“You don’t mean that,” I said, dropping my arms to my side. “I know you don’t mean that, Tris! Why else were you dancing that way with me, if you truly didn’t want anything to do with me?”
He stuck his hands into his pockets, in a defensive stance. “That was a mistake. It won’t happen again. It was just … the spell talking, and I was caught up in the moment, that’s all. It didn’t mean anything.” He looked anywhere but at me.
He was only a few feet away from me. I walked slowly towards him, my voice shaky with tension. “Tris, please … Just look me in the eyes and say that again, and mean it. I know you can’t, I know that’s not what you want,” I pleaded.
He snapped his eyes open, staring fiercely at me. “Look you in the eyes? So you can see if I’m telling you the truth, Joe? Is that it?” he spat out in fury. He stared at me and we both knew then that I could see everything he was feeling. He felt cheated, betrayed, robbed from his private feelings. “I wish I had this little ability of yours, so I would’ve known a long time ago how big of a liar you really are! Do you want to know if I’m lying to you right now? Take a good look! We cannot be together! Can you see if I really mean it?” He stepped closer, stopping an inch away from my face. His anger caused me to step backwards, flinching until I was stopped by the iron door behind me. I looked into his eyes, and saw that he really meant it. Every word he had said. He thought we shouldn’t be together.
Tears filled my eyes, threatening to fall. “So you never wanted to be with me? Why did you make me believe that you cared?” I asked shakily. I could feel a single tear streaking down my cheek, and I hated that I couldn’t stop it from falling. I didn’t want to cry. Not like this. Not right now. Not in front of him.
His eyes were still locked with mine when I asked him one more time. “Why did you let me love you?” I whispered, so sadly that I could feel the frail question breaking his heart and my own at the same time.
His gray eyes shone furiously with pain. “I didn’t let you do anything. You did it all on your own,” he said coldly.
“You shouldn’t have let things escalate to this, Joey,” he said, and looked away, his voice turning a little softer, like he regretted saying it, or regretted acknowledging this fact. “It’s best that we stop this right now, don’t let it go further than already has. I just don’t feel the same about you,” he said quietly, his voice too stern.
“The way you danced with me in that ballroom wasn’t like someone who doesn’t care,” I said through clenched teeth. I had seen the passion in his eyes while we danced. I had felt it.
“Why do you keep insisting on this?” he pleaded, lowering his head in anguish.
“Because you’re hiding something.” His eyes flickered at me for a second, but he soon averted his gaze as if mine scorched through him.
But before he did I saw fear, despair and one thing that puzzled me. At first. I thought it was only my own emotion reflecting in his gray eyes. Then I knew. It was his emotion. Buried deep inside, covered by the all the pain. I saw love.
“You are lying. I can see it. You care. More than that,” I affirmed to myself, but he heard me because he was too close to me. Anger came back into his eyes, taking over all his face, filling up his bright eyes in a piercing, dangerous stare.
He grabbed my wrists tight and pushed me back against the iron door. I was so shocked that I couldn’t react; I couldn’t say anything. I never thought he would be capable of hurting me like this. With all my training, all my hours of martial arts, I felt so impotent now, unable to react. Because it came from someone I’d never expect to do that. From the boy I loved.
“You’ve always been able to read me just by looking at me, haven’t you? You lied to me all this time – and you accuse me of being a liar? Can’t you see? There is no trust here. There is no future for us. How can you think this could ever work?” he said desperately, still holding me.
“Tris! P-please …” I whimpered. He would hate me for ever now that he knew I could always read him. I could always see the truth in his eyes.
His eyes glistened with betrayal and hurt and unshed tears. The sight of his pain took all the fight out of me. “I’m s-so so sorry I lied … I never meant to hurt you,” I whispered as I sobbed. “I love you.”
His eyes searched desperately for something inside of mine, too many emotions flickering on his face. I couldn’t read him any more; it was too much to process, too fast, too intense, too overwhelming, too painful. Before I could say anything else, he crushed my lips with his, taking me completely by surprise. I was shocked by the urgency with which his mouth claimed mine. For a second I was frozen with the shock, but then my body reacted; the sensation of his kiss was uncanny and I gave in to it, and him.
I tasted his hungry lips, his need, his longing; I could feel his desire in the palm of his hands, searching me, his whole body pressing hard against me, grabbing and touching, pushing me up hard against the door, making my skin hot with pinpricks of energy wherever his hands touched me. It was nothing like our first kiss, that almost chaste, soft and tender kiss of long ago. Tonight he was kissing me like he was a drowning man and I was his last chance of air. Like it was our last time. It was a desperate, hopeless kiss.
He broke away, gasping and looking shocked at what he had just done. His eyes were filled with heartbreaking sadness, and he shook his head lightly, as if trying to dislodge all the pain from it.
I reached my hand out to him, trying to make him see that everything would be okay, as long as we were together, but he flinched and stepped away, walking to the far end of the terrace, as far away from me as he possibly could, his back turned. He grabbed the stone ledge with both hands. He was shaking, like he was struggling with a demon inside, tearing him apart.
A few seconds passed and I couldn’t take the silence any more, or the distance between us. So I started to walk towards him. I wanted to hold him in my arms, to make all his pain go away, to stop all the hurting.
Before I got too close, he turned to me quickly, his face and eyes completely void of any emotion. He had closed down again, blocking everything from me; his blank stare was like a slap.
“I’m sorry, Joe. But this can’t go on. We can’t be together. You need to accept this,” he said coldly, firmly and steady.
“W-what? No! Tristan, please! No! I will never lie to you again! I promise! Please!” I begged, walking towards him again. I didn’t care any more if I was crying, if I sounded pathetic, weak, begging for a chance. I’d beg! I’d do whatever it takes! He shook his head and passed by me without a second glance. He was walking away from me, from us. He was leaving me.
“Tristan, please! Don’t do this! I’ll tell you everything!” I said, while tears streamed down my face.
He turned to look at me, but his eyes were still emotionless, cold frozen gray stones. Diamond eyes, sparkling mesmerizing jewels with nothing but coldness inside.
“I’m sorry. It’s best that we stop this now. You’ll see that this was the right thing for us,” he said, trying to convince me. “You think you love me now, but you’ll forget about me soon enough. We were just not meant to be together, Joey,” he said, the finality and certainty on his voice breaking my heart into a million tiny pieces.
“Tris … please. I love you. I know you love me too. I can see it in your eyes …”
“You’re right. I love you too. But love is not enough,” he said, turning to leave.
“If you turn your back on me now, when I need you the most …”
“Then what?”
“Then there’s no going back after this, Tristan!” I begged him for the last time.
“Good. That’s the way it should be.” He opened the door and walked away, leaving me behind on the terrace, broken and alone.
Chapter Twenty-Five
No Going Back
I walked to Tiffany’s room and sat outside her door on the cold stone floor, waiting for her. I didn’t want to go back to the ball, or to my room, and risk b
umping into Tristan in either place.
The corridor was dark and empty. I don’t know how long I stayed there on the floor, but I was glad that, when Tiffany found me, at least I wasn’t crying any more. I hated when anyone saw me crying. She let me into her room, concern filling her face. I slept the night in her room. Well, I tried to sleep, but managed only to lie awake, thinking about Tristan and everything that had happened that night.
Next day was Sunday and I stayed in Tiffany’s room all day, curled up in bed. I didn’t want to see or talk to anyone. I was lost. I couldn’t stop thinking about Tristan’s words; they kept bouncing in my head, driving me crazy. We are not meant to be together …
Sunday evening I gathered the courage to leave Tiff’s room and went to have dinner with her and Seth. I hadn’t eaten all day, despite Tiff offering me snacks. My stomach had just twisted and turned inside, refusing food. When we got to the cafeteria, I saw that Seth was really worried. He said they hadn’t seen Tristan since the dance. I couldn’t help but feel concerned.
Just when I was about to suggest we start looking for him, he entered the dining hall, with Caroline at his side. She was laughing and giggling, leaning against him with her arm wrapped around his arm. He glanced at our table but moved on quickly, selecting his food and taking it to the other side of the room, sitting with his back to us. He looked relatively normal, maybe a little tired, but not a drop of worry or sorrow showed on his face.
Seth and Tiff exchanged worried glances. We could hear Caroline giggling in the distance and I felt livid. I stood up and excused myself, walking as far away as I could from the ghastly scene. What was he doing with her? My heart had twisted watching Caroline leaning teasingly over him. I stayed in Tiffany’s room again that night, but I pretended to be already asleep when she got back from dinner. I didn’t want to talk about what had happened, about what it could possibly mean. The possibilities were all too horrible for me to face. But I bit my lips and clenched my fists tight, holding the tears inside.
I eventually managed to get a couple of hours of sleep, drifting off in exhaustion by the early hours. On Monday morning I felt like a truck had hit me. My body ached all over. Tiffany eyed me warily all the way down to the cafeteria, but she didn’t risk talking to me yet. I was glad. She made me eat something for breakfast, so I forced down some juice and whatever she put in front of me, so I could get out of there and go to class.
We were walking down the hallway to our first class when we spotted Tristan by his locker. He was talking to Caroline, who was leaning against the lockers at his side. She was smiling and blushing, blonde hair flowing over her shoulders, a pink tank-top only just covering her curves. She looked beautiful. She always looked beautiful. Tristan leaned closer to her, making her gasp in wonderment at what he was about to do.
I gasped too and held my breath, watching the scene unfold before my stunned eyes. I watched as Tristan kissed her and she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back, in utter bliss.
It felt like I’d stopped breathing. For a second, the world stopped moving. And when it restarted, everything crashed and broke inside me. Tristan had moved on. There was no going back from this. We were not meant to be together.
I watched as he broke the kiss and smiled at Caroline, the way he used to do at me, and then walked away, arms draped around her waist. Everybody was staring at them, and gossiping about the big news. Caroline had finally caught Tristan Gray. Tiffany grabbed my arm and pulled me inside the bathroom. I hadn’t even realized she was beside me this whole time.
She tried talking to me, and I pretended I was listening, but nothing mattered any more. I watched Tiffany talk, looking at me with worry flashing in her eyes. Everything around me felt weird and unreal. Like it was all a dream. A really bad dream.
I turned and left the bathroom in a haze. I remember vaguely walking to my first class, and sitting in my chair, and staring at the teacher and the blackboard. But I went through lessons that day on autopilot.
After classes I retreated to my own room. Tiffany and Seth turned up, and chatted for a while. But I was glad when they left. I wanted to be alone. I opened my notepad and scribbled in it all afternoon. I had a new song to write. A new song I wanted The Lost Boys to sing. The lyrics poured out of me as I replayed everything that had happened on that terrace. Every line, every word, every emotion: everything Tristan had said to me.
“I’m sorry but I never meant to hurt you.” (I could hear the guitars strumming in my head, along with the lyrics.)
“There’s tears in your eyes, they fall as you cry, but it’s getting late.” (I imagined Tristan’s quiet voice whispering the song to me.)
“I say it’s not meant to be, that is our fate, and it’s getting late.”
The next lines were for me to sing.
“There’s something you’re hiding from me, but I cannot see. You’re bright, sharp, cold. Cutting through the night, blinding my every sight.” (With Harry, deep bass, pounding on every word like a heartbeat.)
“You have to understand, we’re not meant to be. Babe, can’t you see?” (I could hear Seth’s vibrant voice.)
“It’s like a long note of a violin, vibrating over a sad night. It’s like a falling star descending from the darkest sky. Babe, can’t you see? Your sorrow is like mine. Its music is the night.”
And the next lines were for Seth.
“You left me now, when I needed you the most, you let me down. Babe can’t you see? There’s nothing left for me.”
And Tristan.
“Now there’s no going back, that is our fate. And now is too late.”
I finished the song and it was night already. I remembered I had to eat, so I made myself head to the cafeteria. I wasn’t going to impose on Tiffany another night, so I slept in my room. Tristan showed up really late that night, when the lights were out and Seth was already deep in sleep. He walked slowly and silently to his bed, taking only his shoes off and lying down with his clothes on, turning his back to me again.
“You don’t need to keep doing this,” I said quietly to him, from the safety of my bed.
He tensed and turned around cautiously. I couldn’t see his face in the dark room.
“Staying out all day, and only getting back really late at night, when we are all sleeping. You can come and go as you like. It’s your room too,” I said without emotion, staring at the ceiling.
He didn’t respond for a while, but then said softly, “I’m sorry about the way I treated you that night, Joey. That was not the way to treat anyone, and I apologize. I shouldn’t have done some things … I shouldn’t have said some things, either. But the fact remains so. It’s best that we’re not romantically involved,” he said to the dark room. “I hope we can still be friends.” When I didn’t respond, he sighed and resumed his position, facing the wall.
“I see that you have already moved on,” I blurted out.
“Yes,” he replied quietly, still facing the wall. “You should move on too.”
I didn’t know what to say after that, so I just lay there in silence for a long time, staring at the ceiling, replaying in my mind him kissing Caroline at the lockers. Anger filled my heart, washing everything else away, flooding and invading. I wanted to get up and pound into Tristan for doing this to me; I wanted him to feel all the pain he was causing me. Then, as suddenly as it came, the raw anger was replaced by cold numbness.
I passed the next few days in this jumble of emotions. Detachment and anger taking turns to play inside me. It seemed that Tristan and Caroline were officially dating now. They were always together, everywhere I looked, holding hands, kissing, leaning over each other, cuddling, touching. Caroline was in heaven. All the girls in school shot envious glares at her, and congratulated her on her victory at winning the most wanted boy in the school.
I tried to avoid them both as much as I could. I focused on school activities, on my homework, on band rehearsals, to get my mind off my problems. If I kept really busy, maybe it
wouldn’t hurt as much.
I showed the rest of The Lost Boys my new song on Tuesday, and they were really impressed. Seth complimented me the most, but I could see the worry in his eyes. He knew the story behind those lyrics. The boys were keen to rehearse the new song so we could play it next day at music class. We were playing for Professor Rubick’s class every week now, presenting a new song or showing how the old ones were coming along. When music class started the next day, there was quite a crowd waiting to hear us play. Tristan hadn’t shown up at band practice, but he had to attend the music lesson, or run the risk of failing Professor Rubick’s class.
He arrived with Caroline at his side.
Josh had his drums all set up, and Seth, Harry and Sam were ready to play. I sat at my piano and Professor Rubick bellowed to the room, asking for silence. Tristan was sitting very close to the stage area, not exactly blending in with the crowd, but also not quite with the band on stage. He was watching me with his now habitual blank stare. Professor Rubick shouted once again, and everybody fell quiet. I stood up and presented our new song.
“Thanks, Professor Rubick. We have a new song to show you. It’s only a first draft, and we haven’t had much time to rehearse it, but I hope you like it,” I said, looking towards where the professor was standing at the front of the stage, quite close to Tristan.
“Wonderful. Whose song is it?” Professor Rubick asked. Each one of us in the band was supposed to work on their own song in order to pass the end-of-term exam.
“I wrote some of the song, sir. But I’ll have to say it’s mostly Tristan’s work,” I said, sitting on my bench. Tristan looked at me, startled. He wasn’t expecting that. But I wasn’t lying. It was really mostly his work. I had literally used a lot of lines from his speech on the terrace, the night of the Spring Ball.
Then we started playing and I watched as Tristan’s face turned from mystified to livid. We finished playing and the room exploded in cheers. People really liked the new song. It was sad and beautiful. But Tristan just stood up and left without a word, leaving a clueless, confused Caroline trailing behind in his wake.
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