by H. M. Ward
That was my kiss. It was the same kiss he gave me in the prop room. I’d known it was fake, that he was acting, but somehow seeing it in front of me was too much. I felt sick and couldn’t stay there for another second. My stomach churched like I ate glass as I staggered to my feet. My head was caught somewhere between being crushed in a vice and floating away. Anger surged through my veins, but not at Trystan—at myself.
How could I be so stupid? I’d come to think that the kiss we shared meant something to him. The way he looked at me, the way he leaned in so slow that my heart felt like it would burst, even the way he gently pressed his lips to mine—it was all nothing. Out on the stage, it looked like Trystan hit a replay button. The entire thing played out, just as it was done to me, but he was with another girl and it was right in front of my face. It didn’t matter that he was acting. I couldn’t get control of myself. My eyes stung as I tried not to blink. Tears would roll down my cheeks. I looked insane as it was, shoving my way through gawking kids and running away like there was a fire.
My kiss was nothing to Trystan. Our kiss meant nothing.
Irritated with myself for being so naive, I hurried through the hallway to my locker. Pretending that I forgot something gave me a moment’s peace. I darted from my chair while everyone else watched the lights fade to black. It was like the air was charged with hormones and I imagined Trystan would get a fair amount of high-fives and crass statements for delivering such a smoking-hot kiss in front of so many people.
I fumed as I raced to my locker, trying to calm down. The teachers wouldn’t say anything as long as I didn’t linger, and as long as I didn’t run. I opened the door and leaned my head against the shelf, feeling the cold metal against my skin. The scent of paper and musty textbooks filled my head.
How dumb am I? I wondered.
For a moment I thought that Trystan actually liked me. When I heard him sing, it made me feel like there was a part of him that I couldn’t see. There was genuine pain and longing in that song. Could he have concocted that song and all its haunting beauty like he concocted that kiss? Could he toy with a girl’s emotions as easily? I felt sick. How could I be so stupid? And what about everything else? All those looks, the way he brushed my hand when I was close, the way he looked at me—I swear, if I didn’t know better I would have thought he liked me.
But I did know better. I knew Trystan Scott and this was one-hundred percent Trystan behavior. Damn, the guy was like a total sociopath. He wore so many masks, way more than I’ve ever even tried on, and each one fits him perfectly. He can become what he needs to be, what people expect, at the snap of a finger. The guy I saw so rarely was hidden somewhere beneath layers too deep to fathom.
Why does he do that? Why does he change when different people are around? The version of Trystan that sat in the basement and played the guitar, the earlier version that wasn’t Day Jones even, those were great. What’s not to like? Why hide when everyone loves you? There has to be a reason for it, but I had no idea what it was.
Yeah, you know. He likes getting what he wants, my inner-voice chided.
Oh God, was he that shallow? Did he really change to suit who he was with to get what he wanted? Trystan couldn’t be that shallow. Deep in my bones, I knew he wasn’t like that. There was something else. Something more that damaged him. There had to be. Trystan had that lost puppy thing about him. It made girls flock to him and want to be with him. That was always there. It never went away. He wore it like a scar. It was a piece of him that he couldn’t hide no matter how much he smiled and flirted.
I checked my face in my mirror and pressed the locker closed. Walking back to the stage door, I stopped for a second and leaned against the wall trying to blow off what I’d just seen.
It doesn’t matter what he does with Brie or anyone else. Trystan and I are nothing, but friends. I kept telling myself that, but it didn’t take away the sting. Pressing my eyes closed, I took a deep breath. When I opened them again, I saw Trystan standing in front of me with a can of Coke, asking me a question that I barely heard.
“You okay?” Trystan asked. His eyes found mine and held my gaze gently, like he knew I was close to tears.
Irritation and anger mingled together and vaporized my resolve. It floated away like I never had any. Trystan’s gaze was so convincing, which made it harder not to fall for him. I spewed out the words before I could stop them. “Yeah, fine.” My teeth bit into my bottom lip. I tried to shut up, I tried to stop talking, but I couldn’t. “I just don’t get it,” I said, arms flying around like a crazy person, my tone too clipped to be fine.
Trystan leaned next to me and looked down into my face. Those startling blue eyes were like twin pools. I wanted to get lost in them. I wanted them on me and only me. “What don’t you get?” he asked.
“How you can do that?” I squeak, unable to keep my mouth shut. “How you can make everyone believe you’re emotions are real, even when they aren’t? That kiss...” I shook my head. My brain was telling my mouth to shut up, but it kept going. My heart overpowered my head, like it usually did. Taking a deep breath, the rest of the thought rolled out, “It makes it hard to believe that you like someone else. That’s all.”
“Why does it matter, Mari? It doesn’t affect you.” His words struck me like a blow to the cheek. I never expected him to say it. Not to me. Not so callously.
“No, it doesn’t.” Sickened, I turned away. I had to leave. Now. I couldn’t stand there another minute. Trystan was all talk, all smooth lips, and smoother lies. I didn’t want that from him. I thought I knew him and I didn’t. It felt like someone was strangling me. I couldn’t stand it another second.
Trystan’s hand shot out and grabbed my wrist, stopping me, “Hey, wait a second. Mari, what is this? You know me.”
Heart pounding, I looked down at his hand and then up at Trystan’s face. I wanted to say so many things, but the only one I could manages was, “I’m not so sure anymore.”
He looked offended, dark hair falling into his eyes, his lips curving into a confused expression, “What do you mean? Of course you know me.”
“I’m never really sure if the guy I know is the real Trystan or the act. You can put on a dazzling show when you try. How I am supposed to know what’s real and what’s not?” I couldn’t stop the words flying out of my mouth. It was like I was running straight into a freight-train and hoping it would miss smashing me to bits when it hit. I knew what he thought of me, how he felt for me, and yet—I was standing there doing what? Demanding more?
He’s not mine, I reminded myself. I shouldn’t be so upset. It shouldn’t matter if he can photocopy a kiss and give it to every girl in the school. Trystan isn’t mine. His heart belongs to someone else, assuming he has a heart at all.
Trystan shocked me out of my thoughts when he placed his hands on my shoulders. A current ran through me. That jolt laced around my throat, traveling down into my stomach, and froze me in place. I couldn’t breathe. My brain was fighting it, screaming for him to let go. I couldn’t take his touch and his false sincerity.
Panic clutched me harder until I heard his voice, “Look at me, Mari.” But I couldn’t look at him. Those eyes, that gaze would knock the sense out of me. He continued, his voice pleading with me, “You know me. I wouldn’t lie to you. About anything. You know me better than anyone else. You always have.”
I couldn’t help it. As he spoke, my gaze lifted to meet his and once I did, I couldn’t look away. Trystan stole my heart and I couldn’t take it back. Hope and dread mingled together as his words washed over me. They were too easy to believe. I wanted to believe him, but I couldn’t.
By the time I spoke, my voice was small, “I don’t know.”
“Come to the prop room tomorrow with Tucker’s pass. I’ll show you that I’m serious. Acting is acting. Brie doesn’t have my heart. Someone else does.”
His words were like a foot to my stomach. There was no air. I tried to cover it up. I looked away even though I felt his gaze
burning a hole on the side of my face. Tucking a piece of hair behind my ear, I pressed my lips together trying to find an answer that wouldn’t hurt me more.
Brie. He gave Brie my kiss. He kissed Brie before. He slept with Brie, I reminded myself. Closing my eyes, I wished he was gone. I didn’t shirk him off this time. His hands felt too good. They were strong and warm, holding me in place, demanding something from me that I was afraid to give.
I babbled a few words that I couldn’t remember saying even if I tried and then added, “I don’t know anymore, but I’ll come. I’ll be there because of what happened today.”
Because of what you did for me. Because of your gaze in the closet. Because of the way you defended me to Tucker. Because of the song that poured from your heart. Because I heard it from your lips. Because I’m not sure who you are anymore and I think I’m more in love with this version of you than the last.
Oh God. Katie was right. He was going to hurt me and I was giving him every means possible. I couldn’t stand it anymore. Turning, I freed myself from his grip. When his hands fell away, it felt like someone ripped off a piece of my heart. I walked away leaving Trystan behind. For once, he didn’t say anything. He didn’t bound up the hallway chasing after me. Instead he stayed there, staring, speechless.
CHAPTER 5
~TRYSTAN~
“Well, that couldn’t have gone worse,” Trystan mumbled, as he walked back into the theater. Running his fingers through his hair, he pressed his eyes closed. There were so many things he did that totally screwed his relationship with Mari. It was like the whole relationship went up in a ball of flames before he even realized he liked her—before he fell in love with her.
Regret snaked through his stomach, as he walked to a few rows behind Tucker and slouched down into a seat. Within a matter of moments, girls he didn’t really know filled the seats next to him. They fell from the sky like rain. They were always there chattering. He was never alone, but he always felt isolated. Trying to block out the chatter, he watched the beginning of the third act on stage. Brie was sucking-up her lines and trying to cover it by blaming someone else.
That’s when he finally zoned in on the conversation going on around him.
The girl was saying, “I know, right? I heard there’s a reward for the person who outs him.”
Trystan’s gaze snapped toward her, “Outs who?”
Regan beamed, glad that he noticed her. Her inky hair gleamed in the dim light, falling over her shoulders as she leaned closer to him. “Day Jones. Who else? The guy’s a shadow. Every time someone thinks they got a line on him, he vanishes. Poof.” She lifted her hand, making the fingers of her fist fly open. Her dark brows rose as if it were impressive.
Another voice spoke and Trystan turned to see Jamie, a coppery-haired girl with olive skin. “There’s a reward, and it’s huge. That rich dude said he’d offer a million bucks to the person who finds him. Something about wanting Day to sing at his kid’s birthday.” She shrugged like it was a normal thing to do. Trystan never celebrated his birthday. Actually, he spent it as far away from his dad as he could manage. It was a reminder of everything they lost, of everything he’d never have.
Trystan’s skin prickled as ice filled his stomach. He shifted in his seat, hiding behind that cool smile he always wore. “Are you serious?” he was shocked, but he hid it like he hid everything.
What the hell was wrong with people? Why couldn’t they admire a song and leave a guy alone?
“Totally,” Regan replied. She laughed and turned toward Tessa behind her. “Did you see that Day-Tracker site? The one with all the leads and how they panned out?”
Tessa laughed, “Yeah, that was awesome,” she leaned forward. “That last guy they tracked seemed like a good fit, but in the end, it wasn’t him. I was totally hoping they’d find him. I can’t wait to see what he’ll do—and what he looks like. With a voice like that, he has to be hot. The shy thing just makes him more appealing.”
“I know, right?” Regan smiled, nodding in agreement.
“Hey, did you see the Facebook page for Find Day?” Tessa continued, “It’s hysterical.”
Regan nodded, smiling huge. “I know right? And the pictures were an awesome touch.” She turned to look at Trystan, adding, “It’s like the ultimate Where’s Waldo of hot guys. Girls have been uploading pics of what they think Day looks like and where they think he is. I’m totally uploading my guess later.”
“And, what’s that?” Trystan asked, a smirk on his face. He folded his arms over his chest while they were speaking and sat up a little bit. His stomach was tangling into a knot. They were looking for him.
Regan giggled, “Well, with a song like that there’s no question that he’s been playing for a long time. His accent sounded a little Cajun, and based on the way he plays, I’m thinking New Orleans.” She turned quickly and pointed a finger at the others, “You better not steal my idea. Post your own city.”
“He’s not in New Orleans,” Tessa whispered as Tucker looked back at them, a clear signal to shut up, but they kept talking. “Cajun accent,” she mimicked and rolled her eyes. “What the hell is wrong with you? He’s clearly from Long Island. Did you hear the way he said his G’s?”
Regan contested, “Yeah, but he didn’t put W’s in the middle of everything. There’s no way he’s from around there. You’d hear it.”
“Scott!” Tucker yelled. “Silence your posse or get out.”
Trystan stood, heart racing, all too happy to flee. The girl’s looked up at him as he rose. “Mr. Tucker, you know as well as I do that there’s nothing that will get them to stop talking, short of the apocalypse, and even then I imagine that they’ll be pointing out which zombie is wearing what, so I’ll take you up on your offer and leave.” The girl’s watched him slack-jawed, admiring him and then bursting into giggles at the zombie fashion reference.
Trystan headed out the back door, his head spinning. People were looking for him, trying to discover Day Jones’ identity. The thought never occurred to him, not in his wildest dreams. Dread pooled in his stomach as he walked to his locker and opened the metal door. Staring into space, he wondered if there was anything telling on the video—any signs of who he was or where he was. Trystan admitted he wasn’t very careful. When he made the video he was only thinking of Mari. He leaned his head against the cold metal and took a deep breath. He’d have to watch the video later to make sure there was nothing identifiable. Although he’d done it already, he felt like there was something there, something that would lead them to him. Trystan was certain that their only real clue was the YouTube account and his user name. Even if someone managed to track the IP address, it would show his neighbor, not Trystan’s home. The thought still made him squirm. That was too close.
Trystan grabbed his leather jacket and slammed the locker door. As he headed outside, a cool burst of wind caught his jacket and Trystan tugged it shut. Night was falling. Practice was running longer and longer, as it normally did, up until the day of the dress-rehearsal. Trystan walked down the street. Car horns blared on the busy road next to him. The scent of exhaust mingled with the crisp autumn air filled his lungs.
Passing store fronts, he walked to the diner to meet Seth and his date. Trystan cringed inside. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. He laughed hollowly. Yeah right. Knowing Seth, there wasn’t really another option. He sighed, his breath coming out in a white cloud. Sometimes he wished he had a different life, a different father, a different past.
Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if people knew he wrote that song, but the thought made him cringe. What would his life be like if people knew he was Day Jones? What would they think when they found out his mother ran out on him and that his dad hated him? Trystan hung his head, his gaze intent on the sidewalk in front of him. He could see it, picture it in his mind’s eye—everything everyone ever thought about him was a lie. He wasn’t anyone special. He wasn’t anyone at all. Revealing Day Jones’ identity would destroy him. It would strip away t
he little parts of his life that mattered.
Frustration shot through Trystan. Moving his feet faster, he came up with a plan for the date. He’d have dinner with Seth, so he didn’t get grilled with more Mari questions, and then get rid of the girl. There was no way he could feel okay. Not tonight. Not after today. Everything had started off so promising, before it derailed and turned to ash in his hands.
CHAPTER 6
~MARI~
Katie got my text and met me at the diner in ten minutes flat. She must have hitched a ride, since she didn’t have a car and there was no other way she could have arrived so quickly. I didn’t expect her to get there so fast.
She slipped into the booth across from me, gasping like she was out of breath, “What the hell happened? I ran out after stuffing dinner down my throat. My parents think I’m a lunatic as it is. After tonight, they’re gonna have me committed.” I was near tears. “Awh, damn. It’s Trystan, isn’t it?”
I nodded and started spilling my guts, telling her how that kiss felt—the way it seemed like it was tailored just for me. Seeing him kiss Brie like that in front of everyone, giving her my kiss, shattered the illusion.
“It was a lie,” I finished up, slumping back in the booth, folding my arms over my chest. I let my dark hair fall forward to hide my face and cast a shadow over the pain in my eyes. “He used me. No—he was running lines. The entire thing was fake and I was too stupid to notice.”
It felt like Trystan wrapped his fingers around my heart and squeezed. I couldn’t stand it. I didn’t know what I wanted to do, but suddenly sitting in the booth felt uncomfortable. I wiggled in my seat, trying to slink out of sight when some girls who knew Brie walked by. Katie shot daggers at them and they passed without comment, which was good because I couldn’t take anything else today.
