A Lack of Color
by four51
Chapter 3. Title and Registration
It was Sunday night.
"I'm serious."
Jen rolled her eyes.
"I am!" he said again.
"So what you're saying is – " I started.
"That I don't think she's ready to commit to me."
"And what made you think that?" I asked, intrigued. This is what I need. I need her out of the picture. We went out yesterday without anything wrong. And she wasn't there. And that's all I needed.
Okay, that was a little evil to wish.
I take it back.
But I would love for them to break up. It would make things just so much easier.
"Well, she hasn't planned anything for the wedding. Not the colors, not the bridesmaids, not the date, not anything. Who does that?"
I looked down and stayed quiet. If I let anything slip out of my mind, it'd be wrong to say.
"Maybe she's just not ready. You know, with her traveling on business and all," Jen said, purposefully using his very words.
He ate a handful of popcorn. "I'm just saying. It seems a little odd. You don't think she's having second thoughts, do you guys?" He streached his arm around me on the couch.
I sighed, audibly, sick of hearing about Michelle.
"You do!"
He obviously took my sigh as one of negation.
"I'll be right back. Bathroom," Jen said as she exited the room.
"I just think she might have trouble coping right now. It's a big change – to go from girlfriend to wife."
"But we've been engaged for almost a year. Wouldn't you be excited?"
To be married to you? Hell, yes.
I looked deeply into his eyes. "I'd be ecstatic if I were in her shoes."
He looked at me weirdly and fidgeted slightly. His hand was on my shoulder. I could hardly breathe.
"But I'm different. She's probably different than me."
"Yeah," he said, smiling. "You're better." He took my hand, playfully.
I knew he was joking. I just knew it.
But it all felt so right. I scooted more into him. I laid my head on his shoulder and he put his head on mine.
It was all perfect.
He fidgeted with my hand, examining it.
Then Jen came in and Tristan sat up, uncomfortably. He also took his arm out from behind me.
Thanks, Jen.
She gave me a look. A 'Well, well, well, look what we have here,' look.
I rolled my eyes at her.
"I'm going to get more pancakes," he said and got up. We were having breakfast for dinner tonight.
"Just friends?" she whispered to me.
"A friendly gesture."
"Too friendly, I would say."
"Oh, shut up."
"Denial…"
"I am not!"
"Who's in denial, and what from?" Tristan asked, once again, sitting next to me. He had a full plate of breakfast.
"Nothing," Jen said, rolling her eyes.
I picked up my fork and got a couple of Tristan's pancake slices on it.
"Hey!" he protested.
"My pancakes."
"My batter."
"My forks," I countered.
"My orange juice."
"My TV."
"My movie," he argued.
"My apartment."
He was quiet for a moment.
"Yeah, that's what I thought. Pass some of it over," I teased.
"Okay. You win," he paused, "this time."
"I'll make it up to you later."
"Oh yeah?" he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
"Yeah," I smiled.
"What would that entail?"
"Please, for my sake, don't answer that," Jen said, holding her hands over her ears.
"Fine, fine," Tristan said. "Are we all going out to dinner tomorrow night?"
"I have to work Tuesday," I complained.
"I'll have you in bed by ten o'clock, I promise."
I smiled and shrugged. Jen nodded her head and assured both of us that she was free.
He went back to watch the rest of Anchorman with much mocking.
I watched him.
I couldn't help it.
So, sue me.
Any other girl would be in the same position.
Right?
Right.
So what if he's got a girlfriend?
Fiancée. Whatever she is.
So what if I have a boyfriend?
I gagged at the term.
Some boyfriend, leaving me on the eerie streets of New York City alone after forcing me to eat Thai.
Whatever. Not going to mention it.
I'm over it.
I'm over him being a control freak.
I'm over it. I'll let him do anything he wants from now on. I mean, I might as well give him that, seeing how I'm having daydreams about someone that's not him.
It's only fair, right?
Right.
The next day, Monday morning, at work, I had a striking revelation.
I actually like it here.
The office is nice.
People don't ask questions.
People don't talk about their personal lives.
People don't complain constantly about their bitch fiancée not being able to handle commitment.
They keep to their business. They get things done.
They don't ask how I am. For it was practically written on my face. I was miserable.
I had a crush that didn't even give me the time of day.
Well, romantically, that is.
So that makes it innocent, right?
Right.
I didn't need to break up with Oliver, or feel guilty in any way.
Because it was an innocent crush.
And it's not like I was out kissing him.
Unfortunately.
But no, at work, I didn't have to think about all this. I could think about celebrities and their perfect lives.
I didn't have to think about him. He didn't exist here.
I didn't have to think about his hands playing with mine. His body, all sculpted and strong…
All I had to do was figure out something interesting and write about it. Nothing more to it.
I only have to look at stupid clipping of –
Michelle?!
She's right here. Right in front of me. In a stupid tabloid.
Even when I get away from all of that, it's still shoved right in my face.
She's still flaunting that she has what I don't.
She has what I would die for.
And I'm all alone.
After work, I stopped by the bar again.
"Hey Joe," I said, exhausted.
"Hey. Game of cards?"
I sighed. "Not today, Joey. I'd take a therapist, though…?"
"Shoot."
"I like a man."
"Okay…?"
"He's engaged."
"You still have time…"
"To a model!" I moaned, landing my head on the table.
"She must not be prettier than you."
"Thanks, Joe, but she's gorgeous. She's perfect. I simply can't hold up to her."
"Don't get discouraged. He'll come around."
"And if he doesn't?"
"Me and my cards are always here."
I sighed, smiling. I took the beer and paid him. "I've got to go home – going out to dinner tonight."
"It's Monday," he gasped, playfully.
"I know." I shrugged. "Thanks for the talk."
"Hang in there."
I smiled again and walked out the door.
When I rounded the corner, I ran right into someone.
"Oh, I'm sorry," I started to pick up the contents off the ground and hand them into her purse.
"Well, maybe you should look next time."
Michelle.
Great.
"I said I was sorry."
"Right, well, I've got plans. Would you mind?" She motioned for me to get out of her way.
Like there wasn't enough room on the sidewalk to walk around me.
I breathed deeply, trying to contain my annoyance.
"Right."
I walked up to the apartment and knocked on Tristan's door.
"Back already?" I heard him call, but when he opened the door, his smile faded. "You're not Michelle."
"Well, you're very observant. I was just going to tell you I only need a half an hour to get ready for tonight."
"Oh…"
"What?"
"Well, I…"
"I mean, all I need is a shower to get this horrible smog-sweat off me. Yuck."
"Rory…"
"Sometimes I hate New York. Stupid corporations just putting their contaminated steam into the air that will one day ruin the o-zone layer and result in the entire population living underground."
"I meant to call…"
"I mean, it's not like we haven't done it before, though. In World War II, the British had to sleep underground while the Germans bombed them at night. It's definitely possible."
"Right, well, Rory – "
"I got the whipped cream, your favorite. Just imagine this all over me tonight."
I turned around to see Michelle holding up two bottles of spray whipped cream.
Big night.
"Right, well, uhm," Tristan stumbled, obviously embarrassed. "Could you get those into the room, babe?"
She looked at me. "Oh, you." She might have well slapped me and pulled my hair.
"Michelle…?" Tristan said, impatiently.
"Right, well, I'm going to go change into something… smaller," she told me, more than him, narrowing her eyes.
I breathed hard as she passed me, nudging my shoulder slightly.
"I'm sorry about her. She gets… jealous."
"Right."
"So…"
"So, a half an hour?"
He paused and blinked a couple of times. "Rory, I…"
And then it dawned on me.
He was picking her over me.
Well, not really, but it might have well been.
"You're staying in with her, then."
He sighed. "She just showed up unexpectedly, and what was I supposed to do?"
"Not leave her, I suppose."
"Rory…"
"No, I'm fine, really." Lie.
Another realization.
It would always be her over me.
The tears came to my eyes.
I lowered my head.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
"Yeah, I've just got something in my eye." Lie.
"Here," he held my head up and pried my eye open with his fingers. He looked around and told me to move my eye around. I did so, not wanting to blow my cover.
"Is it better?" he asked.
His hands were cupping my face.
"All better," I whispered.
"Right, well, I better get in." He let go. "You sure you're all right with this?"
I breathed in deeply. "Perfectly."
He must have sensed it. "Rory, any other day…"
"I know, I know. I have more work to do anyway." Lie.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. Go and entertain your girlfriend. I'll be fine without you tonight." Lie.
He laughed.
"Alright. I'll see you tomorrow."
But he didn't.
Neither tomorrow or the day after did I see him.
Or the next day.
I was just waiting.
Waiting for him to come around.
Waiting for myself to get over it.
Which got better once Oliver called Thursday night.
"Hey Ror."
"Hey Oli. What's up?"
"You have time for a quick bite tonight?"
I sighed. I really didn't, but I felt guilty.
Not that I should have.
Because it was an innocent crush.
Right?
Right.
"I'm free."
"Great. I'll be over there in ten minutes?"
I looked in the mirror. "Um… make it twenty?"
"Sure. See you then."
"See you then."
I knew I needed to get out and forget about Tristan.
About what he could possibly be doing that could sound like a woman getting murdered.
I bet sex with Tristan was wonderful. I bet it was perfect. Just like him.
I fixed myself up: clothes, make up, hair.
When I got into his Jeep, he confessed, "I'm not really hungry."
"You aren't?"
"No," he gave me a big smile.
Sex.
I rolled my eyes.
"We haven't for two weeks, Rory."
"I've not been up for it. I'm exhausted. Work is hard right now."
"Yeah," he said, narrowing his eyes. "I bet," he said cynically.
"What is that supposed to mean?!" I yelled.
"You know what it's supposed to mean."
I looked at him.
"Every time I call you, I hear him in the background."
"Don't even!" I scoffed.
"Suddenly, when he comes into your life, you have no use for me. I wonder why…?" His eyebrows were furrowed.
"He's just a friend, Oliver. Nothing more. And I just don't feel up to it because of what I told you, I'm tired."
I tried to sound convincing.
He looked back on the road, concentrating more on it.
"Are you hungry?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Where to?"
"I feel like a cheeseburger."
"Burger Joint?"
That's on the same street as my work. "I go there all the time…"
"Well, where else do you suppose we go?" he asked, obviously slightly annoyed.
I thought for a second. "Schnack?"
He nodded, silently.
When I got home that night, I reviewed my voicemail. I was in the middle of the second message, when I heard a knock on my door. I opened it.
"Finally got some time? She seems to have you all tied up. Or is it the other way around? I'm not sure how that's pleasurable anyway." I said to him, turning and heading back toward the kitchen.
He followed. "I'm sorry about the noise. I tried to keep her down."
He looked smug. He had no idea how 'the noise' has affected me.
"It's fine. Next time, get a sound-proof room."
"Got it." He sat at my kitchen table. "You don't have much in here," he observed.
"I don't have much money."
"I could lend you some…?"
I looked at him. "I don't want charity," I spat.
"What's wrong with you?" he asked, his eyebrows furrowing just as Oliver's had.
"I just want you to get a grip on your fiancée, and next time, keep her a little quieter!"
He didn't say anything, so I elaborated.
"I just can't sleep when she's screaming out your name in the middle of the night. Some of us have real work in the morning."
"Hey!" he shouted, sticking up for her. "She works hard for her money."
"Oh yeah, I can see that," I said, sarcastically.
"This is bull. You have no right to say anything about my personal relationships. It's not my fault you're with a complete asshole that can't treat you right. I like to treat Michelle right."
"And I suppose she does the same? You can't even reach her three-fourths of the time. You said yourself that you can't trust her!"
"I didn't mean it that way and you know it," he yelled.
"Just get a damn hotel room next time," I concluded.
"Fine!"
"Fine!"
And he walked out.
My legs were weak.
I sat in the chair he was, put my head in my hands, and cried.
A/N: So, emotional. I would love to put swear words in here, but I also want to keep this fic PG-13. So, yeah. Hope you don't mind. So, she's ganging up on Tristan's fiancée when she really wants to be her. Intriguing huh? All of you who reviewed last time, thank you so much! Really boosted my confidence and my motivations – hence and new chapter so early. Review again, and I'll have another one up like that snap!
Thanks again. Review!