I do not own CSI dammit.
Rated M for mature theme.
Well since you waited awhile for my laptop to return AND I had an awesome 'feel good' review...
I decided to write you another chapter.
In this chapter Warrick goes looking for Trista.
He isn't sure why since she told him she wasn't interested but he just can't seem to help it.
How does Trista feel about that? Well, read on and find out...
REVIEW, I BEG OF YOU!
Trista was in the bathroom washing her hands when she looked up and in to the mirror. She laughed at her reflection knowing she was drunk. But she was a good drunk. She handled her liquor well and she wasn't sloppy…at least not yet.
She wiped her face with her hands and fluffed up her damp hair before walking out.
Opening the door, she nearly banged into Warrick.
"Shit, you scared me!" she jumped.
"Sorry," he said and just stared at her.
"What! Are you following me now, Warrick?"
"No! Well, yeah... yeah, I guess," he smiled shamefully.
"Why? Why are you doing this?"
"I don't know, Trist, I can't help it," he said as he moved closer and closer to her.
Trista backed up with each step Warrick took until they were both in the bathroom completely.
Warrick reached his hand back and closed the door.
Trista stared at him frozen. She wanted to run out of the bathroom but she couldn't do it. She felt his large hands hold her small hips and she felt him pull her close to her. He surprised her though. Warrick didn't kiss her passionately. He didn't yank her into a heated kiss like the other times. Instead he leaned in and he hugged her. He hugged her tightly wrapping both arms around her and resting his face into her hair. She could smell the chlorine on him and she felt his soft skin as her face pressed against his chest.
"I can't get you out of my head…I want to but... I just can't," he said with sadness as he hugged her. "Tell me…please, Trista, I am begging for a shot here," he said with his face against her head.
Trista might have been drunk when she walked into that bathroom but she was sobering up fast as he held her tight and begged for a chance with her. She suddenly wanted to cry. She was shaking inside. She wanted to kiss him. She wanted to tell him the two of them were worth a shot. Instead, she hugged him back for a few more seconds before she pushed away.
"Warrick, it won't work, okay?" she looked at him.
"You don't know that!"
"Yes, actually I do."
"HOW? How could you possibly know if you don't give it a shot. If we don't go out together alone. Get some dinner, go to a movie…just spend real time together?"
"No, Warrick, I'm sorry."
"How do you know if you don't give it a try, Trist!"
"I know because," she took a deep breath and then lied, "I know because I'm not interested in you, Rick, not now, not ever, I'm so sorry," she said and tore out of the bathroom and scurried down the hall and up the stairs passing Jules on the way up.
"Hey, where you headed?" Jules said baffled by her desperation.
"My shorts are wet," was all Trista could think of as she kept going up the stairs. The truth was she was going to cry and she had to get out of view.
"Oh, ok, go in my room and grab something of mine, but be quiet in the hall…Em's asleep," she said and headed downstairs.
Trista headed right into Jules and Nick's bedroom and closed the door. She leaned against it and took in large breaths to try and calm down. She could feel the alcohol getting to her harder now.
"Not a good time to kick in Mr. Tequila," she whispered talking to herself.
Finally she walked away from leaning against the door and over to the edge of the bed. Trista sat down and clenched the puffy comforter in each fist.
"Don't you cry, don't you fucking cry, Trista!" she whispered and breathed in and out hard. "You can't do it, do you hear me? It will not work. It will only end up badly. You will lose everything...him, Jules and Nick, too. NO! You will not ruin the only family you have. Do you hear me?"
Trista's heart wanted him so bad. She knew when he hugged her so tightly that he meant what he said. She knew he felt something deep for her but she couldn't let him feel it. She couldn't let herself feel it either. She knew when he didn't accost her lips with his that maybe he really wasn't in it for the amazing sex. Maybe, just maybe, they really did love each other on a whole new level now. The love they had might have just gone from platonic to a whole other level.
"NO! Do you hear yourself you drunken bitch! Stop it! You want to lose it all? Your best friends? Emma?"
When she said Emma she sucked in her air and winced.
Just thinking about not being a part of that little girl's life made her put her face in her hands and start to cry. It was a a few tears at first but then she let herself cry harder.
And then, she straightened herself up and went into Jules' bathroom, closing the door slightly. She stood in front of the mirror and stared at her reflection before turning on the water and splashing some on her face. Trista opened the vanity drawer, took our Jules' make up case, and fixed her face back up.
"You told him you weren't interested. You made it clear. Now stick to it. Stop acting immature and reckless, Trista. Grow up and find yourself someone to just hook up with and forget about this love nonsense. It doesn't exist. Stop it. Go talk to that Del Marco guy…. He is cute and he is someone to keep your bed warm if you want," she told her reflection.
Her reflection answered her back, "But I don't want to sleep with anyone. I just pretend to do that. It isn't me. It isn't who I am."
She took a deep breath.
"Then kiss the guy. Make out with him. Give him a blow job but stay the fuck away from Warrick Brown!" Trista frowned.
She stared at herself for a few seconds silently and then answered her reflection again.
"No. You're drunk. You are talking stupid. Just keep away from Warrick. There is no way you are going to use one of Nick's friends….even if he would like it if you did. There was no way I am compromising myself just because I want to make Warrick get away from me. No. I won't do it…not drunk…not sober," she said adamantly to herself.
She took in a large breath of air and let it out slowly before whispering...
"I just have to forget about Warrick and that's that."
Nick walked into his kitchen and grabbed a spatula off the counter. As he turned to walk back outside and to the grill he noticed Warrick standing alone, leaning against the closed bathroom door, just staring into space.
"You waiting for the bathroom, Bro? Go use the one upstairs," Nick suggested.
"No, no one is in there. I was just thinking," he said quietly.
"Oh no, aw shit," Nick said knowing this wasn't good.
Warrick shook his head sadly and looked at Nick, "Trista…ugh man, I don't know. Did she bolt outside?"
"Oh, uh," he looked behind him through the sliders, "I guess, I don't know, yeah, I think so," Nick said assuming she did.
"Well, I…ya know what, it ain't worth talkin' about," he sighed and walked toward the counter resting his elbows down, "Hey, listen, I need to change….I cant stand this wet bathing suit anymore…do I have anything here?"
"Yeah, go upstairs and change…but Emma is sleeping so be quiet. You have shit you left here that Jules put away in my bottom drawer of my dresser. I think it's shorts and shirt…" Nick informed him and then turned to walk outside.
Suddenly he stopped and pointed the spatula directly at Warrick, "...and don't even think about touchin' my fuckin' underwear," he said seriously.
"Trust me, I won't!" Warrick said with attitude.
"Oh that's right," Nick said as he was closing the glass door.
And then Nick leaned back in and said to him, "Yeah, I guess you wouldn't be able to fit into them anyway…my underwear are much bigger…in order to cover my enormous COCK!" he laughed hard and closed the door shut.
"Fuckin' asshole," Warrick grumbled remembering that disgusting text.
Warrick sneaked up the stairs quietly like Nick asked in order to stay clear of waking his niece. He walked into his sister's bedroom and closed the door behind him. He then went straight for Nick's dresser. Opening it slowly he saw a pair of shorts and a pair of boxers but no shirt. He opened Nick's drawer and grabbed one of his t-shirts. He was just about to pull down his swim trunks when he heard someone talking quietly in the bathroom. He tilted his head and walked over to the bathroom opening the slightly closed door slowly.
He saw Trista. She was talking to reflection. He heard her say: "I just have to forget about Warrick and that's that."
He stared at her for a minute before talking to her.
"Why?" he asked making her jump.
"God, Warrick! Can't I have any privacy?" she complained and turned to face him.
"I'm sorry…this time I'm innocent. I came up to change. Why are you up here?" he said as she stood in her bathing suit with her wet shorts on the vanity counter.
"Same reason," she said quietly and began to walk out of the bathroom.
Walking past him through the doorway she went to Jules' closet and grabbed a cute yellow, cotton, pull-on, tube top dress that would be perfect to dry out in. Turning around to go back into the bathroom their eyes locked.
"You never answered me, Trist,"
"What Warrick? What!" she said exasperated.
"Why do you have to forget about me? Why are you pretending you don't even think of me?"
"Because I don't!"
"Really? Bullshit. Then you wouldn't have just said that!"
"Warrick, please. Just stop looking to find something to change my mind, okay?"
She shook her head and looked away; she could feel the liquor getting to her. She needed to hurry up and get herself dressed.
She walked past him to go back into the bathroom and he held her arm.
She looked at him and her heart hurt. It actually hurt. She wished it could be different but it couldn't be; she knew that.
"Listen to me, I know you feel it," Warrick said softly.
"You don't know shit," she said as her throat tightened.
"Please, Trista...please...Let me...I promise you, if you just give me a..." Warrick didn't get a chance to finish his request because Trista yanked her arm away from him and snapped at him.
She just couldn't take it anymore; it was too much push and pull going on in her head.
"FINE! FINE! You are right…you were the best fuck I ever had. I would love to have it again, okay?" she growled. "Is that what you want to hear? You want me to be one of your Honeys, Warrick? You want to play me too? You want another shot at fucking me? Isn't that the challenge you love? Fine…here ya go!" she says loudly.
Trista pulls the string on her bikini top and lets it fall down. She reaches behind her and pulls open the back letting her wet top fall to the floor. She stands with her breasts naked in front of him. She violently sticks her thumbs on the sides of her bikini bottom and begins to yank them down.
"Whoa! Whoa! TRISTA! No!" he says and moves toward her.
He grabs her hands and pulls them off her bottoms. "Don't…"
"Why not? I just told you…we can fuck again…it was great then…it'll be great now," she said out of sheer confusion and frustration.
The liquor mixed with her emotions, the push-pull of her thoughts, her attraction for him and her genuine feelings were making her crazy. She had had enough and wanted to not care. She wanted to be numb.
Trista reached up and wrapper her arms around his neck. She pulled him into a kiss and slammed her bare breasts against his bare chest.
Warrick's first instinct was to grab her hard and hold her tight. His hands slid to her ass and he caressed it passionately.
Trista guided him over to the bed. She threw herself backward onto the mattress and Warrick began to crawl over her with a blazing erection that could be seen pressing against his swim suit. He began to kiss her neck with passion.
Trista moaned and grinded herself into him.
Warrick's hands slid around her soft skin and then he heard it.
He heard her voice in his head…"You want me to be one of your Honeys? You want to play me too? Fine…here ya go!"
And then …he stopped. He knelt up with his knee on the bed and his other foot on the floor.
"What? Why'd ya stop, Tough Guy?" she said fiercely with numbed pain on her face.
Warrick knew… This was not Trista. This was her armor. This was her trying to harden herself against him. She was giving him what she thinks is all he really wants. But he knew this wasn't what Trista really wanted at all. And he knew it wasn't all he wanted either.
He wasn't sure if it was the liquor making her act this way or if she was finally just giving up to prove that she was nothing more than a Honey to him. But that wasn't true either. He didn't want that. She was not someone he just wanted as a challenge. She was more than someone he just wanted to sleep with. She was nothing like a Honey to him. "No. I won't do this to her. Not drunk…not sober…I don't want it to be only about that."
"Get up, Trista…you are not a 'Honey' to me. You are not someone I just want to fuck, do you hear me?" he said adamantly.
Trista propped herself up on her elbows, her dark hair flowed down and her bare breasts seductively stared at him.
"What's the matter, Warrick? Can't get it up?"
"Trista, stop it. I know you better, you are not fooling me," he said and held out his hand to her.
"What? It's what you want isn't it? Isn't this what you are after, Big Man?" she squinted with sadness.
Warrick took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He felt the sadness he caused.
She continued, "You can just stop the 'I have feelings for you' bullshit now, okay? Ya wanna fuck me again? Good, here ya go! Let's get it over with! Just fuck me and then you can leave me alone, okay?" she said and her voice cracked showing her vulnerability.
"Take my hand, Trista, take it," he opened his eyes back up and stared at her.
"WHY? Why?" she said as tears began to pool in her eyes.
"Get up, Trista," he said and leaned down and took her hand for her.
He pulled her up to her feet and grabbed her, pulled her to his chest, and held her tight.
He just held her and he felt her begin to soften in his arms. He knew she wanted to cry. He could feel it. He could see it in her eyes, she was on the verge. But he knew her, she wouldn't dare let him see her cry. She rarely ever had in all the years he knew her.
"Go away, Warrick…" she pushed away from him. "I'm really sorry, okay? I don't…I don't want you, but you just won't stop," she said with visible tears in her eyes. "I know who you are…I know what you do…and I'm okay with that," she looked at him with sad eyes and continued, "The reason is…you... you are just NOT what I want so please…just leave me alone…just be my friend and stop trying to bang me again," she pleaded with lies she never knew she had in her.
Warrick stood stunned.
He never meant to hurt her or upset her.
He was floored and he felt terrible.
"I will leave you alone, Trista. I am so, so sorry I upset you…I just…I want you to know one thing before I leave you alone, okay?" he held her shoulders and continued, "I want you to know that I did not chase you just to sleep with you. I didn't give you any bullshit lines. I meant what I said. I do have feelings for you but...but I hear you now," he nodded looking directly into her eyes, "I am sorry I didn't believe you before. You don't want me…I get it now...you just want it to be the way it has always been... and don't worry, it will not ruin our friendship…I hear you now, I'm sorry I pushed you," he whispered, turned away from her and, with a heavy heart, he grabbed his spare clothes and left the room, closing the door behind him.
He went into the hall bathroom, quietly closed the door, and then sat on the edge of the tub. He stared out at nothing at all. He just felt numb. He felt sad for Trista. He felt heartache for himself. A heartache he never felt before. He hated it.
He hung his head and looked down at the ceramic tile beneath his bare feet. He had pushed her too hard and he hadn't meant to. He truly thought she was interested and just wouldn't admit it. But seeing how badly he made her feel, how uncomfortable he made her feel, made him realize he had to leave her alone. He was not being fair. He wasn't accepting her rejection like a man. He shook his head sadly. He wasn't used to this. He hated it do much.
"If this is what loving someone feels like then forget it. I don't want it either," he whispered to himself.
Inside Nick and Jules' bedroom, Trista pulled on the little cotton tube top dress and hung her bikini top on the shower door. She left her damp bikini bottoms on.
She took a deep breath and continued to wipe away the tiny tears that kept sneaking down her cheeks. When she felt composed enough, she left the room, went straight downstairs, down the hall, through the kitchen and out the sliding glass doors to the yard…where she walked up to the bar, grabbed the bottle of Tequila and went and sat down...
...all by herself.