Title: That Summer Day
Author: Newyorkgurlie a.k.a. Amanda
Rating: PG-13, just to be safe, but I don't think this merits a rating as such.
Pairing: Trory
Author's Note: So hello everyone. You all may remember me as the author of Thus, With a Kiss, which has not been updated in about a year, and I'm sorry for that – really, I am. I was just not inspired in any way to continue with writing in general until a couple of weeks ago actually. I'm going to see if I can finish that up sometime today or next weekend. So here is my newest story that I'd like to share with you. I also have another in the works that I am doing for Vocabulary, that I will try to post as soon as possible. For now, this is all I have, and I personally think it will stay as a one-parter, unless you tell me differently. So leave a review or drop me a line at xxmusicgurliexx@yahoo.com to tell me what you think. Love it, hate it, whatever . . . Just tell me how you feel.
Dedication: To Ice, because this was the story that I gave you to use for Vocabulary since you were going to write about drowning your friend's cat. After I added all you words in, it just made this better and more refined. I think it's better than a dead, wet cat . . .
Chapter One: Pain(Tristan's POV)
Gazing down at her tear-stained face knowing I could do nothing, I ran. I was forced to detach myself by way of my conscience because I realized I loved her, but I couldn't be with her; I hurt her without ever knowing. She never told me how she felt for me . . . us. And I never let her know how I felt for her . . . us.
You see, having a best friend such as her was a difficult thing – the girl was beautiful, but humble; kind, but fiery; intelligent, but so blind. I loved her just as much as she loved me, although she never knew it. But, as I look back, I too was blind – because I didn't know she had this love for me until I lost it and her . . . all because of that summer day.
FlashbackThe sun dances against the water, glistening over the cool, color-splashed pebbles at the bottom of the buoyant lake. I see her there waiting for something – what, I can't fathom, but I wish it could be me. She sits peacefully and undisturbed in the lush wilderness that springs about beside her. It seems as though she belongs here with the rest of nature; she is perfect, perching on the large, ancient rock.
I clamber along the winding path of the hill and come to stand behind her. Leaning into her small frame, she shivers as my warm breath tickles her ear when I speak.
"What's a beautiful girl like you doing out here alone on a fine day like this?" I breathe huskily.
Not looking at me, she says, " Just watching the water. Waiting, I guess."
"For what?" I question patiently. Sometimes she went off into her own universe when speaking to me, her interest not at all piqued by my presence.
"Tristan, just look at this! Isn't it amazing? Don't you just love it?" she exclaims, avoiding my questioning gaze. I love you, Rory, I think as I stare off into the pools of blue that are her eyes.
"Yeah, I guess it's nice enough, Rory," I answer, not paying much attention.
"Tris, what's the matter with you? Are you upset with me?" There she goes, always thinking it's her fault when nothing ever is.
"No, no. It's not you . . ." I respond, troubled.
"Then what is it? Come on. You can tell me, Trissy bear!" she laughingly coos. I cringe at the despised nickname.
"Don't call me that!" I put my arms around her waist and life her up over the water.
"Tristan! Put me down, you know I can't swim!" she screeches.
"I think it's time you learn . . ." Trailing off conspicuously, I give her my devilish smirk. She makes a frightened sound; I put her down on the rock once more and grab her by the hand.
"Come on, trust me. I promise I won't let anything bad happen to you," I whisper gently, giving her the puppy eyes.
She relents and allows me to steadily guide her into the still, crystal water; we wade comfortably in the shallow depths. I begin to move us outward, but keep speaking to her so she will not notice. I stop talking and smile to her as I say, "You're swimming."
She looks down at her kicking feet, smiling as well. She looks up at me, her smile fading. She is becoming nervous and starts to lose herself to the water, submerging under its depths, because I, her ballast, had let her go.
"Help me, Tristan! I'm falling!" she pleads.
I grab her waist and pull her up near me. She gasps for breath and puts her head on my shoulder. Her arms go around my neck, holding me tight, and I can feel the uneven rise and fall of her chest against mine. Her touch is soft and she is feather-light, not at all tedious to carry in my arms.
I soothe her fears and everything seems right as we float in the lake. She smells like lilies and I can't help but run my hands through her hair and down her back in slow, calming circles. She pulls her head up and looks at me. I loosen my grip around her waist; she instantly leans into me. We stare at each other and time stands still. I inch my face toward hers and her blue spheres flutter closed. I feel her breath against my lips and I feel free, but I pull away.
I have always wanted this, but I am not good enough for her . . . I would only hurt her with my idiocies. She waits expectantly for my lips to brush against hers, but they don't, and I think they never will.
End FlashbackI had pulled away, probing the thought that I was doing the right thing, saving her from the heartache that I knew I would bring. Ultimately, I was trying to save her and allow her to come out unscathed. But all I did was bring her more soul-rupturing pain than I could ever imagine on that summer day.