"I'm fired up and tired of the way that things have been..."
✧✧✧
"So... what are you doing?"
"Writing a detailed biography on Abraham Lincoln."
"Really?"
"No."
"Oh," he said and blew out a breath when she didn't reply, trying again. "What are you really doing? An essay on treadcycles?"
"Hilarious," she said.
"Come on, I was just joking."
"Yeah, joking about how I lied for you, because you were too embarrassed of me to tell the truth."
He fell silent for a moment, as if at a loss for words, before he finally settled on repeating his question. "What are you really doing?
"My math homework."
"Ah."
"Yes."
"Has anyone ever told you you can be pretty sarcastic?"
"I know it may come as a shocking revelation, but somehow, I have been told that before."
Tristan sighed. "Can you stop being sarcastic for one moment?"
"Yes."
"Good, because-"
"But where's the fun in that?"
"You're mad."
"Excellent observation."
"What more do I have to do, Evelyn? I said I was sorry," Tristan said, his tone frustrated.
Evelyn finally looked up from her worksheet, gripping her pencil hard enough to turn her knuckles white.
"No," she said through gritted teeth. "You don't get to be frustrated."
"But I am! You refuse to forgive me, what else can I do?" he said, running his fingers through his hair.
"You say that like I'm refusing to forgive you just for kicks," she said with a sigh. "Your ego is really getting on my nerves."
"What does my ego have to do with this?"
"Everything! Your ego is so precious to you that you think a simple sorry will warrant immediate forgiveness, rather than putting in the work behind the apology!"
"I don't think that," Tristan said with a frown.
"Of course you don't," Evelyn said with a chuckle.
"I don't."
"You do, because if you were truly sorry for being embarrassed of me, you'd show me, not just tell me."
"Evelyn, it's not that simple. People... people can be superficial and close-minded."
"Really, Tristan? Because the only superficial person I'm seeing is you."
"That's not true," he said, looking offended.
Evelyn sighed. "Okay, Tristan."
"It's not true," he insisted.
"I don't think there's anything more superficial than caring more about how others perceive you rather than caring about being true to yourself. So if you tell me you don't want to be seen with me and the reason is superficiality, be honest in that it's your own, no one else's, that's stopping you."
"I don't like you being mad like this. It's not you. You're always so... warm," Tristan said after a few moments of stunned silence, furrowing his eyebrows.
Evelyn looked up, locking eyes with Tristan, wishing her heart didn't have to speed up and that her breathing didn't have to falter when she looked at the boy. Wishing she didn't like him, when he was on such a different page he was embarrassed to even be seen with her. Wishing, wishing, wishing. 1, 2, 3; 1, 2, 3, she repeated on a loop, using a good number, three, to calm her down.
"When will you realize it, Tristan?" she asked, her voice tired.
"Realize what?" he asked quietly.
"I'm only angry because I'm hurt," Evelyn said.
Tristan's eyebrows raised, as if he hadn't thought it fully through, parting his lips, most probably to speak, but Evelyn spoke before he could, not ready to hear what he said just yet.
"I'm going to go shower," Evelyn said, rushing out of her room and into the bathroom, swiftly.
As soon as Evelyn entered the bathroom, she closed and locked the bathroom door, pressing her back against it, closing her eyes as she let out a sigh.
Evelyn shook her head, thinking of an etch-a-sketch, hoping her thoughts would disappear, make her mind neat and orderly once more. It didn't work. It didn't help that she was acutely aware of Tristan being in the next room, in her house. She wasn't going to use him staying with her as leverage to get him to put effort behind the apology, that wouldn't be right, so she didn't ever threaten him with the prospect of him not being allowed to stay with her anymore.
Evelyn didn't like feeling strong emotions towards Tristan, and she wasn't entirely sure why she did, considering how her place in his mind and life seemed much different than his in hers, but it was true. When she was hurt, she was very hurt. When she was happy, she was ecstatic. And when she was angry, she was furious. She loathed it.
It was comfortable for her to float in some unnamed, middle space between happy and unhappy, she was not joyful, but not sad either, she was... content? No, not even that. She just was. That's all she wanted, that calm, but it seemed disrupted when she first approached Tristan.
Evelyn pushed herself off the door, taking a moment to stare at her reflection. It was never her face she was insecure about, but as she took off her cardigan, her gaze traveling from her face to the exposed skin, tears filled her eyes as she stared at the exact thing that did make her insecure.
Evelyn was almost frantic in her speed as she turned away from the mirror, not wanting to stare for long. She was just as quick about her shower, staying in just long enough to get clean and calm herself down.
She was more calm once out of the shower, ready to apologize, not out of regret for the basic message her words conveyed, but for how she said the words.
However, as she reached her bedroom, Tristan was nowhere in sight. Evelyn looked around once more, her eyes falling on a single bright pink Post-it note stuck against the hairspray resting on her vanity. The Post-it note wasn't there before, so she knew it was Tristan's doing.
Evelyn smiled at the small detail of him sticking it on the hairspray, remembering the way he laughed so hard tears gathered ever-so-slightly in his eyes when she explained the reason she had hairspray under her pillow was in case Tristan tried anything questionable.
Evelyn honed in on the messy, imperfect penmanship she knew was Tristan's, furrowing her eyebrows when she read what was on the Post-it note.
Come to the football game tomorrow, meet me by my locker twenty minutes before it starts... please.
-Curly
YOU ARE READING
Not Today | ✔️
Teen FictionEvelyn Sable liked order, she craved it. And, for all intents and purposes, she was good at maintaining it. At least, that was what she thought. When Tristan Montgomery first walked through the library doors, she hadn't known that he wouldn't just b...