The One That Got Away

Chapter 8: Almost Is Never Enough

A few days have passed since the time I spent with Tristan at the amusement park. I haven't seen him since and I'm growing anxious. We're leaving tonight and I don't know if I'll see him again.

The thought dampened the last of my good mood.

I was falling for him already.

Those things I felt with the guy back home didn't even hold a candle to what Tristan made me feel. He became everything I could have asked for.

Damn it, now I'm sober, alone and heart broken.

A bit melodramatic but those are the best words to illustrate how I feel at the moment.

I can't help but remember the time when he drew me in under the stars for a dance with the music that only he could hear.

---

"Tristan!"

He laughed but didn't remove his hold on me. He lifted my hand and twirled it, tangling our arms as he swayed with his front against my back.

I wanted to stay away just so I could compose myself but I felt too comfortable. He laid his chin on my shoulder, his cheek against my neck and I shuddered.

He's far too comfortable.

Safe.

He started humming near my ear.

"Will you still remember me after?"

His question felt like a gust of wind that threatened to push me over the edge.

"After what?" I stalled. Its the only way to avoid the inevitable.

"After this week."

With his soft voice, you could never detect any underlying emotion. But his hold on me told another story, for he gripped me closer and nuzzled my neck.

I thought about how he made me laugh inspite of my annoyance at him sometimes, the way he'll show up unexpected, the way his smile made my heart flutter and the way he made me feel.

"I don't think I can forget you."

I felt him smile against my skin.

"Me neither"

And that was how we stayed; wrapped up in each other as we looked at the winking stars, the perfect analogy to our relationship.

You'll never know when your light would wink out.

---

A few knocks on my door caused me to stop my shaking hands as I packed my bags.

Tristan?

I hurried to the door and quickly threw it open, regardless of my current state. "Tristan?"

But he wasn't the one glaring at me, it was Shayla.

The.Bitch.From.Fucking.Hell.

She took in the sight of me in my ratty clothes and something flashed in her eyes before covering it up with a smirk. "You think he's gonna want to tap you when you look like death warmed over?"

My lips screwed shut when she looked at me like I'm dirt.

"Why are you here?"

She looked around in my room as if she's looking for something.

"Have you seen Tristan?"

Or someone.

"Apparently, you haven't."

The bitch had the nerve to roll her eyes.

"I don't have time for your stupid sarcasm."

I had to grit my teeth to stop myself from pointing out someone who's stupid.

"Where is he?"

"Does it look like I'd know?"

That shitty smirk really did bring out her eyes. Not.

Right now, those eyes traveled up and down my length like how an ant would do. In both accounts, I tried to suppress a shiver.

"Oh, I forgot. You were never good for guys like him."

My hands gripped the door knob tighter but other than that, I didn't show how bothered I was.

"Like you would know what his type would really want besides getting a blowjob from your loose mouth."

I almost laughed at how ridiculous she looked when she's angry. Red is so not her color.

"Sometimes that's all that matters. I would know since Tristan totally got what he want from me last night."

Guess I shouldn't have worried about him after all.

I arched a brow at her.

"So?"

Her eyes widened a bit more and she looked like she sucked a lemon.

That'll show her not to suck everything.

"Why are you such a bitch?"

Seriously?

"Takes one to know one but I've been called worse. That all you can do?"

If she was a cartoon character, I'd see steam coming out of her ears and nose.

"I don't care what you're gonna say next. Tristan doesn't care about you that way."

With that, she was gone.

She's right though; it doesn't matter.

'Cause even though I won this verbal war, Tristan doesn't care.