Did a thing, pt 1
September 2003
Tristan Belmont stooped over to unlace his boots, dissatisfied. The fit just wasn't right. He checked his watch once again and sighed as he tossed the brown leather Docker's back in the box and slipped his shoes back on... They would have to do. His stomach growled, reminding him he had dinner waiting at his apartment.
He pocketed his hands as he wandered back into the greater part of the mall. In hindsight, it was a poor decision to park by the food court. The walkway was crowded, and he hunched his shoulders as he passed the crowds of shoppers. It was loud, and Tristan could feel his teeth grinding in his head.
When someone knocked into him from behind, he flinched and came off autopilot to focus on the three teenagers flying past him, laughing. Two boys, one with longish blond hair and too many earrings, and a girl, who spared a glance and a wave behind her. "Sorry, sir!" She called out, then astonishingly, "Jeez, Sky!"
Sir... Tristan frowned. It wasn't the first time, but he was only just eighteen. Of course it bothered him a little. He eyed them as the boys weaved around a couple a few yards ahead so engrossed in each other they didn't even notice. "Hey!" The girl hollered again. "Can we stop at Target? They have the best folders!"
"Nerd!!" The boys shouted in unison, cackling.
Tristan watched them, heart pounding erratically, as they altered their course until they disappeared into the superstore. His hands clenched into fists in his pockets. Their nonchalance... It irked him - why?
He stopped in the food court for a snack, even after he told himself it was unnecessary. The day was quickly getting away from him, and he had a new assignment at home waiting for him. It was going to be a long night.
Hot tea in hand, he headed out to the parking lot where the BMW 330 was waiting for him. Desperately in need of a wash, he noted - just another task on his growing to-do list.
NPR related news about the upcoming presidential nominations and hopefuls, as ever, when he turned the engine. He began to reverse out of his spot, only to hit the brakes immediately.
The teenagers. Again.
The girl shrilled and hopped away from the moving car. She dropped her bag, putting her hands out in defense. The dark haired boy thumped the trunk twice with his fist, then looked at the dusty handprint he left behind in disgust. The blond (Sky, he remembered) guffawed, pointing and squawking, "Wash your car, dude!"
The girl tossed him a thin smile, which Tristan caught in his rearview, and picked up her bag quickly. She turned with a huff and stalked down the lane. The boys rushed to follow, both hooking arms around her shoulders to drag her to safety, all laughing again.
They made it seem easy. It was nothing.
A long moment passed. Tristan turned stiffly to check his mirrors again before pulling out, his heart still racing. He breathed and breathed, but he just couldn't relax. That girl. The blond! Ugh.
He reached for his tea, then sighed, briefly closing his eyes. He'd left it on top of his car... Now it really needed a wash.