Backdraft - The Secret Life of Trystan Scott #2 Read Online Free Page B

felt
sick and couldn’t stay there for another second. My stomach
churched like I ate glass as I staggered to my feet. My head was
caught somewhere between being crushed in a vice and floating away.
Anger surged through my veins, but not at Trystan—at myself.
    How could I be so stupid? I’d come to think
that the kiss we shared meant something to him. The way he looked
at me, the way he leaned in so slow that my heart felt like it
would burst, even the way he gently pressed his lips to mine—it was
all nothing. Out on the stage, it looked like Trystan hit a replay
button. The entire thing played out, just as it was done to me, but
he was with another girl and it was right in front of my face. It
didn’t matter that he was acting. I couldn’t get control of myself.
My eyes stung as I tried not to blink. Tears would roll down my
cheeks. I looked insane as it was, shoving my way through gawking
kids and running away like there was a fire.
    My kiss was nothing to Trystan. Our kiss
meant nothing.
    Irritated with myself for being so naive, I
hurried through the hallway to my locker. Pretending that I forgot
something gave me a moment’s peace. I darted from my chair while
everyone else watched the lights fade to black. It was like the air
was charged with hormones and I imagined Trystan would get a fair
amount of high-fives and crass statements for delivering such a
smoking-hot kiss in front of so many people.
    I fumed as I raced to my locker, trying to
calm down. The teachers wouldn’t say anything as long as I didn’t
linger, and as long as I didn’t run. I opened the door and leaned
my head against the shelf, feeling the cold metal against my skin.
The scent of paper and musty textbooks filled my head.
    How dumb am I? I wondered.
    For a moment I thought that Trystan actually
liked me. When I heard him sing, it made me feel like there was a
part of him that I couldn’t see. There was genuine pain and longing
in that song. Could he have concocted that song and all its
haunting beauty like he concocted that kiss? Could he toy with a
girl’s emotions as easily? I felt sick. How could I be so stupid?
And what about everything else? All those looks, the way he brushed
my hand when I was close, the way he looked at me— I swear, if I
didn’t know better I would have thought he liked me .
    But I did know better. I knew Trystan Scott
and this was one-hundred percent Trystan behavior. Damn, the guy
was like a total sociopath. He wore so many masks, way more than
I’ve ever even tried on, and each one fits him perfectly. He can
become what he needs to be, what people expect, at the snap of a
finger. The guy I saw so rarely was hidden somewhere beneath layers
too deep to fathom.
    Why does he do that? Why does he change when
different people are around? The version of Trystan that sat in the
basement and played the guitar, the earlier version that wasn’t Day
Jones even, those were great. What’s not to like? Why hide when
everyone loves you? There has to be a reason for it, but I had no
idea what it was.
    Yeah, you know. He likes getting what he
wants , my inner-voice chided.
    Oh God, was he that shallow? Did he really
change to suit who he was with to get what he wanted? Trystan
couldn’t be that shallow. Deep in my bones, I knew he wasn’t like
that. There was something else. Something more that damaged him.
There had to be. Trystan had that lost puppy thing about him. It
made girls flock to him and want to be with him. That was always
there. It never went away. He wore it like a scar. It was a piece
of him that he couldn’t hide no matter how much he smiled and
flirted.
    I checked my face in my mirror and pressed
the locker closed. Walking back to the stage door, I stopped for a
second and leaned against the wall trying to blow off what I’d just
seen.
    It doesn’t matter what he does with Brie
or anyone else. Trystan and I are nothing, but friends. I kept
telling myself that, but it didn’t take away the sting.