The Wanderers Beginning: The Wanderers, Reborn, & Unforgiven

by Jessica Miller

  “And what makes you so sure?”

  “I can't reveal my sources, but just trust me on this one.”

  “You can't reveal your sources because they don’t exist,” I said knowingly.

  “Whatever, I don't need anyone to tell me. I can see with my own eyes how much he likes you.”

  “And what if this is just a phase?”

  “Uh!” Josie yelled, throwing herself back. “Stop over thinking everything! That's your problem you know. You think too much.”

  “There's nothing wrong with that,” I said defensively.

  “You need to live outside the box Ella. For once, make a decision without analyzing it to death.”

  “Yeah, but what –”

  She slapped her hand over my mouth. “Stop it. Don't say it,” I mumbled through her hand. “Shh, no thinking.” She paused before she took her hand away. I opened my mouth to say something, but she just shushed me again. “I'm going to help you get ready!” She jumped up giddily.

  “Josie, the date isn't till seven,” I looked at my watch. “That's not, like, for another three hours.”

  “Then we better hurry,” she said, yanking me off the bed.

  Josie insisted we go shopping. She said I had to wear something that would knock his socks off. I told her I could wear a trash bag and Tristan would still be happy. She rolled her eyes and threw several different outfits at me, shoving me into a dressing room. Everything she picked out was too low cut or too tight and revealing. I warned her she needed to go another route or I was leaving her ass at the mall.

  We both finally agreed on a blue strapless dress that fell just above my knees. I thought it was a little much for a first date considering I had no idea where he was taking me. Josie insisted it was perfect and this was Tristan we were talking about so most likely he'd take me to some expensive restaurant – so she said.

  By the time we got back from our shopping excursion, it was close to six. I decided to get ready awhile. Josie fussed with my hair while I worked on my makeup. “Ow!” I yelled as she yanked at my hair almost causing me to smudge my eyeliner.

  “Sorry. Knot,” she said.

  I finished my makeup and got dressed. “Oooh, you look so good,” she gushed. “I always knew blue was your color.”

  “That's funny because you said that same thing about purple last year.”

  “Whatever,” she said, fussing with my hair again.

  “Josie it's fine,” I said, smacking her hand. I still had another half an hour before Tristan would arrive so I lied back on my bed and waited.

  “What are you doing?” Josie squealed. “You are going to ruin your hair and wrinkle your outfit.”

  “Josie, relax, you're driving me nuts!”

  “Sorry, I'm just so excited. I feel like a proud mamma. Like my baby is going on her first date,” she clapped, giggling.

  “You are such a dork. Sometimes I wonder why I'm friends with you in the first place.”

  “Hey!” she said, throwing her pillow at me.

  “Oh, you’ve just gone and messed up my hair,” I teased. She gasped and I started to laugh. “I'm kidding, it's fine.” There was a knock at the door. I looked at Josie and she shrugged her shoulders. “He's early.”

  “Maybe he was too excited to wait,” she clapped excitedly again. I narrowed my eyes at her. “Okay, I'll stop,” she said, trying to contain herself.

  I opened the door to find a note.

  Running late had a few things to prepare beforehand. Meet you downstairs in fifteen minutes.

  - Tristan

  “Of course he's running late,” I sighed, putting the note on the desk. “I'm going to head downstairs a while,” I told Josie.

  “Okay, good luck,” she said, giving me two thumbs up. I rolled my eyes and closed the door on her.

  “Good evening Ella,” George, our dorm's security guard, greeted as I passed the desk.

  “Hi George,” I smiled politely.

  “Have any big plans this evening?”

  “No, not really,” I replied.

  He smiled as if he knew some secret I didn't. “Well you look lovely,” he said reminding me of something my dad would say.

  “Thanks George.”

  George was a retired cop. He was shot in line of duty causing him to have to retire earlier than expected. Josie and I got to know him from our late night soda runs and the one time we locked ourselves out of our room. George was one of the good guys. He treated us all as if we were his own kids and everyone respected him.

  I wandered around the lobby waiting for Tristan. The longer I waited the more nervous I got. Maybe I made a mistake. I shouldn't have said yes. I should’ve just gone back to my room and cancelled. This was a bad idea. Right as I convinced myself to do just that, George had stopped me. “Ella, you have a phone call,” he said, handing me the receiver.

  “Hello?” I answered skeptically.

  “Hi Beautiful.”

  It was Tristan.

  “Where are you?” I asked.

  “I got a little derailed, but no worries, all is well. Give the phone back to George.” I did as he said with a little confusion. George and Tristan exchanged a few words and George looked up at me smiling. He hung up the phone and radioed for someone to take his post at the desk.

  When his replacement arrived he escorted me out through a back door. “Uh, George, where are we going?”

  “We're just taking the back exit. Less commotion,” he said.

  “Should I be worried?”

  “No, dear,” he said, patting my hand. “You know, you remind me a lot of my eldest daughter.”

  “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

  He chuckled lightly. “Both. Like her you're very smart. In the end you'll know you made the right decision even though it might not seem that way right now.” I wasn't exactly sure what he was talking about so I just smiled and pretended as if I did.

  I turned to him once we were outside. “Thank you George,” I said, giving him a kiss on the cheek and making him blush.

  “Have fun tonight, but not too much fun,” he said in a fatherly tone.

  I gave him a shy smile as he walked back into the building. Then I looked around for Tristan. The only thing I found was a large, black Hummer. I peered to the side and out of the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse of Tristan stepping around the side of the truck. He was wearing a dark blue button down shirt that matched his eyes and a nice pair of gray slacks. He smiled when he saw me, eyes wide.

  “Is it too much?” I asked, looking down at my dress, thinking maybe I should have worn something else.

  “No,” he said, jogging over to me. “You look perfect,” he smiled. He took my hand and walked me to the truck, opening the door for me. Inside, on the seat, was a bouquet of blue flowers. He picked them up and handed them to me. “Forget-me-nots,” he referred to the flowers.

  “What, no roses?” I joked.

  “You're not the rose type girl,” he smirked.

  He was right. I always thought roses were too 'formal' and overdone. “They're sweet, thank you.” He helped me into the truck and closed the door. He jogged over to the driver side and hopped in. “So where are we going?”

  “Just a small place a short distance away,” was all he said.

  I sat back and tried to calm my nerves. “So what's with the secrecy?” He looked at me unclear. “You picked me up in the back,” I said, trying to clarify.

  “I was trying to avoid the madness,” he said, pointing a finger in the direction of the press. I nodded understanding.

  “So a Hummer, I would have thought you more of a Porsche guy.”

  “Nah, no back seat,” he said. I narrowed my eyes at him and saw the slightest smile dancing on his lips. I shook my head not wanting to even comment. Instead I just gazed out the window as we drove off.

  After a few minutes of silence Tristan turned to me and asked, “Are you nervous?”

  “No, why? Why would I be nervous?” I repl
ied unconvincingly. He laughed under his breath and I narrowed my eyes at him again.

  “It's okay if you are. I won't hold it against you.”

  “I am not nervous,” I snapped. Now I was just irritated. I heard him laugh again and whipped my head around. “Stop laughing, it's not funny.”

  “I can't help it. You're so cute,” I glared at him. “Especially when you're angry,” he smiled.

  “I have no idea why I agreed to this,” I growled. “It hasn't even been ten minutes and I'm ready for this to be over.”

  “Oh c'mon, you know you don't really mean that.”

  I chose not to answer him. I thought it best if I just kept my mouth shut. I rested my arm on the door and stared out the window again trying to release some of my anger. Sensing my uneasiness, Tristan stopped teasing me.

  The small distance he referred to earlier turned into an hour drive. Neither of us spoke the whole way, but the silence was a comfortable one. He pulled up to a small corner restaurant. They had Cafe style seating outside. We were the only two patrons seated outside. There was selective lighting that came from a dim glow of candles in the center of the tables, creating a very romantic ambiance.

  “Impressed?” Tristan asked, pulling out my chair for me.

  “I'll let you know when I'm impressed,” I said. He threw me a half smile and took his seat. “How'd you find this place?”

  “I was,” he hesitated a moment, “taking care of some business,” he said carefully. “In the area and drove past it.”

  I looked at him only for a moment before I figured it out. “Are you kidding me? You were screwing some girl around here,” I said, louder than intended. “Why does this not surprise me?” I should have known better.

  I hadn't realized our waiter approached until he cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Can I offer you something to drink?”

  “Water is fine,” I told him.

  “I'll have a scotch on the rocks,” Tristan said.

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “Aren't you driving?” It wasn't a question.

  “Make that two waters,” he told the waiter. I folded my hands in my lap finding it hard to look at him without feeling a little uncomfortable after his confession.

  Tristan leaned back in his chair studying me. “We're off to a great start, aren't we?” I laughed sarcastically. I knew he could tell his announcement of how he found this place had bothered me. I tried my best not to let it show but apparently I wasn't doing a good enough job. “What did you want me to say? Hey I was banging this chick that lives not far from here and afterward I got hungry and stopped here to grab a bite.”

  “Clearly that is so much better,” I said sarcastically. “You could have just said a friend told you about it.”

  “That would be lying.”

  “Have you ever heard of the word tact?”

  “I like to speak my mind,” he said.

  “So I've noticed.”

  Not sure where to go from there, I sat with my hands in my lap, picking at my cuticles and wishing he would say something that didn't make me want to smack him. Tristan twirled his glass by the stem and watched me with curiosity, all his normal bravado gone. “Are you nervous?” I teased.

  “You are a little intimidating,” he confessed.

  “Me?” I said, finding that hard to believe.

  His eyes searched mine. “You know how beautiful you are?”

  “Flattery doesn't work on me,” I said, hoping he couldn't see my reddened cheeks.

  The waiter returned with our drinks and asked if we were ready to order. “I'm sorry I haven't even had the chance to look at the menu.”

  He offered to come back when we were ready. Tristan told him there was no need and ordered for both of us. “You'll like it,” he said when he noticed my skepticism.

  “Do you come here often?”

  I knew he was wondering if there was more in that question then I was letting on, but the simple truth was, I was just curious. He answered cautiously. “Not as much as I’d like. But I get here when I can.”

  “It's nice here. I can see why you would want to keep coming back.” My response allowed him to relax. He sat back in his chair and sipped his water, his eyes never leaving mine. Feeling my cheeks get hot, I decided I needed to keep the conversation going. “So what is it you do?”

  “That's a very open ended question. You have to be more specific.”

  “Do you have a job?”

  He laughed like this was something that appalled him. “I have no need to work, nor do I have the desire.”

  “So basically you're a spoiled brat who does whatever you want just because you can.”

  “Isn't that the pot calling the kettle black?”

  His words hit harder than I thought they would. “What's that supposed to mean?” I asked, offended.

  “You sit there and pretend to be humble when we both know that you too come from a wealthy family.”

  “I never denied I was privileged. But that does not make you and me similar. While I am grateful for my upbringing, I don't throw it in people's face and act like an immature, arrogant asshole.”

  Despite my insult, my answer amused him. He had a satisfied smug look on his face making me want to throw my water at him. “Let me guess, you volunteer and donate to several different charities.” I had no need to respond. He already knew the answer. “Somehow you believe this makes you better than me.”

  “I never said I was better than you. I was simply stating our ideals and upbringing are different.”

  “Are they?” He challenged making me question his sanity. “Just because you donate to a few charities doesn't make you any less selfish than me.”

  “How is that selfish?”

  “Do you not feel a sense of pride when you do these things? Do you not get a good feeling?”

  “Yes.”

  “Exactly my point,” he said as if he just stated the obvious.

  “That makes no sense whatsoever. I still don't understand how that makes what I do selfish.”

  “There is no such thing as a selfless act. You and I are the same. The only difference is I choose to serve myself, which in the end is the same.”

  I opened my mouth for a retort. I had nothing. Tristan's smug smile grew wider. He lived to push my buttons and was good at it. “Did you like take a class on how to piss people off or something?”

  “I don't understand why you're so upset. There's nothing wrong with admitting we're the same.”

  “Hardly,” I scoffed. My irritation, I understood, was something that brought joy to Tristan.

  “I'm not that bad. In fact, I know tons of people who would kill to be just like me.”

  “Yes, I can imagine, unfortunately.”

  “Have I struck a nerve?” He tormented. He wanted a reaction from me. I refused to give him one, forcing him to find another source of entertainment. “If I'm so horrible, then why did you agree to go on a date with me?”

  “It was kind of hard not to when I was being held hostage.”

  His eyes shimmered at the memory. “You say tomato, I say tomato.”

  “You are the most irrational person I've ever met.”

  “Yes, but at least I can say I enjoy my life.”

  “I never said I didn't like my life.”

  “Of course you wouldn't. How could you? You're too busy living someone else's to realize this so called life of yours isn't really your own.”

  “Where does this stuff even come from? Do you actually think things through before you speak or you randomly throw stuff together and hope it makes sense? Because the only life I'm living is my own,” I said.

  “Are you sure about that?” He cocked his head to the side checking me out. “Tell me this. Those business courses you're taking, whose decision was that? The car you're driving, who picked it out? Who picked out that dress?”

  I stared, not believing what I was hearing. No, it was not true. I made my own decisions. My life was my own. I crossed and uncrossed m
y legs, fidgeting in my chair. I was not comfortable with where this conversation was going. “I'm gonna take another stab here and say you were class president, or head of Student Counsel. Never stayed out past curfew and had a 4.0 grade average.”

  “There's nothing wrong with being smart,” I said, crossing my arms annoyed at how accurate he was. On paper I was the perfect student, but just like any other high schooler I had my fair share of fun.

  “You must be slipping. If you were really that smart you wouldn't have said yes to a date with me,” he said as he broke off a piece of bread and tossed it into his mouth, flashing me a grin. I had to give him that one.

  Thankfully the waiter soon showed up with our food. I no longer had the strength to argue with him. I knew I would need to fuel up in order to have the energy to keep up with his logic. I dug into my steak thankful for the hearty meal. I hadn't had the chance to eat much today and now I was starving, plus trying to keep up with Tristan works up an appetite.

  He didn't say much while we ate and for that I was thankful. I did find it a little disconcerting when he would watch me eat. I was half tempted to shove the whole steak in my mouth hoping he would be so repulsed he would turn away. But my luck, he would find something provocative about it. I had a feeling everything was intriguing to Tristan.

  When we were done, the waiter cleaned up and asked if we would like dessert. I declined, wanting to hurry the date along. Once the waiter was gone, Tristan stood and offered me his hand. I was puzzled as to what he was doing. “Dance with me,” he requested.

  “There's no music,” I declared.

  “Then we'll dance to the rhythm of our hearts.”

  I rolled my eyes and tried to keep down my steak. “There isn't a dance floor.” I mentioned, hoping to find a way out of it.

  “What's the matter? Scared someone might think you're crazy for dancing in the middle of the restaurant without music.”

  “I do not care what people think of me.” I sat up taller, lifting my chin higher.

  “Who's the snob now?” His smile grew and I knew he was tormenting me on purpose. Determined to prove him wrong, I stood up. He gave a slight bow and rolled his arm out to me. I took it reluctantly as he guided me a few feet away from our table. He pulled me close to him; one hand place strategically on my lower back while the other cupped my hand.