The Steps

This static piece is a section of a larger story (yet unfinished} that is being posted for a prompt contest. There is a size limit as well.


         Tyler retrieves his athletic bag from the back seat of the car. He gently closes the door and leans in the front window. “Thanks for the ride, man.”
         Jason nods. “No problem man, see you at school on Monday.”
          As Tyler watched the car pull away, he felt like he was being watched, and he quickly turned around and stared into the darkness. There, in the shadows, sitting on the steps he sees her and he sighs. He doesn’t have the energy for this right now. He heaves the bag over his shoulder and walks towards the waiting girl. She’s sitting, huddled and Tyler thinks for a moment that she might actually be sleeping until her head moves slightly. He wonders if she’d been drinking again, not that it would be a surprise on a Friday night, even though it was still quite early.
         ”Hey Paris” he says in greeting, as he climbs past her and takes a seat on the step above her.
         “Hey” she replies.
         ”You want to come in?”
         Paris stares out over darkening driveway. “No, I think I’ll keep my escape route clear.”
          The words don’t seem to be slurred and Tyler lets out the breath he’d been holding. He doesn’t quite understand what her words mean, however, he is just as happy to remain outdoors. “You ok?" he asks tentatively, not knowing if he really wants an answer to the question.
         ”No. I'm pretty fuckin' far from ok” she answers quietly.
         Tyler unconsciously takes his jacket off and placed it around Paris’s shoulders. Her face turns suddenly at the touch of his hands on her and for a moment, Tyler can see all the desperation in her eyes. She looks like she’s about to toss the coat off, but just as suddenly the look is gone and her gaze returned forward.
         “Thanks, she muttered
         ”I missed you yesterday, did you come by?” Tyler asks.
         ” No, I was too … un-nerved. I thought all we’d do is fight and I didn’t want that.”
         They sit in silence for a second until Paris reaches for her purse and pulls out a large wad of bills. “Here” she says as she hands the money over. “I … I didn’t steal it, I … sort of borrowed it. I was … I … took it from Nashville’s bag; I knew he’d tell you he thought it was me … and then you’d come and find me. I just … wanted to talk.”
          Tyler takes the money and, opening his gym bag, he quickly stuffs the bills inside.
         “You … you don’t want to count it?” she asks quickly.
         “No” He replies, having trouble keeping the anger out of his voice.
         “You’re pissed at me aren’t you? Why?”
         “I’m usually pissed at the people who threaten my friends.” Tyler responds angrily.
         The surprise in her voice is unmistakable. “What? Yesterday? That little cheerleader girl?” She chuckles softly “You’re kidding?”
         Tyler just stares at her, the anger growing and Paris can see it. “Okay. Okay,” she relents. “I said I didn’t want to fight. I’ll … I’ll apologize to the … to … to little Miss Pom Pom, okay?”
         Tyler’s face relaxes slightly. Paris again reaches into her purse and retrieves a package of cigarettes. She offers one to Tyler.
         “No” he says, shaking his head. “I … I quit.”
         “Really?” Paris answers in shock. “When?”
         “Couple of weeks ago” he replies, trying to keep his voice steady.
         "Yeah I guess it's been awhile since we've seen each other." Paris nods at the package. “Mind?”
         “Your lungs” Tyler answers slowly.
         Paris retrieves a lighter from her purse and the darkness is dispelled for a brief second as she lights the cigarette. In that few moments of time, her beauty again assaults Tylers senses. The golden glow of the flame enhances her already flawless complexion, her full, sensuous, bright red lips that he remembered kissing so … passionately. The light just as suddenly disappears leaving only the blood red end of the smoke glowing in the dark. She glances back behind her at the athletic bag and sees the pair of football shoulder bags that are attached to the outside.
         “Football?” she asks, knowing it’s a stupid question.
         Tyler nods
         “Wow” she says impressively. “Playing football, you quit smoking; you’ve given up partying, new cheerleader girlfriend …”
         “I told you. She’s not my girlfriend,” Tyler answers dryly.
         “So is there someone else?” she asks cautiously.
         Tyler shakes his head. They sit in silence for a few minutes until Paris finally tosses the cigarette onto the driveway and in one fluid motion, she stands up, throwing off his jacket, and crushes the burning ember with the toe of her shoe.
         “Fuck this” she says. “I’ve had enough of this goody, goody bullshit.”
         Tyler braces for the attack. Surprisingly, her voice is calm and controlled.
         “You don’t get it do you? All those times we ended up together, you think it was coincidence.” She explains.
         “I never thought about it, it was … satisfying, what I remember of it.” Tyler answers truthfully.
         “Satisfying? That’s it?”
         ”Yeah, what else would it be?”
         Her voice is firm as she answers. “I guess I thought it was more, I … guess I thought that maybe …”
         Tyler interrupts her “You thought wrong!”
         “Did I?” There is a strong sense of hope in her voice.
         “I don’t even know your real name?”
         Paris opens her mouth but Tyler beats her too it. “Don’t even think about it.” Paris closes her mouth firmly. “Look, you got me into this … you invited me in to this club, you told me the rules, you drilled them into me, all that mattered were the rules. I mean, God, you wrote them, you, Venice, and Montgomery. You created them, for me, for everyone. Even now, here, we're breaking rule number three -”
         “Fuck the rules.” She answers in defiance.
         “What?” Tyler says calmly, not believing what he just heard.
         “You heard me.” She says, the calm in her voice disappearing.
         Tyler just stares at her intently, trying to see if she’s really that serious.
         Paris finally breaks the look. Her face softens as the anger leaves her. “Come on Austin, haven’t you ever wondered what it would be like?”
         Tyler winces at the sound of his own nickname, the only name she knows him by. “To what?” he asks, somehow already knowing the answer.
         “To fall in love? I mean the whole romance thing, the holding hands while walking on the beach, the getting to know each other games, the fights … that lead to the making up. The discovering … that … you love the perfume she’s wearing …
         “You don’t wear perfume, it’s against ….”
         “It’s not about me … it’s … it’s about the feelings …” she cries in desperation.
         “We don’t have feelings …” Tyler says firmly, interrupting her again. He has to get her off this track it’s too dangerous. It could come down to …
         Her voice is soft as she says, “I do.”
         Tyler sits in despair. It comes down to that. They sit in silence for a minute, the realization sinking into both of them, before Tyler finally says. “What do you want me to do Paris?”
         “I want you to do what you do best …I want you to lie to me. Tell me that all those nights together meant something, that in the end, it wasn’t just the booze, the drugs and the sex. Tell me that you love me … just a little. That one lie could keep us warm, for one more night.”
         In the fading light of day, Tyler can see the pleading in her eyes, his voice is soft as he says, “I can’t.”