Tristan was on his third glass of wine, trying to drown his thoughts. The image of Summer laughing and enjoying herself with another man was driving him crazy. He couldn't understand why he felt so strongly about it.
"Why does it matter?" he asked himself aloud. "She's just a friend, right?"
He was completely immersed in his thoughts since he returned from Summer's room feeling downcast and not understanding his feelings of jealousy because of Summer. He,
Tristan Stark, who has everything in every aspect has always been the subject of envy, admiration and jealousy not the one to actually feel those things because of a woman whom he had known, heck- not even fully known, for just a few days. He thought why was he feeling things he felt since he knocked on her door...
A few hours ago..
After finishing his call with Max who was pleading with him to save his ass in face of "Sam's" wrath for his "arrangements" in Paris for both of them. Tristan placed his phone back on the table and leaned back, a content smile on his face. He looked forward to seeing how Max would handle Summer's fury. Meanwhile, he could enjoy the beautiful Parisian night and the intriguing company it promised.
As he finished his wine, Tristan couldn't help but think of Summer's laughter earlier and the warmth it brought to his heart. Maybe Max's meddling wasn't entirely a bad thing after all.
With that thought in mind, Tristan found himself standing in front of Summer's suite, almost as if his feet had a mind of their own. He hesitated for a moment, then knocked twice. A few seconds later, the door opened, and he was greeted by a sight that took his breath away.
Summer stood there, fresh from a shower, wrapped in a plush white robe. Her hair, still wet, fell in loose waves around her face, droplets of water clinging to the strands and trickling down her neck. Her cheeks were flushed, adding a natural glow to her delicate features. She looked ethereal, almost too beautiful to be real.
Tristan was captivated, his eyes drinking in every detail of her appearance. Summer, seeing his reaction, blushed deeply, her own eyes widening in surprise. She had expected a staff member, not Tristan, and her attire was far more casual than she would have liked for such an encounter.
"Trish, what happened?" she asked, her voice bringing him out of his trance.
Tristan didn't respond immediately, still lost in the sight of her. Summer raised her voice slightly, "Trish! Do you need something?"
He blinked, coming back to his senses and clearing his throat. "Ahem! I was just wondering if you wanted to grab lunch together?"
To his disappointment, Summer shook her head apologetically. "Sorry, I'm meeting my old friend for lunch today. He'll be waiting for me. Maybe we can eat together next time?"
Tristan forced a smile, though inside he felt a pang of unease. "Oh, okay. Next time, then."
As he turned to leave, his mind was swirling with questions. He? Who's he? Is he her boyfriend? The thought unsettled him in a way he couldn't quite understand. He walked back to his suite, the image of Summer in her robe still vivid in his mind, but now accompanied by a gnawing sense of jealousy.
Once inside his room, he couldn't shake the feeling of unease. He poured himself another glass of wine, hoping it would calm his racing thoughts. He didn't know why the idea of Summer with someone else bothered him so much, but it did. He tried to convince himself that it was just curiosity, but deep down, he knew it was more than that.
Tristan found himself pacing the length of his living room, replaying their conversation in his head. The way she had said "he" so casually, as if it were nothing, gnawed at him. He realized he wanted to know more about her, not just as a poet he admired, but as a person.
His mind was a whirl of emotions, and he couldn't help but feel a bit ridiculous. Here he was, in one of the most beautiful cities in the world, surrounded by luxury, yet all he could think about was a woman he had just met. He shook his head, a wry smile playing on his lips. Max had really done a number on him this time.
Present time...
The lobby of the luxurious Morlow Hotel gleamed under the soft golden lights as Tristan, feeling restless and consumed by his thoughts, decided to take a break. His mind was an exhausting loop of confusion and frustration over Summer. He didn't understand why her lunch with another man bothered him so much, and that very thought drove him to irritation.
As he walked through the lobby, lost in thought, Tristan abruptly bumped into someone. Looking up, he froze, his heart skipping a beat.
It was Summer.
She had just returned from her lunch, her face carrying a subtle glow from being outside, and a hint of contentment from whatever conversation she'd had. Tristan instinctively wanted to ask her if her lunch was more than just a friendly catch-up, but a swirl of conflicted emotions held him back. His eyes lingered on her for a moment longer than necessary, betraying the nonchalance he was trying to display.
Summer offered a polite smile. "Going somewhere?"
Tristan cleared his throat, pushing down his curiosity. "Just needed some fresh air, I guess. Thought I'd take a stroll… actually, care to join me?"
There was an eager edge in his voice that Summer didn't catch. However, she shifted slightly, feeling a touch of guilt but too tired from the day's events to give in.
"I'd love to," she started, not noticing the flicker of hope in Tristan's eyes, "but I'm exhausted. The day's been longer than I expected."
Tristan's face remained stoic, but inside, he felt a wave of disappointment surge. The disappointment wasn't just because she turned him down — it was because she'd readily gone out for lunch with someone else, but couldn't find the energy to take a walk with him. He could feel an unfamiliar sting of jealousy, a feeling he hadn't expected to surface. But as always, Tristan masked it perfectly.
"No problem," he replied with a calm smile. "You should get some rest."
They exchanged goodbyes, and as they parted ways, Tristan's mind fumed. He couldn't help but think: Am I being jealous? Why? No! Absolutely not! He hated the feeling but couldn't shake it off.