Can You Make It Easier
Can You Make It Easier

Chapter 3: "Anywhere But Here"

This was so hard. So hard. Life was supposed to be fun, reminisced Val, not hard.

But it had been hard, for five years.

The incident had not made her antisocial—she had plenty of good friends and belonged to the prestigious sorority Alpha Chi Omega. But when it came to relationships… well, Val tried to steer clear of those, of her friends' matchmaking plans. They had reminded her too much of Tyler, too much of what was bound to happen if you opened up your heart. And so five years had been lost in the sense of the word; she did not deny it. She had not wanted any relationships, not while Tyler was still around, still in her memory—and in her heart.

Except she could not let Tyler know that, because then he would have won, and he would know it, too. So Val got off her bed, took her head off the tear-stained pillow, and stood tall. Valerie Lanier never gave up.

She changed out of her T-shirt and shorts and brushed her hair. He wouldn't think more of her if she went out like she had just got out of bed. Which I technically, have, she reminded herself, but pushed that thought away: it didn't matter.

And so she went out, to face the man who had taken her heart and broken it, but still held it unknowingly in his hands.

Yeah

How am I supposed to live

Get out of here and really live

When you're here all the time

So

Maybe I'm a little rushed

Maybe it's not quite enough

But I just want to live some more

Tyler had opened his laptop and was starting his work—after all, Val might not come out for a while, and he did have to do his job—when Val, surprisingly, emerged from her room. Her eyes were red, like she had been crying and couldn't make the fact invisible, but she had changed her clothes and took out her ponytail.

All in all, it was like seeing a girl that had disappeared from his life five years ago, but in that time she had changed, and it was probably for the better.

But the rush of emotions must not have affected Val, he thought, because she ignored him and went to the kitchen. Tyler had no idea that she was feeling the same hurt and pain and love and everything he was—she just chose to hide it more. Which was easier if she didn't talk to him.

Tyler shook his head at the confused thoughts running through his mind and turned back to his work. He was designing a new cell phone, and had the basics (buttons, mouthpiece, the necessities), but was lacking the punch, the novelty. Which, of course, was what made people buy the phone.

"Val?" he called. Melissa had gone to work, so now he had to ask Val for help. Why is the world so cruel? Tyler asked himself, and chose not to contemplate the thought.

"I'm not talking to you," she yelled from the kitchen.

"A little childish, Val," Tyler replied. He didn't think she could hear him, but apparently she had sensitive ears, because she came storming into the room.

"Oh dear," said Tyler under his breath.

"Childish, am I, Tyler? Too bad, okay, too bad, because you know what? You being here has brought me five years into the past, and I can ruddy well NOT DEAL WITH THAT!" The last words screamed from her throat. Tyler stared at her. Something strange ad happened over five years, because this was not Val. No, Val was not like this.

Or maybe, he said to himself morosely, she is, and I missed it. Maybe she's always been like this—or maybe she's changed more than I thought.

Evidently she felt his thoughts, because her eyes looked sad and regretful. Val knew it had happened, and now Tyler did too.

"You've changed," he rasped. "You're different."

"You can't have someone break your heart and then not change," Val told him, eyes gathering tears slowly. "And someone broke my heart, Tyler."

"Who?" Oh, he was scared of the answer, he was so scared.

"You."

Yeah

Maybe I'm taking it too far

Baby making it too hard

But you're the one breaking my heart

So maybe I'm not to blame

The words hung in the air, letting both of them feel the sad truth.

Things had changed.

"I'm going," Val said, breaking the silence suddenly.

"Then I am, too," Tyler replied, closing his laptop and jumping off the couch. Her eyes grew puzzled.

"What do you mean?" She needed to get away from him, not have him follow her. She needed to think, and thinking was easiest when Tyler Connell wasn't around to make your head spin.

"Well, I don't have anything to do, and we need to talk." Tyler was business-like, Val noticed. She was not the only one who had changed.

"We do need to talk," agreed Val. Her words were drawn out slowly.

"So let's go."

Val was helpless as Tyler followed her out the door.

It's hard to be here

Under your gaze

And live, live, live again

After so many endless days

I'd rather be anywhere but here

Anywhere on earth but here

Val swung into the driver's seat of her light blue Volkswagen Bug and turned on the ignition in one smooth movement. She loved her car—after all, it was hardly common, even in the City of Angels. Maybe that was why she loved it… though with Tyler Connell in the passenger seat, the beloved mode of transportation was a dreaded form of bringing them ever closer together. A distinct feeling was coursing in her veins that this would not be the frank conversation they had planned. Or maybe that was the adrenaline from being so close to him. Either way, something was coursing in her veins and something was telling her she would not be able to talk to him, not about what the pressing matter really was.

Tyler cast a sidelong glance at Val quickly as she pulled out of her parking space, hands clenching the wheel like it was life support. Her graceful arms were bared by a tank top, and her jeans were the same dark blue as the top. Her sandals were black leather and looked like Melissa's—or at least not Val's. As a matter of fact, her whole outfit was alien to him—he was used to seeing Val in light colors. Actually, he was used to not seeing Val at all, and so maybe that was what made him think.

This wasn't regret, he knew, not regret for falling in love with her, because he was never mad that he fell in love with her, because he liked loving her. He loved loving her. This was more like realization—something had happened over five years. And Tyler knew what it was.

Val had changed.

He had too, probably, but this was Val, and so he noticed her change more than his.

Oh, things were different.

After all these lost years

You come back and want me to love you

But how can you stand here

And not feel the same way I do

Val's knuckles were turning white from clenching the steering wheel, and so she loosened them, more so that she could drive safely than so her fingers didn't lose circulation. Although she was doing it for both of the reasons, and not for a third—she would not let Tyler think she was warming to him. Val clenched the wheel again.

She didn't hate him, even if that was what she wanted him to think. She loved him, but last time she had let herself love him he had torn her heart into thousands of pieces, and so she would not willingly love him.

Oh, but isn't that the problem, she moaned inwardly. If I didn't want to love him, then I wouldn't, but I want to love him… I want to so badly, and I would if I didn't know he was going to break my heart again.

And, of course, she would not let him break her heart again.

Case closed.

If only.

This was too hard. She didn't want to be here, didn't want him to get close, and didn't want to look into his eyes and see emotions she thought had been forgotten, feelings that were still there, didn't want to know what she had been missing for five years. But that wouldn't be the worst thing.

The worst thing would be if she saw nothing.

If she saw nothing, it would all be an obsession she had needlessly developed, a useless obsession, not love, because true love was mutual. He would never have really cared for her, and that would break her heart far more than him leaving her had. The flame of hope would die, brutally murdered. Unknowingly killed.

But Val would not let herself dwell on unpleasant thoughts as she pulled into the parking lot of Alpha Chi Omega. The car trip was only five minutes, but had seemed like years.

Five years, to be precise. Five years replayed, violently, harshly, without mercy… and the episode five years ago had tormented them the most.

"What are we doing at your sorority?" questioned Tyler as Val climbed out of the car. He followed suit, waiting for an answer.

"I lent Abby my Walkman a week ago and want it back. Melissa's is horrible. And I let Carrie borrow my shoes…" Val trailed off, mumbling quietly for a moment before walking up the sidewalk to the building.

Tyler supposed it was a nice sorority. The building was white clapboard with a dirt red shingled roof, seemed clean and orderly. But he had had enough experience with fraternities to know that however clean it looked on the outside, the rooms were probably pigsties. The kitchen was probably clean, as was the living room and the rest of the downstairs, but the upstairs…

No, Tyler decided. He wasn't going to stand here and recall the cleanliness—or un-cleanliness—of his frat Epsilon Sigma. He was going to catch up with Val and see what the cleanliness of her sorority was. And so he did.

"Wait up," he called before running up and catching the door before it closed behind her. Val twitched, but not much, and not for a particular reason.

"Hurry up," she commented mildly in response. Tyler rolled his eyes slightly and followed her inside.

They had both changed, Tyler reflected as they came into the main hall.

They had changed.

Yeah

I know you've changed

'Cause I have, too

But please forgive me

If I want to love you

Tyler looked around. Man, this was nice. The carpet was light blue, and the stairs that ended in front of him wrapped around into the open and the banisters were polished dark wood. A simple chandelier illuminated the scene.

All right, so I can't talk anymore, Tyler admitted, about what's nice and not, but hey, this is still nice. Well, at least fifteen million bucks and a billion-dollar company hadn't made him uppity, which was good.

"This way," Val directed him, pulling him into another room with a big TV in front of a wrap-around couch that must've seated eleven people.

"We're watching TV?" Tyler asked. Val rolled her eyes.

"No, we're getting something to eat. This place's food may not constitute the most healthy diet, but it's still good." To a girl on the couch, she said: "Hey, Allison, seen Carrie?"

The girl, in a yellow soccer T-shirt and cutoff jean shorts, turned, her dark brown ponytail bounced.

"Val, haven't seen you in, like, a week. Who's the guy?"

Oh, this was not going to be fun, Tyler realized. Nope, not fun at all.

"Tyler, meet Allison. Allison, Tyler." Val's introductions were brief and to the point.

"You look familiar," Allison noted, squinting her blue eyes and angling her head in study of him. "Have I seen—"

Val hastily interrupted her. "Tyler's from out of town."

Allison accepted the excuse and made no further comment on Tyler's identity as she turned back to the 1996 World Cup, taped for home enjoyment. Val looked relieved, then her features contorted as she remembered what she came for.

"Is Carrie here? Or Abby?"

"She went shopping with Dylan an hour or something ago, but your shoes are in her room if you want. And Abby's at class." Allison seemed to think her answer was enough, and satisfactorily turned back to the television again.

"Thanks," Val said, pulling Tyler into the kitchen.

"Could you stop dragging me, please?" Tyler asked, wrenching his arm out of her firm grasp. "I mean, I think my arm's about to fall off. And I thought we were getting your shoes?"

"I'm hungry," was Val's answer. "Ernest, can I have a vanilla Power Bar?"

"What about me?" hissed Tyler as Ernest, a man who looked remarkably like Randolph except for the merry twinkle in his brown eyes and his oversized nose, came around the side of the refrigerator.

"Fine, two vanilla Power Bars," Val sighed. Ernest smiled—another trait that distinguished him from Randolph—and disappeared again.

"You know, he looks like one of my doormen at the office," whispered Tyler, nudging Val. She groaned.

"Would you be quiet?"

"Touchy." This felt like high school again, except they were grown up and apart now, and so it was also different. Tyler would have preferred it if it were more similar than different.

"Two Power Bars." She lowered her voice to Tyler: "Maybe they're long-lost brothers."

"I doubt it," replied Tyler, and looked around the kitchen. Val sighed as Ernest returned with the Power Bars. She took them, thanked him, and dragged Tyler out of the kitchen.

"I asked you to stop that," Tyler reminded her, prying her fingers off his arm. "Thank you."

"Turn," Val directed, pushing Tyler in the direction of the stairs. He somehow managed to run into the wall on his way.

"Ouch!" He rubbed his nose. "A little more gentle, please, Val?"

"Sorry," apologized Val before remembering she didn't like him, she wasn't going to be nice, and she was not going to fall in love with him. No, no, and no. Definitely no. But by the time she had decided that and come back to her senses, he was already up the stairs and she was running to catch up to him.

Time passes quickly

But I can hear

If you whisper in my ear

I can tell you right from wrong

I promise it won't take too long

"Do you have an ice pack?" Tyler asked. Val sighed again, but she advocate Tyler's pain, and she certainly didn't want his nose to be broken or anything, so she leaned into a room and spoke to the girl on the floor, doing a poster for Inter-House Party, coming up in a week.

"Lauren, do you have an ice pack?" was her inquiry, and she made it to the right person. Lauren Costa had a mother from Ecuador, a father half French, half Brazilian, and had inherited a love of soccer that rivaled Allison's and had probably caused the majority of her sprains and twists. She usually had an ice pack or two handy, and ACE bandages, and everything else that was needed to keep the hurt limb stable. Val had been the in-house doctor with Becky Garret's set of bandages, and now Mallory Keats, a sophomore studying med, took care of everyone's twisted ankles that were acquired in their five-inch heels. It worked out nicely, but that wasn't the point. The point was that Lauren had an ice pack and directed Val to the closet and told her to mix the chemicals by squeezing the package.

"Here," Val told Tyler, shaking the plastic package and handing it to him. "Do you need to sit down?"

Tyler wondered what had happened, because a minute ago Val was being cold and now—she was worried about his nose. Strange, but he rather liked the change.

"I don't think so," he replied, returning from his thoughts to the question at hand.

Nevertheless, Val pulled him into an empty room and pushed him onto a chair.

"Head back," she ordered, taking off the ice pack. Oh, he knew what she was doing and he knew his nose wasn't broken—he had been an EMT, after all—but he didn't try to stop her. Her fingers ran up and down his nose, checking for gaps or pain. "You're okay," Val told Tyler, reapplying the ice pack. "Just keep your head back and the ice pack on."

She was trying very hard not to concentrate on Tyler's eyes, or his face, or how close he was to her, or how very much she wanted to kiss him… and how her lips were practically right on his, readying her for the nearing k—

Of course, Kara Galloway chose that moment to walk through the door. Predictable, as the room belonged to the short blonde, but it surprised the both of them. In her haste backing away from Tyler, Val accidentally slammed the ice pack into his nose and skidded on a T-shirt on the floor, slipping and falling onto the wooden floor.

"Ouch," they moaned in unison. Kara had a heavily amused look in her eye as she stood there in a leotard, feet in perfect fifth position, as graceful as was natural for a performing arts major, specializing in ballet and jazz. And so it made for an interesting scene, Val on the floor, reddening quickly, Tyler in the chair, rubbing his nose and checking to see if Val had broken it, and the ever-graceful Kara in the doorway, calm and collected.

"You're not supposed to have boys upstairs," Kara calmly reminded Val. "Mrs. Murdock doesn't like it."

"Well," Val began, standing up, "the house rules say past six fifteen no boys, and the house rules only apply to people living at the house."

"You're just lucky it's Alpha Chi," pointed out Kara. "The Tri-Delts have different rules. Just think if you had gone there." She crossed the room and opened a drawer, rummaging for leg warmers.

"Yeah, well, Monica Ota didn't like me much anyway," said Val. She sat down on the bed. "Is your nose all right?" The comment was of course directed to Tyler, because Kara's nose was perfectly straight and classic, centered on her Ivory commercial-worthy complexion.

"Are you coming to the Inter-House Party?" Tyler inquired of Kara. Both Kara and Val stared at him. He shrugged under the gaze. "I saw Lauren making posters. It's next Friday, right?"

"Can't," Kara answered. "I've got a rehearsal from six until eight, then I think Kevin's taking me out to dinner."

"Tell Kevin to take you to the party. Remember, we're celebrating Dana's twenty-first birthday? Come on, it doesn't matter if you wear your leotard or whatever, just come!"

Tyler decided he was glad he had never had any sisters. It would have been annoying if they acted like this. Well, he didn't mind Val, and Kara didn't seem gossipy, but either way, it was awkward.

"I'll think about it," said Kara, locating her cream-colored leg warmers and pulling them on. She grabbed her pointe shoes from their hook on the wall and tested the inside with her fingers. "I'll need more lamb's wool, soon. My arabesque in the recital isn't as high as it normally is. Madame Yaupon isn't pleased." She paused in the doorway after a few steps. "And Val? Don't tell Dana you know Tyler Connell? She'll go absolutely maniac."

Kara danced out of the room, leaving Val and Tyler awkward in the midst. The long silence was interrupted a moment later by Val's sneeze.

"Tissue?" Tyler asked helpfully, grabbing one from the box on the dresser. Val hesitated, then took it and blew her nose.

"Let's go," she suggested, standing up. "Lauren won't mind if you take the ice pack."

"Coming." Tyler stood and followed her out the door.

Oh

No longer close,

No longer near

Standing by your side

I'd rather be anywhere but here

Yeah

No longer close

We're no longer near

I'd rather be

Anywhere at all but here

Anywhere but here

A/N: Yes, I write these horrible, horrible songs. I'm an uncreative idiot, it seems, but hey, at least this part was seven pages long. Tyler and Val belong to Disney Channel or whoever, and yup, as I mentioned, the messed-up song belongs to me. As does the plot.

So… in upcoming chapters: Two parties, both unalike in formality (he, he, a bit o' Romeo and Juliet for you) lead to unexpected compromises, but compromises can lead to difficulty. Trust is the foundation of a relationship, but once someone's broken your heart, it's a little hard to trust them as much as you could before…