Auctioned to Him 7: The Contract

by Charlotte Byrd

  * * *

  I meet Tristan for a late lunch after class. It’s worse than I even imagined.

  “I thought the professor would lecture for a bit and we would speak in public later. Like later in the semester. But no. I have to make a speech next week!” I say.

  I’m jumbling my words together. I can barely breathe at the very thought.

  “You’re going to be fine,” he says, patting my shoulders.

  Why do people keep saying this? How do they know this? It’s not a given!

  “I have to make five speeches!” I say. “What am I going to do, Tristan? I’m going to die.”

  Tristan smiles. “You’re not going to die.”

  He’s not mocking me, but I’m not sure that he’s getting the severity of this problem either.

  “I’ll help you prepare,” he says. “You’ll be fine.”

  “You will?” I ask. I like the sound of that.

  Public speaking is not a big deal for Tristan. He was our class president for three years before he moved up north. Speaking in front of people doesn’t faze him. He doesn’t fear what others think of him. I wish I could be like that. Confident. Self-assured. But I’m not. And the more I want to be like that, the more embarrassed I get over how I really am.

  “My first speech is next week,” I say. “I have to give a toast.”

  “To whom?” he asks.

  “Whomever I want. But I can’t. No, I have to figure out a way to drop this class.”

  “No, you don’t.” He smiles at me. A confident, self-assured smile. “I’ll help you. We’ll get through this together.”

  Something about the way he says that puts me at ease. He’s telling the truth and I believe him. I’m not doing this alone. I’ll be doing this with him. We’ll be doing it together. It’s always easier to do things together. Right? I suddenly feel like this is actually possible.

  4

  “So I’m starting the internship tomorrow,” Tristan says after our pizza is ready.

  We only ordered two slices, but the slices are so large at this place, they take up half the table. Thin crust with a thin layer of fresh mozzarella and veggies. Delicious.

  “Young’s and Associates, right?” I ask, taking a big bite of my slice. He nods.

  “Three days per week,” he adds. “Full days.”

  “That’s intense,” I say. “But exciting, right?”

  He shrugs. He’s anxious about this. I’ve never really seen him this way.

  “What if I’m no good?” he asks. I shake my head.

  “Impossible.”

  He smiles.

  Young’s and Associates is an investment bank on Wall Street. The internship is very prestigious and ridiculously competitive. He found out that he got in over Christmas break. In addition to the internship, he’s also taking a full load of classes. Hard classes. Calculus II and Macroeconomics and a couple of requirements.

  “How are you going to manage?” I ask.

  “Somehow, I guess. It’s such a great opportunity. I just don’t want to mess it up.”

  “So when are you taking classes then if the internship is all day long?”

  “I had to rearrange my schedule today. I’m not taking any classes on the days I’m working. So they’re all crammed into the evenings and two are three hours long on Thursday and Friday.”

  “Wow, that sucks!” I sympathize. “Is it all semester?”

  He nods.

  “Until May. And then if it all goes well and I do really well, I’ll be in the running for their full-time summer internship.”

  “That’s a lot of free labor they’re getting out of college students,” I say.

  “I guess.” He shrugs. “But I know I’m going to learn a lot. Plus, it will set me up well for getting a good job after graduation.”

  I’m impressed by his drive. But I can’t lie, the schedule puts me off.

  “What’s wrong?” he asks.

  “Nothing.” I shrug. But I can tell that he doesn’t believe me. “Well, it’s not that I’m not happy for you. I am. I just don’t want you to get overwhelmed. I mean, this is college. I want you to have time for fun. And your friends.”

  “And you.” He finishes my sentence.

  “That’s not what I said,” I say, even though that’s what I meant.

  “Don’t worry.” He gives me a kiss on my cheek. “I’ll make time for us. And I’m not going to work too hard.

  “Okay.” I nod.

  The following night, I don’t see Tristan until 7 pm. He’s at his internship all day and then I get a text that he’s going to happy hour with his associates after work. I won’t admit it out loud, but I’m annoyed. It’s only the first day and it’s already irritating me. I hate that I want him to spend time with me. Make time for me. I don’t want to be that girl; I want to be supportive and steadfast. But I’m not. The best I can do is to keep my mouth shut.

  “Guess what?” Tristan asks me that night, after he comes home. “I didn’t have to use my fake ID downtown.”

  “Really?”

  “Apparently, those bartenders don’t card anyone in a suit. At least, according to Kathryn.”

  “Who’s Kathryn?”

  “Oh she’s just one of the people I work with. She’s quite impressive actually. She graduated from NYU’s Stern School of Business last year. She worked at Young’s for three summers while she was in college before they hired her. She’s really driven.”

  I shrug and nod. Suddenly, I get a strange feeling about the whole thing. Like the existence of Kathryn will play a significant role in the events that are about to take place.

  * * *

  The next afternoon, I walk into the one class that I’m really excited about taking this semester: Victorian Literature. I can’t believe that I have actually been going around calling myself an English major and I have never read Pride and Prejudice or anything by Charles Dickens. That’s one of the reasons I’m so excited about the class. I’m sure that it will fix all of my literary shortcomings.

  “Hey!” Tea says, sitting down in the seat next to mine with a big, wide smile across her face.

  I’m just as happy to see her.

  “I was hoping you’d be in this class,” I say.

  Tea and I met last semester. After a few awkward weeks when she and Tristan were sort of dating and Tristan was refusing to define their relationship or be exclusive, Tea and I developed quite a friendship.

  “You look really good,” I say, looking her up and down. Tea has always had a gorgeous face, the kind that would have Renaissance painters swooning. But now, she’s even more radiant.

  “Thanks for noticing.” She blushes. “I lost 23 pounds. I’m a size 12 now.”

  “Wow, that’s amazing.” I smile. “I’m so proud of you.”

  “I haven’t been a size 12 since 9th grade.”

  I nod. Tea is one of those beautiful big women who you’d never know was unhappy with her weight. While I have a tendency to slouch, she always stands up straight.

  “I do feel like I lost it all in my boobs though.” She laughs, grabbing her 36 DDs.

  “What inspired you to do all this?” I ask.

  “I got home from school in December, stepped on the scale, and discovered that I was 198 pounds. That’s almost 200! I’ve never been so heavy in my whole life. So I knew that I had to do something about it. And quick.”

  I look at her body a little closer. Her waistline is more defined. And her breasts are perky and sit higher on her body than they used to. Her eyes don’t look so tired anymore either. And even her skin has a kind of glow to it. Though the last two things could really be because it’s the first week of the new semester, not finals week. I’m sure that my eyes aren’t that tired right now either.

  “Oh. I have more news!” she whispers as the professor introduces herself and passes out the syllabus.

  “I’m dating someone now!” she says with a little shriek at the end.

  “Who?”

 
; “This guy. His name is Tanner. He’s a grad student in architecture.”

  I’m so happy for her. She’s a really good girl and she deserves to find someone who could appreciate her for her.

  “What about you? You seeing anyone special?” she asks.

  My heart jumps into my throat. I should’ve expected this question, but for some reason I didn’t.

  I don’t know why, but I didn’t expect to talk about Tristan. This is the only thing that’s weird in our relationship. I like Tea a lot. And I know that we can even be closer than we are now. Except that there’s Tristan. Guys always get in the way.

  I mouth “later,” and pretend that I’m listening to what the professor has to say. I don’t want to answer her question. I don’t know how she’ll react, but I know that it will be a defining moment. If she’s upset, we probably won’t be friends. No matter how hard I try. If she doesn’t care, then we’ll be okay.

  The professor is giving an introduction about Charles Dickens. The importance of Oliver Twist for his society and how that book redefined the way the society thought about poverty and child labor and workhouses. It’s fascinating. Don’t get me wrong. But I can’t quiet my mind. It keeps going back to Tea’s question. All I can think about is how I’m going to tell Tea about Tristan, and whether I even should. I mean, I could lie. I could pretend that everything’s fine. That we’re just friends. I’m sure that I can even get Tristan to go along with it. He wouldn’t really care either way. But then what would we have? Would we really be friends if I’m hiding this big part of my life from her?

  By the end of class, I come to a decision. Yes. I’m going to tell her. It’s better to just tell the truth. I don’t know if she would find out either way, but at least we would be friends for the right reasons then. And if we won’t be friends, that’s fine too. I mean, it was Tea who dumped him for not wanting to commit to being her boyfriend. And she does have a new boyfriend now. Maybe it will all work out. Or maybe not. I’m starting to waver…

  Class ends and my decision isn’t as steadfast as it was a few minutes ago. Shit. I take a deep breath and tell her the truth.

  “Tristan? You’re seeing Tristan?”

  I nod and shrug my shoulders. I look away from her. I don’t want to see her reaction, in case it’s bad.

  “Oh wow, that’s cool,” she says. I hear a little awkwardness in her voice, but that’s to be expected, I guess.

  “I hope that’s okay,” I say. I don’t mean for it to come out as if I’m asking her permission. That’s not what I mean.

  “Oh, yes of course. I mean, we’re not together. And in comparison to you two, we barely dated at all! And he wouldn’t even call whatever we had dating. So it’s nothing.”

  I finally look at her face, straight on. She’s telling the truth. I can see by the way her face is hiding nothing. And better yet, she seems to be genuinely happy for me. The tension at the back of my neck dissipates immediately. I take a big sigh of relief.

  “I’m glad you’re okay with this,” I say.

  “Yes, definitely.” She grins.

  “I just wasn’t sure how you would react and I didn’t want us to lose this…our friendship. It means a lot to me.”

  Tea smiles from ear to ear.

  “No, of course not. No matter what, we’re not going to let a guy come in between us,” she says.

  “No, of course not.” I shake my head.

  “Well, let’s hang out sometime,” she says. “Okay?”

  “Okay.” I nod. “I’d love that.”

  Lots of people make plans to see each other soon without really meaning it. It’s just the nice thing to do. I’ve done it myself a million times. But this feels different. I know that we both mean it.

  5

  The second week of school goes by just as quickly as the first. A little too quickly, actually. I have to make my first speech that Friday. The toast. And I don’t want the day to come. I’ve been thinking about it for days but once the Monday before rolls around, I feel myself getting terrified. But on Monday, I’m still able to manage the fear. I try to deal with it by convincing myself that it’ll be okay. And on Monday, I believe it. Unfortunately, by Wednesday, all of my arguments stop working. And I just feel like I’m going to have a heart attack every time that I think about it, which is practically all day long.

  On Wednesday, I decide that I need some practice. Maybe saying the words out loud will make me feel a little better. I stand up in front of the mirror. I look down at the notes that I wrote down. But can’t read a thing. When I open my mouth, my voice shakes. Supposedly, I memorized the words earlier. Or I thought I did. But now that I have to speak out loud, just to myself, nothing comes to mind. I can’t even remember how I planned on starting.

  And the worst thing about all of this is that Tristan is nowhere to be found! He had promised me that we would practice together. He promised me this originally at lunch and cancelled on me all weekend. We made plans on Saturday and then Sunday and then Monday night. By the time it was Tuesday, I didn’t bother making plans anymore. He came home late that night, around 9 pm, and said that he had a ton of Macroeconomics to catch up on.

  Come to think of it, I haven’t even seen him since Wednesday morning, when we waited for our pop tarts to toast together. Agh, what makes me so mad is that he had promised that he would practice with me, help me. And now it’s 9:30 pm on Thursday, and he’s still not back. And he is yet to help me once! I’m angry and mad and disappointed all at once. But mostly, I’m scared. The speech is tomorrow and I have nothing.

  “Dylan, I think I’m going to have a heart attack,” I say, coming out of my room into the living room. Dylan’s playing something on the Xbox. Without looking up, he asks what’s wrong and I give him the highlights.

  “You’ll do fine,” he says, finally putting the controller down. I watch him as he walks to the refrigerator and gets a soda.

  Why does everyone say that when they don’t even know what’s going on? There’s NO way I’m going to do fine. People who freeze and can’t say a word out loud don’t do fine in public speaking classes!

  I shake my head. “No way,” I say.

  “Well, you were going to do it with Tristan, right? So why not me?” he asks.

  “Because…there’s like a million reasons why not,” I say.

  “Name one,” he challenges me.

  “I don’t know.” I shrug. “But this is worse than being naked. In fact, I think I’d rather be naked with someone than do this.”

  “Oh really?” His eyes light up in a mischievous way. “Well, then, we can arrange that.”

  “Agh, you’re a pig.” I roll my eyes. “You know what I mean.”

  “Okay, okay, I get it.”

  “The thing is that I’m terrified. I can’t do it.” I shrug.

  “But you were going to do it with Tristan?” he asks.

  “I said I would. But I’m not sure I actually would have gone through with it. I think I was just going to try.”

  “Well, why don’t you try for me?” Dylan asks. “I’ll help you. I’m great at speeches.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me,” I say.

  “I know right?” He laughs. “My dad says that I’m the king of bullshitting. That’s why he wants me to go to law school.”

  “Wow, that’s a great reflection on this country’s legal system,” I say.

  “Eh, I guess,” he says, unfazed. “I’m actually thinking of doing it. Seriously.”

  “Wow, that is like the most honest, non-bullshitty conversation I think we’ve ever had,” I say.

  “First time for everything,” he says sarcastically.

  “So what’s keeping you back?” I ask. “From actually pursuing the path to law school?”

  “Well, for one, there’s no real path. I mean, I can major in whatever and I won’t be taking the LSAT until my junior year,” he says. “But what’s really keeping me from it is that I know it’ll make my dad happy. And that’s the last thing
I want.”

  I smile. The moment has passed. Sincerity is out of the window. Now the real Dylan’s back.

  “Okay, enough stalling,” he says. “I want to hear this toast.”

  Dammit. I open my crumpled piece of paper. Clear my throat. As soon as my eyes drop down to the first line, at the top, my heart starts to pound loudly. Suddenly, it’s the only thing that I can hear in my head. I try to ignore it. I open my mouth. But nothing comes out. My throat is dry, like a desert. I feel like I haven’t drunk a drop of liquid in days.

  “Okay, okay,” Dylan says, cutting off my suffering. He takes the paper out of my hand.

  “Alice, look at me. Why are you so scared?” he asks. He’s staring straight into my eyes.

  “I have no idea,” I whisper.

  “Do you think I’m going to laugh at you? Mock you? Heckle you?” Dylan asks.

  No, of course not. I shake my head. He waits for me to reply.

  “I have no idea,” I mumble.

  “Well, I’m not going to do any of those things. I’m here just to sit and listen and clap.”

  Something about someone even listening scares the crap out of me.

  “I hope not too attentively,” I say with a shrug.

  “Why do you think that you’re so unimportant?” Dylan asks.

  There’s clarity in his voice, the kind that only appears when you hit upon the truth. I guess a big part of me does think that I’m unimportant. I mean, I don’t even want anyone to hear what I have to say. That’s pretty pathetic.

  “Okay, how about this?” Dylan changes tactics. “There are freshman in this class, right?”

  I nod.

  “Well, then they probably don’t even care what you have to say. They’re going to be checking their phones. Barely look up at you, let alone actually listen to you.”

  “The thought of that does make me feel a lot better,” I say with a little sigh of relief. But quickly old fears creep in and whatever mild feeling of apathy I managed to scrounge up disappears.

  “Okay, I don’t feel better anymore. Just as scared as before,” I tell him.