Panic surged through Tristan, and he knew he had to act fast. He honked the horn repeatedly, but she didn't slow down. He shouted rolling down his car's window "Sam stop! It's dangerous... You'll get hurt, please stop!" But it wasn't of any help. His heart raced as he realized the only way to stop her. In one swift motion, he pulled out his gun and aimed at her rear tires.
The shots rang out, and Summer's car skidded to a halt, her heart pounding wildly as the reality of what just happened hit her. She thought someone was after her. Bracing herself, she was ready to fight, but then she heard his voice, filled with worry. His shot was so precise it just busted the tires without letting the car explode. Summer understood his intention.
"Sam! Sam, are you okay? Please…come out. You're scaring me," Tristan called out, his voice shaky but sincere.
Summer's heart softened at the sound of his voice. She stepped out of the car, her body trembling from the adrenaline. Her eyes found Tristan's, and before she knew it, she was running towards him. She threw her arms around him, clinging to him as if he were her lifeline.
Tristan wrapped his arms around her tightly, holding her close as if afraid she might slip away. Her sobs were raw and unguarded, and they tore at his heart. He didn't say anything, just gently rubbed her back, letting her cry in his arms.
After what felt like an eternity, her tears slowed, and she pulled back, her face still stained with sadness. Tristan guided her to an empty beach shack, sitting her down gently before offering her a bottle of water. She took a few sips, her eyes still distant, lost.
Tristan crouched in front of her, his fingers softly brushing away the tear stains on her cheeks. "Sam…" he said gently, "Why are you doing this? Tell me what happened, what's the problem.. I'll help you solve it."
She looked up at him, her voice soft and broken. "Why are you being so kind? You don't want anything?"
Tristan shook his head, his gaze steady and sincere. "Not everyone is kind because they want something. Especially me. I don't lack anything. Not even women," he said with a soft smile. "But I do want to see you smile again. I want to take care of you, to protect you."
For the first time in what felt like ages, Summer let out a small chuckle, though tinged with sadness. "Are you confessing your love to me?" she teased.
Tristan's cheeks flushed. "Who said I'm in love with you?" he retorted, though his tone was playful.
Feigning disappointment, she replied, "Oh? You're not?"
He looked at her more seriously this time, his voice softening. "Not love. But maybe something close."
Summer's heart skipped a beat, and though she smiled, a flicker of sadness crossed her face again. "Obviously. Who wouldn't fall for someone as amazing as me…" she trailed off, her voice laced with sorrow.
Tristan noticed the shift in her mood but chose not to pry. Instead, he cracked a joke, trying to lighten the moment. After a while, they returned to her suite, where he prepared her a bath and brought food for her.
After dinner, they sat together on the couch, Tristan watched as she grew distant again, zoning out, lost in her sadness. Unable to contain his worry any longer, he put down his phone and scolded her. "What were you thinking, driving like that? You could've gotten yourself killed! What happened that made you not care for your life?"
Summer simply looked at him, his concern and frustration clear in his eyes. Instead of responding, she pulled him by the collar, her fingers trembling slightly, but her intentions were clear. The suddenness of her actions left Tristan momentarily stunned. Their faces were mere inches apart, and her breath, warm and uneven, brushed against his lips. For a split second, everything froze—the world, their surroundings, even time itself—as Summer closed the distance between them. Her lips met his in a soft, tentative kiss, filled with pent-up emotions, confusion, and unspoken words.
Tristan's heart raced wildly in his chest. The shock only lasted a moment before his instincts took over. He responded, first hesitantly, and then with increasing intensity, deepening the kiss. His hands, which had been resting at his sides, slowly found their way to her waist, pulling her closer, as though the space between them was unbearable.
Summer's lips were soft, sweet, and full of longing. Her kiss wasn't just an act of affection—it was a release, a plea, and perhaps, a silent apology for the distance she had created between herself and everyone else. She kissed him like he was her lifeline, as if this connection was the only thing anchoring her in the storm of emotions threatening to overwhelm her.
Tristan's fingers slid into her hair, tangling gently in the strands, as he tilted her head slightly, gaining better access. His kiss grew more assertive, but never overpowering, always careful, respectful of her vulnerability. He wanted to give her reassurance, strength, and comfort through every movement of his lips.
The kiss deepened with an intoxicating rhythm, their lips moving in perfect sync. Summer pressed herself against him, seeking more—more warmth, more comfort, more of him. Tristan's heart pounded louder in his ears, drowning out everything but the sensation of her in his arms. His thumb gently stroked the side of her face, tracing her jawline tenderly, as though memorizing every inch of her.
When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathless, their foreheads resting against each other, eyes closed as they caught their breath. Their breaths fanning each other's faces. Summer's chest heaved with the effort of the kiss, her lips slightly parted, swollen from the intensity. She opened her eyes slowly, looking at Tristan with a mixture of surprise, gratitude, and something deeper—something that neither of them knew just yet. Then she averted her gaze from away him, trying to look anywhere but him. She didn't know what came over her to initiate the kiss neither did she know how to explain him or what to explain him. An inner emotional turmoil was going inside her.
Tristan, still holding her close, kept his gaze locked on hers, his thumb brushing softly against her blushing cheek observing every emotional changes displayed on her face. He directly ignored her turmoil which he understood was about their recent kiss as he noticed her averting gaze. He didn't feel any conflict about it but somehow the kiss felt right, warm and something more- he didn't understand nor he bothered to contemplate. His voice was a whisper, but filled with earnestness as he asked, "Sam, if you trust me, can you tell me what happened? Do you trust me?"