“Okay.” I nod. I have an idea where this is going.
“Well, when he came home, he caught Dylan having sex with her in his bed.”
“Oh my God! What?!”
“She was 19, only two years older than Dylan. NYU student. She’d never had sex with Dylan’s dad. They were on their first date. Well, Dylan’s dad got royally pissed and kicked him out.”
“Wow. I can’t believe that he did that. And what about you?”
Peyton sighed. “Technically, we had broken up.”
“But still,” I say. “That was kind of shitty.”
“Yeah, I guess. Except that I was so mad at him for being jealous that I ended up having sex with my ex, too. So I can’t really complain.”
I nod. I guess not.
Peyton and I finish our drinks on the fire escape. When she goes back inside to get us refills, I stay out to keep our spot in case anyone else has the same idea.
“Wow, that’s fast,” I say when I hear someone climbing out of the window behind me. I don’t turn around, but continue to stare at the black sky. Back in LA, clouds are rare and the light pollution isn’t too bad all the time, so starry nights are not all that uncommon. But here, in the middle of Manhattan, I have not seen one star since I’ve been here.
“Fast for what?” a familiar voice asks. Shivers run up my spine.
“Nothing,” I mumble. “I thought you were someone else.”
“I thought you’d be more happy to see me,” Tristan says.
He’s wearing loose fitting jeans and a Columbia t-shirt that hugs his body in all the right places. The lights of the city illuminate that familiar six-pack. Tristan’s not stocky. He’s 6 feet tall and 155 pounds of muscle. Lean, wiry, and strong. Ripped.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
“Nothing. I just want to hang out with my roommate. Can’t I do that, roomie?”
Tristan isn’t slurring his words, but he’s drunk. The way he’s leaning on the frame of the window makes him look like James Dean. Damn.
“Of course, you can,” I say.
“So, hey, Alice. Listen.” He comes up to me and puts his arm around my shoulder. I feel an insatiable urge to kiss him. Everything about him – the way he looks, the way he smells, the way he feels – is so familiar. If I’d had another martini, it would feel as if the last couple of weeks never even happened.
“Listen, I’m sorry. I was such a jerk to you. And now we’re living together. I mean, what the hell is that all about? But seriously, Alice. I love you. Always will. You know that?”
I stare at him. I’ve wanted him to say these words to me for so long. He sounds sincere. I look into his deep-set eyes. They’re hazel, but in this light, they look green. My eyes drift over to his lips. He has the tendency to lick them when he’s uncomfortable. Back in high school, his tendency to lick his lips used to make many girls swoon. I’m not sure if he ever knew that.
“Alice? Did you hear me?”
“Yes,” I whisper. “Of course.”
“I love you, Alice.” He grabs my arm. Shivers run up my spine. His grip is firm and strong. The kind that would impress a potential employer.
“Tristan, please.” I shrug him off. “You’re drunk.”
“Hey! I’m not drunk.” He pulls me closer to him. Now, I can’t resist. I’ve only had one drink, but I’m a lightweight. “Okay, maybe, I’m a little drunk. But remember what you always said.”
“What’s that?” I can barely breathe. We’re so close, I can feel his breath on my lips.
“What you always said about being drunk. How when people are drunk they lose their inhibitions.”
“Lots of people say that.”
“Yes, but you always said that people are their truest selves when they’re drunk. It’s like without their inhibitions, people are free to be honest with themselves about who they are. So if a person is really a jerk, he’ll be a massive jerk when he’s drunk. And if he’s a nice guy, he’ll be even nicer when he’s drunk.”
“Okay, so what?”
“So what? Well, I’m drunk. And I’m telling you that I love you.”
He leans closer to me. Our lips are barely touching. He runs his fingers down my neck. I close my eyes. This is all wrong. This shouldn’t be happening. This will make everything much more complicated. I know all of these things. But I still can’t muster up the strength to stop him. I want to kiss him. I want to touch him.
He presses his lips onto mine. I kiss him back. For a moment, the whole world falls away. And nothing else exists.
“Oh my God, that took forever, Alice! Next time, you’re going!” Peyton says. And our brief moment of indiscretion crashes back to Earth.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she says and starts to climb back out of the window.
“No, no, it’s fine,” I say. With one hand, I stop her and with another, I push Tristan away from me.
He licks his lips again and flashes me a smile.
“Tristan was just leaving,” I say. I push him toward the window.
“I’m sorry, Alice,” he says. “Don’t forget, okay? I really am sorry. And I really do love you.”
“Okay, Tristan. Fine.” I roll my eyes and turn back to Peyton. “What?”
“Nothing.” She shrugs and smiles in a mischievous way. “I leave for one second and then come back here to find you making out.”
“We weren’t making out! He just came out here and cornered me.”
“Yes, I could see that you were putting up quite a fight.”
I roll my eyes and grab my martini from her hand.
14
Dear Tristan,
* * *
Thank you for coming out to the fire escape and kissing me. I know that you were wasted. I know that you were probably out of your mind, but I also know that what you said was true. You do love me. You might love me forever. And you’re sorry for what happened. Last night on the fire escape was the first honest conversation we’ve had since we’ve been here. No casual topics of conversation like “How are your classes?”, “Isn’t that professor really hard?” Last night was the first time that I’ve felt like we’ve actually spoken to each other. Acknowledged each other as human beings. Perhaps this is the first step. Not to a reconciliation, but to a real friendship. Because I love you too. And I’m not sure that’s going to change any time soon.
* * *
Love,
Alice
15
Two Weeks Later
* * *
I met Tea Albright in my American Lit class. I’ve read almost every book on the syllabus and yet I still feel way over my head. Tea and I are two of the only freshmen in the class, and as much as I’m enjoying it, I’m also keenly aware of why most people wait a year or two to take it. Tea’s got a great sense of humor and I’ve really lucked out in having her as my peer partner. Today, after giving me a strong, but encouraging critique of my paper on the role of class in The Great Gatsby, she and I cracked up over the whole trend of having Great Gatsby-themed weddings and birthday parties.
“The book is about this really sad man who makes a ton of money all in an effort to woo this woman he has been in love with forever. But at the end, all of his wealth is still not enough. He still doesn’t get her at the end. It’s tragic, really,” Tea says. “And all of these people and their Great Gatsby birthday parties…I mean, what are they thinking?”
I laugh. “I sort of think that maybe they never really read the book at all.”
“And just saw the movie and looked at the glossy pictures?”
“But even if they saw the movie, wouldn’t it be obvious? It’s not like things had worked out in the movie,” I say.
We crack up laughing.
“Hey, do you want to come over to my place after class? Hang out? My roommate’s not getting home until late. I got the new Adele CD. I’d love to have someone to listen to it with.”
“Oh, I know exactly what you mean! I really miss that too. We can crank it up high a
nd just wallow.”
I laugh. “It’s nice to be sad sometimes. Not really sad. Just sad as a result of some lyrics you hear,” I say.
“Being sad vicariously as a result of Adele and her insane vocal talent is much better than being sad in real life,” Tea announces. “I’d love to. But can I get a rain check on it?”
“Yeah, sure.” I shrug.
“It’s just that I’m sort of seeing someone. And we’re hanging out this afternoon.”
“What?? Really?” I get really excited. “Who is he? How long have you been together? Tell me everything!”
I’m getting a little ahead of myself. But there’s nothing juicier than to hear about a friend’s new love life. Everything is so fresh and unknown. The world is open to every possibility. It feels like anything can happen. And the best thing is that it’s not you who’s going through all this. Not you who’s taking a risk. Not you who’s going to get her heart broken, eventually.
“I met him in the cafeteria. He’s tall and sweet and really hot. Frankly, I don’t really know why he’s seeing me.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I ask.
“Oh c’mon. If you ever meet him, you’ll know. He’s like this Greek God or something. Tan. Lean. Strong. And me…well, you know.”
“Tea, please.” I hate hearing her talk about herself like that. It made me both really sad and angry enough to punch her. She had no right. “Tea, you’re beautiful.”
“Alice…”
“Tea, you’re beautiful. How many times do I have to tell you that for you to believe it?”
“Okay, well, if you ever meet him, you’ll understand.”
I sigh. Tea has a gorgeous face and beautiful hair and a curvy body. Very curvy. Perhaps she’s a little overweight, but you’d never know that she feels down on herself by the way she carries herself. While I’m always slouching, she stands up straight. She pushes her 36 DDs out in front of her and carries her head high.
“You’re hopeless,” I say.
“You’re so sweet, Alice. But seriously, I weigh close to 200 pounds. I’m well aware of how I look. I just…I don’t know.”
For a moment, she looks incredibly sad.
“What? What’s wrong?”
“I just really hope that this isn’t some sort of joke. This guy isn’t just some average college freshman, Alice. It’s like he’s an Abercrombie and Fitch model. So I just hope that this whole thing between us, I just hope that it’s not a joke.”
“Oh my God! A joke? Why would you even think that?” I gasp.
“Because it happened once in high school. This really popular kid asked me out. I was really excited. I couldn’t believe it. And then, I found out that he had only asked me out because of a dare. It was all this big joke between him and his friends. I was a joke.”
“You were never a joke. He’s an asshole,” I say.
We both crack up. Somehow, we managed to spend almost the entire peer review session talking about anything but our papers.
“Well, have fun with your new guy today,” I say, gathering my papers. “I’m sure he’s for real. You don’t have to worry.”
She doesn’t say anything. When I look up at her, she has a look of concern on her face.
“Alice, would you mind going with me? I just want a second opinion.”
“I don’t understand.”
“He lives in your building. I just want you to pop in with me, chat with him for a moment and then let me know what you think. If he’s for real or not. I just want some moral support.”
I shrug. “Of course. Though, honestly, I’m not sure I’m going to be that much of a help.”
“Please? I’ve only been out with him once before. And it would just make me feel so much better.”
I agree.
Tea and I make our way back to my dorm. I can feel her getting more and more anxious the closer we get to his place. I try to calm her by talking about the weekend and all the parties that are going on around campus.
“What floor does he live on?” I ask in the elevator.
“16th,” she says, pressing the button.
“That’s my floor!”
“Really? Oh my God, what if you know him already? That would be so great. Then you can tell what he’s really like.”
I shrug. Though that sounds good in general, I don’t really know that many people on my floor. I know most of their names, I think, but I’m not as social as I probably should be. Not sure how much information I can really give her.
The elevator doors open and we step into the hallway.
“You know what room?” I ask.
Tea starts to rummage through her bag. “Yeah, I have it here somewhere.”
I see Tristan and Dylan out of the corner of my eye, coming down the hallway.
“Tea?” Tristan asks.
“Tristan! Hey.” Tea throws her arms around his neck and gives him a warm hug.
And then it hits me. Shit! Oh shit! This can’t be happening, right?
Shit.
Shit.
Shit.
* * *
“This is my friend, Alice,” Tea introduces me. She’s yet to notice that anything’s amiss.
“Yes, I know,” he mumbles.
I stare at Tristan as if we’re locked into some intense staring contest. I feel Tea looking at me, but I can’t bring myself to say anything to her. I don’t even have the energy to break my gaze with Tristan.
“You know?” Tea turns to him and then back to me. “Alice? What’s going on?”
“Um,” I start, but my voice cracks. “Tristan’s…my…ex-boyfriend.”
I pry my eyes from Tristan and turn to Tea. She has an intense look of surprise on her face. It resembles how I feel in this moment. I’m not sure how, exactly, but eventually, I manage to excuse myself and go to my room. I feel like I owe Tea an explanation, but I have nothing to explain. I had no idea that Tristan was the guy that she had been gushing about. This whole situation is an honest mistake.
For the first fifteen minutes of being in my room, I wait for Tea or Tristan or even Dylan to burst in and apologize. At least talk to me. But no one comes in. So instead, I change into my pajamas, take off my bra, and put in my headphones.
I listen to Adele’s song, “Hello.” I turn up the volume and scream on the inside, lying on my bed and staring at the ceiling.
What is this feeling that pollutes the soul after a break up? It’s gives you an upset stomach and clogs your ears and makes the whole world hazy and a little dark.
And then it hits me.
I’m falling.
I feel like I’m falling and I’ve been feeling like I have been falling ever since we broke up.
It’s strange to be in perpetual motion without the end in sight. It’s like I’d fallen off a building (or maybe I jumped) and have been falling ever since. There were a few moments of slowing down; I wasn’t falling at full speed up until now. But now, I’m falling even faster. Perhaps that means that I’m getting closer to Earth? Closer to a collision?
I close my eyes. Open them. Stare at the ceiling. Flip back on my stomach and look out of the window. Days are getting shorter now. It’s still early, but it’s already twilight. Somewhere in the distance, I hear an ambulance racing down Broadway, its sirens getting closer and closer. I turn up the music.
Tristan and I haven’t talked much since our kiss. I didn’t expect that we would have, but I kind of wanted him to try. Still, once he had avoided me for a few days, I gave up entirely. That kiss was just a blimp in our otherwise non-existent relationship. But still, I didn’t expect him to start dating so soon. Why couldn’t he just sleep around like a normal single, college guy? And why did he have to date Tea? I like Tea. A lot.
16
Dear Tea,
Thank you for being my friend. I’m so sorry that your new boyfriend is my old boyfriend. Both of us could’ve avoided a lot of heartache and disappointment and anxiety if we had just revealed his name. Tristan.
It’s such a small word. And yet, it’s impact on our lives, is quite grand. Isn’t it? Hard to believe, really.
Well, I’m writing you this thank you letter to let you know that I’m letting go. That kiss Tristan and I had shared two weeks ago might have meant something, but I’m not going to let it. I’m putting him behind me. Once and for all. You can have him. He’s a great guy, but he’s no longer my guy. I know that. I’m trying to move on. No, not trying. Like that cliché line goes, there is no trying. There’s just doing and not doing. So I’m moving on. From this moment on.
So, to you, Tea, I say thank you. Thank you for being there. Thank you for finally making me realize that this is over. And that I’m going to be okay.
* * *
Love,
Alice
* * *
I put my pen down. I should be writing my Great Gatsby paper. It’s due in three days and it doesn’t even have a thesis statement. But this thank you card was more important. I’ve been thinking about Tea and Tristan ever since I saw them together yesterday. Something about writing this thank you card finally made me feel like everything was going to be all right.
“Okay, girlie.” Juliet walks in with two Nordstrom bags. “Enough moping. Does he love me? Will he love me? What does that kiss mean? Oh no, now he has a girlfriend. Can he love me again?”
It’s hard to keep secrets in the dorm, and it’s especially hard to keep secrets from Juliet. I can’t help but smile.
“I know. I’m pathetic, right?” I say.
“Maybe just a little. But you’re not a lost cause.”
“Good. I like the sound of that.”
“Are you ready then? To prove yourself?”
“Yeah, sure.” I shrug.
Juliet doesn’t look convinced. “Dylan’s birthday’s this weekend and he’s throwing a big party at his father’s place on Central Park.”
Auctioned to Him [Book 6]_Damage Page 110
