Stay over at Tristan's? Is he being serious right now?

"That's okay," I say, still unsure if the offer is even real. "I'm sure Nicole and Nate are already on their way back anyway. I don't mind waiting for them."

"Leila, please don't," Tristan pinches the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes shut. "Just for me, alright? I want to make sure you're okay and I can't do that if you're across town."

"So I really don't get a say in this matter?" I ask. Not that I don't particularly mind sleeping only a few feet away from him, but it's been a rough night.

Tristan gets out of the car without another word. Well, I guess that answers that. I follow him to his front door and through his house, up the stairs. He's silent the entire time; he doesn't even say anything when we get to his room.

He sits down on the bed, elbows on knees, head in hands. I stay in the doorway watching him for what seems like hours.

"Um, Tristan?" I finally speak up. He raises his head to look at me. "Am I sleeping in here or..."

"You can stay in the guest room, it's just across the hall," he points to the door behind me. Tristan then stands, moves towards his dresser, and starts going through his clothes. "Here, take these. The guest bathroom should have spare toothbrushes in the cabinet." He tosses me a pair of sweatpants and a black T-shirt.

"Thanks," I murmur, turning away from him. What happened in the few minutes from when we were in the car to now? He literally offered to have me stay here, didn't even give me a choice, and now he's acting basically indifferent to my presence. Mystery man or not, he's being rude and I just want to sleep this whole night off.

I pause with my hand on the doorknob of the guest room and turn back to look at him. He's sitting at his desk, staring at his unlocked phone in front of him. He doesn't seem to notice me looking, so before I get caught, I rush into the guest room to get ready for bed.

This should literally be the last thing on my mind right now, but I can't help noticing how nice his clothes feel on my body. I know they're just normal sweats and a shirt, but they are so soft and smell slightly of his spicy warm scent. I wrap my arms around myself, trying to bring as much comfort to my being before I face the nightmares I will undoubtedly have tonight.

With brushed teeth and a mostly washed face, I find myself laying in bed wondering if I should check on Tristan. How ironic, he's the one who saved me tonight and yet here I am thinking I should make sure he's doing okay.

My relentless mind won't stop swirling with questions that desperately need answers. Why was he at the club? How did he even spot me and that guy? Why is he acting all weird now? What does he think I am to him? Should I even pry? Or is that rude? Or is it stupid of me to think that it's rude considering this whole situation is about me anyway?

With an exasperated sigh, I throw the blankets off my body and swing my legs around to the edge of the bed. There's no way I'm going to be able to sleep. And even if I miraculously meet unconsciousness tonight, I'll only be greeted by my past demons. Completely not ideal at the moment.

I get up and walk to Tristan's door, which is now closed. I can see the light streaming through the edges of it, so I know he's still awake. And if it wasn't for the light, the muffled noise of him talking and pacing are a dead give away. Curious, I press my ear against the door to try and hear what he's saying.

"I understand that it's my responsibility but I can't... No, that is the last thing we need right now... She said she's fine, but I don't know... Yes he'll be pissed when I tell him... What do you mean? Of course he needs to know!"

What the hell? He's talking about me. And someone else? I can't just stand here and listen. I knock loudly on his door and the conversation with whoever is on the other end of the phone ceases. Tristan opens the door and looks worried.

"Are you okay? Do you need something? Is it too cold in the room? I have extra blankets around here somewhere," he rushes through his questions, swiveling his head to the corner of his room in search of the aforementioned blankets.

"I don't need anything," I say. "Well, actually I need to talk to you." Confusions plaques his face, but he steps aside to let me into his room. I take a seat on his bed, him claiming the spot next to me. This is it. I need to confront him with all my questions, especially about that phone call. Time to break down the mystery man.

"Are you okay?" I ask, mentally punching myself for chickening out and sticking with my original plan to check on him. "You didn't seem alright when we first got into the house."

Tristan falls backwards onto his mattress, staring at the ceiling. "Sorry about that."

"It's fine, I was just a little concerned why you were suddenly so hot and cold with me." Feeling awkward that I'm sitting straight up while he's not, I slowly lower myself onto my back and turn my head to the left to look at him.

"I was just freaked out a little," he admits, still not looking at me. "I think I may have blacked out for a bit after I shoved that door open." I see his eyes unfocus, taking him to another place. He has demons, too.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I ask, reaching out to touch his arm. As soon as I make contact, his eyes snapped to the side to look at me.

"No, you've been through enough tonight. I don't need to burden you with all of my shit." He genuinely seems to not want to bother me, but that's not going to fly right now. I can tell he's in pain. When Tristan realizes my silence should be taken as permission to continue, he sighs and looks back up at the ceiling.

"I am going to presume someone has already told you about the police showing up to my house for a domestic dispute." I nod, remembering that Aunt Clara had told me that when she was explaining to me that Tristan's parents were no longer together. "Well, domestic dispute is a nice way to cover up the fact that my father is a piece of shit. He's a drunk who took out his aggression on me and mom. I never understood why she stayed with him, but now I know that she was just scared. I don't even see her as that person anymore; mom is so strong and would never let him, or anyone for that matter, push her around like that now. She always protected me back then, though. I always wanted to be able to do that for her, make her life better, but she would never let me. Until that night..."

Tristan's voice is steady, but I can see his eyes welling up with tears. I want to give him a hug, assure him he's in a safe space, but it seems like his mind has traveled back in time to whenever he is speaking about.

"It was the summer before freshman year. I was only 13. My father came home, stumbling over everything and reeking of booze. Mom tried to usher him upstairs so I wouldn't see him like that. It makes no sense considering I have be witness to him in this state a million times. But she always tried to make sure I wouldn't be dragged into it. I guess he wasn't having it that night. I was hiding behind the couch and decided tonight was the night I wouldn't let him continue to rape my mother anymore. I had already dialed 911, but it wasn't enough. They were taking too long, so I took matters into my own hands. I fought him off the best I could until the police arrived. My mom and I ended up staying overnight at the hospital so they could monitor both of our injuries. I think seeing me beat up just as badly as her was the push she needed to finally leave him. Also I guess him rotting in jail gives her peace of mind that he won't be coming for us."

I am speechless. Tristan saved his mom and himself at such a young age. He's done what he always said he wanted to do, to give her a better life.

To hell with our non-friendship. I roll over and hold Tristan as he silently cries. He wraps his arms around me and hugs me tightly to him. I squeeze back, matching his pressure. I don't know how long we stay like this, but eventually he loosens his grip an sits upright. I follow his lead and we both stare into each other's tear laden eyes. He gives me a soft smile before standing up and rummaging through his closet for that extra blanket for me.