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.
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
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."
Maybe I'm taking it too far
Baby making it too hard
But you're the one breaking
my heart
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
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.
You
come back and want me to love you
But
how can you stand here
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
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.
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…
