I shrugged and pointed down. "On the floor."

"I'm not sitting on that dirty ass floor," he replied. "Do you need some water?"

"Yeah." I nodded, taking notice of the dryness in my throat. "But I also need to sit."

Tristan laughed and uncrossed his arms from over his chest. "Come here," he said, and I took a step forward because I trusted and listened to him more than I should. When I was standing right in front of him, he reached out to grab my hips and pull me down so I was sitting sideways across his lap. My left side was resting against his chest, while my bottom rested on his muscular thighs.

"I promise I won't fart on you," I mumbled while squirming on his lap to situate myself a little better.

He chuckled against my ear as his hot breath fanned out and gave me goosebumps. "Thanks."

"I'll go get you some water," Calum announced before standing up and walking off.

I thought about getting up for maybe a nanosecond, but when Tristan didn't say anything about taking Calum's seat, I didn't either. It was so easy to rest my head against the crook of his neck, so I did. "You smell nice," I told him with a deep whiff of his natural, clean scent. He smelled like something manly. My nose brushed against the vein in his throat when I smelled him again.

"You do too," he said so softly I almost didn't hear him. I felt one arm wrap around my lower back and the other one rest on top of my knees. "You smell like oranges."

I sniffed him again, wishing I wasn't so out of it so I could recognize whether he shivered a little or not. "You smell like a man."

"I'd hope so," he chuckled. I couldn't but notice how close he was to me, I thought his lips brushed the skin right by my tragus. "What was that guy telling you?"

I shrugged against him, letting my weight come to rest against his sturdy frame. Usually, I'd feel uncomfortable laying against or on top of someone, but with Tristan I could care less. I knew that if it bothered him or if I weighed too much, he wouldn't have a problem telling me. "I don't know. He said he had a pool table at his house or something."

"What—," he started to say before Zoey's shrill voice cut through the air effectively ending our night out.

"I think I'm going to throw up," she groaned.

Chapter 30

Tristan was many things.

He was smoking hot but also beautiful; he was funny, smart, a jackass, and compassionate among many other things.

Two traits he was not: organized and neat.

I'd been watching him fold his laundry for nearly twenty minutes, and I didn't know how I managed not scream in frustration or yank his clothes away from him to do it myself. I shouldn't have been surprised considering the haphazard way his kitchen was set up but nevertheless his folding skills were some of the worst I'd ever seen. Right then, he was folding his t-shirts into something that looked like a geometric anomaly. Yoda and I were sitting on his king-sized bed staring at him. I was pretty sure even Yoda was wondering what the fuck he was doing.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" he finally asked, a couple minutes later. He had one eye on me, and the other on a pile of folded clothes teetering in a tower.

"You're really shitty at folding laundry," I admitted.

He scoffed. "You think you can do better?"

"Tristan, a blind man with no hands could do better than you." I gestured toward the big lug next to me with my head. "Yoda can probably do better than you." I laughed.

He sighed before dropping to his knees, disappearing from view. "I'm not that bad," he said from underneath the bed. A moment and some scraping sounds later, he was dumping a black duffel bag on top of the mattress, and I realized that the time had come. He'd only mentioned in passing a few times that he was leaving the next day to film over the weekend. Each and every time he said it, I got this sickening feeling deep in the pit of my stomach. It was the same kind of pain I used to get when I had to do some form of public speaking.