Unease. Four ways to fall

Chapter IX (part 4) - Aurora

His light eyes meet mine.

And for a moment, I'm caught in that gaze—and only then do I truly realize how handsome Tristan is.

The more I look, the more details I notice: the hint of a smile, the relaxed way he moves, the quiet kindness that hits me harder than any carved muscle ever could.

He has a beautiful, shy smile—the kind people have when they wore braces as kids and used to hide their teeth.

It makes him even more charming.

I smile faintly, mostly to hide my embarrassment.

«There are other things Tom said that I didn't believe,» he continues.

«Like what?»

«That you're sweet, kind... with a determination and a personality that make you stand out.»

My eyes widen. «Tom said that?»

A warmth spreads through my chest—unwelcome, involuntary, humiliating.

«His words,» Tristan replies without hesitation. «Although I admit I've been watching you too. More than once these past few days.»

«Have we met before?» I ask, embarrassed. «Sorry, but there are so many new faces and I—»

«Just a few hallway encounters. Nothing memorable.»

He winks, slowing his pace slightly.

«But you really can't go unnoticed.»

His gaze hooks onto mine—so direct I have to look away.

«I promised myself I'd talk to you,» he adds, «but Tom beat me to it.»

I'm caught off guard.

Not just by the words, but by the bluntness.

He doesn't dance around anything.

No filters.

No pretending.

«So... whenever you get tired of him, just know there's good company here too.»

He says it lightly, trying to soften the impact.

«Tom and I are just friends,» I reply, shrugging.

Maybe my voice wavers, maybe he hears it, because he immediately says:

«Don't waste your time on him, Aurora.»

He grabs my wrist—not painfully, but firmly enough to make me meet his pale eyes.

«Sole's right: you'll only get hurt. I've seen plenty of girls pass through his arms, but he always goes back to Ada.»

That makes two.

Twice in ten minutes I get slapped by the same truth.

I sigh, unable to form a coherent answer while disappointment rises—thick, bitter, choking me with embarrassment.

Fortunately, loud voices pull me out of my spiraling thoughts.

At the far end of the corridor, two figures are arguing animatedly.

We both turn instinctively—and my eyes land on a silhouette I recognize in an instant.

Lucky my ass.

Tom stands at the end of the hallway.

Ada's hands are on his face, her fingers trailing along his skin with far too much intimacy.

I whip my gaze away, pretending I saw nothing.

My stomach twists violently, and I press my lips together, trying to keep my face blank.

Breathe.

Don't let him see.

I jump when his voice cuts through the air.

«Aurora!»

With a sharp gesture, he knocks Ada's hands away and starts walking toward us.

But as soon as he notices Tristan beside me, his whole posture tightens.

I force a smile, but my voice refuses to come out.

Luckily, Tristan speaks first.

«Tom, stay with Ada. I'll walk her.»

As he says it, his hand slides naturally to the small of my back.

The touch makes me tense—but I don't move away.

«Tom,» Ada calls, catching up to him and grabbing his arm. «We're not finished.»

The intensity with which she looks at him...

I can't bear it.

I lower my eyes.

I thought I was smarter than this.

More rational.

Instead, here I am, bleeding silently over a guy I don't even really know.

Stupid, stupid me.

«Excuse me,» I murmur as I slip past them, searching for the exit to the hallway. «I have to go.»

I pull my lips into something that's supposed to resemble a smile, then turn and walk off in a random direction.

Any direction—so long as it's away from all of this.

«Wait, I'll come with you.»

In an instant Tristan is beside me, pointing toward another exit.

Of course. Wrong door.

Story of my life.

I follow him, but I can't stop myself from glancing back at Tom one last time.

His face is taut, knuckles clenched like he's ready to break something, jaw locked.

«I'm sorry...» Tristan says, pulling me out of my thoughts as we climb the stairs toward the classrooms.

I've never been good at hiding things—everyone always says my emotions are written all over my face.

And he must have seen the bitterness tightening my forehead.

I don't answer.

Denying it would be pointless; talking about it even worse.

So Tristan switches subject.

He asks what class I'm headed to, how I'm finding the first semester.

He talks a lot—with an ease that almost throws me off—his hands moving with every sentence, as if staying still were impossible.

And somewhere along the way, without even realizing it, he manages to pull a half-smile out of me.

In the end, he walks me all the way to the classroom.

There's a certain awkwardness in the way he leans in to kiss me twice on the cheeks.

I return the gesture, turn, and step inside.

I take the first empty seat I see, my head spinning with thoughts I need to shake off before they spiral.

I sigh and grab my phone.

If anyone can make sense of this chaos, it's her.

— Your sister is an i***t — I type.

The reply comes instantly:

— I don't allow anyone to insult my sister, not even you.

Anyway, I'm sure the idiots are the others.

When you get back, tell me everything. In the meantime... I'm loading the bazooka. —