Saints & Sinners

Chapter Twenty-Seven

A.N. MORNING UPDATE (7AM in the UK so I'm being a good boy this week bc I'm on time!) Anyway, there'll only be a few more chapters after this, maybe near 30 depending on how I want to tie all the loose nots. Pic is of Beau, Thomas Sangster, who you all know I adore!

Chapter Twenty-Seven:

"So," Tristan said, intertwining our fingers in the hallway.

"So... what?" I teased, our faces so close that we were practically kissing. I was never one for public display of affection, but a little flirtatious closeness never hurt anyone, and it certainly wasn't hurting me.

"So, how did they take the news?" he asked softly, twisting his position so that I was backed against the lockers with him looming over me, a smile like heaven creating adorable dimples up his face.

"I think Beau hates me," I said honestly, sighing. I could never understand Beau, he was the one person that I thought I could easily read, and the one person that proved my instincts wrong almost every time. My instincts were hardly ever wrong.

"Really?" he replied, taking a banana from his open locker and slowly, almost seductively peeling away the skin. Gently, he let it rest on the tip of his mouth, before pushing it slowly through his lips. He bit down on it, knowing exactly what he was doing, tore away, chewed, and started laughing at me. He was starting to learn exactly what buttons to press, and the fact that I was so readable really pissed me off.

"What? You know what you're doing, don't pretend like I'm the pervert when you're practically leading me on! Stop it!" I said desperately.

"You're just so easy to seduce," he laughed/coughed. He deserved to cough after taking the piss out of me.

"Oh, speaking of seduction, I made a new friend today," I informed him slyly, tossing him my best attempt at a suggestive smile. I wanted to wink, but I didn't have the master skills of seduction that everyone else seemed to have. It was like they pulled everyone except me into a class and taught them how to do it.

"And? Who is it?" he implored me, taking another slow and painful bite of his banana.

I smiled. Revenge is best served hot, steamy, sweaty and sexy, and not even this little shit would be able to guess who dared to approach me today.

"Eric."

"Wait, hold up a minute. The Eric? As in, the ERIC? I knew him years ago. Even back then, he was... something. I was worried you were going to say you'd met Jaspar, or something."

I'd learnt to get over Tristan's past a while back, I wasn't one of those jealous bitches that raged when they found out that yes, their boyfriends did sleep around before they dated them. Besides, I kind of felt sorry for Jaspar, all he did was fuck my boyfriend when he wasn't my boyfriend, got caught, and beaten bloody by his dead-beat dad.

"Should I want to meet Jaspar? We could start a fan club. Tristan's Toyboys, we'll call ourselves."

"Shut up, you idiot. I was just paranoid. Jaspar's in America anyway."

"Why don't you want him to meet me?"

"The last thing I want is for him to see that I've moved on. He's probably still in love with me."

"Oh god. Shut up. He'll be so over you, trust me."

"Anyway, what were you saying again? About Eric?"

"Has he always been something?" I inquired, generally curious about him. I mean, I could say he was my friend, but I hardly knew the kid, I'd hardly had one conversation with him, and honestly, I was afraid of his skills of seduction. Everything about him was rumour and lies, half-truths and secrets, like he was the bad boy that couldn't be trusted. I hardly knew anything about him, like most people. And besides, bad boys weren't my type. I was more into the mystery kids.