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ღ Finding Cinderella- 38 ღ

-Kylie-

It had been days since Tristan's confession, and I still couldn't get over it. It didn't feel like real life anymore. It felt like an 80's movie with John Hughes directing it. Who would've thought our relationship would turn in this direction?

Well, Julianne and Lacey had somewhat predicted this a long time ago. And maybe our mothers, too, who'd been pairing us together since he and I were kids. Still, it was crazy. I'd never been drunk in my life, but maybe this was what it felt like.

At lunchtime at school, I gave the girls a scoop on what had happened that night. They nearly lunged over me, shrieking in my face and basically losing their minds. I had to slam my hands over their mouths to keep them quiet.

"So, are you guys a couple now?" Lacey was half-whispering, half-screeching. She looked like she could cry at any second from being overwhelmingly happy.

"No," I said.

Julianne shot me a look of disbelief. "Why the hell not? You kissed each other, and he told you that he loooves you."

I put a finger on my lips to warn her about her volume. "Yeah, but nothing is official."

"Aren't kisses supposed to be, like, official contracts that you're going to be with this person?"

I shrugged, heat crawling up my neck. Questions like that made me aware of how completely inexperienced I was when it came to romantic relationships.

Lacey nodded. "That's what happened with Clark and me. He kissed me on the front steps of my house, and that's when I knew we belonged together," she recounted dreamily.

"Ugh, I'm so single," Julianne moaned.

"Well, there's Grey and his rusty old jeep," I said. Oh, how the tables have turned.

"Gross."

"But Kylie, did he ask you to be his girlfriend?" Lacey asked. She had a solemn yet hopeful look on her face.

"No."

"Not yet," Julianne said. "I get it now. He's waiting until prom to pop the question. That's so disgustingly romantic."

Lacey squealed and clapped. "Ooh, prom! It's two weeks away!"

I winced, crossing my arms on my chest. "It's an overrated shit show."

They looked at each other and rolled their eyes. "Here she goes again," they chorused, breaking into giggles.

"Shut up. I don't even know if he's going."

"He is. He's gonna be Prom King." Julianne popped a cheese stick in her mouth. "Besides, asking someone out should go both ways in this day and age. If he's not gonna ask you, you ask him."

"Whatever."

It wasn't a big deal.

Correction: I was trying not to make it a big deal. It was not hard to miss the upcoming event, what with all the streamers and posters that the students had begun putting up around the school. As we finished lunch and Lacey went her separate way to find Clark, I couldn't help but eye the poster on the bulletin board. Gold and purple designs adorned the cursive words "Once Upon a Time," and beneath the title were the date, time, and place of the event.

"Really, a fairy tale-themed prom?" I scoffed. "Now, this is why I call it overrated. They should've gone for 1920s Gatsby or a carnival or something less banal."

"Why are you suddenly complaining?" Julianne inquired.

I was starting to care. Fuck.

I had a multitude of reasons as to why I had lukewarm feelings toward prom—or any social dances, for that matter. To name a few: first, it was an overrated shit show, as I had said. Second, I didn't like wearing a tight dress and mingling with a boisterous, wasted, hormonal crowd (great, I was having Valentine Ball flashbacks). Third, I thought an all-night reading sounded better than that. But... if Tristan asked me to prom, I wouldn't mind going.

I felt my face flush. Oh no. Oh no. I was looking forward to it.

"Creativity. We need more of it," I said, putting up a couldn't-care-less attitude. "But anyway, how much do prom tickets cost?"

"Hey," a voice said from behind. I nearly jumped out of my skin.

Jeez, he's right on cue.

Like a malfunctioning robot, I turned around slowly. My pulse was racing. Tristan was standing behind me, his hands tucked in the pockets of his jacket and his mouth shaped into an easy, lopsided smile.

"Hey," I said back. His presence was making me all mushy and thrilled, but I didn't want to act anywhere near as eager as I was feeling. I had to act normal in public.

He cocked his head to the side as he stared at the posters. "It's that time of the year again," he said meaningfully. At least, it sounded like that in my hopeful head. My indifferent attitude had vanished, and I felt like a puppy with its tail wagging furiously.

"Yeah. Our last one of the year," I said with a meaningful tone as well.

He screwed up his mouth. "It straight up sucks. Food tastes awful, and people are prancing to shitty disco music."

While I agreed with his comment, it was like a blow to my stomach.

"Hey, how can you say that?" Julianne piped up, shocked and offended.

"My opinion, sorry. I went last year, and I almost fell asleep in a corner."

I frowned at him. "Who did you go to last year's prom with?"

Just to be clear: I wasn't jealous, nor was I upset or whatever. I was simply curious. But he appeared to be struggling to pick a name from his list of previous conquests, as though he was anxious that I would react negatively.

"With, uh, Fiona. She forced me into going. Nothing happened. The night was unworthy of remembering," he spoke quickly.

I arched an eyebrow. "Because nothing happened?"

"It was generally a nightmare to be with her."

"Well, just because your experience was bad doesn't mean the whole event has to be," Julianne said in a duh tone and gave me a not-so-discreet nudge in the back. "Maybe this year, it'll be different for you. Maybe it's going to be special," she told him.

Tristan slid me a sidelong look, his dimples popping out as he smiled. Was this it? Was this the moment where he would ask me?

"We'll see. Anyway, I gotta bounce. See you later, Kylie."

As he made his way through the crowd, I stood there with my mouth agape, wondering what the hell he meant by "we'll see."

Julianne leaned close to my ear. "Wow, Kylie. You went from a prom-hating chick into an excited debutante real quick."

"S-shut up."

She stepped away, laughing. "You may want to start looking for a dress now."

ღ

The best part of each day was going home together. Sometimes we'd stop by Crest to eat and pick up refreshments. Sometimes we'd be listening to the radio and yelling the lyrics at the top of our lungs. Sometimes we'd just be quiet during the ride, and I would just stare at him while he drove, a bubbly feeling in me from head to toe. They were just ordinary activities, but every second we spent together felt important, and I wanted those seconds to turn into tangible objects so I could keep them forever.

That afternoon, as we were passing downtown, Tristan asked me, "Do you want to hear a story?"

I didn't expect that one, but I got excited. "Is it a scary story?"

"Nope. Just a simple one, but you'll find this cute." He cleared his throat and said for theatrical effect, "So, once upon a time—"

I snorted a laugh.

"What? It's a classic opening line, okay? So, once upon a time, there was this young girl who loved to go to the library. One day, while she was drawing in her notebook, a young boy came to her and asked if he could borrow a pencil. That started their friendship, but then the boy moved away when they reached the seventh grade.

"Fast forward, a couple of years later, the girl was in college. While she was studying in the library, a guy walked up to her and said, 'Hey, can I borrow a pencil?'"

"Then the girl looked up and saw the boy from her childhood," I supplied. "Feelings that were long buried bloomed once again, and they dated. It was happily ever after."

"No, the story doesn't end there," Tristan replied, turning the car to the right of an intersection. "Scratch the dating part because it never happened. They remained friends. The girl didn't tell the boy that she loved him because of the fear of ruining their friendship."

I nodded silently and let him continue. The buildings blurred as the car accelerated.

"Years later, while the guy was on his way to deliver food and medicine for her, she was sick, and he, unfortunately, met a car accident and died."

I snapped my gaze away from the windshield to turn to him.

"Wait, what? He died?"

"He died. And found in his car was a bouquet of roses and a card that read: You've been my best friend for the last seven years. Now, I want to make you my wife for the next fifty."

I waited for him to add something. He didn't.

"That's it?"

"That's the end of it."

"What? It's not cute. It's tragic!" I cried. "Was it a real-life story?"

"I made it all up," he answered with a laugh. "But it can happen in real life, right? It might have happened already to someone in some part of the world."

"That's bleak. I wouldn't have minded it if it were a scary story with monsters and stuff, but it was close to real life. Could you change the ending?"

He gave me an amused look. "What, to a happy one?"

"Yeah, like the girl died, too, and they found each other in limbo. They became a ghost couple."

He chuckled. "That's your idea of a happy ending? Both protagonists dying?"

"They found each other again, though."

"Nah, if I changed the ending of the original story, it would lose its lesson."

"What lesson?"

"That when you love a person, don't hesitate to tell and show them what you feel because no one knows what will happen next."

There it was—the reason why he had told me the story. He wanted to give me a wake-up call. What a cheesy, clever boy.

A few minutes later, he parked his car in front of our houses and turned to me, his arm resting on the steering wheel.

"I've been meaning to ask you this for a while."

I was hopeful it would be about prom, but I tried not to expect anything. "Well, ask away."

"Would you—"

"Yes," I blurted out.

He looked puzzled. "What?"

Oh fuck. So much for not trying.

I shook my head. "Sorry. What were you going to ask?"

"Would you mind if I couldn't drive you home tomorrow? I've got something important to do after school."

"Oh." I tried to conceal my disappointment. That's right—he thought prom sucked. I knew I shouldn't have cared. "I don't mind. I can just take the bus or ask Julianne for a ride," I said, unbuckling the seatbelt.

"Okay, cool."

I was about to grab my backpack from the backseat when he took my hand.

"Hey, here's my goodbye kiss?"

I sputtered a laugh. "Next time."

"But that's what you said to me last time, and even before that. I haven't kissed you in exactly four and a half days, Kyles."

He pursed his lips in an exaggerated manner. I laughed even more.

"Holy hell, T, you've been counting?"

"Yes. And I'm getting withdrawal symptoms."

He reached for my hair and brushed it off my face. A tentative move. I smiled, looking into his eyes.

"Me too, actually."

He flashed an adorable grin before he cupped my cheek and placed his mouth on mine. I closed my eyes as I felt those fluttering sensations again. His lips were warm, he tasted like mint gum, and his movement was gentle at first until he slipped his other hand under my shirt and his tongue between my teeth. He leaned even further, his weight pressing me into the seat. My mind was spinning. As I brought my hand to the back of his neck and felt his hair against my skin, I was like, holy shit, we're full-on making out in his car.

And that suddenly got me thinking: just how many girls had he made out with here? I'd seen him with Fiona in junior year, with the top of his car down, in the school parking lot. And him with Tracy Rothenstein, his eleventh ex, on the hood of his car in front of a diner.

A weird feeling twisted my stomach. I put a hand on his chest and slowly but forcefully pushed him off me. When I opened my eyes, his face was hovering over mine.

"Be my girlfriend," he said under his breath. My heart stopped.

Girlfriend? Wait, now?

I should feel giddy and elated, but it was the opposite. Uneasiness and fear crept into my chest, and I started to feel nauseous. I pulled my shirt back down over my stomach.

"Not—" I swallowed. "Not now."

His jaw clenched. He looked at me, hoping to see another answer—a favorable answer—in my eyes, but there was none. I was full of uncertainty, and I didn't want to carve my heart out of my chest and give it to him until I was sure about everything, about me and about him. So, not now, Tristan. He dropped his head in defeat and pulled away, plopping himself in the driver's seat. The atmosphere in the car remained warm, but the tension grew.

"Sorry," I mumbled. Damn it. I wanted to melt into a puddle and pretend that this wasn't happening.

"Why?" he asked, returning his gaze my way. "You're kissing me back."

Oh boy. "How about we both agree to enjoy what we do right now?" I said.

"Like what, hanging out? Dating? Are we even dating?"

What's with all the labels?

I leaned my head against the headrest, putting my arm over my eyes so I wouldn't see him observing me as I confessed, "I don't know, T. Jesus. All I know is that I feel like I'm on a cloud when I'm with you, and it sounds so fucking cliché that I hate it, but it's true. And I can't sleep, eat, or study properly because your stupid face is all that I think about. This is all new to me, and I have tons of doubts that I can't tell you yet, but the way I feel about you right now is this: you make me feel tipsy. And angry. And warm. And confused. And... happy."

"I love you," he said, without missing a beat.

Silence followed. I chewed on my bottom lip, trying not to crack a smile. I refused to take my arm off my eyes. I was flustered, and I didn't want to look at him.

"And thank you for telling me that," he added. "I'm sorry if I have come on too strong. Let's take one step at a time, if you wish, Kyles. Wherever we lead, always know that I love you."

I could've kissed him right after that. Instead, I removed my arm from my face and rolled my eyes.

"Enough of this. We sound like a bad Valentine's Day card," I said, and he laughed. It was a loud and genuine laugh.

"Fine. I'll see you tomorrow."

I grabbed my belongings and got out. When I reached my bedroom, I dropped my bag on the floor and threw myself into bed.

Tristan loved me. He kept saying he loved me, and I was grateful that he felt that way for me. But I couldn't return it. Yes, everything I had said to him was true, but I didn't love him. I could only see the possibility of that happening. Right now, it felt like I was standing before a gaping dark hole with no knowledge of what was waiting for me down there. And it wasn't this "leap of faith" that was scaring me. I was worried that something inside me wasn't good enough for him, that something at the core of me was bad, and he wouldn't like it. He said that he loved me, but would his feelings last long? Would he be patient while I got my shit together first? Could I fully trust him?

"Wherever we lead, always know that I love you."

I kicked my legs as my insides turned to jelly. Then I released a frustrated sigh into my pillow. I couldn't believe I ended up worrying over a matter like this in my final months of high school. Maybe it would be best if I focused on my studies and college applications... yeah, I should do that. In three hours. After a good nap.

ღ

Before Calculus class, I had spent approximately 70 percent of the time asking myself: Do I have a shitty teacher, or am I just dumb at the subject?

Now, I had the answer. It was neither.

As Mr. Cross re-discussed the topic about limits, I realized that he was probably going through some mid-life crisis, and he was doing his best to drag himself out of bed every morning (which explained the wrinkled slacks and unkempt hair) to make sure that we kids were learning something. He was still tyrannical in some ways, and his teaching methods were as old as he was, and perhaps he made little at his thankless job, but he was only doing what he was supposed to do. I no longer felt like ripping my hair out as he gave out homework, and I no longer felt threatened by the subject.

I got a B-minus in the last test.

Again, it wasn't a top grade, but Jesus, I'd never felt so smart in my life. It turned out that I wasn't as dumb at the subject as I had previously believed myself to be. I just really needed to push myself a little more, and I had to thank that one guy who kept saying that he was proud of me, despite how little my scholastic accomplishments were.

The bell rang, and everyone got up to leave. I was in euphoria as I traversed the hallway, hoping to run into Tristan so I could tell him the good news. As I was reaching a corner, I caught a hushed conversation. No, more like an argument. The voices sounded familiar. I couldn't make out what the other was saying, but I heard the other laugh and say, "Chill, man. Our deal is done. You're no longer a part of—"

They stopped as soon as I rounded the corner. I almost staggered back at the sight of Clark and Erik. Both were looking at me with alarm.

"Uh, I didn't mean to interrupt. I'm just passing by," I said.

"Don't worry about it." Erik smiled, contrasting the dark glare on Clark's face.

That bothered me. I'd never seen that kind of expression on him. I frowned as I noticed something. Since when had these guys been on speaking terms? I knew Erik was an ex-member of the swim team, but it was my first time seeing them interact—in the same space, I had to add—and apparently, they were not on good terms, which made the current situation even weirder.

They exchanged looks that I could only describe as hostile before Clark shook his head and walked away.

I blinked in confusion. "Whoa, what was that?"

"Ah, dude's got some issues with the swim team. Nothing important, though."

Swim team issues, but they'd been arguing about a deal? Or maybe I'd only misheard them. Whatever.

"Anyway, it's a good thing that you're here, Kylie," Erik continued. "Do you have a moment? I want to tell you something."

I hadn't seen him for so long that he almost felt like an apparition. What had he been up to lately? I guessed that's something we had to talk about, alongside the matter where I had to come clean and admit that I didn't like him.

I nodded. "Sure. There's something I want to tell you, too."

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