Price Check On Monogamy

Tandem couldn't sleep.

Ever since Caleb had called and woken him up, he'd gone even more insane than before. At first, it was because he was trying to figure out something-- anything-- to try and fix things with Tiger. Caleb had said to think outside of the box, and that had lead Tandem to figure out one thing fast-- he was absolutely no good at thinking outside of the box, as far as ideas went. He was, however, incredibly talented when it came to shooting down every single idea he came up with.

Phone call? Please.
Going over to her house? Did it.
Buy her flowers and send them over? Not good enough.
Play her a song? Not original, and he couldn't play any instruments.

He'd tried writing her a poem, but that had quickly fallen apart; words were just not his thing.

He'd tried writing her a song, until he'd remembered that a song is pretty much just a poem with rhythm.

Hell, he'd even watched every cheesy romance movie he could think of for ideas.

He'd gotten nothing-- absolutely nothing.

Until, of course, he'd found an old wine bottle.

It was a slim, long necked, corked bottle-- Tandem'd kept it because it was the first bottle of win he'd had in this town, and back then, he'd needed it. He hadn't wanted to leave California, but he hadn't wanted to stay, either. So he'd just downed the bottle fast and wove his way through school until he'd met Caleb Sparks.

The rest, as they say, is history; and he hadn't wanted to throw away a bottle with so much history.

It wasn't the history that caught his eye that night, though; it was the fact that the bottle was a beautiful, clear green-- not a beer bottle green, but almost a flower leaf green... or a Tiger eye green.

So he'd sat down, and he'd decided to write her a letter-- a letter in a bottle. It hadn't been as hard as he'd thought it would be. After a while, he figured out that it wasn't writing what he wanted to say down that was hard, it was deciding what he shouldn't say that was hard. He didn't want to try and sway her back into his arms, because he didn't want to focus on himself. So he didn't write about how it was a lie-- the first time when he said she had nice hair, it wasn't that he had nothing to say to her, it was that he'd had a feeling that she'd mean more to him than he would've wanted, and that had scared him until he'd talked himself out of giving her so much credit. He didn't write that she deserved the sort of man that would always have time for her, who would always be there for her, who would always hold her-- if he'd written that, he would have had to write that he wanted to be that guy for her. He wanted to be the boy she woke up to every day, the boy who could kiss every little cut she ever got, for the rest of her life, the boy who could finish all her sentences because he was just that in tuned to her, and she was just that in tuned to him. He didn't want to guilt her into caring about him.

He just wanted to tell her the truth-- and, in the end, Tandem was pretty sure he'd told her more truth than he'd told anyone in his entire life. Then he'd rolled all that truth up, put it in the bottle, and corked it.

"I need you to do me one more favour."

"Tandem--"

"No, Caleb, it's not like that. I did what you said, alright? I just need a... delivery system now."

"... fine. What is it?"

It'd been delivered. Now every time his phone so much as beeped, he jumped to grab it. He wanted a sign that she'd gotten it. Anything.

Sighing and getting up to stare out his window, Tandem nearly nailed his head against the wall.

He wasn't sleeping. Not any time soon.

- - -

The letter made me bawl.

Yep, no point in denying it. I walked I walked into my room and it was already lit-- with candles. Everywhere. I don't know how they all got there, but there were candles everywhere and flowers all over my bed.

I almost didn't notice the bottle in the middle of the bed.

After everything that had been happening the past few days, I was shocked-- and delighted. Every girl likes to feel loved every once and a while, right?

None of the flowers on the bed were roses. They were tiger lilies. They were sunflowers. They were tulips. There were even some lotus flowers. No roses-- none at all. The card next to the bottle simply said:

You're more than typical, so typical wasn't what I got you.

... so, I guess if you want to be technical, the letter didn't make me cry. It made me cry more. That card, for whatever reason, made my heart swell-- and it made me almost a little afraid to open the bottle and find something that would ruin the entire scene.

I... well, I sure as hell wasn't disappointed.

I guess it should have been a tip off when the first person that came to mind wasn't Tyler when I started wondering who did all of this. I didn't even think of anyone-- when I finally read the letter, though, I wasn't surprised that it was from Tandem. Something like this... it was too well thought out, too over the top to be Tyler. Plus, he was terrified to come into my house, much less my room.

... how did Tandem get into my room?

I grabbed my phone and flipped it open, then hesitated. Everything was beautiful. Perfect. That letter... he could have written the thing with a crayon on the back of a newspaper, then taped it to the front door, and it still would have been beautiful. It still would have been heartfelt and amazing and everything that I-- and pretty much every other teenage girl in existence-- would ever want to hear.

Part of me wanted to think that he hadn't written it, that it had been someone else. Part of me wanted to be a cynical little bitch and say he was just trying to get me back because I was the first girl that ever got away.

But all of me knew that Tandem-- carefree, casanova Tandem-- would never write something like that, then go through the trouble of figuring out how to get what must have been hundreds of dollars of beautiful candles and flowers up to my room and setting everything up just because he wanted to get back some girl that got away. Jeremy was right-- if he had wanted another girl that would play hard to get, he could get one.

The thought that he chose me-- the thought that he did all this, for me-- made me cry even harder.

Before i could dial his number, however, a text popped up-- from Tyler.

Of course. Why wouldn't it be from Tyler?

i need to see you tmrw. please?

Tyler. Tyler my boyfriend. Tyler the boy I've been dating. Tyler the boy that I pulled into all of this. That Tyler.

Before I could text back, he'd texted me again:

pls tiger, its urgent. pls see me tmrw. i would go over tonite but i cant. ill be there first thing in the morning. i can take you 2 school. pls? i need help.

"I think I need more help than you do," I mumbled. My hand trembling, I texted back slowly,

alright, tyler. ill be waiting for you ok? calm down.

He texted back almost instantly:

ty tiger ty!

I turned my phone off. I got up. I grabbed all the flowers and cut the stems before I walked to the kitchen to get a vase for them. I put them in the water slowly and put them up in my bedroom. I blew out all the candles.

And I fell asleep holding the bottle.