Prove It

Chapter 8

“My girlfriend, you piece of shit?” Tristan roared.

The cafeteria fell into a hushed silence at Tristan’s angry outburst. Just then, Jessica came in and quickly took in the scene.

“Tristan, baby, wait. It’s not what you think,” she cried. The sound of her calling him “baby” infuriated him even more. How many other guys was she calling that? He’d never been so angry. He was seconds away from strangling Jessica, his hands itched to do it. But he didn’t want to put hands on a girl, so he directed all his anger at Chris. He had no problem with the idea of hurting him.

“I thought you were my friend.”

Chris laughed cruelly. “I was never your friend, man.”

“Don’t you have any fucking honor? You can’t get your own girl, so you chase after mine?

“Fuck you. Everything isn’t about you. Maybe if you realized that, your girlfriend wouldn’t have to come to me.” Jessica made an anguished sound behind him, but Tristan ignored her. “You know what? You’re a fucking coward, Tristan. Your girl knows it. I know it. And I can’t wait ‘til everyone in this school knows what a fraud you are.”

“And you know what, Chris? You’re jealous. Always have been. You never could quite measure up, could you? I guess it can get a little lonely always being in my shadow.”

The students in the cafeteria made collective “ooooh” sounds and some laughter rang out. Chris made a menacing step toward Tristan and Jason quickly jumped between the two.

“Whoa, guys. This is not the time or the place.”

Tristan felt small fingers on his wrist. It was Jessica. She looked disturbed and scared. The color was completely drained from her face. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears.

“Tristan, can we please talk about this?” she croaked, her voice cracking as she spoke.

“Did you have sex with him?” he blurted out. She seemed thrown off by the question. “You want to talk, right? Answer the question. You let him fuck you?”

“Tristan, please,” she whispered, embarrassed.

“What?” he asked cruelly. “Don’t act hurt. You don’t get to be hurt when you’re running around screwing my friends. You two deserve each other.”

Tristan ripped his hand from her hold and walked away. He almost made it to the exit when Chris called after him.

“Hey, Tristan,” Chris yelled. “I just wanted to let you know, you were right. She does give the best blow jobs.”

Later, Tristan wondered if black outs were real. It’s the only way to explain what he experienced in that moment. One second he was heading out of the cafeteria, away from the madness, the next he was surrounded by it. He had Chris down on the ground as shouts of surprise, fear, and cheers filled his ears. But the noise was soon drowned out by the sound of his fists pounding flesh. Over and over. And he couldn’t stop.

Chris scrambled off the ground knocking Tristan off. When they both got to their feet, he charged Tristan. Chris pushed him and immediately aimed heavy blows to his face and torso. Tristan blocked what he could, but Chris was bigger and stronger, putting immense power into each punch he threw. Chris threw a punch that connected with Tristan’s head, the momentum of it pushed Tristan backward. It hurt like hell, but it put enough distance between them for Tristan to regroup.  

Chris suffered from the same problem in this fight that he had in the pool, he preferred power over speed. Tristan noticed the weakness. Chris wasted energy throwing too many punches and tired quickly. When he saw Chris slow down, Tristan saw his chance. He couldn’t afford to let Chris get a hold of him again.