21. chapter twenty one
chapter twenty one
stop calling me that, i like it too much
I ’ve done this hundreds of times–held hands with a boy toconvince the world that we were in love. Falling into something. It was what I was paid to do up until I came clean about hating every second I’d ever spent on a set. But not once did I have a problem detaching what was happening behind the cameras from real life.
So why was it happening now?
I had to look away every time Tristan sent a squeeze through myhand. I had to pretend I was really interested in what the tips of our shoes looked like every time he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. I had to re-read an entire page on the attitudes towards biopsychosocial models of psychopathology when I’d already written three pages worth of notes on it last night to get my mind off what was happening to me.
The breeze from the air conditioning, which had no right to beblasting now that November was here, made me shiver once it hit me, but all that did was cause Tristan to pull our locked hands closer together.
If I knew for a fact that the girl in the far left corner of the roomwasn’t trying to eye fuck Tristan as she casually turned around in her seat, I would have forced my eyes closed and reminded myself that it wasn’t real and I had no excuse to feel this way towards him.
Perhaps the only difference between when I’d do this behind a rowof cameras and crew and now was that, unlike the guys who played my crush, we never actually spent time together away from the set. We only existed behind a screen.
But Tristan and I? We were making things personal. We werefriends who were slowly finding out more and more about each other, erasing that mystery between us.
Was there such a thing as falling for someone as a friend? Was thatpossible? Did people fall in love with their friends in a way that was purely platonic? I suppose if you were to ask me if I fell in love with Daisy, Cora, and Rory, I’d say yes, but there was nothing in my heart that told me it wasn’t the platonic kind of love.
If you were to ask me if I could look at Tristan, think about all theunique things that made him the person he is and the person I’ve come to care about, and tell you that it was platonic, I don’t know whether I could.
“Alright guys, excellent contributions today. See ya on Monday.”
The commotion of everyone scampering out of their seats to getout of the room as quickly as possible distracted me enough to not think about the inner debate I was having with myself, which was fine, until I felt Tristan’s hand still in mine.
I twisted my head up to him, his eyes full of humour. “You gonna letmy hand go or do you want me to walk you home?” He asked, that accent wrapping around my brain and forcing its way into my long-term memory.
I threw on my best sarcastic smile, anything to hide what thatquestion did to me. “I bet you ask that to all the girls.”
“Only the ones I care about.” He chuckled. “But if you need metoo, then I can.”
“No, I’m okay.” I stayed close to him as a few students brushed pastus. “I’m gonna head to the library, I think. I want to get started on the case study.”
The golden brown strands of his hair fell free as he nodded down atme, a half smile curling up his face. “Okay, well, get home safe, Sunshine.”
Sunshine.
One of these days, I’ll tell him to stop calling me that. Not becauseI don’t like it, but because I was eerily close to asking him to call me it forever.
And despite the joke he made, he kept hold of my hand all the way out the door, threading us through the student traffic. The group of girls who’s eyes had been practically glued to him throughout class were waiting just outside, eyeing him with that mix of awe and calculation I’d seen a hundred times on fans' faces.
“Does this bother you?” He murmured, nodding toward them, his voice low and teasing.
“Not at all. I've lived with unwanted attention. But it must be hard if this is all new to you.” I tried to sound flippant, but the way his hand stayed in mine, warm and solid, did strange things to my pulse.
A slight smirk tugged at his mouth as he pulled us off to the side, out of the current. “I reckon it’s you they’re curious about.”
"Why?" I breathed.
He shrugged, skimming his thumb over our locked hands. "Because I was when I first saw you."
He leaned down, and before I could let his words sink in, he brushed a light, feather-soft kiss on my cheek. The surprise stilled me, heat prickling from the place his lips touched. Time stopped, and he didn’t move back; his face hovered inches from mine, his eyes dark and unreadable as his gaze dropped to my lips.
“Tristan…” My voice was barely a whisper, and I don't know why I'd let it slip.
His eyes held mine, intense and searching, like he was waiting for something. My heart thrummed in my chest, so loud I was sure he could hear it. The girls were still watching us, probably wondering why he’d even glanced in my direction. But in that moment, it was like no one else existed. Just him, his hand in mine, and the quiet, aching space between us.
But just as I felt a flutter take over my eyes, I saw it, the hesitation, the reality check that this was only pretend. He'd done enough, and as I glanced to where the girls had just been, the space was empty. There was no need for his mouth to be so close to mine.
And by the way he stood taller, backing up from me, I knew that he knew that too.
“Talk to you later, Gold’s.” He whispered, skimming a thumb over mychin and dropping my stare, before turning away and getting lost in the crowd.
I had to catch my breath, pull myself together, like somehow a kiss on the cheek wasenough to make my lungs feel weak and forget how to do the only job they had. Maybe it was because I’d never felt these things before, felt this way about another person that all these sensations were intense and new and confusing.
I blew out a breath, and as I spun around, my mind a mentalcalendar counting just how many days there were until Thanksgiving break, I locked eyes with Henry, who had just left the lecture room.
Like I always did when I saw him, I smiled, and there was not asecond that passed before he returned one to me, his blue eyes brightening as he sheepishly walked my way.
His demeanour and his presence—it’s the reason I’ve had such ahard time coming to terms with what Tristan told me. How could someone as nice and good as Henry have such cruel intentions? It didn’t make sense.
“Hey,” He called as he reached me, shuffling the hem of hiswhite tee down, as though he were nervous. “I’ve been meaning to catch up with you since your birthday, but things have been… busy.”
Oh yeah, he was there that night.
For a split second, I feel bad that I forgot about him, about howbreathless he made me with a few words. But then the whole conversation with Tristan is on a re-run in my head and I don’t know what to think.
I shook my head as I smiled up at him. “Yeah, I feel like I might aswell move into the library with the amount of notes I’ve got to catch up on.”
“I meant to ask you about that night, you left the table lookingpretty sad, you know, when you blew out your candles?”
My breath caught in my throat. “Oh… yeah, that. I was uh… just abit overwhelmed… that’s all.”
“Is that why Tristan followed you?” I was sure his eyes faded into adarker shade of blue as he asked that.
I nodded, my eyes trained on him. “Yeah, he just came to make sureI was okay.”
“Well, I’m glad that you are.” The reflection of the sun in hisglasses shone as it pierced through the open tracery, casting a glow to the ground as he dropped his head. “And I’ve actually been waiting until I found the courage to ask you out.” His eyes were back on me. “Maybe take a walk through the city? Find a bakery, whatever you want.”
Everything that was leaving Henry’s mouth sounded so right. Itsounded like the type of thing a boy who likes a girl would ask her.
So why didn’t I trust him?
He confessed that if he started seeing you, you wouldn’t be the onlyone he’d be seeing.
The guy sat there and said he liked you but didn’t want you to bethe only girl in his life.
The prick isn’t the golden boy you’ve clearly pegged him as from themonth you’ve known him.
I couldn’t help but let Tristan’s voice take over. It made no sensefor him to lie to me, and for every reason I came up with, I only found myself berating myself for thinking he’d do that just to hurt me. We had a deal, after all. Why would someone who’s been so vulnerable with me, someone who I’ve been vulnerable with, want to put my heart at risk?
I needed more time to think about this. Think about what it meantthat a boy who made me breathless only last week was now the last thing on my mind when he was standing right in front of me.
So I looked at Henry, noting the slight reflection of myself in hisglasses as I shook my head. “Actually, I’m pretty busy for the rest of the week.”
Henry shrugged, unfazed. “How about Friday?”
“It’s the Lions game, and I’ve got so much studying to catch up on.”
“I’ll pick you up for the game.”
“Oh… um… we’ll see.”
Then, like he was tired of staying guarded, his top lip curled, and hisshoulders broadened. “Am I too late?”
I narrowed my eyes. “Too late for what?—”
“Tristan… did he beat me to it? To you?” I noted the defeat in hisvoice, like how I imagine an athlete would feel when they found out they were only in second place by a fraction of a second. Like this was what he was building himself up for, only to lose to someone else.
I didn’t know what to tell him. Everything was so blurred at themoment that I needed time to straighten out my thoughts.
But to save myself from hurting his feelings, I shook my head andrushed, “Oh, no. No, I’m just… I’m trying to get my head straight about everything, Henry.”
“So the way he’s constantly holding your hand in class, that doesn’tmean anything?”
Shit.
I couldn’t deal with this. Not right now.
I shook my head, hiked my bag higher up my shoulder and rushedout, “It’s complicated. Look I’ve got to go, we’ll catch up soon!”
Guilt twisted in my stomach as I turned around and hurried downthe corridor, craving the dark corners of Liberty for the first time since I’d been here.