Catch My Fall (6 page)

With a smile he turned and hustled off down the hallway, leaving me to wonder what or who had been in the cafeteria that he skipped class for.  He’d only had a cup of coffee when he sa
t down at the table with me on Monday morning, so it isn’t like he was starving. 

Mentally shrugging my shoulders at myself I let it go, instead focusing on the fact that I just officially made my first male friend. 
It was going to be so fun to show his note to Macy and tell her all about college life.

I hate to admit that I felt something a lot like disappointment when Darby didn’t say anything about us going back to the guys’ house to hang out on Wednesday night or tonight.  That means that I won’t see Tristan until tomorrow.  I can’t believe that I’m going to admit this, but I’m kind of… bummed out that I haven’t seen him. 

After I finished Skyping with my mom and Neil, Darby and I wound up going to the cafeteria and eating one of the god-awful premade salads.  They only had ONE fat free option and it was Thousand Island.  That meant we both went full fat with the ranch dressing… and once that dressing was on our trays we both wound up getting French fries.  By the time we left the cafeteria I felt like I’d probably consumed my sodium quota for the week. 

As we entered the lobby at our dorm building we met up with one of the girls from the room next to us, Tiffany.  Darby and I
had already talked about the fact that she gives off a snobby-bitch vibe to a lot of people—it was definitely noticeable on move-in day in particular—but I guess she’s warming up because for the last few days she’s been very friendly to Darby and me.  Tiffany’s roommate Rosie is really nice, so we’ve become friendlier with her than with Tiffany, but I guess that could change over the course of the year.  Maybe the first few days were just overwhelming for her and she covered up her nerves with a wicked case of bitch.

“Hey girls!  What are you two up to tonight?”

“Trying to digest the salad and fries we just choked down in the cafeteria,” I said as I rubbed my stomach.

“Ew, I know what that’s like!  It’s only been a few days and already I’d give my left pinky-toe for one of my Mom’s dinners.  Any-hoo, you chickies up to go play pool with Rosie and me?  I don’t want to brag or anything, but I’m amazing.  Can you two handle being hustled?”

Darby laughed like it was the funniest thing she had heard all day.  “Dude, it’s no hustle if you tell us beforehand that you’re going to do it.”

The two of us exchanged looks that were our way of having a conversation without words.  Her look told me that it was up to me, and I gave her an almost imperceptible nod that I was willing to go.  She told Tiffany that we’d love to go, and after getting changed we headed off to a pool hall that was in a strip mall a few miles away.  Like me, Rosie is an out-of-town student, so she’s got her car.  The four of us crammed into her convertible VW Bug and sang our hearts out to the new Bruno Mars CD for the entirety of the drive.

I like this—this hanging out with people and having fun.  It had all been taken away from me back at home, but here, I’m finding that I’m able to let myself have fun.  I don’t think that I’ll ever be a person who finds it easy to trust, but I accept that.  When you’ve actually
seen
the monster in the closet, it’s impossible to pretend that it isn’t in there.

When we got to the pool hall, I noticed that Tiffany was extra…peppy.  I’m generally a fairly happy person,
but peppy and I have never been used in the same sentence. Tiffany’s pep is making me tense because I can tell that it’s forced.  When Darby gave me a sideways glance I was relieved to know I wasn’t the only one noticing that something seemed off.

The place wasn’t crowded, but then again,
it was only just after seven so I was trying to psych myself up for the likelihood that it would begin to get busier over the coming hours.  I did really well at Tristan and Trace’s house this week, and I know that I can learn to deal with these kind of social situations again if I just keep doing it.

The four of us cued up at a table near the back.  Although it seemed an odd choice for Tiffany since she strikes me as one of those girls who always needs to be on display,
it was the perfect spot for me.  We were near the bathroom and the emergency exit, and if I got unbearably anxious, I could walk out.  It didn’t hurt that the table next to us was marked RESERVED and there wasn’t a soul in sight trying to take the sign off.  I liked being tucked back in this quiet corner; I’m just surprised that Tiffany didn’t mind.

Rosie was sweet and I
enjoyed talking to her while we played.  She seemed really overwhelmed by Tiffany’s giant personality, and since I could see why, I made sure to talk to her a lot.  Before I knew it, almost half an hour had passed and we were just about ready for our second game.  The place had started to fill up and I was happy that so far, I was good.

As we were finishing our second game, I noticed that Tiffany was making a big production of taking off her hoodie because she was ‘so stinkin’ hot’.  She was giggling a bit too loud and her behavior screamed, ‘look at me, look at me’, something I find really off-putting.  When she finally had the hoodie pulled off, Darby, Rosie and I all let out simultaneous gasps because all she was wearing under the hoodie was a bustier
-style top.  The bustier in combination with the pair of jeans that looked like they were sewn on, make her look incredibly… um… trampy.

We’ve been here for over an hour now and I haven’t seen one person dressed the way she is right now.  Darby, Rosie and I are all wearing shorts and tank tops and that’s really what every other girl in here is wearing as well.  Tiffany is the only person who’s dressed like it’s Friday night at the club.  No one else is dressed like that because it isn’t Friday night and we aren’t at a club.  It’s Thursday night and we’re at a pool hall in a strip mall.  What in the hell is she even thinking?

My answer came in the form of a shift in the atmosphere around me as Tristan, Trace, and a few of their friends came into my line of view.  The guy they were with reached the table well ahead of them, and I watched as he plucked the RESERVED sign off the table next to us.

Any air that I had in my lungs was immediately gone when I realize
d that Tristan had clearly just been working out.  He wore a gym shirt with no arms, black Adidas pants and a pair of Nikes, and his hair was a little damp with sweat.  If I thought he looked hot before, I was wrong.  Before, he looked good.  Now, he looked amazing.

I was purposely trying to fade into the corner and I noted that Darby was doing the same.  When I turned to look at her, I saw that she seemed really unhappy and I wondered what was affecting her so.

Because we were in the darkest part of the corner, Tristan and Trace hadn’t noticed us yet, and I considered making a run for it, but got myself under control with a stern reminder that I was trying to be friends with these people.  I can’t run and hide every time I realize that I’m attracted to Tristan.

Rosie hadn’t really moved from her spot at the table, which mean
t that she was basically shielding Darby and me from view.  When Tiffany sauntered toward Tristan, slid her arms around his neck and kissed him on the lips, I felt my heart plummet.  He set her back firmly without kissing her back, something that told me he wasn’t into PDA at all… at least not with her. 

“You’re acting silly, Tristan,” she said in a saccharine sweet baby doll voice.  Running her index finger down his throat she purred, “But you were verrrrry happy to see me under you
both times that we were together last night, lover.” She giggled for dramatic effect, and I literally wanted to go punch her in the throat, which shocked the hell out of me.  What in the world was wrong with me?  I’d never had such an intense reaction to a guy before, ever. 

Taking deep breaths I started chanting in my head, “Tristan is just my friend.  Tristan is just my friend.  Tristan is
just
my friend.”

A bunch of people were
paying attention to the exchange between Tristan and Tiffany because he was sex on a stick and she was dressed like she was auditioning to work the pole.  He tried to appear calm, but I could tell he was livid. 

“Listen,” he said calmly.  “I specifically told you I don’t do repeat performances. 
I asked you at least a half dozen times if you were okay with that and you assured me you were. You need to chill out and find someone else to rub on.  I’m not that guy.”

Tiffany turned a color that is best described as rage-out-red. 
She. Was. Pissed.

“You fucked me two times last night,” she hissed, “and I am not a goddamn cum-dumpster.  Don’t you dare blow me off!”

She wasn’t speaking super loud, but enough people around us were listening that her words sent a ripple through the small crowd.  There were several “Oooohhhs” and a few “Dayummmms”, which only served to make anyone who wasn’t already paying attention get closer to see what the drama was about.

“Hey, that’s fucked up,” he said. “I was totally respectful to you and I never fucking called you a
cum-dumpster.  We passed a few hours together and then it was over.  I never promised you anything and I told you right off the bat it would be a one-night event.  You were
fine
with those ground rules last Sunday night when you fucked Trace and he told you the same thing.  What’s the difference between then and now?”

Darby made a sound of pain at his words, and I reached over and grabbed her hand in mine.  If I wasn’t sure before, now I
was.  Her heart beat for Trace big time, and she was upset that he had sex with Tiffany.

“Is that what this is about
?” Tiffany whined.  “Are you jealous that Trace had me first?  We were drunk and it was only one time!  You and I made love
two
times. Trace was a drunken screw.  You and I are real.  I can see what your problem is and I want to fix you.”

His hands clenched into tight fists as he took a step back.  “Fix me?  FIX ME?  You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!  Bitch, fix yourself.  You’ve been here less than a week and you’ve already fucked three different guys.  Your stats are worse than mine.  Don’t chase me around and try to
make me pretend that what happened between us was anything other than what it was: emotionless and painfully awkward sex between two people with no fucking chemistry. We didn’t make love and we never even got close to it.  We fucked and that’s the end of the story.  You’re living in fucking fantasy-land if you think I’m ever touching you again.”

Tiffany laughed in his face, a hard and bitter sound that was obviously forced.  “Fuck you, loser!  I was going to try to help you, but you can’t be helped. You’re fucking garbage.”

Turning on her heel she grabbed her hoodie and threw it on before snapping at Rosie, Darby and me, “Let’s go, bitches!”

I d
idn’t want to go with her crazy ass, but I didn’t want to stay either, especially since her speaking to us drew attention to the fact that we were there. Tristan stared at me in shock.  I forced myself to look away from him only to find a green-looking Trace staring at Darby as if he was about to step in front of a firing squad.

Squeezing my hand for dear life she dragged me out the back door, all but running away from Trace.  Rosie and Tiffany were right behind us, and we walked around to the front lot to get into the car to go back to our dorm room.

Tiffany yelled the entire way about what fucking losers the Chamberlain brothers were and I just tuned her out.  What said was hurting Darby, and that’s all that I cared about right then.

When we got back to the dorm Darby grabbed my hand and forced me to run into the building with her.  She didn’t say a word to Tiffany, and neither did I.  Once we were in our room, she collapsed on her bed and started to cry.

Sitting down next to her I began rubbing her shoulders.  “What’s wrong, Darby?”

She cried for a few minutes without answering
until finally she sat up and just went
off.

“This!  This always fucking happens to me!  Ever since I was in middle school girls have been pretending to be my friends in order to get closer to Trace, Tristan and Austin.  Remember how unfriendly Tiffany was when we moved in?  Looking back I can see that all stopped on Monday when she saw us in the hallway with Trace as we were leaving for Olive Garden.  It’s never
going to stop!  I wouldn’t have cared if those girls had really been my friends, but as soon as the guys fuck and run, suddenly I’m trash too.  That’s not even the worst part! Do you know how hard it is for me to see girls throwing themselves at him?  Jesus Christ, he FUCKED her! I shouldn’t have come here, I should have gone to school far away!”

There was nothing to do but let her know that I
would be here for her no matter what and to hold her while she cried it out.  She cried long enough and hard enough that eventually she fell asleep mid-cry.  I stayed with her for a while, rubbing her back and making sure she was okay.  When I was sure she was in a deep sleep, I took off her shoes and laid a blanket over her before crawling into bed myself.  I tried to force myself not to think about how bothered I was by the fact that Tristan had sex with Tiffany, but it didn’t work. I spent far too long imagining the two of them locked together in passion before I was finally able to fall into a fitful slumber.