MASKS
Part Two
"How gracious of you," she had said, rolling her eyes. Her voice was tinged with sarcasm, and Tristan almost laughed at the expression on her face. He knew that she thought he was obnoxious. He wanted to say something, but he couldn't find the words. There was a beat of silence, and all he could hear was the music and the chatter.
Finally he asked, "May I have this dance, Mary?" He made sure to stress her alias, making the invitation more suggestive.
He saw her blush and he smirked. Girls like her were so easy to flatter. He could tell that the wheels in her mind were turning as she pondered over the situation. He could almost hear her rejection. But to his surprised, when she opened her mouth, she said, "Yes."
Tristan was still with shock for a moment before he recovered, praying that she didn't notice his momentary relapse. He didn't say anything, he just shot her a bright smile, and took her hand. He felt a jolt of electricity that went through him as he felt her soft skin. Few girls ever had that effect on him.
As he lead her to the dance floor, he couldn't really think of anything else. He was barely aware of the music, mutely following the beat. He was a good dancer, and he knew it too. He had years of experiance.
But he was astonished. Never in all his years did he meet someone who could dance like "Mary" did. It was as if they were made to dance with each other. A thousand words could never express the feeling he had inside of him as they danced silently. Whirling, twirling, keeping to the beat of the music. She fit perfectly into his arms.
Tristan felt his breath catch as he stared into her beautiful blue eyes. They were in their own world. Her eyes were twinkling brightly as she laughed. At that sound, Tristan crashed back into the world and the feeling of dizziness returned. He felt as if he was floating.
He never thought that he would ever feel this way. He never thought it was possible to feel this way. He always thought authors made up the description of love, but as he danced with her, he understood. It was like an epiphany.
The last song ended and a new one started up. Tristan wanted to hit the DJ when it wasn't a slow song. He just wanted to gather her in his arms. Instead, all he could hear was Jessica Simpson crooning one of her usual pop songs.
"Do they have to play songs that are ages old?" she asked.
Her voice surprised him. They didn't talk during the last dance, and he found himself missing her voice. It was ridiculous. Tristan Dugrey wasn't supposed to act like this, not when it came to girls. He found it difficult to find his voice, but his voice sounded surprisingly normal. It betrayed any of the emotional turmoil he was feeling. "They want us to feel sixteen again," he answered simply.
"Why?" she asked.
The answer seemed obvious enough to him. "Carefree days."
"My days weren't that carefree," she scoffed. "Were yours?"
"Nope."
"What's up with Jessica Simpson these days anyway?" she asked with an amused smile.
Tristan laughed. "She's probably preaching to little girls, telling them to wait until marriage."
"That, and asking herself why she broke up with Nick Lachey," she said with a tinkling laugh, "and trying to become the next Amy Grant."
"I can't imagine her going country or christian."
"Me neither," she admitted.
Their feet were still moving. Tristan found it difficult to talk and dance at the same time, but he was a male. It was expected. According to his mother, men didn't know how to do two things at once. Eventually the conversation dwindled, and they continued to dance in unison. After another fast song, a slow song graced the air. Finally.
She stopped, an uncertain frown on her lips. Tristan knew that she didn't know if she wanted to be that close to him.
"May I have this dance?" Tristan whispered in a low voice.
A small smile graced her delicate features, and she settled into his arms. He pulled her close and inhaled the sweet tropical scent of her hair. He felt light-headed at their closeness. Tristan closed his eyes, and simply enjoyed the moment.
***
She felt safe in his arms. It was ironic actually, she never even saw his face. His whole face anyway. Yet in spite of that, Rory felt confused. She didn't like the whirl of emotions beating inside her soul. The feeling was indescribable. She sighed and snuggled deeper into his embrace. It was strange, she never found it the least bit uncomfortable. He held her just right, and she fit perfectly against him. If she didn't know better, she would have said that they were made for each other.
But that was impossible.
She couldn't comprehend the fact that she was made for a person she met at a masked ball. It just sounded too much like a fairy tale to be true. You didn't just go and meet your Prince Charming at a masked ball. It was almost impossible. Fate and destiny simply just didn't happen. She once believed that Dean was her soulmate, but that was before he dumped her after a four year relationship.
It had been a month since that relationship ended, but the pain was still there. Over the years, she had become dependent on him. Their identities had been melded into one. RoryandDean. DeanandRory. She hated to think that she was one of those girls who fell apart after a breakup, but she was. She had come to this ball, wanting to spend time with a guy who had no commitments. It was easier that way. She would be spared the heartache.
Now that idea seemed impossible.
Even though she didn't even know what he looked like, she was captivated, and the whole idea of not getting hurt had gone down the drain. Was it possible to fall in love so quickly? He didn't feel the same way, at least, she didn't think so. He was like Tristan. She was probably just another conquest.
She didn't want to think about that possibility, so she just closed her eyes and lay her head on his shoulder. She just wanted to savour the moment. She sighed in exasperation when she realized the song was over and a fast song replaced it quickly. The DJ sure knew how to break a mood.
"The DJ sure knows how to break a mood," he muttered, echoing her thoughts.
Rory couldn't help but smile, "Exactly what I was thinking."
He looked down at her with a quizzical look, "Really?"
"Yes."
"Maybe we should lock him up in a closet and DJ this dance ourselves," he said jokingly, "How does that sound?"
"Perfect." she said nodding in mock agreement.
"Would that be considered kidnapping?" he asked.
"Probably."
"Drats," he said with a twinkle in his eyes.
There was an awkward beat as Rory looked into his eyes. She quickly snapped out of it, and said, "Do you want to go outside? To the balcony?" She was shocked with her own boldness.
From the look on his face, he was shocked as well. It took him a moment to fully comprehend her invitation. Rory held her breath as he opened his mouth to reply.
"Sounds like the perfect plan."
***
"This is the third balcony we've tried," Tristan said with a groan, "Think we'll be successful?"
She laughed, "Maybe."
Tristan grinned and opened the door. He stuck his head inside, and quickly pulled in out, "Nope."
"And they said that third time's the charm," she joked, "maybe the next one won't have a couple making out like animals."
They got to the next balcony and he grinned, "Your turn to check."
"Why?" she asked.
"Because I've already been scarred for life."
She couldn't help but smile. She turned the door knob and stuck her head outside. She smiled, "Mission accomplished."
She stepped outside, a blast of heat greeted her. She walked to the railing and looked over the edge. Tristan quickly shut the door and went to stand beside her. Glancing around, he had a clear view of the other balconies they tried, and he laughed.
She looked at him in surprise, "What's so funny?"
"The couple's making it like rabbits," he answered, "That's what."
Rory giggled at their profiles, "How could they just do that in plain view?"
"They don't seem aware that it's in plain view," Tristan observed.
"I guess you're right," she agreed. After a moment, she smiled. "This feels strange."
"Why's that?" Tristan asked curiously.
She didn't answer for a moment. "I feel like my parents. They always used to spy on people from my grandparents' balcony."
He grinned, "It must be generational."
She smiled, "I don't plan to conceive on a balcony."
"You were conceived on a balcony?"
"Uh huh," she answered softly.
"Wanna continue with that tradition?" Tristan asked with a cocky grin.
She shot him a dirty look, "You're impossible."
"Thank you, I take that as a compliment."
"So, when can we unmask ourselves?" she asked, "I mean, what's the tradition?"
Tristan smirked, "Why, I thought you would realize that Ivy League schools do it Cinderella style."
"Midnight."
"Midnight." he confirmed.
"It's eleven right now," she told him.
"Ah, only sixty long minutes left."
"We could always cheat," she said mischievously.
"Ah, but that would take the fun out of it, wouldn't it?"
"I guess."
There was a long beat of silence and Tristan racked his brain desperately for something to talk about. Finally, he found the question he would ask Rory, if she was here. "Do you like to read?"
Her eyes lit up brightly, her lips curved into a happy smile. Tristan knew this was the right question to ask. "I love to read!"
"Yeah? Are you reading any books now?" Tristan asked.
She chuckled, "If you knew me, you wouldn't ask that question."
He smiled, "Well, I don't know you."
"Right. I'm re-reading 'Pride & Prejudice' for the 100th time."
"Jane Austen was never my type," he said with a grin.
She looked wistful for a second, "That's what my ex-boyfriend said too."
Tristan mentally slapped himself, he didn't mean to remind her of an old boyfriend. After a long moment of awkward silence, she asked, "Are you reading anything right now?"
"I'm reading 'The Screwtape Letters' by CS Lewis," he answered. "They're interesting."
She laughed. "What's so funny?" he asked.
"CS Lewis?" she questioned, then said, "You never struck me as the religious type."
"That's because I'm not."
"Ah, then why are you reading 'The Screwtape Letters'?" she asked.
"Because the whole concept is interesting. His theology is interesting," Tristan answered.
"I see."
Another moment of silence, and finally he said with a bitter laugh, "I've always thought that devils existed."
"Why's that?" she asked rather curiously.
"It was..." he trailed off, "nicer to blame devils then God."
"About your problems?"
"Yeah," he answered, he looked into her large blue eyes and smiled a bit, "I must sound so cryptic."
"Just a little."
He shook his head and put both hands on the railing of the balcony and looked down. "Let's say my childhood wasn't a nice walk in the park."
"Whose childhood was?" she questioned.
Tristan shot her a tight smile, "I guess you're right."
After another awkward pause, she asked, "What made your childhood unsatisfactory?"
He shrugged, "My parents never paid any attention to me really. I guess that just goes with the territory. Rich kids don't have attentive parents."
"And poor kids have attentive parents."
"Exactly," he smiled a little, "I know that my parents loved me and all, but they weren't around to show me."
"Just like my dad," she said, "he was never around."
"We have something in common," he said with a grin.
"That we do."
"May I continue with my tragic story please?" he asked jokingly.
"You have my permission."
"Thank you," he said, he looked down again and continued, "so my parents basically ignored me. We never had any of those family dinners you always see on tv. I always spent Christmas watching tv in my room while my parents attended parties and consumed plenty of martinis. I guess in exchange for their time, they graced me with anything and everything."
He looked at her, wanting to see if she thought he was just taking everything out of proportion, but she looked sympathetic. Encouraged, he continued, "I guess I was expected to be perfect. I had to be on the top three of the class or my father would hit me...and threaten to disown me." Tristan could feel his voice grow thick and he struggled to gain some control. He didn't even know why he was telling her this. He never told anyone this.
"I'm sorry," she whispered simply, touching his shoulder.
Tristan's eyes met hers, as he searched for any mockery. He found none. He was swimming in eyes full of sincerity. "I don't know why I'm telling you this. I never tell anyone this."
"I guess I'm just easy to talk to," she whispered.
Tristan smiled sadly, "I guess you are."
Their lips were inches apart and Tristan glanced down at her parted lips. He had never wanted to kiss anyone so badly in his life. He leaned over, as her eyes closed. He could tell that she was anticipating the feel of his lips against hers. At the last moment, he stopped. He didn't want to ruin this by rushing.
"Anyways, I guess my childhood wasn't that bad. At least I had an active social life." he quickly said.
She jumped at the sound of his voice. Her eyes flew open and she backed away. Tristan could tell she was disappointed by the look on her face. She looked devasted. Finally, she said, "You mean an active dating life."
He was confused for a second, but he realized what she was referring to, "How'd you guess?"
"You have the looks."
His smiled and he took a step towards her. He shedded his true self and he was back, "You think I'm hot, eh?"
She looked flustered, "Well...uh...I guess," she squeaked.
He cornered her against the railing of the balcony and grinned. He touched her silky smooth hair, letting it run through his fingers like water. Smirking, he leaned over and whispered in her ear, "Truth is, I think you're quite hot yourself."
To Be Continued...
Part Two
"How gracious of you," she had said, rolling her eyes. Her voice was tinged with sarcasm, and Tristan almost laughed at the expression on her face. He knew that she thought he was obnoxious. He wanted to say something, but he couldn't find the words. There was a beat of silence, and all he could hear was the music and the chatter.
Finally he asked, "May I have this dance, Mary?" He made sure to stress her alias, making the invitation more suggestive.
He saw her blush and he smirked. Girls like her were so easy to flatter. He could tell that the wheels in her mind were turning as she pondered over the situation. He could almost hear her rejection. But to his surprised, when she opened her mouth, she said, "Yes."
Tristan was still with shock for a moment before he recovered, praying that she didn't notice his momentary relapse. He didn't say anything, he just shot her a bright smile, and took her hand. He felt a jolt of electricity that went through him as he felt her soft skin. Few girls ever had that effect on him.
As he lead her to the dance floor, he couldn't really think of anything else. He was barely aware of the music, mutely following the beat. He was a good dancer, and he knew it too. He had years of experiance.
But he was astonished. Never in all his years did he meet someone who could dance like "Mary" did. It was as if they were made to dance with each other. A thousand words could never express the feeling he had inside of him as they danced silently. Whirling, twirling, keeping to the beat of the music. She fit perfectly into his arms.
Tristan felt his breath catch as he stared into her beautiful blue eyes. They were in their own world. Her eyes were twinkling brightly as she laughed. At that sound, Tristan crashed back into the world and the feeling of dizziness returned. He felt as if he was floating.
He never thought that he would ever feel this way. He never thought it was possible to feel this way. He always thought authors made up the description of love, but as he danced with her, he understood. It was like an epiphany.
The last song ended and a new one started up. Tristan wanted to hit the DJ when it wasn't a slow song. He just wanted to gather her in his arms. Instead, all he could hear was Jessica Simpson crooning one of her usual pop songs.
"Do they have to play songs that are ages old?" she asked.
Her voice surprised him. They didn't talk during the last dance, and he found himself missing her voice. It was ridiculous. Tristan Dugrey wasn't supposed to act like this, not when it came to girls. He found it difficult to find his voice, but his voice sounded surprisingly normal. It betrayed any of the emotional turmoil he was feeling. "They want us to feel sixteen again," he answered simply.
"Why?" she asked.
The answer seemed obvious enough to him. "Carefree days."
"My days weren't that carefree," she scoffed. "Were yours?"
"Nope."
"What's up with Jessica Simpson these days anyway?" she asked with an amused smile.
Tristan laughed. "She's probably preaching to little girls, telling them to wait until marriage."
"That, and asking herself why she broke up with Nick Lachey," she said with a tinkling laugh, "and trying to become the next Amy Grant."
"I can't imagine her going country or christian."
"Me neither," she admitted.
Their feet were still moving. Tristan found it difficult to talk and dance at the same time, but he was a male. It was expected. According to his mother, men didn't know how to do two things at once. Eventually the conversation dwindled, and they continued to dance in unison. After another fast song, a slow song graced the air. Finally.
She stopped, an uncertain frown on her lips. Tristan knew that she didn't know if she wanted to be that close to him.
"May I have this dance?" Tristan whispered in a low voice.
A small smile graced her delicate features, and she settled into his arms. He pulled her close and inhaled the sweet tropical scent of her hair. He felt light-headed at their closeness. Tristan closed his eyes, and simply enjoyed the moment.
***
She felt safe in his arms. It was ironic actually, she never even saw his face. His whole face anyway. Yet in spite of that, Rory felt confused. She didn't like the whirl of emotions beating inside her soul. The feeling was indescribable. She sighed and snuggled deeper into his embrace. It was strange, she never found it the least bit uncomfortable. He held her just right, and she fit perfectly against him. If she didn't know better, she would have said that they were made for each other.
But that was impossible.
She couldn't comprehend the fact that she was made for a person she met at a masked ball. It just sounded too much like a fairy tale to be true. You didn't just go and meet your Prince Charming at a masked ball. It was almost impossible. Fate and destiny simply just didn't happen. She once believed that Dean was her soulmate, but that was before he dumped her after a four year relationship.
It had been a month since that relationship ended, but the pain was still there. Over the years, she had become dependent on him. Their identities had been melded into one. RoryandDean. DeanandRory. She hated to think that she was one of those girls who fell apart after a breakup, but she was. She had come to this ball, wanting to spend time with a guy who had no commitments. It was easier that way. She would be spared the heartache.
Now that idea seemed impossible.
Even though she didn't even know what he looked like, she was captivated, and the whole idea of not getting hurt had gone down the drain. Was it possible to fall in love so quickly? He didn't feel the same way, at least, she didn't think so. He was like Tristan. She was probably just another conquest.
She didn't want to think about that possibility, so she just closed her eyes and lay her head on his shoulder. She just wanted to savour the moment. She sighed in exasperation when she realized the song was over and a fast song replaced it quickly. The DJ sure knew how to break a mood.
"The DJ sure knows how to break a mood," he muttered, echoing her thoughts.
Rory couldn't help but smile, "Exactly what I was thinking."
He looked down at her with a quizzical look, "Really?"
"Yes."
"Maybe we should lock him up in a closet and DJ this dance ourselves," he said jokingly, "How does that sound?"
"Perfect." she said nodding in mock agreement.
"Would that be considered kidnapping?" he asked.
"Probably."
"Drats," he said with a twinkle in his eyes.
There was an awkward beat as Rory looked into his eyes. She quickly snapped out of it, and said, "Do you want to go outside? To the balcony?" She was shocked with her own boldness.
From the look on his face, he was shocked as well. It took him a moment to fully comprehend her invitation. Rory held her breath as he opened his mouth to reply.
"Sounds like the perfect plan."
***
"This is the third balcony we've tried," Tristan said with a groan, "Think we'll be successful?"
She laughed, "Maybe."
Tristan grinned and opened the door. He stuck his head inside, and quickly pulled in out, "Nope."
"And they said that third time's the charm," she joked, "maybe the next one won't have a couple making out like animals."
They got to the next balcony and he grinned, "Your turn to check."
"Why?" she asked.
"Because I've already been scarred for life."
She couldn't help but smile. She turned the door knob and stuck her head outside. She smiled, "Mission accomplished."
She stepped outside, a blast of heat greeted her. She walked to the railing and looked over the edge. Tristan quickly shut the door and went to stand beside her. Glancing around, he had a clear view of the other balconies they tried, and he laughed.
She looked at him in surprise, "What's so funny?"
"The couple's making it like rabbits," he answered, "That's what."
Rory giggled at their profiles, "How could they just do that in plain view?"
"They don't seem aware that it's in plain view," Tristan observed.
"I guess you're right," she agreed. After a moment, she smiled. "This feels strange."
"Why's that?" Tristan asked curiously.
She didn't answer for a moment. "I feel like my parents. They always used to spy on people from my grandparents' balcony."
He grinned, "It must be generational."
She smiled, "I don't plan to conceive on a balcony."
"You were conceived on a balcony?"
"Uh huh," she answered softly.
"Wanna continue with that tradition?" Tristan asked with a cocky grin.
She shot him a dirty look, "You're impossible."
"Thank you, I take that as a compliment."
"So, when can we unmask ourselves?" she asked, "I mean, what's the tradition?"
Tristan smirked, "Why, I thought you would realize that Ivy League schools do it Cinderella style."
"Midnight."
"Midnight." he confirmed.
"It's eleven right now," she told him.
"Ah, only sixty long minutes left."
"We could always cheat," she said mischievously.
"Ah, but that would take the fun out of it, wouldn't it?"
"I guess."
There was a long beat of silence and Tristan racked his brain desperately for something to talk about. Finally, he found the question he would ask Rory, if she was here. "Do you like to read?"
Her eyes lit up brightly, her lips curved into a happy smile. Tristan knew this was the right question to ask. "I love to read!"
"Yeah? Are you reading any books now?" Tristan asked.
She chuckled, "If you knew me, you wouldn't ask that question."
He smiled, "Well, I don't know you."
"Right. I'm re-reading 'Pride & Prejudice' for the 100th time."
"Jane Austen was never my type," he said with a grin.
She looked wistful for a second, "That's what my ex-boyfriend said too."
Tristan mentally slapped himself, he didn't mean to remind her of an old boyfriend. After a long moment of awkward silence, she asked, "Are you reading anything right now?"
"I'm reading 'The Screwtape Letters' by CS Lewis," he answered. "They're interesting."
She laughed. "What's so funny?" he asked.
"CS Lewis?" she questioned, then said, "You never struck me as the religious type."
"That's because I'm not."
"Ah, then why are you reading 'The Screwtape Letters'?" she asked.
"Because the whole concept is interesting. His theology is interesting," Tristan answered.
"I see."
Another moment of silence, and finally he said with a bitter laugh, "I've always thought that devils existed."
"Why's that?" she asked rather curiously.
"It was..." he trailed off, "nicer to blame devils then God."
"About your problems?"
"Yeah," he answered, he looked into her large blue eyes and smiled a bit, "I must sound so cryptic."
"Just a little."
He shook his head and put both hands on the railing of the balcony and looked down. "Let's say my childhood wasn't a nice walk in the park."
"Whose childhood was?" she questioned.
Tristan shot her a tight smile, "I guess you're right."
After another awkward pause, she asked, "What made your childhood unsatisfactory?"
He shrugged, "My parents never paid any attention to me really. I guess that just goes with the territory. Rich kids don't have attentive parents."
"And poor kids have attentive parents."
"Exactly," he smiled a little, "I know that my parents loved me and all, but they weren't around to show me."
"Just like my dad," she said, "he was never around."
"We have something in common," he said with a grin.
"That we do."
"May I continue with my tragic story please?" he asked jokingly.
"You have my permission."
"Thank you," he said, he looked down again and continued, "so my parents basically ignored me. We never had any of those family dinners you always see on tv. I always spent Christmas watching tv in my room while my parents attended parties and consumed plenty of martinis. I guess in exchange for their time, they graced me with anything and everything."
He looked at her, wanting to see if she thought he was just taking everything out of proportion, but she looked sympathetic. Encouraged, he continued, "I guess I was expected to be perfect. I had to be on the top three of the class or my father would hit me...and threaten to disown me." Tristan could feel his voice grow thick and he struggled to gain some control. He didn't even know why he was telling her this. He never told anyone this.
"I'm sorry," she whispered simply, touching his shoulder.
Tristan's eyes met hers, as he searched for any mockery. He found none. He was swimming in eyes full of sincerity. "I don't know why I'm telling you this. I never tell anyone this."
"I guess I'm just easy to talk to," she whispered.
Tristan smiled sadly, "I guess you are."
Their lips were inches apart and Tristan glanced down at her parted lips. He had never wanted to kiss anyone so badly in his life. He leaned over, as her eyes closed. He could tell that she was anticipating the feel of his lips against hers. At the last moment, he stopped. He didn't want to ruin this by rushing.
"Anyways, I guess my childhood wasn't that bad. At least I had an active social life." he quickly said.
She jumped at the sound of his voice. Her eyes flew open and she backed away. Tristan could tell she was disappointed by the look on her face. She looked devasted. Finally, she said, "You mean an active dating life."
He was confused for a second, but he realized what she was referring to, "How'd you guess?"
"You have the looks."
His smiled and he took a step towards her. He shedded his true self and he was back, "You think I'm hot, eh?"
She looked flustered, "Well...uh...I guess," she squeaked.
He cornered her against the railing of the balcony and grinned. He touched her silky smooth hair, letting it run through his fingers like water. Smirking, he leaned over and whispered in her ear, "Truth is, I think you're quite hot yourself."
To Be Continued...