Senseless Attraction

by Lila Rose

  I went through the doors to the crowded, smelly, and noisy lunchroom. Right then, I didn’t feel like eating, so I went to the table that was already occupied by Sarah. I looked over to the line at the counter and found Corbet there waiting to be served, no doubt for his second helping; he loved his food.

  “Hi.” I smiled.

  Sarah looked up from her tray and smiled back. “Oh hey, I didn’t think you were talking to me.”

  “Why would I do that?” I asked while getting an apple from my bag.

  “About, you know, the whole Tristan thing. I know you hate him and his friends, and I totally understand why. But I think Tristan is different from those other wankers.”

  By the way he just growled at me, I doubted it. Still, I answered with, “Yeah, you might be right. So it wasn’t a one off thing?”

  “I don’t know; I hope not. He’s such a great kisser. I haven’t seen him today though; was he in Maths?”

  Yeah, and I have to help him study in private later. Alone. My body shuddered; was I scared? Probably.

  “Yes. He was there.”

  Her eyes brightened. “Good, I hope I see him later. See if I can get a vibe whether he wants to continue on from last night or forget about it.”

  I hope he forgets about it.

  What? Where did that come from? I know; it was because I didn’t want to see Sarah get hurt, and Tristan was more than capable of doing just that.

  “What are you cooking for tea tonight?” Sarah asked.

  “Trying to see if it’s going to be better than what you’ll be getting?” I smirked. She was always doing that. I cooked most weeknights. Dad always got home late, so I found it easier instead of waiting for him to cook—which always seemed to get burnt. So I took over the cooking, and the washing, and the cleaning. He had enough on his plate with work, and that was the last thing he needed to come home to do. So Sarah, who had always liked my cooking, usually ended up at my house for tea. It sure beat eating alone, and it wasn’t like her parents would care. Ever since my mom passed away, they’d been very supportive, letting Sarah come over all the time to keep me company. Besides, they thought I was a good influence on her.

  For once, I was grateful for the chores. I needed to keep my mind extra busy, because if it wasn’t, I knew I’d start thinking of the looming Friday and Saturday with Tristan.

  Would he even listen to me? There was a chance he wouldn’t turn up. I could just hope he wouldn’t start tormenting me for the answers like his mates did.

  For the first time in my life, I was not looking forward to going to work Friday.

  Friday arrived too quickly. I usually looked forward to going to work, but this afternoon, I wasn’t and it all had to do with Tristan, who would be turning up any minute. I felt nauseated and found I was having problems all afternoon, putting books away in the wrong places, spelling people’s names incorrectly. Even with the simplest names like Smith, I typed into the computer Sinth, which caused the customer to look at me strangely. I even had Mrs Doherty, my supervisor, asking me what the matter was, because I had never behaved like that before. I told her I wasn’t feeling well, and that I was still in for a long night because I had to tutor someone after my shift had finished. She smiled and asked if it was a boy. I, of course, blushed and said yes, and then she said “Ah-huh,” as though that explained everything, and then walked off. But the thing was it didn’t explain everything; she probably thought I had some silly little crush on Tristan, and it would never have crossed her mind that he was the ringleader of a bunch of idiots that caused me trouble every day at school.

  I couldn’t keep my mind from picturing how the tutoring episode would go, or if he’d even show. If he did, would he ignore me and my help, like he ignored his idiots when they were hassling me? Only time would tell, and I wished time would just stop so I didn’t really have to find out.

  Anxiety crept over me. I glanced up to the clock on the wall opposite our desk to see that my shift had finished. I grumbled to myself, collected my things, said a ‘see you later’ to Mrs Doherty, and then walked over to a table in the far corner behind some tall bookstands.

  Okay, so for a second it may have crossed my mind that he wouldn’t be able to find me.

  I waited there for ten minutes on my own, telling myself that if he did not show up in the next five minutes I would leave. I opened the book, “Demon Princess” that I had borrowed before my shift started and began to read. People—mainly Sarah—asked why I read those types of supernatural books when my smart brain could handle so much more. That was when I told her and anyone else who asked that maybe my brain enjoyed the break by totally losing myself in a different kind of story. I did love reading any kind of supernatural romance novels; they took me to another place. I didn’t understand when people said they hated to read. Then I figured it was only because they didn’t have the imagination. When the story unfolds itself in our minds, it was very gratifying and could, if I let it, entertain me for hours. In a way, everything around me vanished—for instance, when someone walked up to the table I was still sitting at and stood there for God knows how long until I felt his presence.

  I looked up from the book to see Tristan staring down at me with a solemn look upon his face.

  “You’re late,” I snapped, then gasped and placed my hand over my mouth. Did I really just speak to him like that? “Sorry,” I uttered.

  He rolled his eyes and sat down. “Yeah, I had to do some stuff before coming here. Do you still want to do this today, or just make it tomorrow where I should be on time?”

  Was he trying to get out of this already? Was it that hard to be around me? What had kept him so busy in the first place to make him late? And why was I caring?

  “No, no. I am sure we can make a start on it tonight.” I looked at my phone. I had been reading for half an hour. If that was so, then why did he ever bother coming?

  “I mean, if that’s all right with you?” I quickly added.

  “Whatever.” He shrugged and sunk lower in the seat. Seeing he had brought nothing to work with, I pulled out the spare empty notebook that I’d had at home and some pencils. I liked to come prepared for these situations, and something told me that I would have needed them when Tristan was concerned.

  I started writing things down. “All right, we’ll start with Tangent Ratio. Do you understand the solution?”

  He sighed, leaned forward, took the pencil out of my hand, and began writing something down as he said, “Tangent equals opposite side over the adjacent side, and that’s all I do know.” He threw the pencil down and sat back.

  “That’s all right; it’s a start.” I smiled. He glared at my encouragement, so I quickly continued. “If you just look at how I work it out. it may help.”

  In the next half-hour, I tried to get something to sink into Tristan’s brain. I spent most of the time talking, which I expected when teaching someone something. What I didn’t expect was that Tristan actually listened. He didn’t interrupt. He didn’t say anything for me to think that I wasn’t helping, or that I was silly in how I wanted to approach the subject with him. And for that I was grateful. Although, sometimes it was hard to concentrate, and my own mind would blank when he would stare at me with intense eyes, or he’d turn his head to the side a little when trying to understand what I was saying. At least that was when I knew to repeat it and he’d straighten his head and nod at me. I felt that I liked that; I liked helping someone understand something I knew, and when he finally started making progress, it warmed me on the inside thinking that I’d helped him do that.

  “By George, I think you have it.” I beamed.

  He looked at me confused. “What?”

  A blush rose and I looked away to pack the things in my bag. “Sorry, just something my mom used to say.”

  “Okay.” He nodded. “So I’ll meet you here tomorrow at twelve?”

  “Yes. Oh, but what happens if something comes up? Or you’re running late? I’d like to know so I don’t
wait all day. So, um—if I give you my number you could text me.” I hope he didn’t think that I was trying to push myself at him.

  He raised his eyebrows. “All right, what is it?” He grabbed his phone out of his hooded jumper. I rattled off my number as he typed it in. “It’s Alex, right?” he asked.

  Really? He wasn’t sure of my name? I felt the urge to roll my eyes, but I contained it. Instead, an inconvenient blush rose again. Not because I was embarrassed, but I was annoyed that he thought he had my name wrong. Luckily for him, he didn’t or I would have…oh, who was I trying to trick? I wouldn’t have done or said anything.

  Instead, I sighed and said, “Yes.”

  “Do you want mine in case you’re late or something?” This time he gave me a small smirk.

  “No. Thank you. I work here, remember? So I won’t be late.”

  He seemed puzzled by my answer. Was it because I wouldn’t be one of those millions of girls who would fall at his strong feet wanting the phone number of one of the most sexy, rough, tall, strongly built, intriguing guys around.

  That was not me.

  “You don’t like me, do you?” he asked.

  I paused what I was doing and looked at him. “I don’t know you. Anyway, would you really care if I didn’t?”

  He shrugged and stood. “I guess not. See you tomorrow, Alex,” he said and left.

  There was no thank you for your help, or anything. Why did that not surprise me?

  I shook my head and strapped my pack up so none of the many books inside fell out. I threw it over my shoulder and walked out of the library, saying my final goodbye to Mrs Doherty on the way. I stood just outside the entrance as the cool night air hit me. I knew I should have grabbed an extra jacket and my gloves. I looked up to the clear night sky, while wishing the breeze away. Instead of getting what I asked for, another gust of wind blew, nearly pulling me over, the weight of my bag not helping. I stumbled back until something solid caught me.

  I looked around to thank whoever it was now helping me straighten up with their hand under my arm, and found Tristan standing there, a tight expression across his face. Where had he come from?

  “You should be more careful. Don’t you have another jacket or something? It’s freezing out here.”

  I stood stunned for a second, then remembered he’d asked me something, so I quickly replied, “As you can see, I don’t have a jacket or else I would be wearing it.” Did that sound sarcastic? That sounded rude, didn’t it? I looked away from him, down to my feet. “Sorry. Thanks for the help though.” I went to walk off, realising then that he still had a hold of my arms. His touch firm, but warm. Welcoming?

  What?

  He removed his hands quickly and shrugged out of his jacket that I hadn’t seen him wearing before. He went to place it around my shoulders, but I stepped back and placed my hand on his strong arm.

  “No, you have it; it’s yours and I don’t live that far from here.” Why was he being nice to me? Was it because of my helping in Maths?

  “Your tiny body will need it more than me,” he said with an eye roll. “Or is it because it’s mine? You hate the thought of having something of mine touch you?” He glared.

  “Don’t be ridiculous…and tiny body? That’s just mean.” I glared back and snatched his jacket out of his hands, thrusting my arms into the too-long sleeves. I quickly pushed them up and looked back up to Tristan’s amused face. I sighed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that you’re ridiculous, just what you said…”

  “Do you always apologise when you stick up for yourself?”

  I thought about it for a second. Though I already knew that was exactly what I did. “Yes.”

  “You shouldn’t.”

  I knew that, but when you did something for so long, it was hard to stop.

  “That’s what Sarah’s always telling me.”

  Sarah…just thinking about her reminded me that Tristan had only just last night kissed her and that she wanted more of it. “You know Sarah, right?”

  He shook his head. “No. Should I?”

  I felt offended on Sarah’s behalf. Did he go around kissing so many girls that he forgot which ones he had?

  “Sarah, tall, red hair, goes to our school?” He kept shaking his head. I growled and stomped my foot. “You kissed her last night at the grocery store. Ring any bells now? Or is she just one of many that you kissed last night?” I gasped, my hand flying to my mouth. I shouldn’t have said that. “Sorry,” I uttered.

  He rolled his eyes. I thought he’d be peeved with what I just said, but he was smiling.

  “Now I know who you’re talking about. I was confused. Not because of all the many I apparently kiss, but because she didn’t mention her name. We were talking, and then she said she had to go, and then kissed me. I am not one to push someone away who wants just a mere kiss.”

  Really? She kissed him? A mere kiss? What was that supposed to mean? Didn’t kissing someone mean something to him? I knew it would me, if anyone kissed me.

  And why was I pleased that he didn’t remember her?

  “It doesn’t matter; it’s none of my business. Only that…” Was I really going to say this? “I think she likes you and…maybe wants to see you again.” Yes, I did just say that.

  “Really? Well, I guess we’ll see what happens.” He smirked.

  “Hey, that you, Tristan?” Someone yelled behind him. Tristan stiffened. I went to glance around him to see who it was, but he gripped my shoulders and held me in place.

  “You need to go,” he said through clenched teeth.

  “Yo, Tristan.”

  Then I recognized the voice; it was Aaron, and when there was one idiot, the others wouldn’t be far behind.

  It all dawned on me then. Tristan didn’t want them to see me with him. Questions would be asked, ones that he wouldn’t want answered. Why would the rebel in school want to be associated with the dork? I got it; I did. Still, it did hurt.

  I didn’t bother saying anything; I turned and walked quickly around the side of the library, knowing that Tristan’s solid form would hide my tiny body from being seen. Once there, I stopped and listened.

  “Hey, man, what the hell are you doing here?” Aaron asked.

  “Nothing much, hassling the workers. Been searchin’ for you and the others. Speaking of which, where are they?”

  “Around the corner at Joe’s Pool Hall. I stepped out for a breather with a pretty brunette, then she friggin’ left me; that’s when I spotted you.”

  “All right, let’s go have some fun then,” Tristan said, sounding bored.

  “Now you’re talking.”

  I waited until I could no longer hear their retreating footsteps and walked out from around the corner. What I should have done was walk into Joe’s with my head held high and thrown his stupid jacket at his face. Of course, I didn’t. Instead, I pulled his jacket tighter around me, taking in the scent of Tristan that was left behind. He smelled wonderful.

  I couldn’t be upset with him, and I shouldn’t care about what just took place. I thought we were getting along fine. It went to show you how different people could be when they didn’t hang around with their usual crowd. Question was: which was the real Tristan?

  Didn’t matter. All I had to do was help him get his grade up in Maths, which I was sure I’d be able to. Then we could go back to the way things were. I’d be that invisible girl I always was to him, and he’d be the ringleader of the idiots.

  Really, that hadn’t changed for him.

  Sleep was hard to come Friday night. I was still awake at two in the morning when Dad came home. At least he sounded like he was in a happy mood, whistling away. That meant he must have won the case he’d been working on. I wanted to get up and talk to him; it seemed we hardly got to see each other, but I didn’t. My bed was too warm and the house was too cold. The last thing I remembered before finally falling asleep was dad opening my door to check I was where I was supposed to be.

  I woke to my alarm ringin
g at nine. Usually, I’d be up and awake by seven, but the lack of sleep had me sleeping late. Actually, I wanted to roll back over and go back to sleep, but I was never one to call in a sick day when I wasn’t really ill. Especially when it was my own silly fault for being awake so late in the first place. I couldn’t stop my brain from thinking…about Tristan. I kept looking at his coat hanging over my chair at my desk; his scent from it was overpowering enough that I could smell it from across the room as I laid in my bed.

  Why would he do something nice like that, and then have me hide away when one of his idiot mates approached? All right, so I already knew the answer; a guy like Tristan wouldn’t be caught dead seen with someone like me.

  Sarah had rang me last night, informing me that she went out to the shops with Olivia, her two-year-older cousin, and guess who she ran into—Tristan. He was down there with his usual gang, and she apparently had enough courage to walk right up to them while in the food court and sit down, starting a conversation. I think it also helped that Olivia was there, and that she was just as pretty as Sarah was. She said she had a great time and couldn’t understand why I had so many problems with those guys. I felt like screaming it was because they never did it when she was around. I guess they liked her too much to show their true side.

  But I didn’t bother explaining that to her; she knew how I felt about them, and it was up to her to think what she wanted.

  In the end, she told me that when she said goodbye she leaned over the table and kissed Tristan again. My stomach dropped—why? She said the others started shouting and whistling their approval, and then she walked off.

  Was I happy for her? Maybe. She seemed to really like Tristan. I did hope it could work out for them. Really, I did. Sort of.

  I quickly showered and packed my bag for soccer late that afternoon.

  Last year had been my final year for soccer because I wanted to concentrate on my studies, but Heather, the team captain, had called and asked if I could fill in for the day. I doubted I’d have enough time to get home after tutoring to change and drive back over to the indoor soccer field, which was a couple of blocks from the library, so I took my bag with me and headed out the door to work.