Page 15 of Perfectly Wrong
I close my eyes for a moment. “I promised him too.”
“Okay then.”
“Just… one thing. If I wasn’t his son, if I was just some guy you met, would you see me again?” He’s silent for so long I check if he’s there. “Bishop?”
“Yeah, Tristan. If you weren’t his son, I would definitely see you again.”
Smiling, I nod. “Okay then. Thanks for saying that.”
“It’s true.”
“After you left, I lied in my bed and I remembered all of it. I wrapped your scent around me and got myself off.” I hear him exhale slowly. “It was awesome. I won’t ever forget it.”
“I should go.”
“Will you?”
“Will I what?”
“Will you ever forget what we did last night?”
“No, Tristan, I won’t.”
“Good.”
“You, uh, you take care.”
“You too, Bishop.”
I hang up, gazing out at the pool. At least I know last night was something to him too. Maybe I can’t have him, but that won’t stop me from thinking of him.
Sitting in class on campus,I stare out the window daydreaming about my life just a few weeks ago. In the time I’ve been here, I feel like the biggest misfit. Everyone wants to party and get drunk, but I want to go home. I want to call Bishop. I want to be in his arms again. I sigh. I knew missing him would suck.
When I shift my attention to the front again, listening to the professor drone on about antiquities in ancient Macedonia, a girl catches my eye. She keeps twisting in her seat to look at me. Oh great. Another chick I gotta shake off. There must be something about me that makes the girls think I’m an option, but I’m far from it. Never been one. Never will be.
I look down at my computer and pretend to type some notes even though I’m not listening. When class is over, I grab my stuff, shove it in my messenger bag and make my way throughthe crowded auditorium, but pause when I feel a hand on my arm. I glance back and it’s her. The girl staring at me all class.
She smiles. “Hi.”
”Hey.”
”Is your name Tristan by chance?”
”Yeah.”
”Perfect. I snuck a peek at the class list.” She opens her bag and digs out two pieces of mail. “These are yours.”
I take them from her. “How did you get these?”
“Instructor sent them the first week, but I think because our names are similar, whoever put them in the boxes got us mixed up.”
“Oh. What’s your name?”
“Trinity.”
“Cool. Thanks for finding me.”
“Sure.”
