Oreo Ice Cream

Chapter 21| Don't care at all

Sad, beautiful, tragic- Taylor Swift

Let Me Love You- Justin Bieber

It's just that sometimes you can't control thoughts from trashing your brain—intrusive thoughts, mainly. And right now, it's all about Tris. I didn't know how the same thing was happening again, much like replaying the same Beatles song at night. If I told Mum, she would be giving a lecture on ADHD. God god! And I couldn't help it. I just wanted to let things out right now—kick them out of my head and breathe fresh beach air.

Tugging the bedsheets neatly, I dressed up for school, mentally preparing myself to meet Tristan and act to be nonchalant throughout. At least faking makes it feel better than rambling the monotonous I'm good reply.

Grabbing my bag, I glanced at my room one last time before descending the stairs. The story we had to write was planned already; handing him the sheets was in order. Tristan might be against this or would keep his jaw clenched and eyes cold, but it wouldn't matter.

Mum was sleeping on the couch with her blanket coming off her bare feet. I shook it before placing it over her fragile body and kissing her cheek. She stirred a little before mumbling, "Goodbye, Lorrie." 

~*~

I tried keeping my expression neutral as images of blue eyes and swallows flashed at the back of my head. Walking faster, I entered the library only to find our old librarian hurriedly typing away some email—like any second, the world's going to end. I was happy I managed to avoid talking or even looking at Tristan for the rest of the last weekend, but somewhere the urge to look into his ocean eyes twisted the tight muscles of my heart. Keeping the thin notebook and glitter pens on the table, I looked around to find if Tristan or Elle was around. Jesus, this boy was something! At least, I've got my own reason to change the story plot without notice.

I turned around to call Tristan when I saw him coming—his hand around some girl from his Visual Arts class (whose name I didn't know) with sleek blue hair and a giant collarbone tattoo. I wasn't surprised by seeing her, but how Tristan whispered sweet nothings into her ears, making her giggle. Damn! Something unusual tore through me—almost shuddering my heart. I didn't know what, but this wasn't jealousy. A deep urge to run away and cry out loud, a sudden hurry to go back home, bury my head onto the pillow and never wake up again to face the darkness. But sometimes, curling up in the cold dark feels warmer than stretching yourself out in the open sunlight.

And god knew what happened—we both froze when his eyes fell on mine for a good three seconds before Tristan took his hand away from the sleek girl. At least I expected him to tell her to go away. 

Tristan and his damn girl! Never has he ever had a girlfriend, well, a stable one. The longest time he had ever been with any girl was Tara in our freshman years before she dumped him and left the town with her parents. It felt so dirty to think of the nights I have rubbed a heartbroken Tris's back, all those afternoons I've made him understand the Shakespearan sonnets, and the dark evenings I used to play his favorite song on my piano for him. How happy he would be when we used to do those many nothings, and here he was standing with another sleek girl— never grateful for things I have done for him.

It felt like an hour before going back to the polished table. The instinct to brush all those overwhelming emotions came first, but the sudden emptiness splintered them—heavier on my chest. "Where's Elle?" I knew I'd have to distract myself and him with questions before something would slur in.

Tristan didn't move; the sleek girl scooted closer to him. Before Tristan could reply, I snapped, "It's just you and Elle." I wanted to add no one else, but I resisted myself starting any drama.