Auctioned to Him 2: His for a Week

by Charlotte Byrd

“Come in,” I say. I click save and close my laptop.

  When I turn around in my chair, I see Tristan standing awkwardly in the doorway, unsure about coming in.

  “Oh hey, how are you?” I ask.

  “Okay, I guess.” He hangs his head. “I went for a run this morning. To clear my head.”

  “And?” I ask hopefully.

  “I’m still finding it difficult to get over the fact that I lost 15 grand. But I guess I’m feeling better than last night.”

  I nod, ask him to come in. We both sit down on my bed together.

  “On the bright side,” I say. “At least, you had 15 grand to lose. I mean, that’s something, right?”

  That was my bad attempt at a joke. It backfires. He looks crushed. I feel like a massive idiot for even saying something like that. Something so insensitive.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. Too little, too late.

  “No, that’s true, I guess. Just a little too soon, I think.”

  I nod, grateful that he doesn’t take it personally.

  “So I mainly wanted to come here and talk to you about Dylan,” he says.

  “Dylan?”

  “I don’t want you to talk to him about this anymore. You shouldn’t have lectured him about this.”

  “I was just trying to help you,” I say defensively.

  “I know, but I don’t need it,” he shakes his head. “It’s not Dylan’s fault. I don’t think he scammed me. He lost a lot of money, too.”

  “I know, but—“ I start to say.

  “No buts, Alice,” he cuts me off.

  I feel this incessant need to make Tristan understand that I was coming from a good place. I don’t know why. I don’t think for a second that he might already know that.

  “It was an investment. That’s what happens to bad investments,” he adds. His voice is forceful, certain. I look up at him. There are flames of anger in his eyes.

  “What’s wrong? Why are you mad?” I ask.

  “Why? Because you are butting into my business. Do you know how embarrassing that is?”

  “I was just trying to help.”

  “Alice, I don’t need you to—“ he yells. Then stops short at the end of the sentence. He doesn’t finish it. It’s like he’s afraid of finishing it.

  “You don’t need me,” I say. “I get it.”

  I get off the bed. I don’t want to see his face. Yesterday was like a dream. Not necessarily a bad dream, just a dream. It doesn’t feel real. I walk over to the window and look out at the pouring rain outside. The whole city is crying.

  “That’s not what I meant,” Tristan says.

  I wait for him to put his arm around me. But he doesn’t. He simply walks to the door and leaves.

  46

  I don’t know whether it’s from lack of sleep and general exhaustion, but I suddenly break down sobbing. This is the first time I’ve cried like that since our actual breakup. I feel like I’ve been holding it all in for so long and now it’s finally out.

  “No, I can’t do this anymore,” I whisper to myself through the tears.

  An hour passes. My tears dry up. I open a textbook to try to get some studying in before finals next week. A knock at the door breaks my concentration.

  “Can I come in?” Tristan asks.

  “No.” I shake my head. “I’m busy.”

  He sits down next to me anyway. Takes my hand. I try to push him away, but he doesn’t let me. I look into his eyes. There’s a hint of hope and a whole lot of regret in them.

  Tristan leans towards me and takes away my books. He drops everything on the floor. I let him.

  He leans closer to me. Presses his soft lips onto mine. Breathes me in. As we kiss, his hands start to slide down my body. Eventually, they find where my sweater ends. He finds his way underneath. With one swift motion, I’m on my back and he’s laying halfway across me. This feels so good. I can’t stop him even if I wanted to. He traces the curves of my hips and pulls on the strings of my pajama pants. He pulls my pants down a bit, until my hipbones are exposed. Then he pulls away from my mouth and kisses my hips. One. Then another. His fingers tease my belly button. I sigh, close my eyes and let it all happen. Tristan’s always been an expert with his hands and lips.

  My body rises and falls with each kiss. Slowly, I pull off my shirt and take off his. He unbuckles his pants. I drop my bra to the floor. He wiggles out of his pants. Helps me out of mine.

  “I’ve missed this, Alice,” he says in my ear.

  I love the way he says my name. I’ve missed this too. Laying naked next to him with our bodies intertwined, I feel at home. Like I’ve never belonged with anyone else. His breath matches mine. Our hearts beating at the same pace.

  He climbs on top of me, draping me with his whole body. I’m in a cocoon. I’m safe. I grab onto his shoulders for leverage. His muscles are hard and strong, but the skin is as soft as silk. We move in unison. We moan in unison. And when it comes, I look into his eyes and see stars.

  “Well, that was good,” Tristan says, wrapping his arms around my shoulders and snuggling next to me. “Thank you.”

  “No, thank you,” I whisper.

  When we were together, we started a quirky tradition of thanking each other after sex, if we were both left satisfied. I’d completely forgotten about it until he said those words. They make me smile. We lay in bed for sometime as darkness starts to fall. It’s not even 5 pm, but twilight comes quickly especially on rainy and cloudy days. I know that Juliet will be getting back soon, so I start to get dressed.

  “I’ve missed you, Alice,” Tristan says, propping up his head with his hand.

  “I’ve missed you too,” I say, tossing him his underwear and jeans. “Juliet will be home soon.”

  When we are both dressed, I remake the bed.

  “I want you back, Alice,” Tristan says.

  I’ve been wanting to hear those words a long time. Since the summer. But now that I’m actually hearing them, I don’t feel the way I had thought I would. Making love was wonderful, but I don’t want him back. We shared a good moment, but maybe that is all it’s supposed to be.

  “No, I can’t Tristan,” I turn to him.

  This is not what he had expected to hear. I see the fire and hope in his eyes disappear. Disappointment sets in.

  “What do you mean?” he asks.

  “Tristan, this was nice. Really nice.”

  “Nice? Are you crazy? This was amazing.”

  “Okay, yes, it was.” I give him that. “But I don’t think it’s right for us to get back together. Not now.”

  “Not now?” he asks. I see that I’ve given him hope. That’s not what I meant to do.

  “Not ever,” I say definitively.

  “Why?” Tristan asks. He puts his arms around me, but I push him away.

  I don’t know why. It doesn’t feel right. I try to figure out why.

  “You’re in a tough spot now, Tristan. I get it. And I’ll be there for you as a friend. A really really good friend. But you just want to get together because you’re lonely or anxious about the future. You don’t have to be, I’m here for you. But I can’t be your girlfriend again just because you’re going through a tough time.”

  Disappointed, he walks away. But stops at the door.

  “I don’t want to be with you because of the money. It has nothing to do with that. You asked me why I came to the cabin. It was because I was worried about you with Simon, but that wasn’t all of it. And I didn’t come up because Tea and I broke up. I came to see you because I missed you. And I want you back. I made a mistake, Alice.”

  I nod. Take a breath. But I don’t go to him.

  “Alice, I was a real jerk. I shouldn’t have ever broken up with you. There was nothing wrong with us. I just did it because I didn’t think that we should be so serious in college. I thought we were too happy. Like it couldn’t possibly last because we were too happy. I was so stupid, Alice. Childish. I wanted to date other people. But when it came right to it, I c
ouldn’t. Not really.”

  “Thank you,” I say after a while. “I understand now.”

  I am grateful for the explanation. I didn’t know it, but I’ve waited for the truth about why we broke up for a long time. And now, it was out there. I had closure.

  He’s waiting for me to come to him. To forgive him and say that I love him and that everything’s going to be okay. His arms are to his sides. He’s shown me all of his cards. I know that he’s telling the truth. But something’s holding me back.

  “I love you, Alice,” he says. It’s his last attempt.

  “I love you too,” I say quietly. “I’m sorry. But I just can’t.”

  Tears cloud my eyes. One large one breaks free and rolls down my cheek. My throat aches from sorrow.

  47

  It’s finals week. Where did the time go? Halloween and Thanksgiving were a blur. I went home for Thanksgiving, but I hardly remember any of it. Thankfully, my finals are spread out and aren’t stacked up like Dylan’s and Tristan’s. I don’t have any double final days and have at least a day to study for the next one. It could be worse, of course. But it could also be better. I look at Juliet. She’s practicing breathing for her breathing class. I wish I had a breathing test instead of three final papers.

  I haven’t talked to Tristan for a couple days except for a brief “hello, how are you?” The more time goes by, the stronger I feel that my decision is the right one. I can’t even begin to express how nice it was to be with him again. But life isn’t just about what happens in bed. It’s more than that. And despite what he says, I’m not entirely sure this isn’t some sort of freaking out moment for him. Maybe he took the break up with Tea harder than he’d thought. Maybe he’s upset about losing all that money. Either way, he’s not in the right state of mind to make a decision as big as this one. I’m sure he’s just confused. I’m pretty sure. But then that voice in the back of my head stirs up. I don’t want to hear it. But it’s there. What if he’s right? What if he just wants to be with me? And all those other things just happened to happen at the same time?

  American Lit is my first final of the year. Many people finish early, but I write practically every thought I have in the little blue notebook. I write until my hand cramps, un-cramps, and cramps again. I go through two notebooks, but finally get every last bit of knowledge that I have about The Invisible Man, To Kill a Mockingbird, and Catcher in the Rye onto paper. Tea and I are the last people to finish. I follow her out of the classroom. She looks tired and worn out. And it’s the first day of finals! I haven’t looked at myself in the mirror. But I know that she looks a lot better than I do. She’s at least wearing jeans and a proper sweater. Whilst I’m dressed in the same sweats that I’ve slept in.

  “How do you think that went?” I ask.

  “As best as it could’ve.” She gives me a weak smile.

  “Yeah, I feel the same way,” I commiserate with her.

  “Hey, listen, I heard about you and Tristan. Are you okay?” I ask.

  “I’m fine.” She nods. “He just wasn’t all there. I don’t think we were ever right for each other.”

  “Are you sure?” I ask. I’m trying to find out what happened. As if more details are going to give me a better understanding about my own decision.

  “Yeah.” She shrugs. “He never really wanted to be with me. He said that he wasn’t ready for a relationship. I should’ve listened to him. He was telling the truth. I just couldn’t see it.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say. It’s the only thing I can say.

  “It’s okay. We weren’t meant to be. You know what’s funny? After it was over, after I broke up with him, I thought I would feel terrible. But I didn’t. I felt relieved. So I guess that was the right decision.”

  “Yeah, seems like it.”

  We say our goodbyes. Give each other a warm hug.

  “Have a wonderful Christmas,” she says.

  “You too,” I say. “And don’t forget to let me read your book when you’re done. I know it’s going to be amazing.”

  “You’ll be the first.” Tea smiles.

  When I get back to my room, all I want to do is plop down on the bed and listen to an unhealthy amount of Adele. Someone on our floor is blasting Christmas music, and though I hate to admit it, it puts me in the holiday spirit. I only have two more finals. Then I’m done. First semester of college finished. I can’t wait to be free!

  I grab a can of soda out of the refrigerator before heading to my room. I’m about to walk in when something on the dry erase board outside on our door catches my attention.

  Can we erase everything and start all over, again? – Tristan

  I read the words carefully, to make sure that I’m not dreaming.

  I feel him come out of his room, stop right behind me.

  “Tristan, what are you doing?” I ask. “I thought we’d gone over this.”

  “I know we did. But the thing is that I don’t think you believe me. I think you think that I want you back because of Tea or losing all that money. But I don’t. I want you back because I’m an idiot. I just realized that I never really stopped loving you. And I never will.”

  I clutch my bag. He doesn’t shift his weight from one foot to another, the way he usually does when he’s nervous or uncomfortable. Instead, Tristan stands up straight, his eyes fixed on mine. At this moment, not even an earthquake can break him away from me.

  “I love you too, Tristan.”

  “So, what is it? Do you not believe me?”

  “No, I do believe you.”

  “So, why can’t we be together?” he asks.

  “Because I’m afraid.” I take a deep breath. “I’m afraid of going through all this again, Tristan. Getting over you was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. And, honestly, I don’t think I can do it again. I’m sorry.”

  I go into my room and close the door. I want to be with him more than anything. I want him to take me into his arms, tell me that everything’s going to be okay. I want to believe him. But I now know that this requires a big leap of faith. The kind of leap of faith that I’m not sure I’m capable of. Not now. And there’s something else. There’s a sneaking suspicion in the back of mind that this burning desire to be with me might blow over after finals. I hope I’m wrong. But I just can’t know. Either way, I can’t think about this anymore. I have two more finals to worry about.

  48

  Two sleepless days later, I’m finally done with the semester. When I come back home, I find Juliet tossing all of her notebooks and papers from the semester into the trash.

  “You’re getting rid of everything already?” I ask.

  “ASAP. I’m done!”

  “I don’t know if I can do that,” I say. I’ve never been one to throw away all of my notebooks, not even in high school where this was practically the ritual every June.

  “What if you need to review something later on?” I ask.

  “And why would I need to do that?” she asks. “Finals are over!”

  I don’t have a good answer. I want my academic life from this semester out of sight as well, but I opt to drop all the papers into the bottom drawer of my desk.

  “We’re all going out later to get drunk,” she says. “You in?”

  “Of course,” I say. “My flight home isn’t until later tonight.”

  “Awesome. I’m going home tomorrow. I think that’s when Dylan’s leaving too. Not sure about Tristan.”

  I nod. “Oh hey, so how are things with you and Dylan?”

  “They’re good, actually.” She smiles. “It was just a fling. But being friends is best.”

  “So, is he back together with Peyton?”

  “Oh, I have no idea,” she laughs. “I thought he was, but then he said that he wasn’t. Those two are addicted to each other. He told me that they’ve broken up and got back together like 10 tens! So much drama.”

  “I never thought I’d hear that from you,” I laugh.

  “Oh, I like drama. On stag
e. On screen. A little bit in my life. But his level of drama is out of control. No, not for me.”

  We crack up laughing. As different as Juliet and I are, I know that I’m going to miss her over break.

  “So you never told me, what are you doing for next semester?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Weren’t you planning on moving out? Not living with your ex again?” she asks.

  “Oh, that. No, I’m planning on staying. We’re in a good place now,” I say. “Honestly, I completely forgot to even file the paperwork.”

  “Well, that’s good. For me, at least.” Juliet smiles. “’Cause I kinda like you as a roommate.”

  “Oh really? Well, I kinda like you as a roommate, too.”

  Later that afternoon, while we wait for Dylan to come back from his last final, I decide to pack. As I pull the suitcases out of the closet, all the clothes from the top shelf fall on me.

  “Great. Just great,” I mutter and start sifting through them.

  I need some warm clothes, but not that many. Definitely don’t need the really warm sweaters or the snow boots. Unless, of course, I go skiing, which is a possibility. Shit. I’m going to have to lug all of this crap back home. I start tossing all of my favorite clothes into the bag. I should be rolling them like my dad showed me, to maximize room, but I’m not really in the mood to organize. What will fit will fit and that’s it. I have more clothes at home, clothes that I didn’t wear for four months. Might be a nice change.

  As I rummage through the closet, I work up quite a sweat. I decide to open the window to let in some fresh air. I don’t see the box of thank you cards on the windowsill and they go flying out.

  “Shit! Oh my God!” I scream. But it’s too late. They are already half way down the building. Since they weren’t thank you cards that I ever planned on mailing out, I didn’t bother with the envelopes. They open up mid-flight and take on air. Most take their time and fall at a leisurely pace, letting the wind take them on an adventure.

  “What’s wrong?” I hear someone yell back up to me. It’s Tristan. He’s standing at the bottom of the building.