"So, have you spoken to Rocco?" I asked, scooting my chair closer. Teigan had hooked up with him the last time he was home.
She smiled, doodling in her notebook. "Actually, he's been calling almost every night."
"Since he went back?”
“Yeah.”
"That's so sweet! How come you didn't tell me?"
She looked up. "Well, you've been a little preoccupied lately."
I winced, putting down my pencil. "I'm sorry, Teigan. We should do something together soon, all three of us..."
"Stop it." She rolled her eyes and went back to her doodles. "To be honest, I'm just glad you're not moping around because of what's-his-name."
Skyler was not a topic we broached often, but he was always going to be floating at the fringes of things. I mean, Teigan was still in close, close contact with his brother; it was inevitable.
Sitting back in my chair, I shrugged. "Me too."
"Do you still think about him?"
“Sometimes, yeah.” Of course I did. I'd lived and breathed Skyler Nolan for most of freshman year.
“Do you ever, like...regret...”
"Regret what?" I frowned at Teigan, used to her not beating around the bush.
"I mean, do you ever regret not sleeping with him?"
Pausing, I considered what she was asking. Did I regret it? While I did still think of Skyler sometimes, it wasn't as much as before. Certainly not since Tristan had come into the picture. "Not really."
She nodded and started drawing again. I was slightly flustered that she'd even ask that, especially when it had been so long since I'd even been with Skyler. Ruffled, I turned my attention back to the computer. The words blurred and danced before my eyes.
A piece of paper landed in my cubicle, and scrawled in Teig's messy script was one word: bullshit. With a smiley face.
Making a face, I scribbled a note back:
it hurt bad enough when he left. Sex would have made it worse. I think it's better this way.
She read the note and tucked it into her pocket, glancing at me. "It probably is better. No regrets."
Sophomore year ended as abruptly as it had started, but on a decidedly higher note. I was given more hours at the bookstore, sometimes taking shifts at the coffee bar in the corner. It was the summer I'd always dreamed of, driving around in the Explorer, music up and windows down, the salty sea air tangling my hair. Long, languid days spent tanning beside Teigan's pool or at the beach. If the days were for my girlfriends, then the nights belonged to our boys. Rocco had come home for the summer, picking right up where he'd left off with Teigan, and Finn and Niki were practically married.
Sometimes, when you're used to having to work so hard to maintain something, having it come easy takes getting used to. I'd never realized how simple it could be to be with someone until I found Tristan.
We spent hours just talking, sometimes on the phone but mostly at the beach. One of my favorite things to do was toss down a blanket and curl up beside him, chatting about everything from politics to college. He wanted to study humanities and social sciences at the University of Miami, eyes shining as he spoke of plans to study overseas, contributing through programs like the Peace Corp. From anyone else it would've sounded cheesy, but from him it rang true. His being inspired, inspired me.
“That was incredible,” said Tristan, sitting back in his chair. He winked at me, rubbing his infuriatingly flat stomach.
“Thanks,” I said, grinning as I dragged the last of my cornbread through gravy. I'd made Tristan dinner, with my mother's help of course. “You got room for dessert?”
Our eyes met, and something charged passed between us. I hoped to God my father wasn't paying too much attention. “Always.”
We took the chocolate chip cookies I'd made to go.
Tristan had grown up a little differently than I had, in a single parent household where money was tight. Mrs. Becker was a pediatric nurse who worked insane hours at the hospital—night hours. She didn't want anyone in the house if she wasn't home, but she was never around to stop us from making out on the sofa or fooling around in Tristan's bed, which was where we found ourselves once again, losing clothing and gaining momentum.
“I love you, Rory,” he said, disappearing down between my legs. I groaned as he touched me, my eyes fluttering shut. That was Tristan: a golden boy on the outside, naughty and freaky on the inside. “I love you,” he said again, and he showed me. With his tongue.
“I love you too,” I gasped. And I showed him. With my body. It wasn't perfect, and it really freaking hurt, but it felt right.
And when he held me afterwards, our heartbeats slowing as we kissed, I was overwhelmed with gratitude that I'd waited until I was truly ready.
Sometimes I'd over think things. I was afraid things were destined to go terribly wrong, simply because they'd been going so fantastically right for so long. It irritated the hell out of my friends.
"Life's going to happen, Rory," Teigan said, pursing her lips. Seriously, she sounded like a motivational poster. "You just have to enjoy the ride, right? If things start to change, then change with them."
“Okay, Confucius,” I mumbled, but maybe she was right. Past experience had taught me I couldn't always control what happened in my life.
In the fall, Tristan left to go to college down south. I was a depressed about it at first. Anxious. I didn't want what we had to fade.
“I don't know why you're freaking out,” said Teigan. “Rocco and I are doing fine, and he lives down there.”
That might have been true, but anyone with eyes could see how distance had forced their relationship to evolve, and not always for the better. Still, I had no choice but to accept this new phase with Tristan. He was one of the most driven people I knew, and had mapped his plan out, way before I was even in the picture. I mean, everyone left for college. If things were meant to work, they would.
And, to my relief, they did. Spectacularly. I missed the lunch dates and week day romps in his room, but we talked and texted all the time. He sent magnets and postcards and little gifts he couldn't afford, and I put together extravagant care packages for him: love notes and candy, the maple fudge he liked from Kilwin's. He drove up on the weekends he didn't have a meet, sometimes even surprising me on weeknights, showing up at my house with a U of M sweatshirt or something equally as corny.
Maybe absence really did make the heart grow fonder.
One night, Niki and I were doing our chemistry homework together over Facetime. Neither of us was very good at it, and it was better when we had one another to check answers.
Niki, who'd always been so damned independent anyway, thought that it was a positive thing we had time apart. "Maybe it's good. Now you guys can let the relationship breathe a little.” Finn had graduated as well, but he was going to college in Atlanta.
"I know," I mumbled, scribbling down a formula. "I'm just still trying to get used to it."
And I did. Any fears I'd had dissolved once it became apparent that Tristan was just as committed to making things work as I was. He'd proved that distance didn't have to be this insurmountable obstacle. Granted, he was only a couple of hours away, but still.
In May, I brought Tristan to my prom, just like he'd brought me to his the year before. I didn't think things could get any better than dancing with my best friends and boyfriend underneath the stars. Some kids got hotel rooms, but we didn't bother. We hung out at a diner with a huge group of friends, and then headed to the beach to watch the sunrise.
The next day, Tristan was quieter and more pensive than usual. We were on our way to the beach, a picnic basket full of food between us.
"What's up?" I asked, covering my mouth as I yawned.
He glanced over at me, giving me a small smile. "Got good news today."
"Yeah?"
He nodded. "Remember that exchange program I told you about?"
“Yeah.” I nodded, vaguely remembering mention of it months before. "Did you...get in?"
He nodded again, pulling into the circular driveway of a large, Spanish style house.
"Um... whose house is this?" I asked, squinting up at the elaborate, wrought iron balconies.
"Friends of my Dad." He grinned, jumping out. "They're paying me to housesit. They have a pool, tons of food, huge TVs...”
“Why didn't you tell me?” I laughed, grabbing the basket.
“Wanted to surprise you,” he said, pausing to kiss me.
"Well, consider me surprised," I murmured, following him inside to where skylights illuminated lush plants and sophisticated looking art. “I can't believe people actually live here.”
Tristan led me over to the glass doors. The pool was just outside, and beyond that, the ocean. It was gorgeous. “Tell me about the exchange program," I urged, leaving my sandals and bag by the couch.
"Well, it's more of a study abroad program...it's in Brighton."
I stared back at him. "Brighton?”
"England," he finished, opening the sliding glass door. A gust of clean, salty air blew in. "They have programs that last a year, but I'm just going for the spring semester."
A semester? It was better than a year, I supposed, and we still had a few months before he left, but...a semester? That was a long time. We'd never gone that long apart. "How long will you be gone, exactly?"
"From January to June."
"Wow," I cried softly, trying to wrap my mind around it.
"I know," he said, wrapping his arms around me. "It's a good six months...but it's a really good opportunity. My dad did something like this when he was in college, and he says he's never regretted it."
"No, I know," I said quickly, putting an end to his rambling. "I think it's awesome. You should go." I meant it, too, even though the thought of him being so far away put a stone in my stomach. I couldn't shake the nasty feeling of déjà vu, of being left behind once again.
Tristan pulled back, looking down at me. “You sure?”
For the first time, he seemed uncertain. If he decided not to do this, it wasn't going to be because I pressured him. I couldn't be that girl. Cupping his face, I kissed him. “I'd go, if I had the chance.”
"Maybe you will one day."
"Maybe.”
There was no need to panic about something that was still six months away. We had another summer, and that's all I wanted to focus on for the time being.
Tristan picked up the picnic basket. “You want to eat by the pool or the beach? I'm starving.”
“Beach,” I said, following him outside. "It's surreal to think you're gonna be in England for six months. I bet you'll get to travel to other countries while you're over there."
"Probably." He paused, looking over his shoulder. "I still can't believe it, actually. Applying was such a long shot.”
I rolled my eyes. "You're good at everything... of course they accepted you."
He was quiet for a moment, the wind tossing his sandy blond hair. "I really don't want to leave you."
I swallowed back the tearyness that had been prickling at me ever since he'd told me. "I don't want you to leave either."
Putting the basket down, he pulled me into his arms. Kisses of comfort turned into kisses of another kind, and for a while, it was easy to forget. But later, with Tristan dozing next to me beside the pool, I had nothing but time to think. We fit so well together, but maybe forever had never been ours to begin with. I sat up, wiping the tears that had rolled down my cheek.
I'd known going into the relationship, long before, that things could change in the blink of an eye. Circumstances changed; people changed. People left. In some ways, I felt lucky that we'd had as long as we had. The only other couple who had been as solid for as long, were Niki and Finn, and they didn't look like they were stopping anytime soon.
Tristan touched my thigh, bringing me back to earth. “Rory?”
I eased back to his side, wrapping my arms around him.
May simmered into June, and then melted into July. Tristan had a gig as a lifeguard over on Hutchinson Island, and I was still at the Imaginarium, but that didn't stop us from making the most of the summer. We took road trips nearly every week: Disneyworld, Key West, Daytona, Panama City. My journal overflowed with photo strips and ticket stubs, toll receipts, and postcards. Sometimes we partied with friends, but more and more we went off by ourselves, watching sunsets at the beach or movies at his house. My parents had really loosened the reins, and it felt good to be deserving of their trust.
But then August came, and it was time for Tristan to head back to Miami. He had a new off-campus apartment, and different roommates, so he wanted to settle in before classes resumed. Feeling sappy and sentimental, I baked him a crap-load of cookies the day before he left, adding it to an already over-the-top care package.
"Where am I going to fit this?" He chuckled, holding up an enormous canister of hot chocolate I'd found at Target.
Maybe I'd gotten a little carried away. "I can send it to you," I offered, eyeing his already-packed car.
"I'm sure I can find space," he said, shoving it into the backseat for the time being. Straightening up, he wrapped me in his arms. "We're going to be okay."
I'd realized that if we were going to make it, we were going to have to do our own thing sometimes. And I'd told him so. Any relationship worth its salt should be able to survive a semester apart, right?
"I know we will,” I said. “Anyway, stop. You're not going overseas yet."
He smirked. "You know what I mean."
I nodded, tiptoeing to kiss his chin. We stayed that way for a minute, hugging and swaying in his driveway until his stomach growled. Loudly. I pulled away first, patting his belly. "Me too. Moe's?"
"Sounds like a plan.” He tugged my ponytail, glancing down at his overstuffed car. "Let's take my mom's Toyota though."
Typical of August, the heat and humidity were stifling. It had been overcast all day, and now a smudge of heavy, dark clouds rolled in. Mrs. Becker's car had the worst a/c ever, so after waiting forever for it to cool down, I rolled down the window.
"Is there an AUX cord or anything for my phone?" I asked, poking around.
Tristan shot me a look. "Do you have any idea how old this car is? Even the tape deck's shot."
"Ugh, right," I mumbled, noting the decrepit state of the stereo. The radio still worked, though, and I flipped idly through the stations, until I heard a familiar tune. "Ah, I love this song!"
Tristan smiled at me, shaking his head as I started to sing. It was a sugary tune, guilty-pleasure type stuff I'd sing in the shower or with Niki in her bedroom. Lost in my pop-star universe, I was still belting it out when we turned onto US 1. Tristan hit a red light and stopped, drumming his fingers impatiently on the wheel. A car pulled up in the next lane, so naturally I peeked to see if they were watching me make a fool of myself. I was always paranoid about other drivers watching me. They never were.
Unfortunately, that car's windows were up, and tinted, so I couldn't tell. It was a sexy car, though, one of the brand-new Camaros—a sleek, gun-metal-gray. It reminded me of rain, of stormy days.
No sooner had I thought it, rain drops fell, speckling the windshield. I glanced up at the light, wondering what was taking so long. Tristan's phone rang, and he turned down the radio to answer it. I blew my bangs from my face and glanced back at the Camaro, noticing the driver had rolled his window down.
He was looking at me. My heart stopped.
Skyler.
Ready to Start
The rain started coming down harder, sprinkling my face, but I couldn't look away. He looked a little older, his hair shorter. Darker.
The light turned green, and we were moving again. Skyler passed by, his window still down. With one last glance, he sped off, weaving between cars until he was gone. My stomach folded in on itself and for a moment I was stunned.
Stunned that I'd seen him...and that I was reacting this way.
Tristan finished his call and poked me. "Might want to c
lose that." He chuckled, nodding toward the window.
"Yeah." I blinked, cranking the window shut. The outside world disappeared behind blurry glass.
"That came out of nowhere," he said, turning on the windshield wipers.
"Not really.” I squinted at the road ahead. "It's been gray all day."
We turned into Moe's parking lot, squeezing into a spot up front. "Want me to just run inside and get it?"
Normally, I'd have gladly braved the rain with him, glad to steal another few minutes before he went back to Miami. But I was distracted and all out of sorts now, and afraid he'd notice. "Sure. Thanks."
"The usual?"
"And, uh, extra chips."
"And guacamole," he added, squeezing my thigh as he got out. The door slammed, leaving me to my thoughts.
How long had Skyler been back? Had he been trying to avoid me? That made no sense; he wouldn't have rolled down the window if that was the case, right? Still, it stung a little knowing he was back, and he hadn't bothered to contact me.
I took a deep breath, forcing myself to get a grip. Skyler didn't owe me anything. It had been years. I had a boyfriend, a serious one, and for all I knew he had a girlfriend, either here or back in New York. I closed my eyes, leaning my head against the back of the seat. I really hoped she wasn't in Jensen Beach.
My phone chimed, alerting me to a text from Tristan: Steak okay?
I glanced up at the restaurant, texting back: That's fine.
Then, on a whim, I texted Teigan: Guess who I saw today.
The girl must've had her phone in her hand, because she responded immediately: Who?
Skyler. I paused, frowning. u knew he was here, didn't u.
She took a while to answer, and I knew I was right. Somehow it didn't seem fair that she was privy to info like that, even if I no longer had the right to it myself.
Yeah, Rocco told me.
How come u didn't tell me?
b/c I didn't want you to act all weird, like you're doing...
I sighed in exasperation. Apparently, Teigan knew me better than I knew myself if she'd seen this coming.
are you mad at me?
Starry Eyed Inside Page 19