“I was falling apart,” Skyler said. “Everything was falling apart.”
I studied our hands, linked on the table. “You know, I've thought about this and...I think it's probably good we were forced to stop seeing each other."
"Why?"
"Because we were so young we would've messed it up. We couldn't handle it, and instead of caring about you right now, I might hate you."
"Wow," he said softly. He squeezed my fingers and then let go, allowing me to pull my hand back across the table.
Our food came, and for a couple of minutes we were quiet. It was a welcome respite from the conversation. I needed to say things, and I needed to hear him out as well, but already there was a lot to digest.
"I thought we had a pretty good thing," he said eventually. He was almost done with his Grand Slam. I was struggling through mine.
"We had a great thing," I said, giving him a small smile. His legs slid against mine under the table, and I tucked mine away, giving him a warning glance.
"So. You and Tristan."
I rolled my eyes. "Back to this?"
"How come you get to interrogate me, but when I ask you stuff you get all defensive?"
"Because," I said, putting down my fork. "It's obvious you hate Tristan—”
"I don't hate him."
"Well, you don't seem to like him very much,” I said. “Did you have any serious relationships while you were gone?"
"One."
Ouch. I wondered if it was Instagram girl. "What's her name?"
"Margaux."
Even her name bothered me, like a snotty French girl. "Did you guys go to prom?"
"We went to a winter formal.” He eyed me suspiciously. "Why?"
"I saw it on your Instagram," I said, taking a huge bite of pancake.
He frowned, and I could see him scanning his memory.
“Her Instagram, actually.”
Smirking, he wiped his mouth and sat back. Fine, so I'd admitted to snooping.
"Do you...” I hesitated, not sure what phrasing to use. “Still see each other?"
"I wouldn't be seeing other people if we were." He grabbed my hand again, letting go just as quickly. "You're sticky."
"Syrup." I slid out of the booth. "I need to wash my hands."
When I returned, Skyler was fooling with his phone, oblivious to the trio of girls checking him out a table over. They looked like they were in middle school.
"So why'd you break up?" I asked, sitting.
He looked up, startled. "Uh, long distance doesn't work. She wanted me to stick around, and I wanted to come home."
"So this was really recent."
"Kind of. I mean, we broke up at the end of the school year, but I saw her over the summer a couple of times."
"Did you love her?"
Our server came by with the check. "Not enough to stay."
Even though he was talking about Margaux, I couldn't help but think of Tristan. When he'd first told me he was going to England for a semester, it had seemed exciting, a once in a lifetime experience. I wanted to support him, because it had meant too much to him. Looking back, though, I wondered if we simply didn't love each other enough.
What was the right answer? Was it fair to stay behind because you loved someone? To follow them? Was it fair to leave? The food in my belly felt too heavy.
"How much is it?" I asked, searching my bag for my wallet.
"Thanks, but no thanks," he said, stealing one of my homefries.
"I'll pay next time."
"I'm glad you realize there'll be a next time." He stood and hauled me out of my seat, throwing his arm around me. "Come on." We paid on the way out, and I tried not to notice how good he looked in those jeans.
Well fed and sleepy, I let Skyler take me home. He pulled up to the same spot he'd picked me up from and parked.
"Thanks for the talk," I said, unbuckling my seat belt. "And for feeding me."
“Anytime."
It was late, and I was really tired, but it felt good to just sit there with him. I realized that we still had a good connection, that beyond the past and the present and the weird, confused feelings, I still loved being near him. The song that was playing came to an end. I'd never heard it before, but it sounded a lot sweeter than anything I'd ever heard Skyler play. "I like this," I said, gesturing toward the speaker.
He chuffed quietly, turning away, but I thought I saw the hint of a smile.
“What?”
"This reminds me of you."
A shudder ran through me, the delicious kind. I opened the car door slowly, stepping out onto the asphalt. "See you."
The night was at its darkest. I was nearly to my window when I heard hushed footfalls on the grass. Heart skipping nervously, I started to push the window up. I didn't want him to ask to come in, and I didn't want to turn him down if he did. But he just reached around and finished the job, silently sliding the window up.
"Thank you.” I began to climb, but then his hands were on my waist, and my heart was in my throat. I landed inside with a graceless thump. I could have done it myself, but it had been years. Maybe...I turned to thank him again, but he was gone.
After a long shower and a piece of toast for breakfast, I hit the road. Tristan was usually up early because of swimming, so I called him around eight. He was surprised I was already on my way, too, but he sounded glad.
He wouldn't be glad when I got there. I was sick with worry, unable to believe I was actually driving to Miami to break up with Tristan.
Traffic was, ironically, light for once. It was like the universe was shoving me along, hurrying me toward the inevitable. I took a familiar looking exit off I-95, listening to my navigation. Miami was a huge, sprawling city and getting lost in it would be the absolute worst.
My phone rang.
"Hello? Tristan?”
"Hey...you close?"
"I just parked," I said, turning off the radio. "You back from practice yet?"
"Yep. Come on up."
"'Kay; see you in a minute." Tossing my phone into my purse, I took a deep breath and got out of the Explorer.
Tristan met me at the door, wearing U of M sweatpants. I had an identical pair at home. My heart squeezed as he held me tight, smelling like soap and chlorine. I loved that smell.
"I'm so glad you could come down. I know you hate that drive."
"It's okay. I needed to see you."
He nodded, stepping back so I could come in all the way. "You hungry? I just made myself a sandwich." Tristan ate like a horse, one of the benefits of constant cardio.
"I'm okay," I said. My stomach was already in knots. I sat on the couch, trying to relax as Tristan moved around his kitchen, talking about his morning.
"You okay?" he asked, appearing suddenly. He plopped down next to me, taking a bite of his sandwich. It looked like peanut butter and jelly. A rush of affection surged through me, and I swallowed, looking at my lap.
"No," I choked out, already too close to crying like an idiot.
I heard the plate being placed on the table. He came closer, rubbing his thumb along my cheek. "What happened?"
I forced myself to look at him. "Things are different than they used to be."
“Baby, I know I haven't been back enough. I know.”
“It's not just that. You know it.”
His face fell, and he sagged back against the couch.
"I feel like we're going in totally different directions, Tristan. And I can't stop it,” I cried. “How can I? We want different things.”
“I know,” he said, searching my eyes. “Maybe it wasn't fair to ask you to wait.”
“But it's not fair to ask you to stay. And I know that.” I swallowed. “I think maybe we should take a break.” Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry. I stared at him, willing him to look at me, but when he did I almost couldn't take it. There wasn't just pain in his eyes; there was defeat.
"A break or a break up?" he asked.
I shook my head, unsure of
what to say.
"Is this why you came down here? To break up with me, Rory?"
The tears came. I couldn't even stop them. I covered my face, glad he didn't try to hold me or touch me. "You can't tell me things have felt right," I gasped after a moment, trying in vain to get control over myself. "We're nothing like what we used to be. I missed you and missed you until one day I was okay with it. I love you, but it's not the same."
He was quiet for a long time. I rooted around my purse, relieved when I found a napkin at the bottom so I could wipe my face and blow my nose. When I looked at him, he was staring at the wall. "Are you mad?" I whispered. Usually I could read him pretty well, but at the moment he was closed off.
He shook his head, sitting forward. "I thought about... maybe... I don't know. Maybe taking a break when I was away, you know? To take the pressure off. I didn't want you to resent me.”
I froze. Hearing he'd considered taking a break hurt more than I'd imagined it would, but maybe we were on the same page after all.
“I'm too late, obviously."
"No," I said, but he was right. It was too late.
“I'm not going to say I'm ready for this, because I'm not. I don't know what to do." He scrubbed his hand roughly over his face. "I don't want to lose you, and I feel like an asshole because I already have."
"I thought we were just strong. I thought I was okay with all the time apart because we were solid. But it shouldn't be that way," I said, wanting him to understand. “We should be crazy for each other.”
“Things change,” he said, almost pleading.
“Yeah. They do.”
“I knew this was gonna be hard, but I never thought it would be the end.”
“Me neither.”
“If I'd known, I'd have..."
"What, tried harder?" I wiped my nose again. "Stayed? I don't think it works like that.”
We sat in silence for a while. I felt horrible. The weight that had been lifted, now that I was finally telling Tristan how I felt, was quickly being replaced by the guilt of hurting him, of being the one to end one of the best things that had ever happened to me.
His phone rang, but he ignored it. “I miss you already. I don't how to be with you if I can't...be with you.”
“I know.”
"I'm not ready for this," he said, coming closer. He kissed me gently and then let go altogether, giving me space. "You don't have to go."
"I should," I said, not wanting to prolong it. Already I mourned the loss of our friendship, the casualty of our romance eroding. There was no way we were going to feel comfortable around each other. It would probably be that way for a while.
"I hate that you drove down here for this," he said as we stood up.
He hugged me, and I wrapped my arms around him. We stayed that way for a long time. I ran my hands over his back, knowing we'd never be that way again, and let go. Tristan ran his thumb beneath my eye, catching the new tears. His eyes were wet, too.
"Bye," I said, kissing his cheek before turning away.
“Call me when you get home so I know you're okay," he said, walking me to the door. He tugged me to a stop. "I don't even want you driving like this."
"I'll be okay," I promised. "I'll call."
He nodded, running his hand down my arm.
I left quickly, then, wanting to be alone. Pulling out of Tristan's complex, I programmed my navigation and let it guide me home. I couldn't stop thinking about what I'd just done, couldn't close my eyes for a second without seeing Tristan's face. I saw him as he'd looked just now, but I also saw him the way I had for the past two years, beautiful and in love with me.
Blue Light
By the time signs for my exit began appearing, I'd calmed down a little. The tears had stopped for the most part—that was one good thing about the long drive back—but I still felt raw and achy inside. I was emotionally exhausted.
I got off 95 and reached into the cup holder, where I usually kept my phone while driving. Tristan's number was on speed dial. It took him a minute to answer; I was sure his voice mail was about to pick up.
"Hello?"
"Hey, It's me. I'm back," I said, slowing for a light.
"Okay."
There was nothing else to say. "I...I'll talk to you later.”
"I'll call you," he said. Would he really, or was he telling me not to call?
"All right," I said. My throat was starting to close again. I was sick of crying.
"Love you.” He hung up before I could respond, and I wondered if it had been an accident. If it had been uttered from habit, or if he'd said it on purpose.
Traffic began moving again. My heart beat slowly, purposefully. I released my foot from the brake and glided along, feeling free in the worst way, like I had nothing to keep me grounded.
It wasn't that I needed Tristan, although the bond was still there. It wasn't even that I needed a man in my life. It was just weird to be alone after having had someone for so long.
I drove aimlessly for a while, stopping when other cars stopped and going when they did.
Niki had gone to visit Finn in Atlanta, but Teigan would be home. Maybe we could spend the day by the pool. I just wanted to turn my brain, and my feelings, off for a while.
She was on speed dial, too.
"Rory?"
"Hey. Can I come over?"
"Of course you can. I thought you were in Miami."
“I was.” I paused and glanced out the window, absently touching my fingers to my face. It was sticky in places, stiff from dried tears. “I'm back now, maybe like, ten minutes from you. You need anything?"
"No, I'm good,” she said. “Wait! Wait, no. I lie. Hot chocolate from that doughnut shop by Leon's."
I smiled, imagining Teigan in her pajamas, jonesing for sugar. "Okay. Bye."
"Bye."
I set off toward the doughnut shop with sense of purpose, glad I wasn't going home. I wasn't in the mood to be alone, especially not after having had the past two hours to go over every nuance of every word Tristan and I had shared. Every once in a while, a shard of panic would slice its way through me, and I'd have to remind myself that I'd done the right thing.
Warm, buttery sunlight glowed through the picture windows in Teigan's bedroom. I sank into her soft, luxurious bed. Her mother was Parisian, and fond of lovely, expensive things like $15,000 Eiderdowns and handmade bed linens from exotic places.
Teig flung a pillow aside and snuggled in beside me, offering me a bowl. "You need it more than me."
I wasn't surprised. She knew my moods, my faces. “You don't want to smoke outside?”
“Way too hot,” she said. “Anyway, the smell will be gone by the time they come back.”
"I'm not smoking by myself."
"Obviously, Rory. What kind of friend would I be then?"
Smiling, I accepted the swirly, little glass pipe. Two pulls were more than enough for me; I was a lightweight these days. "You're always smoking me out when I'm miserable," I said, waving my hand through the pungent puff.
"Yeah, although it's been awhile," Teigan said, repacking the pipe.
Heartache plus Teigan's ridiculously potent weed did not a sharp Rory make. "Huh?"
"It's been a while since I've seen you this way. I mean, even when Tristan started commuting or whatever, you were okay after a minute."
"This is different," I said. "We're done."
Teigan exchanged her pipe for the hot chocolate I'd brought her, regarding me over top of the cup. "For real?"
I unfolded flat onto Teigan's cushy, white comforter, running my hands over it. It was so soft.
"Hallloooo."
I lifted my head. "Hm?"
"What happened with Tristan?"
Right. The dwindling ache pulsed back, though not as acutely as before. "We broke up," I said, sitting up. "That's why I drove down there today."
Teigan's eyes softened, and she set down her cup. "Are you okay?"
I shrugged. "I will be."
"
You can be real with me," she said, watching me closely.
"I am. I just... I've been crying all day. What else is there to say?" I said, my voice wavering even then.
Teigan crept closer, rubbing her hand along my back. She stayed quiet, giving me time.
"It was time. I couldn't keep on hoping things were going to change, you know? I realize now how dumb that is. To hope and hope, but not actually do anything. It's like I was frozen.”
"I think you did the right thing," Teigan said after a moment. "I really, really like Tristan. You know that. He's hot”—she paused, raising her eyebrows, and I laughed, rolling my eyes—“and whatever—you guys were great together. But things change.”
"But maybe that's what relationships are, though. I can't bow out every time things get hard."
"True, but there's a huge difference between fighting for something you believe in, and then struggling to hold on to something that's already gone. And I don't think it's this quantifiable thing, either—you just know."
"Like with Rocco?" I asked, looking up at her.
She nodded slowly, a small smile playing at her lips. "Even when we weren't together, or all the times he pissed me off, I never wanted to sever that connection." She hooked her fingers into air quotes to emphasize her point. "Ever. I'd think about it for a second, and I'd feel sick."
I nodded. There had been a time when just the thought of breaking up with Tristan had seemed like the most dismal prospect ever. I couldn't imagine my future without him. But then, one day I could. And not only could I imagine it, it seemed inevitable.
"Sometimes I still feel guilty about the whole Skyler thing."
"Honestly, if you'd still felt the way you used to for Tristan, no amount of attraction to Skyler would be enough to pull you away.” Teigan grasped my hand, squeezing it as she made her point. "You and Tristan used to be inseparable."
"I don't know if that makes me feel better or worse," I admitted, laughing a little as a tear dripped down my face. "I actually thought, at one point, that he was the one. That's so naive."
"So what?" Teigan took another sip of hot chocolate. "Nothing wrong with being a little naive. It's better than being salty and pessimistic."
I appreciated her attempts to make me feel better. They were working.
"So anyway, what did he say?" Teigan asked, packing her pipe again.
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