Your Life Is A Dream. Mine Is A Nightmare.

Your Life is a Dream. Mine is a Nightmare- Ch 12

Chapter 12

Tristan

I walked back into the lounge, composed and ready for anything that hit me. Honestly, everything seemed as if nothing had happened, as if neither Tristan nor Nicole Anne Antique had heard any of the ruckus in the hall. Strange.

I casually strolled back to my waffle and placed a sweet strawberry at the top of the whip cream mountain. As I made my way towards Tristan I grabbed a couple of bagels and doughnuts. I sat down in front of Tristan who just stared at me as if I was insane. I was guessing that people were scared of him that he wasn't used to people randomly sitting near him. I'd rather have him stare at me like that then have to watch the sickening, mushy couple in the corner feeding each other.

"Are you okay?" Tristan asked, not with too much interest or concern. Probably because he was reading a book. I looked at the page and it seemed as if he was reading 'Beowulf'.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I answered as peppy as I could.

He touched my face and wiped a tear away, "Then why is this on your face and why are you forcing yourself to be preppy," Crap. He caught me in my act.

"Aha. Was it that bad of an act?" I smiled weakly.

"No, your act was actually pretty ompressive, but I'm not an amateur when it comes to seeing how people feel," Tristan sipped his black coffee.

"Hmm, that's I nice talent," I complimented him.

"Not really," he slumped.

"No I mean it," I grinned, "It's nice to know when someone is faking their feelings or their life," Tristan looked at me, and I couldn't really tell if it was more of a glare or showing some interest. I could feel Chris sending daggers at my back. He obviously knew I was implying him. After a while of eating I noticed that Tristan was still staring at me.

"What?" I joked, "Do I have something on my face?"

"Actually you do," He leaned over and wiped whip cream off my cheek. I just sat there in shock. His hands, his touch, it was all soft and gentle like a feather swiping across my cheek. I thought that a mean, tough looking guy like him would have a manly touch, but it was surprisingly very soft, kind. So delicate that it sent butterflies through me.

"Um, thanks," I looked down, embarrassed because my cheeks were probably flaring hot.

"No problem," He went back to sipping his bitter coffee. I glanced up at him. He seemed like a dark, mysterious yet kinder version of Chris. The natural light from the window shined on him. His hair was black, but had natural brown highlights. His crystal blue eyes sparkled like ice, but for a strange reason it seemed more warmhearted than cold. His tan skin slightly glowed under the light. Though he doesn't smile often, he looked like a softy. That made me smile. I think I was 'glancing' for too long because he looked up at me. I just quicky looked down.

"Do I have something on my face now?" He joked.

I giggled. I took some of my whip cream and placed it on his nose. "Now you do,"

He wiped it with his finger and licked it off, "Yum, whip cream," He smiled at me. His smile was so handsome. He had dimples. He should smile more often. Slowly he went back to his quiet, non-smiley self.

"You know Tristan, you should smile more often," I told him as I bit into a cinnamon bagel.

"Hmm?" He asked disinterested again, reading a book of some sort.

"Hey," I pouted, "Are you even listening to me?"

"I am, I am," He smiled, "Smile more often right?"