The Wanderers Beginning: The Wanderers, Reborn, & Unforgiven (27 page)

  
              I looked into his eyes and saw the same twinge of fear I saw in my dream. And that's when I broke down crying. Shoulder shaking, body heaving, crying.

  
              Tristan slowly and carefully sat next to me on the bed and wrapped his arms around me. I leaned into him, taking comfort in the warmth and strength of his gentle caress. “Shh...It’s okay now...shh,” he said, trying to comfort me while softly stroking my hair.

  
              I pulled myself back, wiping the tears from my face. “Hey,” he said, tucking a piece of my unruly hair behind my ear. “You want to talk about it?” I shook my head. “It's okay. We don't have to,” he reached behind him and retrieved some tissues from my night stand. “Here.”

  
              I blew all the disgusting snot out of my nose and wiped off my face. I dangled my legs off the bed, ran a shaky hand through my hair, and let out a slow, deep breath. I never felt so scared in my life. The dream felt so real, as if I was really there, like it was really happening.

  
              I looked at Tristan, his expression showed concern. I knew there was more than that though. I knew there was something else bothering him. “Ella,” Tristan said softly. “I really am sorry about last night. You have to know that wasn't me I...” he stopped. I knew he was struggling with what he wanted to say.

  
              I wanted to tell him to save his apology. That it didn't matter I already made up my mind. But when I looked into those deep, dark blues eyes, I lost all my senses. Despite recent actions I knew deep down he cared and was willing to do anything to protect me from anyone and anything. The only downside was the one thing he couldn't protect me from, him. “Tristan –”

  
              He stopped me. The nervous shake of his hand said he needed to get this out before he lost all nerve. “I feel a certain way when I'm around you. I don't know how to explain it, but when I saw how scared you were and Jack...” he broke off, taking a moment to take a breath. “I thought he was hurting you. I'm sorry I never meant...”

  
              “Tristan it's okay.”

  
              “No it's not.”

  
              “I understand why you did what you did. That doesn't mean I agree with it, but in a way I understand. I also would suggest some anger management classes,” I joked, trying to lighten the mood.

  
              He chuckled. “Who needs that when you have good booze?”

  
              “Yeah, how's that working out for ya?” I laughed.

  
              “Next time I'll stick to what I know instead of switching it up.” I rolled my eyes at him. “Are we…okay?” he asked nervously.

  
              “Yeah, we're good.” For some reason I couldn't stay mad at him. Avoiding him sometimes was almost impossible and even then the more time I spent away the crazier my head spun with confused emotions.

  
              We both sat there silently for a moment, not sure what else to say. His outstretched pinkie brushed mine sending goose bumps up my arm. I got up quickly. “I'm sorry. I must look a mess,” I said, wiping at my tear streaked face and imagining I had the worst case of bed-head ever.

  
              Tristan reached for my hand and pulled me back down on the bed. “Ella, you look fine,” he smiled, wiping a tear from my cheek with his thumb. “Are you really okay? You were pretty freaked out when I tried to wake you up.”

  
              “Yeah, I'll be fine,” I said. “It was just a dream, right?”

  
              He didn't say anything.

  
              I placed my hand on his knee and gave a light squeeze as a silent thank you. Josie walked into the room and took one look at me knowing right away something was wrong. “Oh my God Ella, what happened?”

  
              She came running over to the bed and Tristan stood up letting her sit next to me. “I'm...gonna go,” he said, turning to leave.

  
              “Tristan?” I looked up at him. “Thank you.” He curled his lips into a half smile and left.

  
              “Okay seriously Ella, what the hell is going on?”

  
              I let out a long breath and told Josie everything. I started from the very beginning and told her all about the dreams I've been having since the accident. How they started to change slightly after we started school. I even told her the one about Tristan, including the one I just had. I also told her what happened last night adding a small lecture for her leaving me to deal with Dean and Tristan on my own. She apologized profusely and even said she thought Tristan's
'heroic action'
was romantic. I rolled my eyes and reminded her that almost choking someone to death is far from romantic nor is it heroic. She was staring so far out in la-la land that I had to snap my fingers to bring her attention back.

  
              “Sorry, I was just imagining Tristan's bulging biceps rippling as he swooped in to save the day,” she said, gazing off into space.

  
              “You need to get your head out of the clouds because it was nothing like that,” I said, shivering at the memory.

  
              “Sorry I wasn't there,” she said, placing a hand on mine.

  
              “There wouldn't have been anything you could have done.” I looked away and started to fidget with my blanket.

  
              “Is there something else bothering you?” 

  
              What I needed to tell her next was the hardest part of all. The one thing I never told anyone. I collected myself enough to get the words out. I told her about the man from the accident, how I saw him in my dreams and how I saw him last night in the lobby or imagined I did. “Do you think I'm crazy?” I asked in a hushed voice.

     
              She shook her head. “No, I don't think you're crazy,” she said, pulling me in for a tight hug.

  
              “But what about the guy I saw? Do you believe me? Or do you think I made him up?”

  
              “I believe you believe you saw him.”

  
              “What does that mean?” I said defensively.

  
              “It means you're a girl who's been through a lot and this is your mind's way of dealing. Creating an image of something to help you better understand what really happened that night.”

  
              “Josie he was real. I didn't make him up...I knew you wouldn't believe me,” I said getting up from the bed.

  
              Josie looked at me sympathetically, like I was going to crack, and completely lose it. “Ella, I want to believe you but think about it. If I told you the same story would you believe me?”

  
              “Yes,” I snapped. Then quickly realized how ridiculous I was being. “Okay maybe not, but I swear Josie, I didn't make him up.” I felt the tears start to pool in my eyes again. I tried hard to hold them back, but one managed to escape and run down my cheek.

  
              Josie looked at me, really looked at me, and knew I wasn't making it up. She didn't have to say it. Her face said it all. Josie knew when I was lying and knew when I was telling the truth. She hugged me tightly and I rested my head on her shoulders. She pulled back just enough to look into my eyes. “Whatever this is? We'll figure it out, together.” I just nodded. “Now, in the meantime I think you could use a stiff drink.”

  
              “You really think that's a good idea?” I asked skeptic.

  
              “Absolutely,” she grinned. “Have I ever steered you wrong?” I opened my mouth to comment when she said, “That was a rhetorical question.”

  
              I let out a much needed laugh. “And where exactly are we going to get this drink?” I asked, taking her up on her offer. She smiled big, raising a brow. “Josie no,” I protested, but she was out the door before I could stop her.

  
              I hurried off the bed and checked out myself in the mirror. Ugh! I looked horrible. I could only imagine what I looked like all snotty when Tristan was here. I'm sure he only said I looked fine so I wouldn't feel worse than I did. No way was I going to leave this room looking like this. I attempted to fix my bloodshot eyes with some drops, but it was hopeless. Instead I opted for some quick concealer, a little clear mascara, and my favorite mint flavored lip gloss. I painfully pulled a brush through my knotted hair. When I was done I looked down at what I was wearing; pajama pants with cute little penguins all over them and a tank top. I grabbed a sweater from my closet and went to put on different pants when Josie came back in the room dragging me out the door before I had a chance to protest.

  
              “He said yes, but we have to drink in his room.” I rolled my eyes. Of course he would say that.

  
              Josie opened the door to Tristan's room. He was standing behind a mini bar, with a shaker in hand, already mixing a drink. I took a look around. This was the first time I was actually really seeing it. His room was huge, three times the size of all the other dorms. He had a full size fridge, big screen TV, couch and of course his own collection of the best liquors.

  
              “How in the hell did you get a room like this?” I asked.

  
              He just gave me his cocky smile. “What's your poison?” he asked, pouring Josie a red colored drink into a martini glass.

  
              “Umm...surprise me.” That cocky smile turned into a devilish one and I suddenly regretted saying that. He picked up at least five different liquors and poured them into a glass with some other mixes, shook it up, and handed it to me. “What is it?” I asked nervously.

  
              “A Long Island ice tea,” he smiled.

  
              “Oh, I like ice tea,” I said, taking a sip, instantly puckering at the sweet and sour taste. Josie giggled at my expression.

  
              “What do you think?” Tristan asked, trying not to laugh.

  
              “Um, it's not bad,” I said, swallowing and causing Josie and Tristan to laugh harder.

  
              “I can make you something else? Maybe something not as strong, a Shirley Temple?” he offered, chuckling under his breath.

  
              I glared at him. “No, this is fine.” I joined Josie on the couch to prove I could hold my own.

  
              Tristan poured himself some scotch and leaned back casually against the window ledge, watching me sip my drink, while Josie downed hers. She jumped up and handed Tristan her glass so he could make her another. “I see someone wore her big girl pants tonight,” Tristan said, and I sheepishly looked down at my penguin pajama pants wishing I had time to change even though that's not what he was implying.

About three drinks later, I had forgotten all about my bad dream. Josie remembered she had forgotten her cell and wanted to run back to our room real quick to retrieve it. She claimed she was waiting for a text from her new boy toy. I shrugged not caring. Tristan refilled his drink and joined me on the couch. My stomach started to do flip flops and suddenly I worried whether it was the alcohol or because how close Tristan was to me.

  
              I looked away feeling my cheeks get hot. “Are you feeling any better?” he asked cautiously.

  
              “Yes, thank you. You know you didn't have to do this,” I said.

  
              He just shrugged. I finally looked up at him. He had his one arm thrown over the back of the couch and the other holding his drink while he watched me with curiosity. “Why do you do that?” I asked. He wrinkled his brow in confusion. “Watch me like that.”

  
              “You intrigue me,” he said smiling. “How old are you?”

  
              I looked at him wondering if this was a trick question. “I'm eighteen, why?”

  
              “You don't look like any eighteen year old I've meet.”

  
              “What are eighteen years olds supposed to look like?” I challenged, annoyed.

  
              “Young and innocent.”

  
              “What are you trying to say?” I asked offended.

  
              “Just that you look a lot older than you claim to be,” he said, like it was no big deal but of course I had a hard time letting it go.

  
              “And what's wrong with that?”

  
              “I didn't say there was anything wrong with it,” he smiled.

  
              “How old do you think I look?”