She was an early riser--always had been and probably always would. It was easier that way, except for the fact that there were times when she was too exhausted to move. Oh well. She'd pay later.
There were people strewn all over the hotel room. Max's head was almost under the bed, Kyle was behind her couch, Maria was hanging off the bed (how did she not wake up?), and Izzy and Taylor were back to back in fetal positions.
Curious.
A yawn escaped Tess' lips, and she stretched out her arms. She got up and walked around, careful not to step on anyone. There was no food. She looked in Taylor's wallet on top of the TV. Fifteen dollars. That could get something.
But she realized she wasn't hungry. She didn't know what she was feeling. Not hunger, even though she wanted to eat a thousand candy bars to make it go away. Not fatigue, even though she wanted to curl up in her bed at home and stay there for a year. Not fear, even though she wanted to run away and leave it for eternity. It wasn't any of her usual feelings. Which scared her, because Nasedo had basically taught her how to handle emotions. But she couldn't handle this if she didn't know what it was.
Strangely enough, it reminded her of contentness. But not. It was the opposite of contentness. Emptiness, maybe. But she'd always felt a little bit of emptiness--why was she feeling such and overload of it now?
When was the last time she'd cried? It must have been at least a year ago. She was due for a good one.
Tess looked out to the horizon and let the grip she had on herself loose. She leaned back against the pole behind her and the tears started to flow. There were a lot of them this time...for Max rejecting her, for the group excluding her, for Nasedo leaving her, for having no family [as usual], for Liz, who wasn't strong enough, for Michael being captured, and for Michael himself. For everything she felt about Michael--what he might or might not have felt back. For the fact that he came closer to identifying with her than anyone else had ever. For the fact that he was nice to her when no one else was. For the fact that she might never see him again.
When the wells were finally dry, she walked back inside. Everyone was still asleep...except Max, who was standing by the dresser. In pants and an undershirt. Immediately, the air thickened, and she swallowed, wondering why it seemed so hard. She was over him, wasn't she?
Yeah, keep telling yourself that. You can't resist destiny--Nasedo must have told her that five thousand times over the years. That had been why they'd moved from Melbourne, New York, St. Louis, Boston, Philadelphia, and San Deigo. Six out of ten moves had been because of guys. What a dirty little whore she was.
Their glances brushed for a second. "Hey," he muttered, visibly uncomfortable. "Morning." He quickly put on a shirt.
"Good morning." She stood there, looking for something to do with her hands, something to occupy her so that she didn't look pathetic. Could she sink any lower? Pretty soon, she'd be reading those "Are you too obvious" quizzes that came in YM or Seventeen.
"You...uh...think we should wake them up soon?" he asked, eyes shifting in order to avoid looking at her. It was sort of pissing her off, actually. Not that she was any better.
YES! Wake them all up NOW! "Let's let them get up on their own. Long day ahead of us." No. Did she just prolong the agony? The horribly tense pressure that came with being alone with Max? Great. Not only was she a whore, but she was an idiot.
But she was a funny, beautiful, strong, self-confident, powerful idiot-whore. And that was enough for her.
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By ten o'clock, everyone except Kyle was awake. Max, Isabel, and Taylor had gone to get food, while Tess and Maria were talking on the couch and looking over at Kyle.
"Think we should wake him up?" Maria asked.
Tess thought about it. "No." He was tired--let him have the extra sleep. "We'll give him until they come back."
"Right." Maria fell silent. She looked over at Tess, opened her mouth to speak, and then closed it again. She opened it again, and then closed it. Again. Finally, she spoke. "Tess, do you like Michael?"
"What?" Oh no. Please, no. She didn't want to have this conversation, not right when she and Maria might have been on the path to friendship. "I don't know. He's my friend."
Maria nodded, pretending she understood. "Right." She looked a little worried, and extremely nervous. Then, as if she'd made a huge decision, she inhaled and began to speak. "Because I think I still love him."
Well.
It wasn't like she hadn't realized that. Maria had a history (albeit a screwed-up history) with Michael; she wasn't going to give it up just because Tess loved the boy, too.
"But the thing is," Maria continued, "that you love him too." Tess made no move to correct her. For all purposes, Maria was probably right. "Yes. You do love him. So we obviously can't go run up and compete for him as soon as we rescue him."
Tess didn't respond. Maria was right, of course. Selfishness was a bad thing. If there was one thing she'd learned since coming to Roswell, that was it.
"Tess." Tess looked at her. "Can we agree not to push anything onto him until he chooses one of us? And no hard feelings?"
It was killing her, Tess realized. It was killing Maria to give up something that she wanted to badly. Tess would never be able to do that. Or maybe she would--maybe she would have to--by agreeing to this deal. "Okay. No pushing Michael, no hard feelings. Got it."
They shook on it.
