by Anthology
It has been a while since I’ve felt like going out. Weeks, to be exact. If I’m not in class, I’m in the cutting room, working on my film, or sleeping away the residual pain. Maybe it’s time to go out.
Maybe it’s time to move on.
* * * * *
Mason
It’s been weeks, and nothing I’ve done has helped. Tia’s still not talking to me. She continues to ignore me in class or whenever I see her across the quad. She hasn’t said anything about the notes or messages or stupid gifts I’ve sent. And maybe that’s the whole problem—maybe they are stupid. But they’ve all meant something—to me, anyway, and I hoped to her, too.
None of it is working, though. Maybe it’s time to give up. To take the giant fucking clues she’s been tossing in my direction and just leave it alone. But I can’t. More than that, I don’t want to. These weeks without her have only shown me how much I counted on her presence. She was my balance. She was my reprieve from all my stresses, all the responsibilities I have resting on my shoulders, and I miss it. I miss her.
But more than that, I love her.
I don’t think I’ve done a good job keeping this shit on lockdown. My game has deteriorated, my grades slipping. My friends have noticed. Max has noticed. No one’s come right out and asked me, though, and I’m not sure if it’s because they already know or what. Fuck, it’d be so much easier if they already knew. If I could just slide by without owning up to anything. Easier, but not the right thing to do.
Maybe that’s why Tia hasn’t gotten in touch with me. Maybe all the things I’ve done fall under the too little, too late category. Maybe I need to put my money where my mouth is and just own up to it already. All the things I’ve done thus far haven’t really meant anything, because I’ve kept it to myself. I’ve still held our secret close to my chest, still treated her like someone I was ashamed of, and I don’t want to anymore. The trouble is, I don’t know how to come clean.
The haze of smoke in the small bar off campus matches my thoughts, especially thanks to the half-dozen beers I’ve had. Despite my protests, Nick, Trey, and Max dragged me out tonight, even going as far as heading to a place we’d usually never go. Open mic night isn’t exactly our scene, which is fine by me. That means we’ll be left alone, hopefully, and I can get drunk in peace.
Diving into another beer, I’m starting to feel the effects of the alcohol when Trey elbows me. Nick and Max are oblivious to the two of us, in an ongoing argument about which sport is better—football or baseball. I glance over at Trey only to see his focus on something across the room. Turning my attention in that direction, I scan the people here—it’s a lot more crowded than I thought it’d be—and am ready to turn back to my beer when a glimpse of dark hair catches my eye. I do a double take, unsure if I’ve somehow managed to conjure Tia here in my inebriated state. But no. That’s her. She’s talking to a girl I’ve seen her around campus with before—her roommate, maybe. And then there are the guys. At least four surrounding the girls, all of them exactly how I pictured someone Tia would be attracted to. Exactly the opposite of me. One of them says something to her, his hand braced on the back of her chair as he leans down. She looks up at him, a smile on her face, and I feel it like a wrecking ball to my stomach.
I push back my chair and make to stand before Trey puts a hand on my shoulder, halting me. “Hey, man, maybe not a good idea now. You can talk to her when you’re not halfway to shit-faced.”
My brain is a little fogged from all the alcohol, but I’m coherent enough to pick up on the fact that apparently this thing between Tia and me isn’t news to him. The douche who was talking to Tia steps away, so I drag my eyes away from her temporarily and turn to Trey, glancing once to make sure Max and Nick are still in conversation. “You know?” I ask quietly. He shrugs and takes a sip of his beer. “How long?”
He spins his beer mug around and says, “I had my suspicions for a while, but you pretty much confirmed them that day we saw you leaving her dorm.”
“Shit.” I scrub a hand down my face, not knowing where this leaves me. I’ve been worried about how this thing between Tia and me would be received, and now I find out one of my best friends has known the whole time. And it hasn’t mattered.
“I know why you didn’t say anything, but, for what it’s worth, I don’t think it’d be a big deal.”
I snort, shaking my head. “Yeah, right. You said yourself my future wasn’t worth throwing away for some pussy.”
“Yeah, but that’s not what she is. Unless I’m wrong?”
Knowing there’s no sense in hiding anything now, I say, “You’re not wrong. Doesn’t matter, though. You heard what shithead over here said that day.” I tip my chin toward Nick, still pissed I didn’t put him in his place right then and there in the quad.
“Yeah, well, Nick’s an asshole. Always has been, always will be.”
“You’re right, but I still didn’t do anything to stop him. Didn’t even make him pay for it.”
Trey raises an eyebrow. “So putting him on bathroom duty and party cleanup for the past three weeks was just for the hell of it?”
“It’s not enough.”
“Maybe not, but don’t worry about him. Max isn’t gonna care. Neither are the rest of the brothers.”
“Doesn’t matter anyway. I fucked it all up.”
“C’mon, Brooks, don’t turn into a quitter on me now.”
“What the hell should I do then? Go up and sing Boyz II Men karaoke to her?”
“Jesus, no. But leaving notes outside her dorm obviously isn’t working. You need to step up your game.”
“How the hell do you know about that?”
“Dude. You’re not as stealthy as you think. I’d say at least half the campus is talking about it.”
“Shit.” I drop my head to the table, banging it a couple times for good measure. “Fuck.”
“Chill out, man, you’re drawing attention to yourself.”
The way he says it has me snapping into an upright position, my eyes immediately going to where Tia was…only to find her looking right at me.
“So much for stealth,” Trey mutters.
Between the low light in the bar and the cloud of smoke, it’s hard to make out her facial expression, but it’s clear she’s surprised to see me. And not happy about it, if the way she stands and grabs her coat before bailing out the front door is any indication. I don’t think twice before I follow after her.
As I push through the front door, the harsh chill of winter slaps against my face and arms, only covered in a long-sleeved T-shirt. Doesn’t matter that I forgot my coat. I’m not going back inside until I’ve talked to her. Finally spotting her half a block down, I take off it that direction, running to catch up with her.
“Tia!”
“Go away, Mason.”
“No, wait. Please.” I reach for her arm, but she shakes me off. “I want to tell you something.”
“I’m not interested in hearing it. Especially if you have to get drunk to tell me.”
“I’m not drunk.”
“No? How many beers have you had?”
I pause for a minute and try to remember, which doesn’t help my case.
“Exactly,” she mutters, then picks up her pace.
I easily keep up, walking alongside her. “What can I do? Tell me, Tia. Please. How can I make you forgive me?”
“You have access to a DeLorean? Because going back in time and changing what happened—changing what you did—is the only thing I can think of.”
“You know I can’t do that. There has to be something—“
“No!” She spins on me, her face blotchy, her eyes glassy. “There’s nothing you can do. Nothing you can say that will make this all better. You broke me.” Her voice cracks, and my chest cracks along with it. “I opened up to you, shared my biggest insecurity, and you tossed it aside like it didn’t matter. Like I didn’t matter.” Shaking her head, she takes a step back. “There’s nothing more to say. We’re d
one. I mean it, Mason. Don’t follow me.” She turns around and walks away, her pace as fast as her legs can go without breaking into a run.
The only thing that keeps me frozen in place is the fact that she’s right. She told me fear of being rejected is what keeps her from seeking out other groups, other friends, and I just made that fear more real when I stood by and did nothing as Nick talked shit about her. Worse, I laughed.
But I can’t believe this is it for us. That what we had is over because of my stupidity. Because of my pride.
I can fix this. If she’ll only give me a chance, I can fix this. I know I can. I’m going to start with telling Nick where he can shove his comments. And then I need to figure out something more meaningful than a few notes slipped under her door.
It’s time to expose this secret. Time to show everyone exactly what Tia Lanning means to me.
Chapter 11
Tia
My hands are shaking, nerves eating up every square inch of my body. I’ve prepared for this, spent long hours in the cutting room, working and reworking everything, and I’m happy with the final product. It changed from what I thought it’d be at the beginning into something else entirely. It went from showing how different everyone was, how exclusive the groups were, to something that showed the common thread through each and every interview. Something that tied all of these people together instead of forcing an even bigger barrier between them: the desire to belong.
Even though I’m thrilled with how it turned out, it doesn’t alleviate the anxiety I have that everything be perfect. I didn’t sleep at all last night, too worried about how the film turned out.
When what Mason and I had came to an end, I wanted to scrap all of his footage. I wanted to destroy it just so I wouldn’t have to listen to his voice telling me parts of himself I never knew.
But I couldn’t.
After I watched his interview, I knew I couldn’t cut any of it. So much of the story I decided I wanted to tell hinged on his words. So I left it in. Left him in. Forced myself to sit through the long minutes of his interview. It got worse after that evening he confronted me at open mic night, the wound that had somehow began to heal ripped wide open again. Him showing up was awful and wonderful, all at the same time. Seeing him, hearing his voice, was soothing in a way I didn’t expect. But then that day in the quad came rushing back, overriding everything he said, and ruining it. Making every day I had to work on my film, every day I had to see his face and hear his voice in the footage, even harder. Eventually the sharp, stabbing pain at seeing Mason’s interview transformed into a dull sort of ache. Something that’s with me all the time now, but something I can live with.
The auditorium is filling up, more than it has in past years, and I realize it’s because there’s a bigger student turnout. Not just friends of the students who have films showcased, but others, too. Several of the people I interviewed are here, along with a few of their friends. But that’s not what I’m so shocked about.
In the back corner, there are at least three rows of guys there, and though I don’t know any of them, I recognize them as guys from Mason’s fraternity.
My stomach plummets, my palms growing sweaty, my pulse spiking. God, is he here? I twist around, looking to each side, but I don’t see him. I’m expecting to feel relief at him not being here. Instead, I feel something that’s suspiciously a lot like disappointment.
I didn’t realize until now I’ve been hoping he would show up. Maybe to see me. To support me. If nothing else, to at least see his part in the film.
The lights dim, and the head of the film department goes to the front, welcoming everyone. My disappointment flees under the weight of the nerves suddenly back with a vengeance, excitement and anticipation swirling through my body, too.
I’m ready for everyone to see what I’ve made.
* * * * *
My film isn’t very long—eighteen minutes, to be exact—but I think it’s impactful. Powerful. And I’m right. I can tell by the collective held breath, by the silence of the crowd. By the focused attention on the screen as an eclectic mix of people talk into my camera. While they speak of their lives and why they are the way they are.
When it’s done, I’m buoyant. I won’t know what my grade is for a while, but it doesn’t matter. I created something I’m proud of, something I got to share with others, and their reactions were exactly what I was hoping for.
I settle back into my seat, waiting for the next film to start, almost too keyed up to sit still, but I force myself to. First, it’s just a blurry shot of some sort of scenery, and I can tell it was shot recently or last year thanks to the fiery colors of the leaves on the trees. And then a voice comes on, and goose bumps erupt over my skin.
I know this voice.
I’ve felt it against my lips, my ear, my skin. I’ve listened to it for weeks, both in my mind and on film, but it doesn’t dull my reaction to it.
My name is Mason Brooks. I’m the starting quarterback and Vice President of Zeta Alpha Tau. I’m a lot of things to a lot of people, and that comes with pressure. To stand up to their expectations. To not disappoint them. To keep everyone happy. To maintain the status quo.
Even though his face isn’t on the screen, I’m riveted. I can’t look away, though I desperately want to. I want to flee, to run, to escape through the backdoor and leave before I hear the rest of what he has to say, because surely it can’t be good. Didn’t he hear me when I said we were done? Wasn’t it enough that he humiliated me in the quad? Now he has to ruin my showcase, too?
Instead of bailing like I know I should, I sit glued to my seat, breath held as I wait for him to continue.
In doing that, though, I might have screwed up the most important thing in my life, because I was too busy worrying about everyone else and not worrying about her. I had no idea when I met her she would be it for me. I didn’t even consider the possibility because of how different we were. But she made me realize that our differences were what made us work. Our differences are what make me love her.
As the last sentence rings through the auditorium, the film comes into focus, and the image there is nothing I could’ve expected. I suck in a sharp breath, my eyes pricking with tears. I have no idea who filmed this…how they caught us. All I know is it’s me and Mason on the screen, in that spot I thought was tucked away during his interview. We’re looking at each other, both of us smiling, and I don’t know how we didn’t get found out a hundred times before, because I can read everything in that five seconds of film. Can see it all in our eyes.
We don’t look like strangers, two people who only knew each other because of an assigned project in class. We don’t look like we hate each other; we don’t even look like we dislike each other.
We look like two people in love.
* * * * *
I’m not sure how many other films go on after Mason’s, because I’m out of my seat as soon as it ends. My heart’s beating out of my chest, too many emotions warring with one another. Anxiety and nerves and…hope? Everything’s swarming around inside, and I have to find him. See if he meant those words. Look in his eyes when he says them, so I can believe them.
God, please let me believe them.
I’ve already put everything on the line for him once. I’m not feeling strong enough to put myself out there again. Not with the possibility of getting my heart crushed once more.
The lobby area is empty when I rush through the back door of the auditorium. Empty except for the too-tall football player standing right in the middle of all that starkness. We’re silent for long moments, his eyes taking in all of me, sweeping up the length of my body, until finally they connect with mine. I forgot how good it feels to be looked at by him. To be on the receiving end of all that focus. To be the one he can’t take his eyes off of, and I realize I’ve been that to him for a long while.
Making my voice as strong as I can, I ask the one thing I need to know, “Did you mean it?”
“Which part?”
>
“All of it.”
He takes a step toward me. Then another and another until he’s right in front of me, the fresh, warm scent of him washing over me, and I don’t even realize I missed it until this very second. His eyes are sincere as he says, “Every word. I should’ve told you before, but I was a fucking idiot. I knew it might be too late, but I still tried. With the notes and the tape—”
“I ruined the tape.”
“Oh.” His shoulders slump, and it’s the first wrinkle in his demeanor I’ve seen. He sounds so dejected that it adds a kink in my armor, a fissure in the brick wall I’ve erected around my heart. Makes me wish I hadn’t wrecked the cassette so I could know what he put on there. Were they songs he normally listens to, or did he take it a step further and send me stuff he knew I liked? Did he spend hours working on it, listening to the lyrics and the tone to see what had the right feel for what he was going for? To say the things he couldn’t?
Seeing his dejection makes me want to reassure him, so I hurry to say, “I got the notes, though.”
“What’d you think?”
“They were…fine.” I want to soothe him, but I’m not going to lie. The notes were a piss-poor shot at redemption after what he did.
“Fine, but not enough. Just like that night outside the bar,” he says. I shake my head, and he reaches for my hand, my fingers engulfed in his. I forgot how good it feels to have his skin touching mine. “What about this? Was this enough?”
It’s a fair question, but it’s one I’m still not ready to answer. Not ready to take the leap. Instead, I ask, “Are you ready for the repercussions of this? For everyone to know?”
He steps even closer to me, his body pressed right up against me, then he cups my face in his hands, his eyes flicking back and forth between mine. “Everyone already knows, and I don’t care about the repercussions. None of it means anything if I don’t have you with me. These past few weeks have sucked. I was an idiot, Tia. I should’ve spoken up that day. I was worried about the wrong thing, when all I should’ve been worried about was between you and me.” He pauses to swallow, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and he looks more nervous than I’ve ever seen him. “You give me things no one else can, and I hope I do that for you, too. You’re my balance, just like you said during our interview, and I don’t want to lose you. Am I too late? Did I fuck up too bad?”
