Chapter 163 I Don't Even Dare to Use Force
A three-bedroom apartment with 1,300 square feet isn't exactly tiny, but compared to Tristan's place, it's barely worth mentioning.
Tristan's tall frame made the living room feel even smaller, and his presence filled the space quickly.
He tossed his bottle of mineral water into the trash, shrugged off his jacket, loosened his tie, and undid a couple of buttons.
Turning around, he flopped onto the sofa, pinched the bridge of his nose, and looked up. "Got anything to eat?" he asked lazily.
"Yeah," Katniss replied instinctively, noticing the fatigue on his face.
She headed to the kitchen, pulled out some ravioli from the fridge, and started cooking.
In just a few minutes, the ravioli was ready. She brought it to the living room, set it in front of him, and handed him a knife and fork.
"Aren't you eating?" he asked, seeing there was only one set of utensils.
Katniss shook her head. "I ate before tutoring Aaron."
Hearing that, he dug into the ravioli, looking way more satisfied than when he had her spaghetti.
While he ate, she went to take a shower.
When she came out, he had already finished eating and washed the dishes.
There weren't any pajamas for him, so after his shower, he wrapped himself in Katniss's towel and headed straight to her room.
They shared the bed without a word, and he was still naked.
Katniss was ready for whatever was coming, but he did nothing.
His long arm draped over her waist, his head nestled in the crook of her neck, and his shallow breaths tickled her collarbone. Within minutes, he was asleep.
Katniss, however, couldn't sleep. She shifted slightly, grabbed her phone from the bedside table, and saw a message from Saskia sent half an hour ago: [Not sure what Nicholas and Tristan are up to, but Nicholas comes back dog-tired every day.]
'A dog?' Katniss thought. Her chin rested on Tristan's head, his short hair prickly and fuzzy, quite fitting.
Thinking back to when she saw him at the door, he had spoken even less than usual.
Tristan's face showed signs of exhaustion, probably starving, and he only managed to stay awake until he ate the ravioli before crashing.
Her cool fingertips traced the bridge of his nose, causing him to frown slightly.
She quickly pulled her hand back, placed it on his shoulder, and finally fell asleep too.
The next day, she didn't set an alarm. Normally, her internal clock woke her up at 6:30, but somehow she slept until 8:00.
Sunlight streamed through the gaps in the curtains, gradually lighting up the room.
It didn't wake her until Tristan's body temperature next to her soared, getting hotter and hotter.
She slowly opened her eyes to see Tristan's well-rested but unsatisfied eyes.
His eyes locked onto her, and her nightgown was all messed up, barely covering her.
Tristan was always extra sensitive in the morning, and seeing her like this made it even harder for him to keep it together.
Last night, he was too wiped out. This morning, though, everything felt just right.
Morning exercise was a great way to start the day. Usually, they did it at night with the lights off; doing it in broad daylight, where they could see each other's faces clearly, was almost a first.
Katniss turned her head away, her face turning bright red with embarrassment, and her messy hair covering half her face.
His fingers threaded through her hair, his lips landing on her flushed ear, his hot breath whispering softly, finally making her forget her shyness.
The soundproofing in the apartment wasn't great, and Tristan didn't hold back at all, leaving Katniss to bear it all.
By noon, the shower she took last night was pointless, and she had to take another one.
When she came out, she saw two breakfasts on the coffee table, and Tristan was already dressed in a brand-new suit.
Ryan stood at the door, smiling politely as she came out, saying nothing.
"For the next few days, you'll assist Nicholas in investigating the Gibson Family's financial chain. I'll handle the project myself," Tristan said.
He waved her over as Katniss came out, opening the breakfast on the coffee table.
He was talking to Ryan, who immediately responded and then asked, "Shall I let you and Ms. Grey have breakfast first? I'll get to work."
"Okay," Tristan replied, handing Katniss some utensils and eating slowly.
"What have you been busy with lately?" Katniss couldn't help but ask, thinking about how exhausted he was last night. "Have you found new investors for the project?"
Tristan placed the last sandwich on her plate and said, "Don't worry, there's nothing I can't handle."
He put down his utensils, took a napkin to wipe his mouth, and looked at her, saying softly, "Eat more, you need the energy. Your waist is so thin, I'm scared I'll hurt you."
"There's nothing I can't handle," he had said earlier. It sounded a bit arrogant, but he truly had the capability. One moment, Katniss was marveling at his prowess; the next, she was left speechless by his comment.
She quickly finished her lunch, cleaned up the dishes, and left the house with Tristan.
She went to the education center, but where Tristan went was a mystery.
All she knew was that Tristan came back at night.
And somehow, he had gotten a key, and there were now two sets of men's loungewear in her room.
It seemed he was planning to stay.
He really did stay, sleeping there for several days. On Saturday, when she was at the hospital, it was unclear if he had slept there.
But when she got back on Sunday night, he was still there.
Their relationship, aside from the physical stuff, had settled into a routine.
Life was calm yet full, and this feeling made Katniss start to have thoughts just like before—thoughts she shouldn't be having.
She stood in front of the bathroom mirror, watching Tristan blow-dry her hair.
His long, clean fingers ran through her blonde hair, drying it bit by bit, letting it fall over her shoulders.
She suddenly tilted her head to look directly into his eyes and asked, "Tristan, do you like me?"
Tristan's hand paused, and the hum of the hairdryer became particularly loud in the cramped bathroom.
His deep eyes reflected her serious expression.
After a long while, he put down the hairdryer, placed his hands on the edge of the sink, and encircled her in his arms.
"What makes you think that?" he asked.
Katniss seriously answered his question. "Selling yourself is just an excuse. Other than liking me, I can't see any other reason why you'd want to sleep with me."
After a long pause, Tristan's thin lips curved slightly, and he countered, "By that logic, you must like me too? Not refusing, isn't that liking?"
She opened her mouth but couldn't find the words to respond, staring at him for a long time in silence.
The suddenly quiet atmosphere made the air feel a bit oppressive.
Tristan raised an eyebrow at her, his lips moving slightly as if to say something, but the phone in the living room suddenly rang.
Taking advantage of his distraction, she bent down and slipped out from under his arm.
He watched her retreating figure, his gaze deepening, and went to the living room to answer the phone.
Katniss could vaguely hear a woman's voice on the other end, and Tristan's tone was very gentle.
That topic ended with the phone call, and Katniss felt that their relationship had become somewhat strange. But she couldn't pinpoint what was different.
On Friday night, she went to the hospital as usual, and Matilda told her that George would be arriving the next day.
"Then I'll take care of Mom tomorrow, and you can go see George. Say hi to him for me; it's been a long time," Katniss said.
Matilda nodded and added, "I'll go home in the morning to change clothes."
She usually dressed comfortably at the hospital, but she wanted to dress up a bit for tomorrow.
Hearing this, Katniss thought of Tristan. She said, "Changing clothes is a good idea."
After a brief chat, she sent Tristan a message to let him pack up his things at her place and not to come over for the next few days.
After all, George might stay for a few days, and Matilda could come home at any time. It wouldn't be good if they ran into each other.
Tristan hadn't replied, so she checked the home surveillance and saw that he hadn't gone over. All his things were still in her room and his toiletries were also in her bathroom.
Matilda usually didn't go into her room, so Katniss didn't push Tristan to pack up.
The night was long, and when Katniss sent the message, Tristan was at a dinner party.
His indifferent eyes stared at the messages, not sure what to make of them.
The dinner wasn't over yet, but he got up and left the private room, heading to the end of the hallway. After some thought, he called Nicholas.
As soon as the call connected, without caring what Nicholas was doing, he went straight to the point. "What does it mean when someone suddenly tells another person not to come see them anymore, even though their relationship was fine?"
"Katniss said that to you?" Nicholas immediately guessed who he was talking about. "What happened between you two?"
Tristan didn't deny it and, after a moment of thought, briefly explained the somewhat inexplicable conversation they had that night.
They had asked each other if they liked each other, but neither had answered.
"That's where you went wrong. As a man, would it kill you to be proactive and admit it first? Even if Katniss was with you for money before, she isn't now, right? If she didn't like you, I wouldn't believe it," Nicholas said, directly putting the blame on him.
But Nicholas could understand Tristan; he was reserved and proud, doing so much for Katniss behind the scenes, but his downfall was his inability to express it.
Tristan's face was somber, his deep eyes staring at the brightly lit city outside, the darkness in his eyes almost impenetrable.
"By the way, I heard from Saskia that Katniss's mother's condition has improved a lot. If you want to show Katniss how you feel, besides making a move in bed, you should start with her family. Find some time to visit," Nicholas reminded him. "Don't forget to bring some gifts."
Tristan remained silent.
The silence lasted so long that Nicholas thought he had hung up. He checked the phone screen to confirm they were still on the call.
After a while, he sighed and said, "We're friends. I'll go with you tomorrow to visit her. How about that?"
"What time?" Tristan asked directly.
Nicholas couldn't help but laugh. "Two-thirty in the morning!"
He teased a bit, and Tristan mercilessly hung up the phone, his thumb gently rubbing the screen.
It was unclear what he was thinking, his brows sometimes relaxing and sometimes furrowing.
Sophia, besides being unable to speak, had mostly regained consciousness, including being able to move her fingers slightly.
Terry said Sophia would have to relearn to speak and walk like a child. Once the targeted drug treatment was over, she could start rehabilitation. If things went well, she could be like a normal person in six months; if slower, it might take over a year.
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