fallen down and settled on his forehead, making him
seem cute in a way.

I was sure that if he smirked, he would probably make me melt right
here.

There was something about him though, he seemed almost… innocent,
and I was hardly interested in innocent right now.

“Why? Are you selling?” I answered, straightening up until I was
standing fully.

I watched as his lips pulled up and he showed a row of pearly
whites. “Unfortunately, I'm not. Sorry to disappoint.” He stretched his hand
out to me. “I'm Tristan.”

I was hesitant to take his hand, only because I didn’t know who he
was, and also, because I don’t really shake hands that much. But I did it. I took
his hand. And boy was I wrong about him.

As soon as the skin-to-skin contact happened, I knew there wasn’t
anything innocent about him. Actually, in the few seconds that we shook hands,
I felt alive. My breath had hitched. The demon inside me started turning like a
ballerina on ice. She liked this guy. And hell, I had to admit, so did I.

“Maya.” I flashed him a grin, my hand embracing the warmth that came
with his long fingers. “It's nice to meet you, Tristan.”

So, that was the start of a beautiful, yet complicating friendship.
The more time I spent with him, the more I got to
know
him. He wasn’t
that cute blue-eyed Tristan that I met at the bench. He was the one person that
seemed to always make me feel better. He never judged me, not once. Not a
single word was said about my lifestyle.

But the more our friendship grew, the more I found myself wanting
him around. And that was bad.

Did I mention I didn't find my smokes at all that day? They had
completely disappeared.

“It was a rather interesting day.” I smiled at the memory and let my
legs swing under the bench.

Tristan’s leg lightly touched mine and I found myself taking a deep
breath. There was something off in the air, something I wasn’t going to like. I
just didn’t know what it was, but I had a feeling it wasn’t all good.

“Congratulations on getting your fight back by the way.” I tried to
push away my unwanted thoughts and I held my smile. “I can't wait to see you
win.”

“That's actually why I wanted to talk to you.” He sighed, running a
hand casually through his hair.

My smile faltered and I nodded, signifying that he could go on.

“Maya,” he turned his face to me and instantly I wished he would
move those blue eyes away. “I don't know what happened that night... of the
fight, but I got so pissed seeing his hands on you, and I could tell—deep down
I could tell—that you didn’t want it.” He finally dragged his eyes away and
looked down to the ground. “I don’t regret what I did, but I fucked up.”