Counterpart (Succubi & Incubi Assn.) (10 page)

“Alright guys, get a pair of gloves and pair up. We'll work on the
punching bags.”

I walked inside and took a seat on a bench by the wall. Children no
older than 16 scattered around getting gloves from the shelves—which happened
to be opposite me—right where Tori just happened to sit. I didn’t know if she
knew I was here. Her phone had her attention and her fingers danced across the
screen at an impossible speed.

She was probably looking up the next screening to '
Let's make
PG-13 love
', in theaters near you.

I let out a short laugh at my own thoughts. I could be quite the
hilarious person to myself. And no one else was going to laugh at my lame
one-liners except for me—oh, and the demon, but she doesn’t really count.

I watched Tristan as he put his class in their usual routine. I had
been here a few times, watching what he did. But not even I could avoid the
fact that I could never get tired seeing the ambition some kids have when they
walked in here. They all admired Tristan. You could see it in the way they
looked at him when he was explaining a new technique.

Tristan held his hands up in front of him while he talked to one of
the kids.

“You want to be able to get the right height, and when you punch,
you want to do it like this.” He showed the boy a right hook to the bag and the
kid nodded, determination in his eyes.

I watched Tristan as he walked from child to child, giving them each
personal advice on what they could do to improve.

If there was one thing I could admire about Tristan, it was his
confidence in his students. Not once did he ever let someone give up or quit.
Not even me.

Then there was the obvious thing you could admire—the way he looked
in long shorts and a gray tank. His muscles flexed with each step he took,
every time his fist clenched so did his chest.

It was like looking at a God... a God who had a girlfriend that was
currently giving me the evils.

I needed to ignore that she was even here if I wanted to talk to
Tristan. I wasn't going to bother retaliating to her stare. I did enough on
Friday night when I maneuvered her admirers away.

The kids were all partnered up and at their own punching bags.
Tristan spotted me as he was leaving the last kid, but the smile I received
wasn’t one that really was noticeable.

“Alright, you've each been given something to work on, so you can
start on that now.” He waited until every student was doing something and a
part of me thought he would walk straight to me, but he didn’t.

Tori looked up as Tristan walked to her side and kneeled down,
retrieving a towel. My eyes refused to move when his back flexed at the
movement, and I almost ripped them out when Tori brought her hand up and ran it
smoothly down his bicep. There was a quirk in her lip, and I knew she was doing
it for show—showing me who had Tristan.

I’d do anything just to rip that hand off.

By the time my eyes did manage to move away, Tristan had already
straightened back up and slowly made his way to me.

“Hey,” he said, taking a seat beside me and letting the towel hang
loosely from his hands.

I risked the glance towards the blonde across from me and noticed
she was back to looking at her phone. When I came back to Tristan, I turned my
body to face him, the smoothies sitting nicely between my legs. “Hey, how’s it
going?”

He wiped the towel across his face and I took this time to let my
eyes wander the length of him. His chest that wasn't covered by his tank held a
bit of sweat, and my mind could only imagine what was going on under that
fabric. It was alright though, the tank was fitted enough to show the slightest
outline of the six-pack that I knew he had.

“Nothing different.” I came back to reality when he shrugged, and I
noticed a slight form of distance growing between us. It was a short answer,
and somehow, I knew that was all he was giving.

Actually, now that I think about it, he hadn’t looked at me since he
sat down. It was like he didn’t want to see me and that bugged the fuck out of
me.

“Tristan, what's going on?” I said, needing to know what the hell
happened and if I was drugged when it did. “You've been pretty distant lately.”

“I've been busy.”

He was sticking to the simple answer. “Right... okay.” I needed to
put this in another direction. “Well, have you received a call from the
authorities yet?”

“Yeah,” he slowly nodded, his narrowed blue eyes still remaining on
anywhere but me. “It's a no.”

“What?” Here comes the guilt. “Tristan, I'm so—”

“I don't want to talk about it.” He cut me off. His eyes finally
connected with mine, but they were hard and cold. “Are we done here?”

He was mad at me. I knew it. He didn't need to tell me. He didn't
even need to look at me. All I could do was take the blame because it was
mainly my fault. I shouldn't have sent the scent out to begin with, but my...
my...

I could feel an audible gulp coming... I’m not going to say it...
I’m not jealous.

I have nothing to be jealous over... right?

But that still didn't distract me from his attitude. “I told you I
was sorry, and you didn't have to do what you did.” I was surprised by my own
calm voice. “I don’t know what you want me to do, Tristan. But sure, we're done
here.” I gave him a few seconds to change his mind, but he was too busy
watching the children, and I took that as my queue to go.

If he thinks for one second that he’s getting a smoothie, he can
think again.

It was an understatement to say that his anger towards me was
annoying. Because it was annoying me in ways that made Ryan Smith look like an
angel. I was so used to always seeing Tristan smile, joke, hearing how husky
his voice got, and now that all felt like it had disappeared because of one
stupid mistake.

Even I had to admit that Tristan and I had started distancing
ourselves from one another when Tori came into the picture.

It was like he was different now, like he didn’t need me anymore.
And it sucked.

“Didn't go well, hey?” Sophia asked as I walked out.

“I hate people,” I muttered, speaking my own thoughts

“Sorry to hear.”

“Don’t worry about it.” I just wanted to get out of the place.
“Here, have this.” I left one of the smoothies on the counter and drunk out of
the other one, not enjoying the semi-warm liquid as it slid down my throat.
“I'll see you around, Soph.”

****

“I knew it was only a matter of time until you realized that you
were jealous,” Melinda said, a satisfied look on her face.

I was so annoyed, that I hunted down Melinda and Stuart to relieve
of the tension through retail therapy. I found the pair at a high priced
clothing store—which isn’t surprising at the least—and relayed everything onto
Melinda.

“What's Maya jealous of?” Stuart asked, walking up with a pair of
slacks on one arm and a nice button up shirt underneath.

I crossed my legs over the other and watched as he walked into the
dressing room. “It's n—”

“Maya is jealous of Tori and Tristan,” Melinda said, cutting me off.

“I’m not jealous,” I corrected her, piercing her with a glare.

“I thought you and Tristan were close,” Stuart said, ignoring mine
and Melinda’s disagreement.

I sighed, giving up. “Yeah, well, apparently not anymore. He
completely turned the other cheek when I visited earlier.”

“Ouch,” he replied, walking out of the dressing room and taking a
seat beside me. “Is this because of the brawl at the arena? I saw how
disappointed the officials were and we had a hell of a mess to clean up.”

And to think, I thought Tristan was going to be the only thing I
felt guilty about today. “Stu, I'm sorry. I didn't even know something that bad
was going to happen.”

“Girl, it's fine. I don’t even know what happened, but if it caused
Tristan to come out, I’m sure it was interesting.” I wouldn’t say interesting.
“But hey, let's forget about Tristan, even though he does have a really nice
body.” Not helping my situation. “We'll just have a girl’s day out. Try new
clothes. Splurge the day away. Sound good?”

It sounded like something I needed, and if I didn't control my
annoyance and frustration, my demon will want to. “Yes, let’s do that.”

We walked through three different stores. Sadly, my retail therapy
wasn’t working, because I just couldn’t find something that was appealing to
me, or my demon. That was until I spotted the perfect red and black lace bra
with matching panties.

“Oh,” I said, feeling the fabric between my fingers, “I like this.”

Stuart looked over my shoulder and his pale hair moved as he nodded
in approval. “If I didn't find men much more attractive, I'd definitely pay to
see you in that. Actually, I'd probably still pay to see you in that.” His
words made me semi-melt inside, only because it was Stuart and he always knew
how to do that.

“Hey Mel, imagine if you were in this when that cute boy stared at
us earlier.” Stuart wagged his brows once towards Mel, and she came over to
look at the garment.

“Oh yeah, then I'd understand why he stood there staring.”

I didn’t understand any of this. “What cute boy?” I asked her with a
brow arched.

“Oh, there was this cute guy earlier on today,” Stuart answered instead
of her. “You would have found him cute, Maya. Melinda and I were just walking
out of the new store that just opened, I can't remember the name of it, it's
really not that great, but they did have this really cute dress that—”

“You're going off topic.”

“Oh, right. The guy, he was just staring right at us when we exited.
It was weird.”

“But he was sexy,” Melinda added in.

“What did he look like?” I asked her.

“Oh, like my distant vision of an angel. Tall, lean, muscular, cargo
pants, a button up shirt.” She leaned against the clothing racks and let out a
long sigh. “I wonder if he has a rough side... I'm positive he has a rough
side.”

I rolled my eyes and snapped my fingers, bringing her back to
reality. “Did you ask what he wanted?”

“Well, I would have, but as soon as I saw him, he was gone.” She
shrugged.

It wasn’t abnormal for someone to just randomly stop what they were
doing and watch us. Actually, it always happened. Like right now, some guy had
brought his girlfriend into the store, but his eyes kept flicking towards us.
Then there was a male in his late-twenties taking a good glance everyone now
and then from the corner of the store.

And, don’t even get me started on the workers.

But still, just knowing someone was watching Melinda brought me on
edge. “What if it was the CIA?”

I heard a groan and I looked over to see her roll her eyes.
“Seriously Maya, why would they be following me then?”

“Maybe they thought I would be with you,” I said matter-of-factly.

“You're being paranoid again. Stop it before I call the mental
institute, and don't think I won't.” She gave me a warning stare and the
subject was immediately dropped.

“You know what?” Stuart said, walking back from somewhere—I didn’t
even see him leave us. “I think you should buy this.” He pulled the lingerie
set off the rack and held it in front of me. “And if you don't, I
will
make you.”

I could always trust Stuart to change the subject, even when it
wasn't his intention.

Friday morning. A week had been since the beginning of summer, and
several days had passed since Tristan spoke to me.

I was trying so hard to distract myself from him, but it bugged me
how he could just get angry when it was him who decided to punch the guy.

“You really need to stop looking at your phone. It's making me
frustrated just watching you,” Melinda spoke from the bottom of my bed.

I hadn't been motivated to leave my bed in the past two days. It
wasn't because I was drowning in a pool of my own depression, but because I
didn't have anything else to do.

I put my phone down on my bed for the hundredth time this morning. I
was expecting Tristan to text, tell me that he was over the stupid tiff he was
having, but no. No text, no call, nothing.

I was starting to miss the old Tristan, the one who would tease me,
and try anything to get into my pants. The one that didn't care what Tori did,
because he knew she was just a bitch. A bitch he happened to fawn over.

Here comes the depression pool.

“He's being a little bitch about this, seriously,” I groaned.

“Yeah, well so are you if you think about it. Build a bridge, Maya.
You can't sink into this mood that you're getting into. You're a succubus. We
don't care about others. If you want Tristan back, then actually do something
about it.”

Do something about it...

She was right. That was probably the best idea I'd received in a
really long time. I needed to do something about it.