The Winning Team

Chapter 4

All Rights Reserved © 2011 - do not steal, copy, or plagiarize.

Story belongs to Danielle Richardson

 I found a picture recently that looks EXACTLY like how I pictured Damian when I made him up in my head. I don't know who the guy is though :P Anyway, ENJOY!!!!!!!

Chapter 4

  I met up with Tristan later that day. We decided to walk to the movie theater, rather than take the bus, since it was only a little walk away from Tristan’s house. The decision to walk changed both me and my life forever.

  I turned to Tristan, who was walking in complete synchronization with me.

  “How’s school going for you?” It had been a while since I’d asked Tristan about the things going on in his life.

  “Good, I guess. You sound like my mom when she used to pick me up from school,” he laughed, throwing his head back, making his hair bounce.

  “Just want to know what’s been going on. We really need to catch up. You’re right; I have been spending way too much time with Damian.”

  “Yeah. So much that you smell like cigarettes.”

  “Shut up,” I laughed, playfully shoving Tristan, just as we walked past the coffee shop window.

  It was then that I saw it.

  Damian was inside the coffee shop. I could tell him apart from everyone else in the room. He was sitting next to a beautiful girl. I watched as he pulled her close, planting soft kisses on her lips.

  Just like the ones he’d only recently begun to give to me.

  I lost it.

  And all hell broke loose.

  I roughly shoved Tristan aside, ignoring his calls as I stalked past him and into the coffee shop.

  The moment I passed through the doors, I zeroed in on Damian’s table. He was still kissing the girl.

  I made my way towards them and literally ripped them apart.

  “What the hell?!” Damian spat, turning in his chair to see who had interrupted his make out session.

  His expression was immediately replaced from one of anger to one of shock when he saw that it was me.

  I barely noticed that the girl was talking when I slapped Damian straight across his face, hard.

  Just about to go in for another hit, I felt my arms being pulled behind me.

  Tristan.

  I had completely forgotten about him in my fit of rage.

 “You lying son of a gun!” I shrieked, struggling against Tristan.

 “Allison…” Damian tried to cut in, but I wouldn’t allow it.

 “Shut the hell up! I decide to not be with you for one night, and I find with swapping spit with some… slut!” I yelled the last part an octave higher, turning my head to glare at the girl accusingly.

  Only she was long gone, leaving Damian the sole victim of my wrath.

  I struggled some more, trying to get another slap in. Tristan’s grip was too strong, however, but I was too angry to see that my efforts were in vain.

  By now, everyone in the restaurant was watching the scene unfold with anxious eyes. Some had even whipped out their cellphones, trying to film the scene and probably put it on the internet.

  I spent the next five minutes yelling obscenities at Damian, who remained silent throughout it all. Tristan allowed me as well, knowing that it was just best to let me blow off my steam.

  By the time I was done, I didn’t even know what else to say. So I opted with what I was craving at the moment.

  “I need some coffee. Tristan, walk me to the bar, will you?”

  “Of course.”

  Tristan grabbed my wrist and almost dragged me over to the bar, still gripping my wrist as I ordered.

  We waited for my drink in silence, neither of us knowing exactly what to say.

  From the corner of my eye, I could see that Damian was still over at his table, his head in his hands.

  Everyone else had gone back to what they were doing before, except for the ones that were on their phones, probably uploading my rage fit onto the internet.

  My coffee was suddenly in front of me, and an idea slipped into my mind.

  I slipped out of Tristan’s grasp and bounded over to Damian’s table before it was too late.

  Damian’s head was still in his hands, so he didn’t hear me coming. I took the lid off of my large coffee cup and proceeded to slowly dump its contents onto Damian’s head.

  He looked up in shock, but he didn’t do anything. There was a tired look in his eyes that almost made me feel bad. Almost.

  Tristan came over just as the last of the coffee slipped from Damian’s head and onto his black leather jacket.

  Several audible gasps and giggles were made by spectators, and I smiled in satisfaction as Tristan dragged me out of the restaurant.

  The last thing I saw was that sad look in Damian’s eyes again before I was through the door.