Let It Be

Chapter 5

Spanish class, for once, was hard. I understood all the vocabulary, but once we had to conjugate verbs and start making real sentences, my lack of good sleep caught up with me. It took me twice as long as normal to do our daily assignment. I left with the beginnings of a headache and was thinking about running to the vending machines by the cafeteria for a quick soda. The sugar injection of an orange Fanta sounded perfect right then.

"Hey, Abby," Tristan Blake said as I came out, nearly scaring me to death. He had been waiting outside the door of my Spanish class.

I wasn't a fan of Tristan. He was the ultimate jock, suave and arrogant and extremely handsome and knew it. He was a charmer and a player; he'd dated all the pretty cheerleaders and important girls in school. Basically, he was the type that I had always avoided on character issues.

"Um, hey," I said, continuing to walk down the hall. I was confused. Why was he talking to me, of all people? How did he know I existed? He quickened his pace to catch up with me.

"I heard you made varsity volleyball."

Oh, I realized. Okay. That's why he was talking to me: I was climbing high on the social caste system because I was on the volleyball team. Got it. "Yeah."

"Congrats. You must be excellent to make the team."

"I guess." I was growing antsy with him being around, my skin starting to crawl.

"So," he said smoothly as I rubbed absently at my arms. "Are you coming to the game this Friday?"

I hadn't decided yet. Mina and Dylan weren't going, so I would have to hang out with the rest of the volleyball team. I wasn't sure if I was on that type of terms with them yet. "Not sure yet," I replied.

"You should. I'm starting, you know." He flashed a model-worthy smile, as brilliant as his ego.

"Good for you."

My next classroom finally came into sight. I felt relieved. I was almost there. Before I could dart inside, however, Tristan blocked my path. I had no choice but to stand there and let him talk. "There's going to be a wicked party after the game. You should be there. Come as my pretty date."

My eyes snapped up to his in surprise. I hadn't been expecting that. My stomach churned a little at the idea, and I started feeling a sick. Throw-up sick. "No. Thanks."

"Aw, come on. Anybody who's important is going to be there."

"Then it wouldn't really be my scene."

He stepped closer and twirled his finger suggestively in my hair. "Someone as pretty as you should be my date."

What sort of compliment was that?

What was I to say to that? 'Oh, Tristan, you honor me by allowing me to be in your brilliant presence! I can't believe that someone of your awesomeness and attractiveness would choose me as your date, where you would get drunk and be all over me and treat me like any other girl. I'm glad that I'm pretty enough for your standards, because we all know that looks are most important when choosing people to associate with.'

Um, no.

I stepped back, pushing his hand out of my hair and away from me. I was starting to get angry, with him touching me like that. "No, thank you," I repeated, a bit more harshly this time. My stomach was still churning.

"Are you saying that you don't want to be my date?"

"Yes."

His face clouded with rage, a fast temper. A look I was familiar with. "Other girls would kill to hook up with me."

"Well, at least you won't be lonely then."

"You're being an idiot, Abby."

Yeah, that makes me want to change my mind and go out with you. "Surprisingly, I'm okay with that." And I side-stepped him and made my way into the classroom, my arms folded self-consciously over my chest.

"You're going to regret it," he called. "I'm not going to give you this offer again."

I ignored him and sat down. I pulled out my notes and fumed angrily at them. I heard him huff in-- defiance? Disbelief? Obviously, he wasn't used to being turned down. Apparently, most girls leaped at this chance. Then again, I wasn't like most girls.

Ugh. Tristan. What a jerk. I hated boys like him. I felt demeaned by the whole ordeal.

"What was that all about?"

I jumped at the voice. I was so distracted that I had forgotten about Sam and the fact that he sat in the rickety desk right beside me in Geography. Great, he'd probably seen most of the fiasco and how stupidly I'd dealt with the whole situation. "Oh, Tristan's trying to get me to go out with him," I explained.

Sam regarded me sarcastically. "And you aren't leaping at the opportunity?"

"Why would I?" I said, trying not to snap at him. "He's just another stupid boy in the world," slipped angrily out my mouth before I could consider how it would sound.

"Wow, someone's bitter."

"I'm not bitter." Sam just raised an eyebrow at me, and I couldn't help a small laugh. "Okay, maybe I am. But even if I was into dating at the current moment, which I'm not, why would I pick someone like Tristan? What a jerk."

"Was he too forward with you?" Sam asked with mocking sympathy.

"At least I have some pride," I snapped.

Sam sat there in silence, and it seemed as if he almost felt bad. His chair squeaked. "Well," he said, quieter. "Um, that's cool. Doesn't seem like anyone does anymore."

"Huh?"

"Doesn't seem like a lot of people bother with morals or whatever. Nice to know someone has a bit of self-respect."

"Yeah, well," I snapped again, then realized that he was paying me a compliment. Oh. "Yeah." Awkward pause. "Thanks."

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A/N So what do you think of Tristan? Jerk, right?

What about Sam? What do you think?

Leave me a comment with your thoughts! And feel free to vote, my friends, if you liked this chapter!