Mr. Right and Mr. Wrong

19

Tristan pushes the cafeteria doors open, almost hitting some passbyers.

They give him crazy looks and I mutter apologies to them.

He walks towards the exit doors and turn to look at me.

"Let's go."

I hesitate.

"But I don't want to g-"

He walks up to me and grabs my hand.

"I said let's go."

He pulls me out to the parking lot.

I snatch my arm away from him and cross my arms over my chest.

"I'm not going anywhere with you."

He runs his fingers through his hair, obviously pissed at this point with me.

"Jenna I'm not about to deal with your shit. Get in the car," he opens his car door for me, "Now."

"No. You don't have to deal with my shit anymore because I'm through with your tantrums and hissy fits over a guy you don't like. Grow the hell up, Tristan. This isn't middle school or whatever world you're still stuck in. Now let's be mature and go sit back down with our friend-"

"Our friends? Our friends? They're your friends, Jenna. Calvin and the other one. And don't get me started on that bitch Calvin is currently dating who also happens to be my ex and by the looks of it your new enemy."

True. Can't argue with that.

"It doesn't matter. At least apologize later when you decide to cool off."

"I will cool off if you would just get in the car and go with me."

"To where?"

"You'll find out, just get in the car."

I sigh in defeat.

"Fine." I mumble, getting into the car.

....................

He goes down a gravel road passing up a couple of houses on the way.

"Where exactly are we?" I question, looking around.

We drove a couple minutes down. I wonder why I have never seen even  this place. I thought I've been everywhere in this town but apparently I haven't.

Salty seawater filters the air and I suddenly know where he's taking me. The sun settles above us making everything light up in exasperation. He takes a few sharp cuts before ending up at the beach I've grown up knowing.

My eyes widen at the view I'm taking in because it looks like a different part of the beach, the side that I were never to go to.

I look at Tristan in confusion as he parks in an abandoned parking lot, looking forward at a beach with no people anywhere to be found.

"Why are we here?" I question, nervousness tugging at my brain.
"This is where I go to relax. I just wanted to show you." He rests his head on the steering wheel and looks at me with his hazel orbs.
"I have never taken anyone here with me ever. I thought you should be the first."

"Why me?"

"Because you're different."

"Have Lyndon seen it?"

"I would never let that bitch step foot into my car." He says with a straight face. "Plus I wanted to show her but then I found out she were cheating and I just stopped caring about her all together."

"Oh. Would you do the same to me?"

"I know you won't do anything like that. You're a goody two shoes. You've grown up that way."

"Well that's kind of offensive. I have done some bad things in my life."

"Like what? Drink straight from the milk carton? Or maybe knocking on a person's door than running?"

"That counts!"

"No, it doesn't. I've grown up knowing this part of the beach. People would always say that over here you would find dead bodies and parts of the sea that dips not far from the shore. I've only ever found seashells and tidal pools. I've grown up being the kid that was always picked on. I never knew why."

I don't know why either. I mean look at this guy, he's cool and he's gorgeous.

"You know, I grew up being the less unfortunate kid. Never had much to live for. My mother thought I was a disgrace because I reminded her too much of my father. He left her not long after I were born. She put me in foster care and I got adopted a year later. I've lived my life differently from then on. Stopped caring about everything, everything except for this beach and art." He reaches over to the back seat and grabs a leather book and sets it in my lap.

I look at him. "You want me to look?"

"I did give it to you didn't I? You can keep it, it's a present to make up for all I've done."

"But you haven't done anything wrong except for terrifying me."

"Well this is to make up for it."

I open the cover of the leather. I start flipping pages, looking at beautiful watercolor paintings of people and animals.

"I didn't know you liked art. Or that you do it so well."

"No one does. I try to keep it hidden, but I thought you deserved to know out of all people."

"I can't take this. This is yours, it's your private life."

"No, you keep it. I want you to. I need to start on a new sketch book anyways. I want you to keep something of mines."

I hop over the seat and hug him tightly.

"Thank you." I mumble.

He presses his lips against my forehead. "No. Thank you for being in my life."

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