Well, except for that other guy…
18
His name was Darren. I was a senior in high school. Tristan and I had been in a long distance relationship for seven months and Darren was my partner in AP Physics. We had gone to the same school for four years, but I’d only met him that January. In fact, I’d never even seen him before. He swore that he had seen me, but I wasn’t so sure.
Darren had short dark hair, the color of roasted chestnuts, and disarming blue eyes. Unlike Tristan, he was quiet and somewhat shy. He never made witty comments or jokes in class. He rarely raised his hand, let alone answer questions directly, without being asked.
He was basically the opposite of everything that I loved about Tristan. And yet, I found myself inexplicably drawn to him. During the first month, I loved how he had made me laugh and appreciated his friendship. Somewhere, in the middle of February, around Valentine’s Day, I started to feel something more.
The night before our project was due, I stayed late while we put on the finishing touches on the presentation. After going over it one last time, we decided to celebrate with some of his dad’s bourbon. After drinking a full glass of bourbon, our inhibitions were somewhat relaxed. Even now, I don’t know how it happened. But suddenly, he leaned close to me. He brushed a few strands of hair out of my face and kissed me.
I had been lying to myself about my feelings for Darren for some time. Tristan was gone and I was lonely. And Darren…well, he was around. He was funny. And sarcastic. And cute. But mostly, he was just around. I had no overwhelming desire to be with him and, I hate to admit it, but if Tristan was still around, I wouldn’t have given Darren a second thought. But I hadn’t seen Tristan in person for a long time, and it felt nice to have someone’s arms around me.
Darren and I made out for close to an hour. It never went further than just kissing. He grabbed my butt once, but I pushed him away. It was just the kissing that I had craved. And with my eyes closed, I was transformed to another time and place where Tristan and I were together and everything between us was fine.
I heard his mom’s hurried footsteps coming down the stairs before she came in and pulled away from Darren just in time. She only wanted to ask if we were hungry and disappeared back upstairs after hearing that we weren’t, but that was enough to break my trance.
“I’m sorry. I can’t do this,” I said to Darren. “I have a boyfriend.”
His disappointment brought pain to his face, but I had bigger things to worry about. I had cheated on Tristan.
That night, I couldn’t sleep a wink. The second night, I tossed and turned and had a nightmare that Tristan had met someone else. The following day, I decided to tell Tristan.
I told him everything. How I met Darren. How were assigned to be partners. How we had started hanging out. And finally, I told him about our kiss. Our very long kiss. For more than a moment, I was tempted to keep the length of our kiss out of it. But a pang of pain throbbed through my body, and I decided to tell him everything. No half-truths. The whole truth.
Tristan listened carefully. He asked questions. I cried and sobbed and told him how sorry I was. I could hear the pain that I’d caused him on the phone. I felt awful, but also relieved. I had unburdened myself, selfishly. And burdened him in return.
“I need some time to think about this, Alice,” he finally said. There was an unfamiliar tone in his voice. It echoed of disappointment and defeat. I’d never heard it before and a crippling pain closed in around my throat.
“I’m so so sorry,” I managed to get out before he hung up.
That night was the longest night of my life. I didn’t sleep. I didn’t even bother to change into my pajamas. I simply lay on my bed, curled up in the fetal position, and waited. Time passed quickly. And then slowly. It had no meaning to me anymore. What if this is it? I wondered. What if we’re over? The very thought of that frightened me beyond belief. But why was I so scared? Not just because I loved Tristan. But also because Tristan and I were a couple. And we had been together for so long that I no longer knew who I was without him.
The following morning, Tristan called me. He said that he was hurt, but that he still wants to be with me. That we would get through this.
A huge wave of relief swept over my whole body. His words lifted the ten-thousand-pound-truck off my shoulders.
I had been unfaithful and I would never do it again. All I wanted was a second chance. And I had gotten it. I was off the hook. Everything was going to be okay now. I thought naively.
But the thing is that a relationship’s like a vase. Once it’s dropped and gets a chip in it, it can be repaired. Fixed. And the damage can be covered up. But the crack and the memory of the damage remain. And it will always be a little weaker in the place of the original crack.
19
The first thing he does is wink at me with those intense brown eyes.
“So, here you are in New York City. Finally,” he says.
It’s October and the leaves are starting to change. The entire city is soggy and putting off a strong pungent smell of decomposing plant matter. The sidewalks glisten from the light rain, which has been falling all afternoon. Headlights flood Broadway, blinding me at every step.
Nick Thomas, our childhood friend, walks behind me. I’d known about his plan for a visit for some time, but the day still crept up on me, leaving me unprepared. Nick has been one of Tristan’s best friends since middle school and I’ve known of Nick for many years. But it was only in the last two years of high school that we’d really gotten close. Nick is tall and lanky, close to 6’4’’ and only 170 pounds. He came to campus in a cab and I waited outside my building to let him up.
Nick’s not wearing a coat. The temperature is in the low 50s, but he’s only wearing a light sweater, jeans, and flip-flops. I’m about to ask him why when I remember that he never really wore a coat. He took some unusual pride in the fact that he never got cold, no matter how cold it was outside.
When we enter the living room, Tristan, Dylan, and Juliet are there waiting. Tristan gives him a warm hug and takes care of the introductions. After a dinner of pizza for the guys and salad and soup for Juliet and I, we all decide to go out to Lion’s Head Tavern, a bar on Amsterdam Avenue. It’s Tristan and Dylan’s favorite mainly because it’s a dive bar that serves greasy food and accepts poorly made fake IDs. Nick doesn’t have one, but luckily the bouncer doesn’t card him. Too tall, probably, I decide.
“So where do you go to school?” Dylan asks.
“Just a local school. Cal State Northridge. I live at home,” Nick says with a sigh. “Agh, I’m so jealous of you two. Your dorm is amazing. And you get to live with girls. Imagine that.”
Tristan’s had a couple of drinks already. “Well, not just girls. My ex-girlfriend,” he jokes. I’ve had two drinks as well and laugh along with everyone else.
“Yes, things could’ve been better.”
“Oh please, you two have been friends forever. This is just a blip in your otherwise smooth relationship.” Nick waves his hand.
Tristan and I exchange looks. I hope that he’s right.
“So how are your folks?” I ask. I’ve always loved Mrs. Thomas. Practically every night that we’ve spend hanging out in Nick’s basement, she came downstairs with a batch of freshly baked cookies.
“Fine. The same.” He shrugs.
“So what’s it like to keep living at home?” Dylan asks. “Do you still have a curfew or anything? Or can you do pretty much anything you want?”
“A curfew?” I smile. “When was the last time you had a curfew, Dylan? When you were twelve?”
“Yeah, I think about that. But I’ve heard that some parents can be sticklers for those.”
I shake my head. Nick laughs and then says, “No, no curfew really. It’s just not as fun. No one to hang out with in the evenings. Mainly because everyone at school is hanging out with people in their dorms.”
“That sucks,” Tristan says.
No one says an
ything for a moment as we try to imagine what that must be like. I feel bad for Nick. He’s missing out on what college has to offer and the worst thing is that he knows it.
“Why don’t you move to campus next semester?” Dylan suggests.
Nick shrugs. “I can’t.”
“Why?” Juliet asks.
Tristan and I exchange an uncomfortable look. It’s so obvious to us. But not them.
“Money,” Nick finally says.
“But can’t you apply for some sort of financial aid?” Dylan asks.
“You rich kids always think that they’re some sort of solution that the rest of us haven’t thought of, don’t you?” Nick says. Everyone’s taken aback by his tone.
“Hey, I didn’t mean it that way,” Dylan says.
“My parents make too much money for most financial aid and not enough to actually pay for the dorm. At least, they think it’s too much,” he says. “And I do, too.” He adds after a moment.
No one knows what to say after that. Awkwardness fills the air like a noxious gas. And no one can breathe. Not even the person who let it out.
Eventually, we head back to the dorm. Tristan and Nick trail behind as Juliet, Dylan, and I walk ahead, just fast enough that it doesn’t quite look like we’re rushing.
“Hey, I’m sorry about Dylan,” I hear Tristan say. “His parents have a lot of money. He doesn’t really get it.”
“No worries,” Nick says.
“He’s not really a bad guy. He just found out that his girlfriend is in love with her Resident Advisor so he’s been kind of a dick since then,” Tristan adds.
Peyton’s in love with her R.A.? The thought echoes in my mind as we head out of earshot.
“How long is he staying again?” Dylan asks me in the elevator.
“Um, a couple of days, I think,” I say. “Listen, he’s not really a bad guy. He was just on a long flight and…”
I find myself repeating Tristan’s words except that, unlike him, I don’t really have a good excuse. Nick was a dick. Dylan didn’t mean anything by what he said and he had no right to get upset or talk like that.
Dylan just shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. I was just wondering.”
20
I wake up in the middle of the night and tiptoe to the bathroom. I don’t usually have to tiptoe, but Nick’s sleeping on our couch and I don’t want to wake him. On my way back, just as I think I’m in the clear, I hear him.
“Alice? Alice?”
“Sorry to wake you,” I say. “I’m just going back to my room.”
“No, it’s okay. I wasn’t asleep. Hey, come here for a second.”
I don’t want to. I’m tired and sleepy. It’s pitch black and my eyes have yet to adjust. But I walk up to the couch.
“Hey, we didn’t really get a chance to talk much tonight,” he says and moves his feet so that I have room to sit down.
“Yeah I know,” I say.
When Nick first texted me and told me that he was coming, I was excited. I was looking forward to it. But now that he is here, everything is different. Things feel off. Awkward. I’d known him for so long and yet he is a stranger. How is that even possible?
“So, how are you?” he asks and puts his hand on my knee.
“Fine,” I say quickly and recoil away from him. His touch takes things to a whole new level of awkwardness.
“Are you okay?” Nick leans closer to me. My eyes have adjusted to the dark and I see his thin lips close to mine. Am I sending out strange signals? What the hell is going on?
“Yes, I’m fine. I’m just tired,” I say and go to stand up.
“Listen, I don’t get it.” He takes my hand. I’m surprised by his aggressiveness.
“Don’t get what?” I ask.
“Weren’t we, like, flirting and stuff over text? You said that you were looking forward to seeing me?”
“I was.” I pull my hand away. “Flirting? I was asking you about Corrin. I was trying to make you feel better about the fact that she dumped you.”
“Oh, that’s mean. Why are you being so mean, Alice? You’re a nice girl.”
I hated the tone in his voice. Who was this person?
“I have to go.” I get up. But he gets up as well. And comes closer to me. For a moment, I think he’s going to apologize. But he doesn’t. Instead, he comes closer to me and pulls me in for a kiss. His hands are so strong that I can’t pull away. His lips are pressing so hard to mine that my teeth start to hurt. Finally, I manage to break my mouth free and scream.
“Let go! Let go of me!”
But he doesn’t. Instead, he pushes me onto the couch and jumps on top of me. I’m startled. I can’t believe this is happening. I feel like the whole world is moving in slow motion.
“What the fuck, Nick? What the fuck are you doing?” Tristan says, pushing him off me. He punches him and when I look up, I see Nick sitting on the floor, cradling his nose.
Juliet and Dylan come out of their rooms.
“Don’t you know that no means no?”
“Fuck you, Tristan!” Nick says.
“I want you to leave,” Tristan says.
“Now?” Nick seems surprised.
“Yes, now, you asshole. You think you’re going to stay here after you attacked Alice? What the fuck happened to you, Nick? Who are you?”
Nick doesn’t say anything. He simply gathers his things as we all stand around watching him. Somehow, in a daze, I manage to get off the couch and meander over to Juliet, who puts her arm around me. Tristan stands in front of us, in between us and Nick. Tristan throws Nick’s bag at him and escorts him toward the elevator.
“Are you okay?” Dylan asks.
I nod.
“What happened?” he asks. But I can’t bear to relive what happened. Tears pull in my eyes, and I try to hold them back. Unsuccessfully.
“Nothing, really,” I finally say.
“What the fuck did he do?” Juliet asks.
I try to open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. “I can’t,” I manage to finally whisper. I run inside our room and slam the door.
I bury my head in my pillow and try to block out the whole world. When Tristan returns, I hear him explain what had happened to Dylan and Juliet. I’m glad he does because I know I don’t have the strength to say it out loud.
* * *
The following morning, I’ve decided to skip my morning classes to lie around in bed, staring at the ceiling. Juliet left early for class and the room is awfully quiet. When the silence becomes deafening, I put in my headphones and try to push it out. Being alone with my thoughts right now is the last thing I want.
“Alice?” I hear a slight knock on the door through Lady Gaga’s “Just Dance”.
“Come in,” I say without sitting up in bed or bothering to turn down the music.
Tristan comes in. He looks tired and worried. The last time he had looked like that he had stayed up for two days straight working on his paper on Sherman and the Civil War.
“I just wanted to see how you were,” he asks. He sits down on my bed. I should get up, but all I can manage to do is to turn down the music.
“I’m okay.” I shrug. “Thank you.”
He nods.
“I mean it, really. Thank you. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you didn’t come in.” The very thought of that sends chills through my body and I curl up. He puts his hand on my back and rubs my shoulders slightly.
“Do you want me to stay?” he asks. I look up at him. I don’t know what to say. I shrug and leave it up to him.
He climbs into bed with me, on top of the covers. He wraps me up in the covers and pulls me close to him. He’s the big spoon. I’m the little one. The warmth that emanates from him fills the entire room and finally penetrates the coldness within me. Tears start to roll down my face. They’re not tears of regret or remorse. They aren’t tears of sadness. They’re tears of relief.
Adele’s “Hello” comes on. I take out one of my earphones and p
ut it in Tristan’s ear. I turn up the music and we listen to her belt out what we both feel. He wraps his arms tighter around me as we drift off to sleep.
21
After that day, something unusual happened. I thought everything between Tristan and I would go back to normal. The new normal that we had established at school. The normal that basically consisted of us avoiding each other. Making small talk, but never delving deeper. Never getting closer. But it didn’t. Instead, that coldness that existed between us seemed to have vanished.
Tristan stayed with me in my bed the whole day as I drifted in and out of sleep. And that evening, we ordered Chinese and watched Archer on Netflix. I laughed so hard I almost peed my pants. He laughed along with me.
The following morning, I think that things between us are going to go back to being cold and distant. But, again, they don’t. I see Tristan in the kitchen and he complains about his Econ professor, calling him a know-it-all.
“He’s supposed to know it all; he’s your teacher,” I say.
“But not like this. He’s just a dick about it. He may know it all about Econ 101, but he doesn’t know it all about everything. And he acts like he does. I just hate his fucking arrogance.”
I smile and watch Tristan finish his cup of impossibly black coffee. I’ve never seen him take his coffee with sugar or milk, and his ability to down so much hot caffeine so quickly has always given me pause.
“I’ll see you tonight?” Tristan says on his way out.
“Yeah, sure.” I shrug, trying to act like he hasn’t caught me off-guard.
“Okay, see you then,” he says.
Of course we are going to see each other again. We’re roommates. But the way he said that, it sounded almost like he was looking forward to it. We haven’t spoken like that since we’ve been in New York. All of this is just too weird, I decide. It’s bound to go away by tonight.
Auctioned to Him 7: The Contract Page 111
