author's note:

don't look at the comments. it's hell down there.

ღ Finding Cinderella- 37 ღ

-Kylie-

Two bad omens happened later that day.

First, Mr. Cross handed back our tests from last week. I was expecting to see a D grade once again on my paper, which made me shut my eyes for a good ten seconds to pray for a miracle, but instead, much to my absolute shock, in a big fat red marker was written... C-plus. A passing grade. In Calculus.

I almost collapsed in relief. Okay, baby steps. Baby steps.

However, my mental celebration ended as quickly as it had begun because Mr. Cross announced another test this week, and I could tell it was going to be much more difficult. His teaching methods had always been incremental torture, and I was expecting that by the time the finals came, he would have a class full of sleep-deprived teens wishing to drop out and a few honors kids hyperventilating in panic.

Second, as soon as I got out of the hell classroom, I was greeted by the last person I wanted to see.

"Hello, Kylie," Ronnie said with an unnerving retail smile. Even the way she said hello made my skin crawl.

"R-Ronnie? What are you...? I thought you were absent today," I stammered, taking a step back.

"Oh, I just took a few hours off to have a 'me time' and reflect on some of the things happening lately," she explained. Her tone was sickly sweet. She suddenly grabbed my arm, and her retail smile widened. "Now, come with me because I want to discuss those things with you."

My warning bells rang. As nicely as I could, I tried to refuse her invitation. "Sorry, but I need to go home right now. There's a big test coming up, and I have to study. Let's do it some other time, okay?"

Her grip on my arm tightened—sharp fingers dug into my skin that hurt a bit—but the smile remained on her face. What was going on with her? "No, Kylie. Please come with me. It's really important."

I glowered at her. If she insisted, fine. Let's get to the bottom of this.

ღ

Ronnie placed down a can of coffee in front of me. "My treat. It's the least I can do to thank you for joining me right now," she said, sitting at the opposite side of the picnic bench.

Reluctantly, I took the can and opened it. For a moment, we sipped our drinks and observed the courtyard in silence. Then she put her can down and began, "Kylie, have you ever had that moment where you worked your ass off to get something you really wanted, but in the end, someone else stole it?"

There was a hint of spite in her tone, but I tried to ignore it as I answered, "Yes."

"Life is so unfair, isn't it?" She laughed humorlessly. "You're probably wondering why I'm telling you this. Well, it's because that's basically the story of my life. For instance, there was this big research project in chemistry last year, and my partner struggled with it so I ended up doing the majority of the research myself. But she got all the credit because she was a brown-noser bitch. Oh—and, like, the times when my stepsister gets all the praise when she's never lifted a finger around the house. It's so annoying, right?"

That was quite a lot to take in. "Y-yeah, I—"

She flicked her hand up. "Oh, I'm sure you can't relate to that part because you and Lacey have a good relationship with each other. Like the partners-in-crime kind of thing that you have with Julianne, too. Oh, speaking of her, I think she's a cool person to hang out with. Smart and talkative. Too bad we can't be friends because I didn't like that part where she helped a certain somebody"—she gave me a piercing look—"to take away the person I care about the most."

Okay, here we go.

Folding her arms on the table, she bent forward. "How long have you known Tristan? Three years? Four?"

I opened my mouth to speak, but she went on.

"Well, I've known him like my whole life. We were in the same group of friends, and we were always together everywhere we went."

That was news to me.

"What?" I managed to say.

"Yeah, I know. It's hard to believe." She rolled her eyes. "He never mentioned anything about it to you, did he?"

"If you guys were close friends," I said, "then you knew a lot of things about him."

"Obviously."

"So why did you interrogate me about him that one time at your house?"

A dull smile appeared on the corner of her lips. "I was simply having fun testing you to see how well you know him. And I must say, you have a better insight into his personality than I do. Impressive, yet a pain." She sighed. "I've always looked up to him, Kylie. Have always admired him. So I did everything to reach him, to make him look at me. My hard work paid off. Sort of. From being a plain, shy girl, I became a respected head cheerleader. I was proud of myself, but my effort wasn't enough. He still hasn't looked my way. In fact, he hates me now. Rejecting me a shitload of times..." A peal of brittle laughter escaped her.

I noticed that her eyes were starting to glisten with tears, but she swallowed as if she were trying to hold them back.

"I wondered what I did wrong. I thought maybe it was because of the rumors about me sleeping with several guys. I may be a crazy bitch, but I have my dignity. And I'm telling you—and only you, Kylie—I've never slept with anyone. Never. Fiona made it all up. That backstabbing bitch spread those lies to make me look bad in front of Tristan and to put me as her inferior."

My mouth dropped. I didn't know what to say. Hell, I didn't even know what to feel after hearing that. I was mad, baffled, and sorry all at the same time.

"Despite that," Ronnie continued, "I kept hoping that someday he would come around. He would look at me and see me as the girl for him... but it's such a shame that someday never came. He keeps looking right through me. In fact, he keeps looking beyond anyone." She clenched her teeth and forced the words out, "Anyone but you."

The pain and anger in her eyes intensified, and I steeled myself for what was to come.

"Maybe if I had looked more closely, I would have seen it a long time ago." She bit her lip and then continued in a low, cracking voice: "He seems like a different person when he's with you, different from how he is with me or anyone. What did you do to him?"

"I didn't—" I tried to say, but she slammed her hand down.

"SERIOUSLY, WHAT DID YOU DO?"

"No, Ronnie, listen to me. I don't know what—"

"SEE? It's unfair! It's fucking UNFAIR," she shouted. All her attractive features were distorted with rage, and for a second, she looked truly ugly. "You didn't do anything to get his attention! You always fight with him, you always argue with him, but why? Why does he keep coming back to you? What does he see in you that he doesn't see in me?"

My breathing became rapid, and I felt like I'd been punched in the stomach. It was disappointing that after all those fun little moments we had that had felt so genuine, she still thought of me as an enemy.

"It's not for me to answer that," I said, fighting to keep my tone level and unwavering. "All I can honestly say right now to you is I'm sorry."

Ronnie laughed again. It sounded shrill, dry, and unpleasant. "Shut up. I don't need you feeling sorry for me." She stood up and bent forward again, closer this time so her face was only inches from mine. Her raging brown eyes looked as if they were going to spring out of her head. "I'm going to get him whatever it takes, Kylie," she hissed. "Just watch me."

She knocked over my can of coffee, and the liquid spilled onto my lap. I ran my tongue around my teeth, suppressing a curse, while she made a condescending sneer and got out of the bench. I watched her walk away.

Veronica Sullivan had just declared war against me.

Despite the tension I felt, I smirked.

Did she think I was going to cower in fear?

-Tristan-

Kylie had been ignoring me again. I knew that the kiss had been a complete shock to her, and she needed time to process what she had done, but damn, she didn't have to ignore me like I was a mere mailman passing by.

I thought the silent treatment would persist the following day, but at exactly eight in the evening, the doorbell rang. And when I opened the door, I found Kylie standing outside, a stack of books in her arms and a grim expression etched on her face.

"Whoa, Ky—" I said, but I was interrupted.

"A Calculus test is coming up, and there's a topic that I can't understand. Also, I've taken on additional work for extra credits. Can you help me?" she said without a pause or a blink.

"Uh..." I closed my eyes briefly, shaking my head, making sure I wasn't hallucinating. We hadn't had proper communication since Saturday night and now she showed up at my front door asking me for my help? She should've at least said hi first.

"You... you need me to tutor you?"

"Did I stutter?"

So catty.

I made a lopsided grin. I decided to attempt for humor to erase her serious look.

"Well, well, looks like Miss I-Can-Manage can't manage to study alone after all," I teased. "What, your motivational messages don't work anymore?"

Her expression didn't change. "Can I go inside now? I'm freezing."

"Right." I stepped aside to let her enter. What's up with her?

"Tristan, who is it?" Mom's voice rang out.

I led Kylie to the living room where my parents were watching TV. They turned their heads toward us, and a surprised smile appeared on Mom's face.

"Oh, Kylie. It's you," she said.

"Hey, everyone," Kylie greeted with sudden joviality. As expected, she got along better with my parents than with me.

"She needs help in math. We'll just be in the study if you need anything," I said.

"Yes, there is," Dad piped up. "We need you to keep your hands on the table and the door open."

Kylie coughed an awkward laugh. I held back a groan.

Holy shit, Dad. Why did you have to say it now?

"Yeah, roger that," I said and touched Kylie's elbow, guiding her upstairs.

We neither talked nor made any eye contact until we reached the study room. Dad might have given me parental caution, and it wasn't like she and I were going to do anything other than study, but I closed the door anyway. Just in case. 

Kylie placed down her stuff on the table and began to flip through the pages of her book.

"Okay, tell me which part you don't understand," I said, sitting beside her but not too close to her. I was sure she was only going to shy away if I inched closer.

"Um, from here to here," she said while pointing to the problems set in the book. "I somehow get this part, but I'm not entirely sure about it."

I nodded and pointed to the random scribbles on her notebook. "Maybe you'd be able to understand half of the lesson if you quit doodling and start paying your full attention to the class."

"Hey, I do pay attention. And guess what?" She lifted her chin with a show of pride. "I got a C-plus on the last test. Well, I know it's not as high as your grades, but I'm proud of it."

"As you should be. Your hard work is paying off. I'm proud of you," I said.

She blinked. And smiled. "Thanks."

God, I loved her. I badly wanted to lean in and kiss her until we both ran out of air, but no. I had to maintain my self-control.

I cleared my throat and straightened my back. "Anyway, this time, let's aim for a B, shall we?"

"No. A."

I grinned. "Gutsy. Nice."

I gave her a review of the basics before we moved on to a problem set. As I continued reading her notes and scribbling calculations on the paper, I sensed her sneaking glances at me the whole time.

"...since f has no vertical asymptotes, you evaluate it at the root of three over three and at negative one and five..." I said. When I glanced at Kylie, her eyes quickly shifted downward. She'd really been staring at me. I sighed.

"What? Continue," she said, now focusing on the paper as if it was the most fascinating thing on Earth.

I shook my head, grabbed an extra piece of paper, and wrote: 9x-7i>3(3x-7u). Sliding the paper over to her, I said, "Here, simplify this."

She studied it for a bit. "Wait, this isn't part of the topic. This is just basic algebra."

I shrugged as if oblivious. "Just want you to refresh your mind, that's all. Go on."

Kylie started to scrawl calculations underneath it, and I smiled. A few seconds later, her eyes popped out. She pushed the paper back to me without saying a word.

I glanced at her answer: i<3u.

"This is really sweet, Kylie."

She threw a notebook at my head, which I quickly evaded. "You... you tricked me! Stop joking around," she roared.

"Says the girl who can't stop staring at my face." Chuckling, I crossed my arms on the table and arched an eyebrow. "Daydreaming about me?"

"Oh yeah, I was fascinated by how someone can be so ugly," she retaliated with a scowl of a ten-year-old.

"But you kissed this face so it means you like it," I said. Come on—say yes.

She took in a heavy breath. "Let's go back to studying."

We started to work seriously after that. No jokes, no bickering, and definitely no more flirty innuendos. The last one was a real bummer.

-Kylie-

He was staring at me.

I could tell it without averting my gaze from the paper. These mathematical equations were making my temples pound like jackhammers, and the fact that he was watching me solve them was adding to the pressure.

I gave him a sideways glance. Crap, he was still doing it.

"Uh, um..." I hesitated.

"What? You can't work when someone's watching?" he asked.

"Yes."

He nodded. "Now you understand what it's like."

I scowled. I couldn't help it, okay? He was sitting close to me, and I was infuriatingly attracted to him, and it took my full willpower not to stare at him too much. He grabbed a book and flicked through it. Good. Better to occupy ourselves in studying than to bat our eyelashes at each other for the entire session. I looked at the equations again and wiggled the pen in my fingers.

Oh boy.

I was doomed.

I had come here not mainly because I needed help in Calculus, but because Ronnie's threat had made me determined to get closer to him. Ha, sneaky. However, dealing with this tension building up between us was much harder than I thought.

It felt like a century had passed when I finally—and hopefully—solved the problem sets. I puffed out air in satisfaction and looked up. Tristan was still reading the book, his uncombed hair falling to his eyebrows. And I couldn't help but think: I can't believe I like you.

I badly wanted to grab him by the collar and kiss him until midnight, but I couldn't. I didn't want to break my own heart this early.

Suddenly, he looked up with a smile. "You done?"

My heart leaped into my throat, and my face burned. "Ah, well, I'm... um..."

"Was it too hard?"

"N-no, no. Not that hard."

He took my answer sheet and examined it. "Hmm..." he said, nodding as if he were really taking the role of a teacher. "You're doing well. No, in fact, you're improving fast."

I perked up. "Really?"

"Yeah. You should be careful as you change the signs, though."

"Right, that's something I keep overlooking."

"Just a little more practice and you should be good to go."

Smiling in triumph, I pushed away all the scratch papers on the table and stretched my muscles out. The wall clock above the desk showed that it was 9:14. That one hour of mental exercise was starting to make me drowsy, but... I wanted to talk to him more.

"Are there books that can make you smarter if you eat them?" I asked. It was a random thought, but just for the sake of conversation.

"If they even existed, who do you think would dare eat them?" he said.

"Bookworms."

Tristan shook his head, making a silent laugh. I stood up and walked around the room, scanning the books on the shelves.

"Man, it's no surprise why you're good at solving math problems," I remarked. "You're surrounded by engineering books all your life."

"Or maybe I'm just naturally gifted," he declared.

I shot him an eye-roll over my shoulder.

An edge of what looked like a photo album was sticking out from the bottom of the shelf. I sat on the floor, crossing my legs, and carefully pulled out the album.

"Hey, hey, put it back," I heard him call but I ignored him. I blew the dust off the cover before I opened it.

Inside were Tristan's baby pictures. Most of them had been taken while he was playing with the telephone, sucking his thumb, and playing in an inflatable pool. I burst into giggles when I saw a photo of him in the bathtub. He was half-naked and his chubby little face was contorted with shock at the sight of the camera.

I sensed him coming behind me.

"When was this, and why did you look like this?" I asked, lifting my head to see his mortified expression.

"I don't know. When I was four, maybe. I wasn't aware that my mom was taking pictures in the bathroom. Now close it and put it back."

"I'm not done yet."

He bent down to grab the album. "Let go, Kylie."

"No!"

We began to have a tug of war, but because Tristan had more strength than I did, he won.

"Party pooper," I muttered.

"This is highly personal. Just find something else." He stood upright and placed the photo album on top of the shelf as if I was too short to reach it.

Scowling, I yanked out another album. It was smaller than the first one, and it contained his middle school photos—him holding a trophy in a math competition, him at a summer camp, him on a basketball team, him on a family outing, and so much more. The way he smiled in every photo was the same: crooked and laid-back as if he'd been too cool to smile. There was no difference between him in the past and him now. Still a magazine-cover material. Only taller. I bet every girl in his class had swooned over this little devil.

I flipped through more pages and stopped at a group picture. The people in it looked maybe fourteen, and they all sat around a campfire. I could recognize some of the kids included, and as I scrutinized their faces, the girl sitting beside Tristan caught my attention. It was Ronnie, and I had to say, her looks had definitely improved over the years. Her hair back then had been a pixie cut, and she wore a big grin as she showed her flaming marshmallows to the camera. She and Tristan looked comfortable with each other.

"That was taken out in the front yard, two weeks before you moved here," he said, joining me on the floor. Our shoulders were almost touching.

"So... you and Ronnie were friends back then," I said, remembering what she had told me.

"Yes."

I turned another page and smiled. Pictures of him and me were attached all over, and most of them had been taken the summer before ninth grade. I supposed Lacey had been the one who took these pictures.

We spent the next minutes looking at them and laughing over our candid shots. While we did that, I realized that there were too many memories that I hadn't held on to long enough. And when we were like this, it was as if we were traveling back in time through the photographs.

"Well, look at that. A rare photo of you in a two-piece swimsuit," Tristan said, placing his index finger on the page.

In the picture, I was wearing a yellow ruffle swimsuit and was holding up a graceless peace sign next to a sandcastle. On the other side of it was Tristan, who was wearing nothing but swim trunks and a towel around his neck, and he was flexing his little muscles like a bodybuilder.

Wow. This picture was the embodiment of our awkward puberty.

I grimaced. "Mom bought that suit for me as a surprise gift. I never wore it again after that. And oh gosh, those braces. I looked like a blonde Eliza Thornberry minus the glasses."

"You were cute, though."

I pursed my lips and stared at the ceiling, praying to God to strengthen my willpower before I could actually grab him by the collar and kiss him.

"No, I wasn't. But thanks," I replied, closing the album and placing it back on the shelf.

"You really were, Kyles," Tristan went on, shifting closer to me. My heart began to thrash behind its bars. "And I always found it cool when you turned your baseball cap backward and took on whatever challenges that came your way. And I think I have admired you since the day you stood at my front door and promised my mom to pay for my bedroom window that you broke."

I couldn't help but laugh at the memory. "Oh yeah, it was the first time we met. And"—I raised an eyebrow disbelievingly—"you said you've admired me since then? But you made fun of me, like, a lot of times, pointing out how ragtag and unladylike I was."

His voice dropped to a low murmur. "I know. I was an asshole." A pause. "Do you remember that Valentine's Day prank I pulled on you in ninth grade?"

"When you put that freaking tarantula in my locker?" I laughed again. "You have no idea how many times it's replayed in my brain."

"Sorry. I knew I shouldn't have done it, but I still did. Again, I was an asshole who had no idea how to act."

I turned my head to him. His eyes were fixed on me in a way that had my palms sweating, and I had to part my mouth to breathe.

"What are you trying to say?" I asked.

"That people can do really stupid things when they're desperate, and that regret comes last," he answered. "You know, I... I wanted to ask you out that day—"

"What? Ask me out?"

"Yes. I knew we were too young to date, but I didn't want some other guy to get you, so I wanted to take the chance. But... but then, I heard that you liked someone else. And I lost it. I was so mad because I thought it wasn't fair. I became hostile toward you. I'm sorry."

I was stunned. For a moment, what I saw in front of me was a fourteen-year-old Tristan standing at the end of the row of lockers with his one hand behind him. At the time, he had wanted to ask me out, but it was also when I had told Erik that I'd liked him. Holy shit. Who knew a wrong timing could cause a three-year catastrophe?

"It's okay," I mumbled. "It's all in the past now. Everything has changed, T."

"But there's one thing that's stayed the same, Ky."

We locked eyes, and the heat of his gaze made me shiver. With some hesitation, he slipped his hand on the back of my neck, his rough palm against my skin, and I caught the scent of mint toothpaste from his breath. My lungs were almost running out of air, but I wanted to remain in the spot. I wanted him to just pull me fast and kiss me senseless and tell me what he felt, but he was doing it gently, sweetly, and I loved every second of it anyway. At last, he dipped his head and I closed my eyes—

Knock. Knock.

"Kids?" It was Tristan's mother.

We opened our eyes and scrambled away from each other.

"I'll... uh... I'll go check," Tristan said feebly, unable to look me in the eye.

I was gasping and sweating as I nodded. He stood up and cleared his throat before going outside to talk to his mom. With shuddering feet, I walked to the table to gather my things. Thankfully, the door was closed. I couldn't imagine what would've happened if his mom had seen us.

The door clicked shut behind Tristan, who was just re-entering the room.

"Your mom called. She said that you needed to go home now," he said almost quietly.

I glanced at the wall clock. It was already ten. I shook my head to recover my senses. "Oh. Right. Yeah, it's my curfew."

"I'll walk you outside."

And he did. We walked next to each other without saying a word until we reached the fence gate of my house where I gave him a smile. Shadows loomed over his face so I couldn't see his expression clearly.

"Thanks for tutoring me. It helped a lot. I think I can do this by myself now," I said.

"You're welcome. You can always come to me if you need help."

I nodded. I turned around to open the gate, but when he caught my hand, I looked back at him, drawing in a breath.

"Wait," he said. "You may hate me for this, but I can't help myself anymore."

This time, he pulled me closer like the way I wanted him to and bent his face over mine. Our noses bumped, but our lips met tenderly, clumsily, and all the sounds of the world went silent except for the loud beating of our hearts. From the pressure of his hands around my waist, I could tell he was nervous as I was. But I didn't want him to stop. I wanted us to stay like this, at least just a little longer. So I slid my arms around his neck, opened my mouth, deepening the kiss further. I could feel his smile against my lips and the wild pulsation in my veins.

I sure as hell had never expected for this guy to be my first kiss, but the moment was perfect. It was sweet, scary, and overall fucking perfect.

Before I knew it, Tristan was pulling away slowly, almost teasingly, and then he rested his forehead on mine. We didn't speak for a minute. Only gasped for air. Brushed our lips against each other, wanting to kiss again but holding back.

"Kylie, I'm sorry for not telling you this sooner." He went in for another kiss. It was short but no less intense. "I love you."

ღ

I couldn't sleep that night.