Cassie was holding hands.

With a boy nonetheless.

Cassie had never held hand with anyone before. Not even her parents. She stopped doing that when she was four. Not with her nanny. Stopped when she was eight and got badly ridiculed for still needing an adult's guidance as she entered the elementary school.

The only comparison she could draw was from holding hand with herself. Yes, she had tried it before, and probably a million of lonely teenagers had done it themselves, too. She had tried to detach her mind from her left hand, and it didn't really work. She still had felt sensations on both of her hands. She hadn't been able to trick her mind that she had been holding hand with someone else.

But this was real. And Tristan's hand was a whole different sensation than her hand.

First of all, it was big. It didn't make her feel small, because she knew that standing at 5'7, she could hardly feel like a petite princess waiting to get swept off her feet. But the feeling of his wide palm against her did made her feel as if she was... delicate. As if she could count on him to protect her. As if having her hand enveloped inside his made her more feminine than before. It was a silly thought, and once again Cassie blamed her lack of experience when it came to dating and boys and love. IRL love.
Tristan's hand was a little rough. Definitely rougher than her, with chapped skin all over his fingers. He must had a really bad habit with his fingers. His nails were cropped extra short and his thumb was very wide, with short nailbed. Cassie had never saw another person's nailbed in such detail, but it fascinated her. Every lines and wrinkles and specks of golden color in his hand sent waves straight to her chest.

I'm holding hand with this guy. I'm holding hand with this guy. I'm holding hand with this guy!

And then of course Tristan had to go on and ruin it.

"I've never held hands with a girl when she was walking beside me."

"As opposed to?"

"On top of me."

There it was. It was happening inside her head, but she still could hear it reverberating around her ear. Crash! The sound of the romantic image shattering into a million pieces.

She wasn't doing this for real. It was just a business deal. They were using each other.

"Your hand is very soft," Tristan commented. "Kind of sweaty, too."

"Bet not as sweaty as what you've experienced prior."

He actually had the gall to really think about this. "True."

They were nearing the school gate, so Cassie had to put on her professional front and shove back the emotional sludge that only ever slowed her down. "You should be walking closer to me."

"Like this?"

"A little bit more. Our shoulders need to touch."

They bumped bodies with each other. Cassie put a hand over her chest to calm down the involuntary drumming that her heart was making.

"Are you nervous?"

She rolled her eyes inwardly. "Yes."

"Me, too."

"Really?" She couldn't believe it. If anything, Tristan looked like a ball of serenity and practiced charisma. He never really drew too much attention when he wasn't fighting, but Cassie was sure that he must be used to all the stares he often got. After all, he was Desmond Arrington's controversial half brother.

Tristan took her hand, and put it on top of his chest. What happened underneath his shirt was almost as bad as hers. Maybe even more. It was thumping, and Cassie wondered how come she hadn't noticed this before.

"Are you sure that's not because you're starting to like me for real?" She tried to joke.

"I don't fall in love easily, Cassie."

"But you're trying to."

He gave her a slight smack on her temple. It was a playful gesture, something a friend would do to another friend. But he followed it up by brushing his fingers around her nape and leant down to her ear. "Let's go, girlfriend."

They entered the gate, and the sea of people moved with them. Lucas was on the very front of the gate, giving them a thumbs up imperceptibly. He then moved their hands so that Tristan was resting his hand on Cassie's waist, forcing them to be closer than ever.

It took a while. It didn't happen in an instant. But as more people noticed their entrance, their simultaneous entrance, they started to give them more than a glance. And then something a little longer than a stare.

"They're together!" Someone whispered. Cassie realized that it was one of Tyra's girls. "OMG, the new girl in the Elite is dating him!"

"Him?"

"The Centaur."

Cassie cringed, wishing that they didn't really use that word in front of Tristan, where he could clearly hear them. There was a particular way girls called Tristan. Of course, all the cool girls always have nicknames to the boys they talked about. Desmond was The Cold King. August had been Sunny. Sometimes Cassie heard Lucas being referred as The Joker.

But Tristan's nickname was a slur. A centaur was a half man, half horse. And it was common conception that horses had a huge member that was attached between their legs. She knew it hurt him, even though he still put up a really amazing countenance of casual indifference.

"I never called you a Centaur," Cassie whispered. "You don't deserve it. These girls don't even know that your heart is beating just because you hold hands with me. You have the emotional maturity of junior high school girl."

"Thanks," he whispered back, his tone heavy in gratitude. Great, now they seemed like they were sharing something very private, and very intimate, which send even more ripples across the dense crowd among them.

There were fifteen more minutes before they needed to get into class, so they followed Tyra's instruction and went to the park. Of course, the Upper Crust Elites were there, sitting on the bench and forming a shiny circle full of beautiful people who never ate and always laughed way louder than everyone else.

The mass consisted of the inner circle. That was Desmond, Tyra, August, and whoever August was dating at the time. And then there were the firsthand sychopants. Lucas was among them. Those people usually came from an affluent family that often needed help and or assistance from Desmond's family. They had enough power to rally a cause or get enough respect from the other Elites, but in the end, most of their actions needed Desmond's approval.

Then there were the ass-lickers. People who had to get bent, sometimes literally, to satisfy those higher in hierarchy. They would spend an obscene amount of money just to search for the perfect kind of exotic food or a designer jeans The Firsthand Sychopant was looking for. And they would do it happily, because sometimes, when they were lucky, they would get promoted. Most of the people that were on the Desmond's Haters Club belonged here.

Nobody, and nobody could penetrate through the inner circe. It only consisted of Desmond, Tyra and August. Sometimes Tyra even speculated that her position was only temporary, something expendable.

Cassie held her gaze towards Desmond, sitting on the very center of the chair, face looking bored as some random jock was trying to entertain him with animated hand-gestures and over-the-top expressions.

Gosh, how come someone that evil could be blessed with that kind of model-esque looks? Desmond got offered the job to model. Constantly. Older women would take a look at him and they would approach him, before then bowing their heads in shame when they found out about his heritage.

Everything about his face screamed Royalty. Okay, Cassie wasn't delusional. The real royalties in the world never looked as good as him. But it was the fictional kind of princes and kings, you know? The handsome king from the book, the brave prince who saved the princess. The guy who could inspire girls to leave their husband so that he could choose one of them to be his wife in a ball, and then take the rest of them as his concubine.

When his green eyes found hers, it took every ounce of Cassie's willpower to not avert her gaze.

He held his eyes on her. The jock was obviously trying to make him laugh, and yet he pointedly ignored him. It was as if Cassie walking was the most interesting thing in the world.

The Lighthouse Technique that he had perfected was in play again. The whole area seemed like it had darkened to the point of pitch black, and Desmond was the light house, only focusing all of his might towards Cassie. It was glorious, this feeling. As if she was the only thing mattered in the world, as if there was nothing more fascinating, interesting, illuminating than her.

She loosened her hand from whoever was holding her. She wanted to relish on this feeling. She wanted to have more. She wanted to come up to the lighthouse and feel more of his undivided attention.

And that's when Tristan intervened.

"Stop eye-fucking him."

The world seemed to spin back to normal. Cassie was back in the park, their hands still connected to each other. Tristan sighed. He turned around so that he was facing her, his chest so close to hers. He cupped her face with both of his hand, urging her to look at him.

Tristan's dark brown eyes stared at her. "Smile. For me. For them."

Cassie tried.

Tristan smiled back, his teeth were small and white, and there was a ghost of dimple on his left cheek. "Great. Now remember that you're supposed to be infatuated by me. Not the devil that is my half-brother."

Inwardly, Cassie was beating the shit out of the part of her brain that still held on to hope that Desmond was a good guy waiting to be saved. "Yes. Of course."

"You've gotten his attention," Tristan's words were barely a breathe. "Now wait."

Cassie's whole body was in the verge of convulsing. She was ashamed of herself. She was the kind of person who never really tried hard to do anything. She was embarassed to exert more than just a casual effort for anything that she did. But she did go great lenghts just for this guy. This guy who never showed the same kind of efforts for her.

Oh, but she wanted to. Wanted to make him feel it. Wanted him to know the kind of desperation she felt. Wanted him to live a life where he was not wanted, was not desired.

When the call came, Cassie just realized that she hadn't been breathing. "Cassandra."

Tyra finally called her cue. Cassie looked at Tristan again. She needed a rock to hold on to.

Tyra was beside Desmond now. She maintained an air of arrogance, but polite curiosity. "New man?"

They had practiced this. Cassie was supposed to say something witty. But all she could remember was basic human function. At least she still managed to smile and nod.

Tyra noticed her nervousness. She clicked her tongue, annoyed. But then a second later, all signs of annoyance seemed to evaporate from her face, as she transformed herself into a perfect picture of girly giddiness. "Oh my god, that's amazing! I hear that he's-" she scooted closer to Cassie to whisper something.

"Pull yourself together, marshmallow." She hissed, not kindly.

But the rest of them, though, what they thought they heard must be a reiteration of something that had made Tristan famous.

Cassie donned out a giggle. She snaked her arm around Tristan's.

"Is that why you couldn't come shopping with us this weekend?" One of the girls asked.

"Oh, the energy of new love!" Another girl mock-gushed.

Desmond decided to not participate in this situation. He had his head looking at a completely different direction. August, on the other hand, seemed very interested in this.

"Aw, Cassie. I thought you're gonna call me, but then maybe I should be the one calling you," he scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "I gave you space for half a week, and then you're suddenly taken."

Tristan gave August a light punch on the shoulder. "Thanks for playing the waiting game, Gus. You gave me a chance."

"I hope you didn't infect her any of your diseases." Desmond said in an undertone, and yet it was somehow loud enough for the rest of them to hear.

All the good jolly banter came to a screeching halt.

The rest of the people stopped. Tyra had predicted that Desmond would be vile, but Cassie never expected him to stoop this low this soon.

Tristan reacted first. He forgot his whole act with Cassie, releasing her hand and then reaching for Desmond's collar. "I got myself tested just for you! You saw the result!"

Desmond, even though being held by the collar and his head was hanging funny, didn't seem a little bit daunted.

Not getting any reaction seemed to enrage Tristan even more. Cassie could see it. She could see the aggresive Tristan emerged from the mischievous, secretly naive Tristan that she'd come to know.

And she didn't want to see that side of him. At least, not now.

She took Tristan's hand and pulled him to her. He was heavy, much heavier than her; but she used all of her weight to pull him, and he finally relented.

"It's not worth it, Tristan," she said, her eyes fixated on Desmond, who was slung back to his chair. "Let's just go."

It wasn't part of the original plan. She was supposed to ease Tristan into the group, slowly edging Desmond into a certain point where he would be irritable and cruel. Occasional cruelty was tolerable, but if he were cruel all the time, nobody would stand up for him. Not anymore. Not even August, who had a big heart.

But this proved to be way more volatile for Tristan than it was for her, and she didn't want to see the joyful Tristan dissapear. She didn't want to know the Tristan that she often heard from the rumors; easy to anger, aggresive, rude, trashy.

She could still feel Desmond's eyes piercing through her back as she walked to the school halls.

And when her phone buzzed a few minutes later, she didn't need to check to be absolutely sure who was messaging her.

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Desmond

This is bullshit.

This is bullshit.

This is bullshit.

This is bullshit.

This is bullshit.

This is fucking bullshit!

I'm so dissapointed...

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