Alison Lawrence didn't know what having a tough life meant and had everything handed to her on a golden plate. Her life was immaculate with the perfect and caring boyfriend in it and a reign that mattered the world to her, both things she never want...
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A L I S O N
"Please, just put a shirt on, Tristan." He shakes his head and I just roll my eyes for the millionth time.
"Can't you talk to me like this?" My best friend raises his eyebrow, a cocky smirk taking over his face. Why the guys that know they are handsome are the worst?
We have been here, seated in his living room, for over 10 minutes now. Tristan refuses to put a shirt on while I refuse to start talking with him shirtless. His abs really distract me when I should be apologizing for kissing him. Scott is the only that matters and it has to stay that way.
"Please, Tristan," I beg to my best friend, in the verge of kneeling in front of him. He is playing with me and that needs to stop.
When he lets out his breath in an annoying way, I know I won this little discussion.
"Fine. But I'm sure you will miss this," he points to his chest after standing up and I can't help but roll my eyes. Tristan laughs at my reaction, running his hand through his blonde hair, "Be right back."
I nod, a victory smile forming wider on my lips. It's probably true the fact that I will miss his chest. Except I can't give him the pleasure of knowing my thoughts about him. Tristan is hot, that's undeniable.
While he is upstairs, I take some time to look at his living room. It hadn't changed a bit ever since I was here. There was a party going on that day but the furniture is still the same. White sofas facing each other, a dark wooded center table in the middle and some flowers on top of it. The only thing I haven't noticed back then was the family photos on top of the grey cabinet.
There is one of little Tristan, around his ten, inside a bathtub. A typical photo that probably every mom has of their child. He's looking super cute, his blonde hair, almost white, is up in a moicano and his cheeks are red from the embarrassment.
While I move to the next photo, I feel a pair of hands on either side of my waist. The sudden touch makes me scream but as soon as I hear a laugh from behind me I understand everything.
"Are you stalking me, Ali?" Tristan asks, whispering on my ear. His voice is low, and if he wasn't my best friend, I would automatically believe he's flirting with me.
I nod, a smile forming on my lips. He looks truly happy in every photo there is. At least one of us had a nice and healthy childhood.
I turn around just to be met by Tristan, but not a shirtless one.
"Can we talk now?" I say, looking up to my best friend. I'm not exactly short since I'm 5'4" but Tristan is five inches taller than me and that's enough to make me lift my head when talking to him.
