you’ve known tristen walters for a little over 5 years. you know his mannerisms and how arrogant - how displeasing - he was. but, you dealt with him.

you’ve watched countless times how he’d shoo away women with the wave of his hand every time they bubbled enough courage to ask him out. you’ve seen how many times his friends have dragged him out of restaurants and started arguing.

you never knew what for.

jace, mark, and collins were nowhere to be found when tristen burst into the apartment at 3 in the morning. he was batshit drunk, which was surprising because he hated the after effects of being intoxicated.

“fuck!” he shouted, giving a punch to the wall as he entered the living room, running his tightly tensed hands through his blonde locks.