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ღ Finding Cinderella- 39 ღ

-Tristan-

If my life were a movie, it would be called "So I Love This Girl, and I'm Not Sure Where Our Relationship Is Heading, but She Said She's Happy with Me, So Let's Wing This Thing Out," directed by Marc Webb.

I could only hope for a happy ending.

Truth be told, I hadn't been big on labels. My ex-girlfriends had bombarded me with questions like are we exclusive, or am I just a fling? Do you really like me? Are you my boyfriend now? I need to know because I can't be happy without knowing what exactly I mean to you. And I'd just shrug and say, "Whatever" because I just hadn't really cared what to call it as long as I enjoyed it.

Now I understood what they had felt.

Maybe this was my punishment for taking those girls for granted. I became the one waiting for an answer. The one needing consistency and security. My mind couldn't relax because of this newly formed fear that Kylie might drop me all of a sudden. But as I had told her, wherever we would lead, I'd still love her all the same. There was no lie, no doubt in it.

I had to prove I could make it work with her—whatever she wanted it to be.

ღ

"Can't believe I'm here cutting little hearts and shit," Grey complained as he snipped the red-colored papers into tiny pieces.

Clark and I had sought out an empty classroom where we could work on a project I'd been planning for Kylie for a while. We had only dragged Grey along because the guy had no football practice, and we could use another pair of hands while we worked on the letters.

"Oh, stop yammering. You know Tris is crazy whipped. Gotta show your support, man," Clark said with a chuckle. He was outlining the letters M and O on the cardboard with know-how.

"Yeah, sure. I got full and mad support to all of my bros for any aspects of life, but..." Grey picked up a piece of paper from the pile he'd cut and showed it to us. It was shaped like a kidney instead of a heart. "Look, this is why I failed arts and crafts in grade school."

I laughed. "Exactly why I assigned that to you instead of the letters."

"I have to say it's crazy how you're really going all out here," Clark commented. "Are you sure about making a huge display, Tris?"

"That's T-Rex for you. Always making a huge display even when he's just walking down the hallway," Grey remarked. He had his eyes fixated on the scissors he was holding, determined to make a perfectly shaped heart.

I decided not to address him. "I know Kylie's not one for a show, but I can tell she's looking forward to me asking her to prom," I said. "Last time I screwed up by forcing her to come with me to the Valentine Ball. Now I want to do things right."

"And elaborately." Clark gestured at the mess we made.

I grinned and bent a little over the table to slice the letter P with a box cutter. "A special deed for a special girl," I said thoughtfully.

"So fucking cheesy," Grey piped up, and I chucked a balled-up paper at him, which he quickly blocked with his hand.

"Why so bitter, dude?" I sneered. "You got your period again?"

"Why, do you have a pad I can use? I swear I saw you carrying one."

Clark was wheezing with laughter. "Don't worry about him," he told me. "He just got rejected."

"Clark, man! Told you not to speak of it."

I waved my hand. "Ah, not fair. You gotta keep me in the loop on this one, brother. What happened?"

Grey sighed, rolling his eyes and lifting his hands up in surrender. "I tried asking Julie—Julianne to prom earlier this morning, but she said"—he raised his voice into falsetto to mimic her—"'Just ask me again when I give a damn, which is never. I'd say it's not because of your crude personality, but then I'd be lying'"—he returned his normal voice as he made a face—"Can you believe that? She could've been subtle, but naaah, she really went to drag my pride through the mud."

I put on a smug look. "First time?"

"I was there watching the whole thing," Clark said, beaming like crazy. "He almost broke down crying."

Grey picked up the balled-up paper from the floor and threw it at him. "Don't fabricate shit."

"In all seriousness, dude, sorry to hear that," I said.

Grey looked into space as if a thought came to him, and he started rubbing his chin. "I found it hot, though. The way she stood her ground. Her face matches her red hair when she's mad. She looks like an apple."

"Like what?" I choked on a laugh. "Maybe that's where you screwed up. You don't know how to compliment her."

The doorknob rattled, and a succession of knocks followed. I put down the box cutter and went to the door to unlock and swing it open. Ryo stood outside, looking confused and somewhat tense.

"Yo, did you turn off your cell? I've sent you a couple of texts," he said.

"I did. I was low on battery. What's up?"

"Ronnie wants to talk to you."

"Right now?" I couldn't keep the irritation from my voice.

"Yes. Now. She's waiting for you at the quad. Warning: she doesn't seem to be in a good mood."

I blew out a sigh. I could already tell this talk with her would go melodramatic and bothersome. Looking over my shoulder, I told the guys I'd be back in a bit and headed out.

ღ

She was sitting alone on a bench around a tree, at the far end of the courtyard.

"Veronica," I called her. 

She turned her head, a smile of relief briefly passing her lips. "T, you came."

"Ryo said you wanted to talk to me."

"Yes," she said and tilted her head to the empty space beside her. "Sit down. I hope I didn't bother you."

"Never mind the bother." I made sure there was a wide space between us as I sat. "I know there's something you've been meaning to tell me, so let's hear it."

She forced a smile. "It's about what's happening recently... Looking at things now, I wonder why I didn't notice how much you and Kylie suited each other from the beginning."

I didn't know whether she meant it as a compliment or was mocking the whole thing. It was somewhat hard to tell from her expression.

"Do you really love her?" she asked softly, reluctance apparent in her tone.

"Yes, I do," I said. And I loved Kylie more and more every second I spent with her. Sometimes I have this desire to wake up next to her. No sex necessarily involved. I just wanted to cuddle with her, fall asleep, and wake up with her legs entangled with mine. 

Ronnie bent over, putting her face in her hands, her long hair rolling from her back and dangling over her shoulder. She then took a few deep breaths before sitting upright. Her cheeks had gone completely red. Shit. I didn't want to deal with an emotional girl, especially if she wasn't anything special to me, but if I wanted to settle whatever her issues were with Kylie and me, I'd have to sit through this.

"What is it to you?" I asked. Stupidly. That was probably a bad question to ask an emotional girl, but I had to.

She glared at me, balling her fist on her lap. Her eyes began to water. "Are you really that dense when it comes to my feelings? I'm in love with you, Tristan. All I wanted was for you to understand that. I've been in love with you since we were kids. Believe me—I tried to forget it. You've given me clear signs that you don't want me back. You treated me as if I was nothing, and I know I should've given up, but I can't. I'm still in love with you."

I wasn't surprised it didn't move me the way it should. She was acting like my exes who had wanted to get back with me, and hearing that last line many times had made it—for the lack of a better word—ordinary. Anyhow, I had to tread carefully. I didn't want her to go hysterical like Fiona.

"I've been aware of that for a long time, Ron," I admitted. "And the truth is: I did like you back then."

She blinked. "What?"

"I did. Eighth grade. You were sweet and kind. But when you came home from that cheer camp, you changed so much that you were a different person to me. Guess this sounds hypocritical of me to say because I changed, too." I let out a dry laugh as I remembered Kylie and our falling-out in ninth grade.

"You did. You could change so many times, T, but I still would want you," Ronnie said, her voice taut. "I thought everything I did back then was right. Turns out, I've been screwing up my chances by being a huge bitch to other people. I... I could've done better, right?"

I pulled up a small reassuring smile. At least, she admitted it.

Slowly, she inched closer, her upper body leaning toward me as if she was trying to gain my sympathy by looking sexy. Her V-neck shirt was loose and a little too low-cut. Although this shouldn't matter anymore, I couldn't help but question what that cheer camp had done to her. "If I were still the old me, do you think you could've continued liking me?" she asked.

I thought about it for a moment. "No... no, I don't think so because... I met Kylie."

"Of course." She scowled. "Is she your girlfriend now?"

My jaw tensed. I had been getting that question a lot lately from my friends and others. It was getting harder and harder to answer that. I couldn't just say "yeah, she is" because that would be outright lying, and Kylie would find it unpleasant. So I confessed, "No," and then quickly added, "But" because I wanted to save my pride somehow, but Ronnie cut me off.

"No?" She sat upright again, laughing. But it was more of contemptuous laughter than an expression of amusement. "Who would've thought that the Tristan Hartford, who's known to get girls by just standing there, would have to work very hard to get this one? I can tell she's not the girlfriend type. She's got you wrapped around her finger, T. Are you sure she's not playing you to give you a taste of your own medicine?"

"Kylie wouldn't do that." I was confident in my answer, but I had to admit that her question made my guts twist.

She stared at me for a moment as if to gauge my resolve. "Really? What if one day she wakes up and just decides she's not interested anymore?"

She was hitting me with my own worst fears like a goddamn baseball bat. This was indeed my punishment.

"I'll fight to win her back," I answered, a lump rising in my throat, "but if it comes to the point where she truly wants nothing to do with me anymore, then... I'll learn to live with that. She's entitled to her own decisions, and I don't want to take away her free will."

"Then I'll be waiting for that point in time—"

"What? No, Ron. Don't—"

"—no matter how long—"

"Veronica, listen—"

"—it takes, I'll wait for you," she said firmly.

I gaped at her. I wanted to laugh at how ridiculous that was, but I felt completely sorry and disappointed. I had been hoping she'd make a clean break, but I got the opposite. Maybe it hadn't been wise to admit that I had liked her. It might have gotten her hopes up.

"Don't put that burden on yourself," I said, almost coaxing her. "I'm sure you'll meet more guys—lots of guys who will treat you right and will make you happy."

"I know... but I don't think my feelings for you will ever go away, T. Even if it's going to take eight years or twenty years or—hell, even sixty years when we're all wrinkly, and I'm on the porch of my house knitting sweaters for my dogs... if by that time you have changed your mind about me and decided to come to visit me, I'll still welcome you."

"Ron—" I stopped. No point in arguing. It was her choice, her life. I had already told her what I needed to. Besides, there was no guarantee she'd wait for me that long. Hell, probably by that time she'd already married some millionaire guy from Poland and had forgotten about me. And I would have been living peacefully with Kylie in a nice house on a mountain.

That is, if she wants to be with me.

Ronnie shifted closer again, and I could almost smell her cologne. "But from now on and until such time as we meet again in a different place as different people, I won't bother you. Or Kylie. Or anyone important in your life, whatever. I'll back off so you two can live... happily ever after."

It was almost a noble decision if she hadn't said it so sarcastically. I knew she needed a favor from the way she gazed at me from underneath her long eyelashes and the way she was leaning her body.

I couldn't keep up with this bullshit anymore, so I sighed and demanded, "Enough. Stop beating around the bush. What do you need from me?"

A smirk grew across her face. "A kiss."

-Kylie-

"What?" I stopped walking. I could feel the blood rushing to my cheeks.

"I said, how about going to the prom with me?" Erik made a shy, crooked smile. "Sorry if I said it too fast. This is not a joke, by the way. I'm asking you for real."

I had let him speak first because he had seemed eager to spill his news, but I hadn't expected it to be about... this. There was no reason for me to anticipate his invitation, anyway. We hadn't had a serious conversation in weeks, and I had thought he was losing interest in me, and now... oh God, what a terrible situation. I really should've googled what to say. How could I turn him down without making him feel bad? No, scratch that. Even if I did it in the most polite manner, he obviously would still feel bad.

I almost writhed in discomfort as I began, "Um, Erik... sorry, but—"

"We could go as friends if that makes you comfortable," he cut in quickly, "though I was hoping as more of a date..." He shrugged, scratching the back of his neck.

"Erik, listen. This brings me to what I want to tell you. The thing is... I can't go out with you."

His smile weakened, and there was a crinkle between his eyebrows. I gulped and decided to carry on: "I really appreciate that you thought to ask me, and I think you're a great person, but I don't think of you that way. This isn't ninth grade anymore. I'm no longer that kid who... you know, I had a crazy crush on you." I kind of chewed that last part. The memory was just too embarrassing. "But—but this doesn't mean something's wrong with you, no. As I said, you're a great person. You're nice, and I enjoyed those times when we hung out. I just... I just don't like you that way."

He turned his eyes downcast. Crap, did I sound like an asshole?

"I'm sorry, Erik."

His mouth tried to form a smile, but it only made a tiny twitch. My heart ached for him. "Wow, uh..." He rubbed his jaw and attempted to laugh. "Well... I did kind of... ignore your crush on me before, so I understand why you're—"

"Wait, don't ever think this is my way of revenge. Jeez, no. It's just that... that..."

I found it hard to say it out loud, but Erik did it for me.

"I see, there's someone else."

I bit my lip and nodded.

"I'm not surprised," he replied, his voice low. "You've been hanging out with him more and more, I noticed. You always said you hated him with all your guts, yet... here we are now."

It was funny how we didn't have to say the name for us to know who we were referring to. Well, there was no other guy who managed to put up with my impatient, sometimes violent, hot-cold, stubborn self for four years but Tristan.

"Yeah. Crazy, right? To be honest, how we ended up like this or how my feelings for him turned into this is almost like a blur to me," I said. "He did make an effort to patch things up, though. It wasn't just him who was in the wrong; he took it upon himself to start fixing our relationship, and I admired him for it. I can't deny that I miss my old friend... even though he gets annoying sometimes."

Erik nodded, but his dismayed look remained. "You know what, Kylie. I think you're a really cool chick, and it sucks that I didn't appreciate that before. But anyway, it's good that things are going well between you and him. I'm glad to see you happy."

I smiled. "Thanks."

"Guess I lost this one, huh? But maybe asking out and getting rejected is better than not asking and never knowing," he said, making a little shrug.

"We can still be friends, right?" I blurted out. "Or... would that be too weird? Look, I just want us to be cool, all right? No awkwardness. No hate. No bitterness... I hope it's okay with you."

With a soft smile, Erik answered, "It's okay. Let's be cool with each other, then."

"Great. Cool." Finally, the ordeal was over. Getting it off my chest made me feel relieved.

His phone beeped, and he fished it out of his back pocket, frowning. He tapped the screen to compose a message before pocketing it again. "Sorry, that was Pete. I'm supposed to head out to the Central with the guys to see the festival."

"Oh, the Spring Fair. You should go now before it gets too crowded."

"Nah. Right now, I'd rather walk around with you and talk," he said with a grin. "I mean, as friends," he inserted.

I breathed out a laugh. "Okay." I could set aside an hour or so for leisure before torturing myself with studying and homework.

He angled his head to the right, and we began strolling down to the courtyard, where the air was cool and fresh. We talked about anything and everything. Our words just flowed. Laughter was poured easily. There wasn't an awkward silence where we had to think about what to talk about next. It was so much better this way, just being civil with each other.

I was laughing at his comment about Julianne and Pete's hopeless relationship when suddenly he stopped dead in his tracks.

"Hey, isn't that... Tristan?"

"Huh?" Tristan? What was he doing here?

I turned to where Erik was looking. From afar, I could spot two figures—what the fuck?

I swung my head away and stormed off, but it was too late. The image of Ronnie putting her hand on his shoulder and leaning forward to kiss him had tattooed itself in my brain. What the fuck, what the fuck. Erik tried to catch up with me, calling my name, but I didn't look back. I couldn't bring myself to look back and see them sucking each other's face because so help me God, I might snap their necks.

I continued to stomp away, heat washing over me. A vein pulsed in my forehead, and I gritted my teeth in an effort to remain silent. Just what the fuck, Tristan?

It looked like somebody was going to have his balls cut off.

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