Little Annotations | Tristan Dugray

chapter thirty

Tristan,

I'm sorry for running away. I should've given you a chance to talk. I feel like throwing up just thinking about it. I think I'm being dramatic. I'm sorry. Well, that's what I feel— I probably shouldn't be gaslighting myself.

Genevieve.

. . .

Tristan,

I'm finally making use of my many many notebooks! My plan is to put this into a box and just drop them off at your house and run away like a fool or some hooligan. I probably should've prefaced it with this before the first letter...

Genevieve.

. . .

Tristan,

I should probably explain that I had no intention of telling you how I felt. Then, Dean gave me the idea to run away after I told you. I planned on just going home (which I did, I parked in the garage), but then I realized that you know me. You know me so well, so I left town. Dramatic. I know...Please don't go off and yell at Dean, he only planted the idea. I carried it out. One second I was telling you about... him, and the next I was spilling my guts.

Genevieve.

. . .

Tristan,

I saw a really pretty painting today. You'd like it.

Genevieve.

. . .

Tristan,

I bought the painting... Like I said, it's really pretty. I'll give it to you soon- if you still want to be my friend that is.

Genevieve.

. . .

Tristan,

I'm such a coward. I'm sorry for running away.

Genevieve.

. . .

Tristan,

Hey, me again. I think it's doing me a lot more harm than good being away from you.

Genevieve.

. . .

Tristan,

I was thinking. This would be the dramatic filler chapter in a book if we were in one. Granted, this would only work if you were also writing letters to me. I'm a teensy bit drunk right now. Sorry. Well, not really. I remember what happened the last time I got drunk- Wait no I don't remember much. I just woke up with a headache the size of the grand canyon.

Genevieve.

. . .

Tristan,

I'm so cool. I have good grammar even while drunk.

Genevieve.

. . .

Tristan,

I've been spending money like a young widow of a multimillionaire. I bought seventy-five new journals. Sixteen packs of my favorite pens- you know how I am with my oddly specific pens. Then, I bought one-hundred-fifty-three sweaters, seventy pairs of shoes, and uh... wait I have to go count again- I don't know why I felt the need to narrate this. Two-hundred-twenty-seven books. I've read four of them so far.

Genevieve.

. . .

Tristan.

I'm going to Washington! Chilton thing.

Genevieve.

. . .

Tristan.

I fucking punched Rory in the face. Felt good. Dean's too much of a gentleman to even consider anything like that. I, in fact, am not a man nor am I a gentleman.

Genevieve.

. . .

Tristan.

I think I want to read the journal. Curiosity finally killed the cat. I just wish I didn't get the urge to read it SIX FUCKING HOURS AWAY.

Genevieve.

. . .

Tristan,

I'm sure you're having the time of your life reading my letters. Or maybe this is sitting at the bottom of a trashcan right now.

Genevieve.

. . .

Tristan,

I'm coming home today :) I've missed your face.

Genevieve.

. . .

Tristan,

I lied. I'm scared shitless.

. . .

Tristan,

I was supposed to come visit you today. I ran away again. This won't be a habit. 

Promise.