Endless Bonds

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I'm about to shove a spoonful of oatmeal into my mouth – my pathetic excuse of a dinner because I'm too lazy to cook a proper meal – when my phone illuminates with a text message from Oliver.

Tonight, Inga is hosting an early Halloween party in her penthouse. It's really just an excuse for everyone to get shitfaced but since most of my friends are going, I got roped into doing the same.

Before I can answer Oli, Teagan saunters into the kitchen, her face a little swollen and streaked from a nap.

Instantly, I open my arm and she fits herself against me.

"How are you feeling?" I ask, rubbing her upper arm. She takes a seat next to me on the island counter.

Teagan texted me last night that she landed in Vancouver for the weekend. Spontaneously. And, of course, my offer still stood – she could room with us as long as she needed, too.

"I'm okay, thanks," she murmurs absentmindedly, staring at my disgusting oatmeal.

"Is there anything you want to eat? I'm not the greatest cook, but..."

She smiles, and it brings a bit of color to her pale face. "It's fine. I'll help myself to some water and a waffle, if you don't mind? I saw some in your freezer last night."

I inhale a few more bites of gooey oatmeal. "Those are Wyatt's, but I won't tell him."

She moves around the kitchen with a quietness that's almost freaky. She makes no noise even when she picks up a plate. You hear no sounds when she's searching for utensils in the kitchen drawers. It's weird.

I wonder if it's a new habit she's picked up – wander about in absolute eerie silence.

"So why the blond?" I wonder out loud. Teagan had thick russet waves. She looks good either way with the new dye job, but I'm trying to make conversation. "Just needed a new change?"

"Something like that," she says, her voice low and with that same indifferent quality.

When she turns around, I spot a delicate gold necklace clasped around her neck. It glints in the light.

Tee gently reaches up to grasp the locket after she's put her waffles in the toaster. "It belonged to my grandmother. Silly really, but this way I feel like she's with me."

"It's not silly at all, Tee."

Teagan looks like she's going to cry. She's got a sheen coat of moisture covering her eyes and, honest to God, I don't know what to say if she cries. She barely wants to talk about her unborn child – which I totally understand – and she refuses to give me the name of the guy who knocked her up. So, I can only give her my silent understanding and shoulder to lean on.

I try not to panic as I watched her slowly crumble in front of me, before picking herself back up.

She's like a pro, plucking away the pain-stricken expression and replacing it with something more presentable, something more bearable like blankness.

"Teagan," I hoist myself up and round the counter with my dirty dishes, depositing them in the sink before turning to her. "You need to talk to someone. I'm not an expert, but maybe you should seek out someone...At the very least talk to Tara and Cher. Tell them you're here and start with that. You know they won't judge you; they'll understand."

Her chin wobbles and her eyes fill with tears again, rendering her gaze bloodshot. "I saw Cher last night and we talked a bit. Maybe I'll see Tara after your party tonight."

The back of my knuckles skim over her cheek, right over the bruise that's fading. I know what fading bruises look like; I've dealt with too many from the sport I play.

Answers. I want them now.

Anger surges inside me. But I have to be patient with her, even though I'm shaken by the fact that someone had the audacity to lay hands on her. "Okay, Tee."

I debate asking her to call her parents, but then I remember that they kind of don't give a fuck. Teagan is not close to her family like I am. Even when we were kids, Teagan's parents seemed self-absorbed in their own world. It's a fucking shame.

Three loud knocks resonate on my door and Teagan and I jolt away from each other. "Jesus," I mutter, before my eyes widen at the realization of who's arrived.

Before I can tell Teagan to run out of the kitchen, Oliver – with his spare key – has already entered our flat.

"Yo, Trent. We're running late. Inga is waiting." Oli's voice gets louder as he pads closer to the kitchen.

When he spots Teagan, his car keys clatter to the ground, his mouth parting in shock.

Teagan is frozen to her spot, nervously clutching her necklace as if it'll give her courage to take on the battle in front of her.

Oliver's golden eyes shutter, erasing the previous look of bewilderment. If I thought Teagan was good at masking her expression, I was wrong.

Oliver is better.

Every line in his body is taut and I observe how his fists clench, knuckles turning white, when he bends down to grab his car keys. "You ready to leave, Trent?"

Teagan's lost all colour on her face. Her throat bobs with a difficult swallow. When she opens her mouth, no sound leaves.

This is fucking awkward.

Suddenly, her face turns beet red.

Of course, she's embarrassed. First time that Oliver has been in the same room as her in years, and he choses to ignore her presence.

"I-I'm sorry," she wheezes out, looking at the ground.

I don't know what she's sorry for – the hurt Oliver believes is so justified, or for being here and causing him discomfort?

He's not even looking at her, aiming his deadpan at me, as if willing me to answer his question. Of course, I'm fucking ready to leave. But that doesn't change the fact that he's just acting like a pure dickhead in front of her.

Teagan skirts past me and runs to Wyatt's room. When the door clicks shut, I momentarily close my eyes to calm myself. I don't want to yell at him. But I do glare at him.

"I'm fucking disappointed, Oli," I say through clenched teeth. "You couldn't even say a word to her."

He takes a deep breath, as if he's been holding it in since he saw her. His shoulders deflate and his golden eyes swim. "What was I going to say to her? What is there to say?"

"Hi... Hi, Teagan. It's been years. I hope you've been good. I've been good, too. Let's put the past behind us," I mimic his voice. "Or a simple 'Hey!' would have sufficed, shithead."

"I hope you didn't invite her to the party tonight."

Obviously, I wasn't going to invite his ex-best friend slash ex-love-interest to his current girlfriend's Halloween party.

I'm seconds away from punching him. Then I reel in my anger. It's so not fucking worth it. "What are you even dressed as?"

He's wearing black jeans with a white button-down shirt. Then he pulls out a pair of fake teeth from his pocket.

"Going be a vampire. I figured there's no need for red contacts and fake blood. Edward Cullen was a modern-day vampire. I'll be the same. You?"

I look down at my all black dress shirt and slacks. "Myself."

"That's the Halloween spirit. Now let's go. We're running late."

I grab my wallet, keys and phone. When we step out past the threshold, he finally speaks. There's an uneasiness in his voice. "Trenton, why was there a bruise near her eye?"

So a part of him still cares enough to ask. "Wouldn't you like to know."

He doesn't push for an answer. Instead, his stoic gaze is focused on the carpet lining the outside hallway.

Before locking the door, I make sure to call out to Teagan one last time. "We're headed out, Tee! Text if you need anything."

From the corner of my eye, I don't miss the visible flinch that courses through his body and the forlorn expression.

* * *

It's no secret that Inga is rich – filthy rich.

When Oliver and Inga had started dating, Jared and I teased him relentlessly on how he landed her. But I guess it makes no difference to their relationship that Inga's parents have got more money than the Kardashians.

She's got her own penthouse on the 22nd floor of a fancy building, and the party is in full swing.

The music is so loud it's nearly deafening, causing my own pulse to rock in the same rhythm. My heart almost feels like it'll burst out of my chest.

Oliver and I muscle our way through a crowd of people. Despite the costumes, I spot a few girls from Tara's sorority, my football team and a few friends from campus.

It doesn't take long for Oliver to spy Inga. She's in the open-concept kitchen, perched on a white marble counter, her blonde and leggy glory donned in a slutty red riding hood costume.

Of course, Oliver salivates as he practically runs to her.

I know it's not going to take long for them to start making out and probably fuck in one of the spare bathrooms, party in full swing be damned. Not as if that's ever stopped them before.

Jared's voice echoes from somewhere to my left. He's dressed as...Joker. A really fucking hideous Joker - complete with white makeup and green hair – with one of Tara's sorority sister (aka Harley Quin) riding shotgun on his arm.

The comment dies on my lips when they reach me, and I read the saying on her t-shirt. Daddy's lil monster.

"Hey, man!" Jared says, thrusting a drink at me and slapping my shoulder in greeting. "We've been waiting for you."

"Yeah, sorry. We got caught up with Teag..."

I never get a chance to finish my sentence when I spot a she-devil in the corner of the room, wearing thigh-high boots and the tiniest skirt that barely covers her pvssy.

It's Cher...And she's fucking flirting with Lance Campa.

My jaw clenches and I see red.

Without removing my gaze from them, I throw my drink back.

Then I fucking stalk her way.

* * *

I'm fuming.

Why in the fucking world is she here with Lance? She hasn't texted or spoken to me in the last three days and she's over here, cozying up next to that asshole?

Lance hasn't seen me yet– he excuses himself and threads amongst the crowd of people to Lord knows where.

But Cheryl definitely sees me. Her face brightens up for a split second, before she takes in my murderous expression.

She meets me halfway. I still tower over her despite the sky-high heels.

"Trent." She licks her lips, her face a pretty flush from the alcohol she's no doubt nursing in her red party cup. "You're here –"

I don't give her a chance to finish. My hands band around her upper arms with force. "Are you fucking kidding me – Lance? You're here with fucking Lance Campa? After having my cock in your mouth, you give me bullshit about needing time, leave me with radio silence for three days, and now are here with that fucker?"

Her mouth parts in surprise, and her eyebrows skyrocket. Dammit, even that looks fucking cute on her. I'm having a hard time staying mad at her while she looks so good.

She's got black eyes tonight, the reddest shade painted on her mouth and a mouth-watering fragrance all over here body. It's screwing with me big time.

"You're kidding, right?" she laughs incredulously. "Oh, my God. You're serious!"

"We're not having this conversation here." Surveying my surroundings, I drag her down the hallway where the coast is clear.

"Would you listen to me and stop manhandling me! I've seen him around campus - that's why we were talking! And FYI, the reason why I haven't had the chance to message you is because of midterms. I've been busy the last three days, Trenton."

I push her against the hallway way, none too gently either. We're bathed in near darkness and something about this setting feels all too familiar. "You love it when I manhandle you."

Something flashes in her eyes, but her chest still heaves up and down from the annoyance she's feeling towards me. Honestly, the rise and fall of her tits is kind of hot. If I tell her now though, she'll probably slap me.

"Finish your drink, baby."

Her eyes narrow. "And if I don't?"

"Finish it," I demand. "The faster you finish it, the faster we can get to work."

"And what's work?"

"Me returning the favor you so graciously gave me in my coach's office."

Her eyes nearly bulge. She takes a second to digest my words before downing the remnants of her drink.

"That's my girl," I whisper. I take the cup from her hands, crush it, and throw it behind me. I'll pick it up later for Inga. Promise.

Right now, my sole focus is Cher.

"What now?" She taunts, licking that fuck-me-hard mouth until it's glistening and wet for me.

With a menacing smile, I jerk open the door of the empty guest bedroom next to us.

To Cher's credit, her eyes never stray from mine. There's a suppressed hunger behind the undertone of the buzz she's feeling.

I skim a hand over her thigh, feeling her ridiculously tight red leather skirt until my hand closes over a barely covered breast. I squeeze hard. "What do you want from me tonight, baby?"

"You tell me," she challenges through a panting mouth, when my other hand encloses her other breast, molding and squeezing.

"Mmm. You want to know?"

"Yeah, or I'll just have to go find Lance again so he can entertain me."

Wrong thing to say and she knows it. My jaw grinds so hard. I swear it takes everything within me not to turn her around and spank her cute ass.

My tongue and mouth are going to be the only things she'll experience tonight.

She's had me on edge for days now and she's going to feel the brunt of it.

I push her into the dark room. She nearly stumbles.

I lock the door behind us. She swallows audibly.

"Get on the fucking bed, Hermosa. I'm about to show you how I entertain."

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Hope you're enjoying so far! Thoughts on Oli and Teagan? Trenton about to entertain...? Leave me a comment with your thoughts - love hearing them!