"You heard the old bat," Tristan grinned, putting an arm around Tara's shoulders as the two left the English room. "I'm thinking your place, right after school?"
"We are not going to my house to work on this." Tara said firmly, giving Tristan a steely glare. Her tone suggested how ludicrous she thought it was that he actually felt there was a chance she would even consider it.
"The first draft is due tomorrow, the library is closed today, and, I would suggest my place, but my mother's holding a lunch party there today." He crossed his arms.
"Uggggh." Tara groaned. "I hate her. I hate her. With a burning fire, do I hate her! There's got to be another location. You are not stepping foot anywhere near my house!"
Sadly for Tara, she couldn't think of any other place soon enough. The two ended up in her living room, their school things sprawled across her coffee table. "Let's get this done as fast as we humanly can." Tara grumbled.
"Not so fast. Do you have any pretzels?" Tristan glanced around and headed to the kitchen.
"What? No. Why? Come back here! Don't wander! For the love of-" Tara exclaimed.
"You don't have pretzels?" Tristan turned to her, disappointed.
"No, I don't. Now sit down-" she said.
"I can't work without pretzels." Tristan shrugged.
"What are you talking about?" blurted Tara exasperatedly. Her eyes widened when she saw that he was inching towards her front door. "Tristan! Where are you going?"
"We need pretzels." He repeated. "I seriously can't work without that specific snack food. I'll just swing by and pick some up, I'll only be ten minutes."
"Do you even know where the closest grocery store is? I'll go with you if you insist-" answered Tara, scrambling to stop him.
"No, no, what kind of gentleman would I be if I made you do that? Don't worry, I remember seeing a Co-op when we drove down here. I swear, I won't be gone for long." Tristan grinned. "Why don't you just set up the stuff?"
"Oh my God, stop procrastinating and sit your ass down so we can do this!" Tara ordered.
"Gotta have my pretzels," Tristan chuckled. With a quick wave he was out the door.
"Tristan!" she yelled as he got into his car. He blew her a kiss from his car and drove off.
Fifteen minutes later, Tristan was chuckling to himself as he drove back up to her house. A large bag of pretzels lay beside him. It was just so easy antagonizing her! As he pulled up to the curb, Tristan wondered curiously who had pulled up while he was gone for there was a large SUV parked directly in front of Tara's house. Her parents, perhaps?
Tristan hopped out of the car and jogged to the front door and was about to enter the house when he heard a male voice yell. Deciding it might be best to stay outside for a little bit, Tristan frowned and strained to hear the conversation.
"Who the hell does this belong to!" the voice boomed. "Are you seeing someone behind my back?"
"What are you talking about? We broke up!" Tara's voice protested, though Tristan detected a hint of emotion he hadn't heard before. He couldn't quite place it…
"I can't believe this-" the voice growled. Tristan heard a thudding noise and then, "I can't see you right now!" Loud footsteps in his direction. Tristan glanced around and strode quickly to the side of the house. A moment later, he saw the owner of the voice. A dirty-blonde guy who looked about Tristan's age and height left the building. Tristan waited until the angry person had driven off before he walked into Tara's house. He spotted her sitting on the floor. Her head whipped up at the sound of the door opening and Tristan thought he saw a look of fear in her eyes. The expression lasted only a second, though, soon to be replaced with a sardonic smile.
"Got your pretzels?" she rolled her eyes.
"Uh, who was that?" he wasn't going to let her off that easily.
"No one. Let's get working." She said evasively.
"Ex-boyfriend?" Tristan guessed.
"I don't want to talk about it. Now stop procrastinating because we have to get this stupid draft done and you've wasted enough time." She looked away but not before shooting him an annoyed look. She was acting moody and indifferent to him as usual and for the first time Tristan realized that it was act. He wondered how much of her that he'd seen was just a mask. He mercifully decided to drop the subject and started working, though curiosity burned in his mind.
The two managed to finish the first draft without too much trouble, though Tristan did squeeze in a little bit of extra time than was necessary. Considering Tristan, it was quite surprising to Tara that he wasn't more off-task. He had noticed her discomfort and hadn't been cruel enough to worsen it for her. The fact that he didn't prod and was fairly kind that afternoon redeemed his image just a smidgen in Tara's eyes. She begrudgingly began to respect him a little.
Tristan hadn't insisted on having her sit with his friends again at lunch. He was still, however, intent on spending time with her.
"Look, I realize you may not have enjoyed my friends' company last lunch hour…" Tristan started, leaning against her locker. "And I'm not an ass. Really, I'm not. So you don't have to eat with them with you don't want to."
"Oh, really? Thanks so much for your permission. I don't know how I'd manage without you around, gracious guy that you are." Tara smiled sweetly. She couldn't help it, snarky words were just second nature for her.
"Tara, please. Come on, can't we have lunch?" he said.
"We tried that. I gave it a shot. And my verdict is that you surround yourself with people just as jerk-like as you are. I'll see you next English class." The girl shook her head and began to walk away.
"How about that burger place two blocks down? They have the best fries." Tristan wasn't relenting. He strode in step with her, no sign of resignation on his handsome face.
"I'd rather not. Brown bagging it today," she waved the lunch bag for emphasis.
"Fine. Well, there's a party tomorrow at Lucille's place if you want-" the blonde slipped in.
"Tristan. We aren't friends. We aren't dating. We aren't anything but partners on an English project. Can't you just drop it?" Tara sighed.
"Can't you give me a chance before you label and dismiss me?" Tristan answered, sharpness in his voice.
"I've seen your friends. I've listened to them check off how awful I am. I've walked these halls, brimming with snobs like you. I've seen your world and I frankly like mine better. I don't think you're my type anyways. I don't go for the conceited playboys who can't take no for an answer." She snapped. With that, she pried Tristan's hand off her arm and strode away without looking back.
Tristan heaved a heavy sigh and looked to the cafeteria, where he could see his friends waving him over. With a shake of his head, he turned in the opposite direction and went to eat by himself, his eyes tired.
A/N: It's short, but I've always sucked at doing long chapters. I just wanted to get something up, I haven't updated anything in way too long...