Tristan had the starring role in our 8^th grade play, Romeo and Juliet, and he gave an amazing performance. During the play, he got to make out with the hottest girl from our school, Natalie D’Achille, and I was certain that they would start going out soon. I’d had a crush on him for close to a year by then, but of course I was too chicken to act on it. So instead, I just remained his friend. Quiet and supportive. Always there.

At the wrap party, after the final performance of the year, Tristan and I were hanging out, drinking too much soda and laughing our heads off. We were backstage, somewhere in a dark corner with no one around and, suddenly, out of the blue, he leaned over and kissed me. I barely managed to swallow the last gulp of soda that I took before I felt his tongue in my mouth. I was naïve that I didn’t even know if people kissed with tongues yet, but I will remember the feeling that ran through my body forever. It was like little sparks of electricity went off within me, everywhere, and light bulbs were turned on where I didn’t even know light bulbs existed.

I couldn’t sleep a wink that night. Whilst the kiss played on loop around in my head, I had a revelation. An epiphany. I suddenly felt like I was worthy. Like I mattered as a person. That maybe, I wasn’t as ugly as I felt. And the next morning, I didn’t pressure myself to only eat a certain amount of calories that day and then gorge on food when I failed. I didn’t make any promises except that I said that I’m going to try to eat only when I was really hungry, and only healthy food. And if I failed, I wasn’t going to chuck the whole day out of the window and eat myself full to drown my feelings. Instead, I would accept that failure is the required for success and move on. No harm done.

And after that change of attitude, everything in my life changed. I wasn’t successful every day, but never binged again. Not like I used to. And slowly, I started to lose weight. A month later, I lost five pounds. Another month later, I lost ten. And by the beginning of ninth grade, I got down to 120 pounds. I still wasn’t very thin, I was only 5’1’’ back then, but the change was amazing. I’ve never been prouder of myself. And I owed it all to Tristan. He had showed me that I was lovable and that was enough to get me started.

So why was I crying now? Why was I so upset and angry? I ask myself, walking to my building. Because he had changed. For the worse. Instead of showing Tea the same kind of love and respect, he rejected her. I don’t know if Tea knows about the ball or why he didn’t invite her, but that didn’t matter to me. What mattered was that he didn’t want to take her out of fear of what other people would think. He didn’t want to be embarrassed. He didn’t care about stuff like that when he was younger; he knew that his popularity would survive hanging out with the likes of me. And that was in middle school, for crying out loud! There’s no population on earth that’s more cruel and heartless and subject to trends than middle schoolers.

Tristan’s such an asshole! I can’t stand him, and a new reserve of tears start to flow down my face again. There’s no excuse for this. This is why he’s embarrassed to be seen with her, why he won’t say that they’re dating. My heart goes out to Tea, but mostly it goes out to my 13-year-old self.

“Alice? Alice? What’s wrong?” Simon runs up to me. He grabs me and puts his arms around me. When I look up at him, I burst out crying.

“What’s wrong? What happened?”

Through a flood of tears and ugly sobs, I tell him everything. I tell him how Tristan kissed me, about the masquerade ball, and finally about what I’ve overheard. The words come out in a stream of consciousness and I’m not sure if I’m making any sense. I then tell him that I’m sorry. How very sorry I am. And that I hate my ex.

“He just has some sort of effect on me, where I fall in a daze. But now, I’m clear. It’s gone. No more daze,” I say. “But I understand if you don’t want to see me anymore. I just wanted to tell you all this.”

I start to walk away. It’s over. But the relief that I feel in getting this off my chest is worth it (almost).

“Wait,” he says. But I don’t turn around.

“Wait up.” Simon catches up with me. I look into his wide-open eyes and those beautiful eyelashes that frame them. I wait for him to tell me that he just wants to be friends. But he doesn’t. Instead, he scoops me up, pulls me close, and kisses me. He tastes of lavender and mint. His kiss says everything’s going to be okay. And I know he’s not lying.

“Do you want to come over?” he whispers through the kiss. His lips are soft and inviting and I can’t resist. I nod, follow him to his place.

We kiss going all the way up the stairs. We kiss as he fumbles with his keys and finally opens the door. We start to pull off each other’s clothes in the doorway and we are entirely naked by the time we reach his bedroom.

In the morning, everything’s a blur. I wake up early and get dressed quietly so as to not wake up Simon. I’ve never thought I would be one of those girls who sneaks out of bed while the guy she has just slept with is still asleep, but there’s a first for everything.

I’m not entirely sure why I’m sneaking out. It wouldn’t be a big deal to talk to him, but for some reason, I don’t want to. Simon looks so peaceful sleeping with one of his arms tucked under his pillow that I don’t want to disturb him. I will text him later, I say to myself as I pick up my shoes and tiptoe out of the room.