every cloud has a [ SILVER ] lining

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`complete `tristan s. / hannah `sid hott for hannie right now `outfit `564

Paige walked into a nightclub, having been already drunk out of her senses. After being bailed out of jail, sick of having cameras and freaks in her face asking her about incident from beginning to end about her slapping someone, she felt like she needed a night out on her own. She was a little too frustrated these days to respect anyone. Paige wasn’t really in the mood to deal with anyone, ready to take her anger out on the first person she saw who really missed her off. Especially now that she didn’t have tristan silvers, her little pre-spring fling to keep her busy. And the first person she saw and heard was that loser of a scene girl. Couldn’t even take a slap, that freak. She was lucky paige didn’t punch the loser in the face.

She should have. I mean, at least the black-eye rumor wouldn’t be much of a shock for her or anyone else. It’s what everyone was already assuming happened. So yeah, she was in Florida right now. She clearly didn’t have anything better to do anymore or anywhere better to be. Broken-hearted and hated by everyone, she figured she might as well try and won away what was left of the broken heart and go somewhere no one cared who she was and what she had done. Somewhere they were all just too drunk to even give a shit. Away from the V.I.P section and far off into a club that even had a V.I.P section.

She was in downtown at a club just below a liquor store. It was actually pretty darn huge for a basement club. She didn’t really care about the location or appearance, she just wanted to get away, the carelessness was just enough for her to drink herself to death. Sure, for a moment, when she was with Tristan, she found with her manager who always told her to get her ass back to New York for filming of “the Marriage Plan.” It was hard for her to land even a minor role for a film because no one really wanted to hire her. She’d been nothing but trouble. Her anger had pretty much subsided. She didn’t expect him to fall in love, exactly, but the last thing she expected was for him to sleep with someone else while she was still in Los Angeles for him and him only.

Didn’t matter, though. She was telling herself she didn’t care. The bitch was apparently back from within her and Paige was going to have adjust to that side of herself once again. She wasn’t planning on going back at all. Not for anyone. This was exactly why she didn’t want to fall for anyone. She could say she was thankful she ended it before it got any deeper than it already had. So the club. She’d never been in this one, obviously. Within half an hour, she was at the fifth guy she was dancing with (or against) now. Didn’t care who the hell he was, just found it to be the best feeling to have alcohol inside her again and not care who the hell was watching anymore, letting guys just pull her body closer and have her feel how hard they were. It was ridiculous, but not to her. She was amused and careless. This was all she could ask for.

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[hannah]

It was hard to tell what Tristan Silvers was doing in Miami, especially when he was supposed to be in Morocco for filming. Well, not necessarily. They were still filming Six Lives but it just so happened he'd done his death scene just yesterday, so he wasn't needed for a while in Morocco. Of course he'd checked to make sure it was okay that he left for a few days and it was, since he wasn't needed after all. So naturally, he flew over to the opposite coast he was supposed to be on for some party. He would have liked to go home for once, see Slim Shady, relieve his sister of her dog-watching duties, but somehow this Miami party drew him in. He couldn't help it, he was a party animal after all. And any chance he got to make himself more well-known or famous, whether it be by showing up to a party and being stupid, or being in a movie, he would do it. But that wasn't any secret to anyone, Tristan Silvers snagging some fame from someone who had a little too much. This party, however, wasn't exactly full of the rich and famous. It was full of men and women who wanted to get drunk as skunks and go home with someone random. Why wasn't Tristan with someone random? Wait, why wasn't he even at the party?

He'd left before it had even gotten started. He downed maybe six beers, danced with a couple girls who were far too eager, and then left. He wasn't in the mood to be danced upon by random girls. He wanted one girl, but the chances of that were about equal with the chances of him getting rich and famous. Slim to fucking none. All his friends, it seemed, were all in the proverbial heaven of Hollywood while he was stuck in hell. He resented them all for it, but the reason he was in this basement club, to forget. In this place, his goal was to be one of the everyday people. Down in the darkness of this club, he wasn't an actor or a movie star. He wasn't a brokenhearted bastard and he wasn't the brother of a blind girl. He was just Tristan, the guy some girl could meet at the bar and ogle over without so much as a second thought. Sure his goal in life was to become the object of every girl's affection, but for now, being drunk in this concrete haven would do just fine.

Tristan quickly topped off his eighth beer of the night, leaving the bottle on the bar. He actually hadn't been drinking as much lately, at least while in Morocco. He'd gone nuts with it after Paige left him, drunk off his ass so much that he'd ended up in Oregon without knowing how. What the fuck had possessed him to go to Oregon? What's in Oregon, trees? He didn't even remember what was in Oregon, aside from himself and a very fat and Mexican cab driver. God sometimes he was stupid. The worst part was that he realized he was, and he kept doing it. He growled through his teeth, fighting his way through the crowd to the center of the dance floor. He was swarmed by ladies immediately, one assuming the front and the other the rear. This was what Tristan liked.. having some clean, dirty fun with women. He didn't "fall" for them or what the fuck ever, that just wasn't a Silvers move.

The song changed and he moved away from his current dance partner, growing bored. It was hard to keep him occupied for longer than thirty seconds, well, if you didn't have the rack of a Goddess and the ass of a satanical mistress. But before long, those wishes were fulfilled. He was perfectly happy dancing against this one, his hands on her hips as she ground against him. Ah yes, just what he needed, a blond bombshell. It was dark, and he was kind of glad. He didn't want to see her face, didn't want to remember her. It was just one of those nights. But then it all turned to slow motion. He'd leaned in and gotten a deep whiff of her hair. Below all the aromas, alcohol and smoke, he smelled something familiar. As they danced, their rhythmic thrashing led her to turn just the slightest bit and the strobe light to illuminate her features. "PAIGE?!" he shouted, not sure if it was disgust or surprise or happiness, or some mixture of all three. Regardless of the cause, he stumbled back away from her, the most confused look on his face.

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`complete `tristan s. / hannah `ehh, not so bad `outfit `670

The fifth one she danced with was a nice dancer. Too good for her to just slide away after the song ended. He didn’t seem to mind either. Paige leaned into him, hands brought back to wrap around his arms as she skillfully ground her body against him. This was seriously more like it. It felt like Tristan, but it wasn’t him. And tomorrow, she could just go on about her business, still with the same pleasure she had with Tristan, but without the worthless drama that came along with him.

When she felt him lean in, she smiled, knowing he just got a nice of her whiff. It was a little weird, she had to admit, but whatever. It honestly felt familiar, too, but she just dismissed that fact. She knew she was missing Tristan and that’s why this body felt like his. It couldn’t have been. Last she heard, he was in Morocco. There was no way of all the billion people she could be clubbing with it was him. She did continue to dance, still pretending it was him. No one had to know she was thinking of him and that she liked it. This guy wouldn’t mind, all he probably wanted is her ass right now, not really her heart.

Hearing the man shout her name, she first looked at a few people around them who started to look over. The voice didn’t register to her instantly, though it did sound like Tristan’s. It was still her liquor influence thinking everything about him. She turned and practically screamed at the top of her lungs for about three seconds, jumping back as well. Everyone turned, the DJ stopped and Paige slapped her hand over her mouth. Shit. Ugh, what the fuck was he doing here?! This was seriously not happening, he was following her around now!?

This had to be the third time he just appeared in front of her when she didn’t expect it. First time was when they met. She was out in the streets in New York, walking one night went she got mobbed by paparazzi who couldn’t stop with the questions about the rumors of her drug overdosing. Of course it wasn’t true, but she couldn’t just say that and keep on walking, they wanted to know what she thought about them. Bullshit. Just out of the blue, this man came and held her, claiming he was her manager and threatened to report the paparazzi for harassing her.

It wasn’t a while before people with cameras scattered. That man was Tristan. She remembered he didn’t leave her alone that night. He was hot, so they insisted he come “look after her” in the hotel room too. Of course, being the whore she was, she took him up to her hotel room and the rest was…well, you know, kinda obvious. They got it on. He didn’t mind. While she was supposed to be in NY, filming, she decided to take a little trip to LA the week after she met him. Now, she wasn’t sure where she was going to find him, she was probably half drunk when she did. She was out walking, hoping to find him, he appeared out of no where and they went and had a few drinks and she ended up in his apartment that day again.

Didn’t go back for a while, but realizing he was nothing but a womanizer and wouldn’t ever like her the way she liked him, she decided to go back. And…here he was. Popping out nowhere again. What was his problem? People were now leaning over to others’ ears and whispering, she took her hand from her mouth and just stepped back before turning around, rushing towards the back of the building, slipping into one of the rooms, dropping herself on a sofa couch before burying her face in her hands. She’d had it with him. Even miles away from home in Florida, she still couldn’t seem to get away from her problems. Paige grunted in annoyance.

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[hannah]

Tristan was finished, finished with this insanity. He was finally starting to get over her.. He could finally sleep at night without rolling over and telling his pillow he loved it, or trying to smell it just to get a whiff of her again. He knew it hadn't been that long since they "broke up", but truthfully, it never took long for Tristan to get back in the saddle after a relationship. He'd had relationships before, sure, but they never lasted long. Most of the time they ended because he was cheating. He'd gotten multiple slaps in the face and kicks in the balls, but he really couldn't care less. Girls were boring after they gave it up to him. They were all the same.. laid there and let him do his thing until it was over. That was absolutely no fun. Tristan liked sex to be engaging.. hell it was what he based his relationships off of! It had to be interesting to be anything at all. And with Paige, it was more than interesting. He didn't just want a good fuck with her, he felt something. No, not just his boner, but something that wasn't exactly physical, more emotional. And if Tristan Silvers had ever been emotional, it started when she left him for New York.

He really had been something of a wreck ever since then. If she thought he was drunk the night she came over and they fucked for the last time, she should have seen him the night she left. He'd actually drank himself unconscious, and when his sister couldn't reach him she flipped, calling an ambulance to take him to the hospital where they pumped him with fluids and got him upright again... somehow. He'd been pretty messed up, to say the least. He hated being alone most of the time, that was why he kept ladies in his bed all the time. That and he liked sex. But he was alone for quite some time, his only company the beer bottle. But for some reason, after a while, something kicked him in the pants and he stopped his insane drinking - didn't quit altogether, no, his alcoholism wouldn't allow that - but it did calm down to the point where he could remember his name, which was really quite an accomplishment for poor Tristan. He couldn't even tell the paramedics his name. He was pretty sure he mumbled something like, "Allen," or some name that was completely off. Thank god his mailbox had his name on it or they never would have known. They would have transported him to the hospital under the impression he was Allen Sergio with the loud barking dog.

But nothing, and I mean nothing, could have prepared him to find her here, dancing on him, in this club, in Miami. What were the fucking chances? Neither of them were technically supposed to be here, that was why she left right, because she was filming? Well, she left because he was a complete asshole to her. She stayed on the total opposite coast of the country for him, just to be with him! Or fuck him. Or both. But that was beside the point. And he fucked it up! Honestly, she should have seen it coming. It's Tristan, how can you not see it? Of course it wasn't like she wasn't putting out or anything because she definitely was, he was just really stupid and easily reeled in. Bianca was an old friend, or acquaintance really, and their having sex wasn't anything with emotion.. nothing nearly as mind-blowing as when he did Paige. Nothing could really compare to that. Although, he had to admit, he was pretty mind-blown right now, finding her here.

And before he even had time to compose his thoughts, everything had stopped and she had disappeared, everyone staring at him like he was a rapist. His jaw hung open and he just stuttered for a little while before he realized nothing coherent was going to come out toward these people. He just stared with his greenish eyes at the people who were muttering to each other, finally turning away and heading in the same direction as Paige. He started opening doors, trying to find her as he heard the DJ being sarcastic and turning the music back on. "Paige?" he called, not sure why he was going after her, it didn't make a lot of sense. She did just scream at the top of her lungs just seeing his face. He didn't care. All the hurt he thought he'd gotten over came right back. He realized then it was really just buried under the business of being an actor. He finally found a door that was locked. She had to have known he'd come after her... "Paige.. come on.. open up.... Please?" His voice sounded more desperate than he'd intended, but hey, what did she want from him? He felt like he might have a breakdown right now, but he had to hold it together. "Please..? I'm sorry.." He didn't know why he said it, but he definitely did, and he definitely meant it.

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`complete `tristan s. / hannah `i can only do so well >,< `outfit `517

Paige really didn’t care that she got everyone’s attention in the club. It was actually a lot less attention than what she usually got when she was out on the streets in New York. In an underground Miami club like this, the crowd was small and people didn’t come to see her tonight, they came to go clubbing. She didn’t like all eyes on her. It was as if she was suddenly not used to it. Paige covered her eyes, she didn’t want to listen to it all. The dj’s voice, the music blaring again, the people hooting and laughing, the door opening and closing (that sound was coming closer). And suddenly she heard his voice. She didn’t need this right now. ”Ugh.” Paige grunted yet again, covering her eyes. She didn’t cry. Nor did she when she left him. At least she couldn’t remember if she did, because crying in this situation was just worthless. No one liked her and that was their problem, she had to stay strong.

The room she was in was dark. There was enough light for her to be able to look around and she didn’t even need that. She just wanted to stay there and wait until she and everyone else left so she could sneak out the back. Or even stay there for the night if no one ever ended up leaving. She didn’t bet on Tristan, though. After about five minutes, he’d probably just go on about his business, she knew it. The last night she was with him was brought back as she sat there with her eyes covered, hoping he would just leave.

That night, she came into his apartment to gather her things. She never wanted to leave at first, but finding out he slept with some other slut just kinda snapped her out of it. It wasn’t like they were dating or anything, they were far from it. That was probably why she left, she didn’t want to fall for him. After giving him the impression that there was no way she could ever be his, she bolted. That is, of course, after she had sex with him again. It didn’t change anything, because she left before he could wake up the next morning. He was in a pretty bad shape, too. All drunk and completely out of it, Paige couldn’t even look at it anymore.

Ignoring the pounding in her heart when he said her name, Paige removed her fingers from her eyes and looked to the door before getting on her feet. Did he seriously just follow her? Well, understandable, he’d done it before. And every time he did, the results were always her spreading her legs for him. No. Not this time. She walked over to the door and leaned against it, not unlocking the door for him as she spoke back with the cracked voice that was left inside her, ”What for, Tristan?”. She reached over and flipped up the light switch as the room brightened and she unlocked the door as quietly as possible, not moving from the door.

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[hannah]

Tristan wasn't going anywhere. He couldn't. Just having seen her tore apart any sort of composure he'd built up from being away from her, and being absorbed in work. If he had something else to concentrate on, being away from her wasn't that bad. If he could get past the fact that she left him, literally got out of his bed and went as far away as possible without leaving the country, he was okay. That all came crashing down now though and he was like a lost little puppy. Of course he followed her back here and no, he wasn't going to leave until he at least spoke with her. He wanted her back, yes, but he knew that was not going to happen. He thought it might, but he learned from their previous go-round that it just wasn't possible. A-listers did not date nobodies like Tristan. Sure he was best friends with most of the A-list, but apparently Hollywood wasn't fame based on who you know like everyone thought. If it was, Tristan's popularity would have been through the roof and the status jump wouldn't be another problem facing his growing love for Paige Nilles.

At this point, he was just another overly-adoring fan boy to her. And that's all he'd ever be.

He leaned against the door, arm above his head with his forehead resting on his forearm. This was miserable. He wished he'd never even run into her. The gaping hole in his chest was back and his itching to alcohol turned into a metaphorical rash. He needed another beer, badly, but he wasn't going to let it take him away from her. She was really the only thing that came before his alcoholism, which was a stretch. Ole Jack Bailey didn't even come before the boy's addiction, and they'd known each other since they were in diapers. He sighed and pressed his ear to the door. He could hear her heels clicking across the floor, stopping right at the other side of the door. Then her voice came. It was so close... he wanted to just reach out and touch it, apologize a thousand times for being a stupid manwhore and going to fuck Bianca when he clearly knew it was wrong. Okay, maybe the alcohol he'd already drank was making him a little dramatic. Silvers, get yourself under control.

"Because," he began, "I miss you." He knew it wasn't a very good reason, and she would just assume he wanted to fuck her again, but it really wasn't. There weren't any words that could prove it to her right now, so he didn't even try. He could hear the deadbolt slide back into the door, out of the jam, leaving it unlocked. He reached for the handle, but brought his hand back. He wasn't going to force this on her. Whoa, Tristan, look who's playing with the big boys, now? He sighed. "Paige, baby, open the door please. I just wanna see you," he coaxed, his voice soft, much in contrast from the usual perverted tone it took on. The door was clearly unlocked, but he was clearly not coming in on his own. He bit his lip, getting the urge to just put his head through the door, but he restrained himself.

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`complete `tristan s. / hannah `thebetteryoursgettheworsemineturnout `outfit `562

Paige laughed nervously to herself, unsure of how to deal with any of this. Even the fact that everyone hated her was now starting to bite at her head. She tried hard to ignore him speaking to her in that same voice that had her mesmerized the first might she met him. She hated how much of an affect it had on her. Paige began to think of his face and those eyes and how awful they all looked the last time she saw him.

She tried to recall his face when she turned to look at him back when she was on the dance floor with him only two minutes ago. Couldn’t remember really if he was in a good or bad condition. Sighing to herself, Paige managed to get herself to open the door and then sit back down on the couch. So maybe she wasn’t ready to look at his face and see if he was really good now or still in that awfully beat up condition she left him in. There was still no doubt she was falling for him, but right now she had too much in mind to really care.

He obviously had too drunk to drink that night and when she knocked on the door, all he did was smash his door right at the door. She would’ve left, but lost or gained nothing by having sex with him yet again in his bedroom while she was there. Lucky, she managed to sneak out before he woke up. But one thing she couldn’t understand, though. What the hell made him follow her into Miami. How the hell did he even know she was here?! And now he misses her? Bullfuckin’shit.

”Fuck off, Silvers.” She managed yet another growl at him when he said he wanted to see her. She wanted to see him too, but it was a little too much to handle. She should’ve thought of that before she opened up the door for him. Paige still didn’t turn around, though and resumed keeping her face buried in her hands so she didn’t have to look or be forced to say anything to him. Because whatever she had to say probably won’t be nice.

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[hannah]

Sure, he was vertical and looked okay now, but that wasn't the case a week or so ago. He'd been a train wreck of a human being for a while. Tristan was used to getting everything he wanted, no matter how taken or off-limits it was, so naturally being left wasn't taken too easily by the man. And honestly, with his alcoholism taking a turn for the worst he was lucky to even still be alive. If he could have gathered every time he'd been drunk before in his life (not counting Ireland) and put it all together, he was pretty sure his blood alcohol content wouldn't have even reached that of the night after she'd officially left. She thought it was bad when she arrived to a beer bottle shattering against the door, she should have stuck around for a couple more hours just to watch. But wait, she was busy leaving him a broken mess like no other girl before.

And he was sure she was about to do it again.

He heard the knob turn in his favor and just sighed gently as he stopped leaning on the door and let her open it. Once he saw her, he felt the breath leave his lungs. He was so sure, so positive he was ready to see her, face her, smell her, anything. He'd been so brave just four seconds ago but now that he was faced with that flowing blond hair of hers, and the eyes he only got a glimpse of, he wished he'd made a different decision about this. He really needed to start thinking things through before he actually did them.. But he really wouldn't be Tristan if he did that. He was known for being reckless and careless, not careful and precise. What the hell would make him start now? Maybe his feelings for her were enough to let him change... maybe. The chances were slim. He'd change for as long as it took to get her back then pull his old shit again, that's just how he was.

He watched her carefully as he stepped into the room after her, letting her have her space on the couch for at least a little bit. Suddenly, the room seemed a whole lot smaller than it did a second ago. Being in that enclosed area with her was almost unbearable. He heard what she said, and he was torn as to how to react. Part of him wanted to chuckle and the other, cry. He decided to go with the chuckle, but it came out as more of a choke than anything. Why was he being so anal about this? Maybe it was just him falling in l-- Oh hell no Trist, just shut the fuck up. And he did. He dropped himself on the couch beside her, leaning over to pull her hands away from her eyes. "What are you doing here?" he asked, but it probably came out a little more harshly than he'd intended. He felt a little guilty, but he couldn't take it back now. He reached for her hand. He just prayed she wouldn't pull away, even though he knew she would. Wishful thinking, Silvers. He bit his lip lightly, wondering how he could drag this out and avoid getting kicked in the balls.

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`complete `tristan s. / hannah `neh `outfit `501

When she felt him take her hands, Paige swallowed hard. She wasn’t sure how to react anymore, being in the condition she was. Somehow she was nice at this point. For a moment, she completely shut herself out and brought herself back to one of her first days when she was with him. It was nice. Paige wasn’t pulling her hand away. She started to recall the days he would flirt with her and didn’t try to hide what he clearly wanted from her and how she would be so into him to bother making an effort to play hard to get with him. ”I don’t know.” It sounded sarcastic. She meant it to sound that way. It was almost a stupid question that wasn’t supposed to be his business.

Being in the nostalgic stage, she didn’t really mind, though. Matter of fact, she was afraid he didn’t want her to be here when he questioned her. Then again, he did make her open the door for him. He was the one following, not her. Because she knew she was here in Miami first. He was sitting by her after all. She wasn’t sure why that even mattered really. ”Wanted to get away,” She told him, once again snapping. That time, too, she meant to snap, but she regretted it rather instantly after she said it. At the same time, she kinda wanted to let him know that she left LA because of him and because she still didn’t want to go back to filming. And here he was in the one place she chose to avoid him. Paige still kept a hold of his hand. Finally, she looked up at his face for the first time.

He didn’t look bad at all. She actually meant to only glance at him, but was unable to look away anymore. She took a hold of his hands tighter and looked into his eyes. He didn’t look the same; the look on his face was so different than what she was used to. Nonetheless, in her out-of-it state, that look was enough to drag her closer. Believe it or not, she was dragged so close and in that moment, her lips connected with his. Only after a moment later, she pulled away, looking down. She let go of his hands. Shit.

She shouldn’t have done that. This only got her in a worse situation than she was already in. ”Oh god,” she whispered aloud, more to herself than Tristan. For a while, she just sat there, thinking about this. The last thing she wanted to do was lead him on and give him the wrong idea, but she also wanted so bad to make sure he didn’t get the idea that she wasn’t interested either. Because in all honesty, she was damn well interested. There was also no way she was going to let him know that. He might not even find out. Then again, she wasn’t going a good job at hiding it.

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[hannah]

Well, that was a much more reasonable answer than the one he'd been hoping for. He was hoping by some chance she'd heard he was here and came to see him but that was totally impossible and unlikely. He was seriously not thinking straight at this point, and it was all her damn fault. If she hadn't been in that crowd of paparazzi, looking so hot and helpless, maybe he never would have put himself in the position he'd landed in now. He never would have accompanied her to her hotel room, never would've had sex with her.. wait a second, it was almost worth all this just for the sex they had. Tristan Silvers had been around the block a couple times, but never had he met a woman as good in bed as Paige. Of course, it wasn't just her skills under the sheets that had him feeling like this. That was what reeled him in; definitely the bait, but certainly not the hook.

What exactly was the hook for ole Silvers? He had no idea. Maybe it was just the fact that she was a class A bitch. He'd always found that incredibly attractive, even when all his friends told him he was stupid. In the end, he was the one getting the most ass. The bitches were the ones who didn't want an emotional relationship, just wanted the physicality, and that's usually all Tristan was interested in. He wanted to tap that, and lap that. Bump and dump. Stun and run. Whatever you want to call it, he wanted to have sex with them and not talk to them again until it was time for another go 'round. Maybe he was just starstruck. It wasn't the first time Tristan had scored with someone well-known, but definitely the first time either of them came back for seconds. That had to be it.

He looked at her, silent now as she stared back into his greenish eyes. He felt the uncanny urge to melt, simply become a puddle there on the couch. Get a fuckin' grip, Silvers. He tried pulling himself together, not letting her get to him, but it was difficult. She was what he wanted, and he'd never experienced something or someone he wanted that didn't return the feeling. This was rather miserable when he got right down to it, just sitting there staring straight into something he could never have. It wasn't usual, girls stealing Tristan's heart, but if a girl ever had, it was Paige. She'd stolen it and broken it without him ever even knowing until it was all said an done. Like a blind shot, a strike to his blind side. Stupid females! All they did was wait until they found your weak spot and they stabbed you straight through it. He hated it with all of his being, all just under six-foot of it. He loathed, wished the ninth level of hell on it. But he just couldn't bring himself to hate the supreme bitch that was Paige Nilles.

The next thing he knew, they'd both leaned in for one of the gentlest kisses they'd ever shared. Normally, their intimacy was fiery, passionate, rough.. never this gentle, caring shit they were apparently pulling now. But that came to an abrupt stop as she completely pulled away from him. The fleeting feeling he'd had in his chest dropped to somewhere near his ankles while his stomach occupied his throat. He let her do it to him again! His hopes had risen only to be beaten down with the baseball bat of young love. He felt like crying. She looked like she'd just seen a ghost or something, or like he repulsed her now. He was absolutely no different than before, maybe just a little darker-eyed from the jet lag. Well, and his liver was probably a little less functional, but that wasn't something she could tell; though she could probably assume that he'd pushed worse into the addiction he'd known for several years now. It was just who Tristan was: if something bothered him, he turned to the bottle. If something went right in his life, he turned to the bottle. Just a natural reaction, and probably something he'd never get rid of.

Tristan, if alone, would have ripped everything in the room apart at that moment. For a second, he let his mind run with the crazy notion of doing so before reining himself in and realizing he was still sitting on the couch, calm, with a frown on his face. Snap out of it, dude. He sighed. "Baby.." he cooed, well, whined perhaps, as he leaned closer to rest a hand on her shoulder. He didn't know why he was doing it, but some strange and foreign instinct told him to.

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`complete `tristan s. / hannah `arewedone? `outfit `658

Paige honestly didn’t understand what the hell his problem was. She knew she was hot and that’s why he chased after her in the first place, but being the handfuls that she was, why was he sticking around. Why was he wasting his time trying to talk to her and tell her he missed her? She didn’t need this pity at all; she wanted to let him know that he didn’t need to just come in here to ‘make her feel better’ because he somehow ‘felt bad’ for what he did. Bullshit. At this point, she just kind of snapped out of it. Paige didn’t need him; she didn’t need anyone. That’s what she was telling herself as she didn’t respond to his touch or call him “Baby.” Slowly, the out-of-itness was fading and she was getting back to her senses, telling herself the same thing she did about fifteen minutes ago: the bitch was back. That was the only side of her that wasn’t confusing. Loving Tristan? That was far out of the question, she didn’t even know why she thought such a thing with a guy like him.

Baby, what? What could he honestly have to say to her right now that she hadn’t already heard or assumed from the bullshit act he was putting on. Right now, she was just grateful that he didn’t hear her when she told him she loved him the night before she left. It was the lust talking for her, she told herself. She would never love him. It was a promise she was trying to make to herself, knowing it just might be hard stuff to fulfil. She shrugged his hand away from her shoulder, still looking away now. ”How dare you?” She hissed at him, pushing herself away from him and standing to her feet as she tried hard not to lose herself again to him. She was better than that; she was better than he was. She had to keep reminding herself when she looked down at him; metaphorically and literally.

She still couldn’t believe she actually kissed him. What was she thinking? Why on Earth would she throw herself in the same position to let him screw herself over again? That wasn’t like her. She needed to keep reminding herself and her that this was seriously getting them no where. Paige liked knowing that she came with a price. She made sure guys knew that they had to work to get her. He made her seem like she was priceless and though that’s a given with any other relationship, she found it disgusting. ”You come here and think everything would be okay and we’ll just pick up like nothing happened?” She couldn’t remember anymore how she felt when she found out that he was still sleeping around with other girls. It made her feel like she was just a cheap fuck for his spare time; that’s all she remembered.

Paige shook her head to herself, disgusted by him clearly. She didn’t care anymore. She was still calling herself stupid to even let him in or beat herself over about this. She swung her hand across his face and ignored the echo sound that flooded the room when she slapped him. ”Piece of shit.” She whispered to herself at him before stepping away further. She should’ve known he was just like all the other men in her life only wanting her for one thing and one thing only. With this one, she felt like he egged it on for his own amusement, but ultimately was in it for the sex. A tear rolled down her face as she turned to the door and made her way out as quickly as she could, trying to make sure he didn’t see her crying. Rushing up the stairs, Paige slipped herself out of the building and wiped off her tears, making her way back to the hotel on her own.

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