The Truth About Her

02 | Trouvaille

Trouvaille.

(n.) Something lovely discovered by chance; a windfall.

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THE CLUB HAS A NICE ATMOSPHERE, the music is good and not too loud, like most clubs, with nice decoration and furniture. Oceana decides she likes it. She talked too soon, though. When she sees the blonde guy she once thought could never be more handsome. His eyes as green as shimmering emeralds under the sunlight. His high-bridged nose, soft, sharp lips still beautiful and captivating, and a prominent jaw curved gracefully. Theo Hutchens still has an effect on Oceana. She can't tell what sort of effect yet.

Theo is sitting a few tables away from where Oceana and Lyla are sitting. He hasn't seen them, and for that, she's thankful. Some girls approach their table, and Oceana recognizes them. Her old friends: Willow and Freya. They don't look surprised to see Oceana, so she guesses they knew she was coming.

Willow Abernathy has changed significantly; her short, coal-black hair is now longer and dirty blonde. With a slim figure — she obviously works out— and her chocolate skin, blemishless. The blue of her eyes still striking, as they used to be, and her full lips. Life has treated her nicely, or to be more specific, her parent's money.

The thing about living in a small town is that you know about people's life, even if you don't want to. Gregg found out that Willow has been living in France and works as a magazine model since last year and comes to visit occasionally. Of course, Gregg told Oceana about it. But it wasn't with attempts of gossiping; he just thought his daughter would want to know how her "friends" were doing in life.

Freya Wayne, on the other hand, hasn't changed at all. Same ginger hair, freckles covering her baby face. Though, she doesn't wear glasses anymore, letting her small brown eyes at sight. Gregg told Oceana that Freya is in college, just as Lyla, studying Veterinary medicine at Cornell University, which isn't a surprise because ever since they were young, Freya has always loved animals.

Both girls sit at the table with Oceana and Lyla. There's a small silence before Freya speaks. "It's really good to see you, Oceana." Out of all of them, Freya is the only one that Oceana could think is being truly honest. "The haircut suits you well."

Oceana smiles. "Thank you." And she gazes over the girl that once she believed to be more than just a best friend. Oceana used to be close to all of them, but Willow was different. There wasn't one single thing Oceana wouldn't say to Willow. That's why it hurt even more when their friendship ended.

"It was about time you left that hiding place of yours. When Lyla told us she ran into you at the store, I thought she was lying," Willow says, and there's a weird emotion in her voice. Oceana can't tell what it is exactly.

"I almost ran away when I saw her. But went against it, I mean, it's not every day that you see your best friends, right?" Oceana says bitterly.

Freya shakes her head slowly. "We called you. Like a thousand times, okay? And you ignored us. We tried to apologize, Oceana." The ginger girl has never been known for keeping herself under control.

"Is that why you invited me?" Oceana looks over Lyla. "You want to apologize? That's funny because the last time I checked, I was the freak. Why would you apologize to a freak, huh?"

"We reacted badly to what happened three years ago, and we have never stopped thinking about it. We left you when you needed us the most. And that was wrong," Willow says.

"And now you want to mend it?" Oceana laughs bitterly. "Too late. My mother is already dead, the funeral is over, and I shed all the tears I had to shed already."

"Oceana..." She hears Lyla's voice, but it only angers her.

"You think I don't know you get together and travel all the time like three perfect best friends? As if I was never part of this group. As if you didn't leave me on my worst moment," Oceana can feel the rage coming. The volcano about to explode. "f**k you all." She stands up abruptly, smashing the crystal ornament over the table and storming out of the club. That is nothing compared to what she can do when she has one of her episodes, but Oceana is thankful because things didn't go farther than that.

She curses when she's out because it's raining. Perfect timing. But she doesn't care and runs through the parking lot, accidentally bumping into a muscular chest and stops in her tracks. "Hey!" A male's voice whines. "Are you all right?"

Oceana's amount of patience is rapidly diminishing. "What do you care? Leave me alone." She starts running again, under the heavy rain. With damped clothes, her body shivering already. She doesn't handle cold well.

When she comes to a stop, because her breathing is heavy and her legs can't take anymore, a hand touches her shoulder, startling her. Oceana turns around to meet a set of sweet brown eyes. The tiredness from all the running takes over the anger, and she can say she's under control. Mostly.

"Why are you following me?" She squeals, stepping away from him, doing her best at hiding how surprised she is to see him.

"I'm not following you. I'm running after you. There's a difference," he retorts. "And I don't even now. You look like a troubled person, and I thought you might need help."

"If I needed help, I wouldn't have told you to leave me alone. Don't you think?" She arches an eyebrow.

"Well, I also happen to know you," he chuckles, and Oceana feels confused and surprised that he knows her. "I see you all the time on campus."

"You study at Berkeley, too?" She asks, playing the fool. She feels like a fool for doing that. "I have never seen you before." And that's a lie. Because Oceana has seen him before, from afar, but being the quiet and closed person she is, the thought of even trying anything with him was always pushed away.

And it's not like she's interested in him, but she has noticed him, just like she sees everyone else. She finds entertainment in watching people talk and walk and even creates stories in her head about how their lives are. When she first saw the guy that is now in front of her, Oceana imagined that he was the bad boy kind of guy, mainly because the killer looks like the typical frat boy he's got, one that likes to party and have s*x. A little too stereotypical since just because he's mildly muscular, and has tattoos, doesn't mean he's any of that. As soon as she got that thought, she ditched it away, knowing it was wrong to judge a book by its cover.

"I don't think there is anyone you see. I mean, you don't seem to have any friends, and you never attend the university activities." There's a little mockery in his voice. Oceana starts walking away from him, irritated by his response.

He keeps walking behind her, and after a few minutes, she stops, and without turning around, she says, "why do you keep following me?"

"Again, not following you. I'm making you company now," he says playfully.

"I want to be alone. So, please leave me alone," she turns around once more, this time annoyed.

"Nobody wants to be alone. That's a lie people say when they're sad or angry," the guy utters. "By the way, do you like to walk in the rain or something? Because I don't find this particularly pleasing."

She rolls her eyes. "Listen, I'm okay. You can go back to whatever you were doing. I'll be perfectly fine," she assures, only wanting to get rid of him.

"Well, my father taught me to be a gentleman. And gentlemen don't leave girls alone in the rain, exposed to only God knows what sort of dangers."

"You want to help me?" She asks, and he nods like a five-year-old. "Where do you live?" He gives her a weird look. "It's not for that. I don't want to go home looking like this, and I need a place where I can dry my hair and clothes."

"I'm staying in a hotel. We need to go back to the club, where my car is," he explains, and Oceana nods as they start to walk back to the club. Finally, the rain stops, and Oceana hears him when he lets out a small "thank you."

Just when they get to the parking lot, she sees Freya, Lyla, and Willow coming out of the club. The blonde one is the first to see her and quickly calls the attention of her friends. The three of them rush toward Oceana.

"Oh my god," Freya exclaims. "Thank God you're okay. We wanted to call you, but you left your phone and purse."

Oceana beckons for Freya to give her the purse back and sighs. "Well, this has been a wonderful night, but I'm going to take off, girls," she says sarcastically.

"Don't be like this," Lyla says. "You haven't even given us a chance to explain—"

"Explain what?" Oceana snarls. "There's nothing to explain. Everything seems pretty clear to me," she turns around, but Willow's voice stops her.

"Cut the act, Oceana," she snaps. "You're just acting tough and cold because you're afraid of showing your emotions."

To that, she bursts out in laughter as she turns to face them. "Don't give me that psychology s**t, okay? I'm not acting cold or anything like that. I'm just angry. Angry with the three of you for abandoning me when I needed you and pointing the finger at me as everybody else did," she finishes.

The guy, who was standing quietly, watching the scene, guides Oceana to his car, and they both get in. The ride to his hotel is silent, but it doesn't bother her. She's too focused on what just happened, fighting the need to cry. When they arrive, they get in the elevator; the boy's gaze is so intense she has to look at him; funnily, that's what breaks her. As soon as she meets his gaze, her shoulders start to shake, and she's crying.

He tries to comfort her, but she pushes him away, presses her lips into a thin line, and wipes out the tears with the hem of her shirt. Oceana doesn't cry because she's sad or hurt; she cries because she is angry, as odd as it might sound. The doors of the elevator open, and she follows him to what must be his hotel room.

When they're inside, he says, "Can I ask you something?"

"If it's about what happened in the club—"

He cuts her off. "No. You asked me to bring you here, and you don't even know me. I want to know how you are so sure I'm not a r****t or something."

"I'm not," she answers simply. "You seem like a good guy, though," she shrugs, looking around the room.

"So, you're risking yourself only based on the way I look?" He says, amused, chuckling softly.

"Are you a r****t?" She deadpans.

"No," he says, sounding slightly offended.

"There you go. You say you are not a r****t, and I believe you," she beams. "Now, can you please give me a glass of water?"

He looks at her as if she is insane but nods, heading for the small fridge in the corner; Oceana follows him. He gives her the glass and watches her as she drinks all of it. "So... Why don't you want to go home?"

"Not going to talk about it," she replies quickly, putting the glass on the coffee table, and sits on a small couch next to the balcony as the guy sits on the bed. The real reason why Oceana doesn't want to go home is because of her father. If Gregg sees her in that state, he'll know something went wrong, and she wants him to think she had fun.

"Okay, okay," he waves his hand in the air. "I can't ask about the club or about why you want to stay here. Can I ask your name?" He says, pretending to be sad, and wipes an imaginary tear away.

She deadpans. "Why would you want to know my name?" He throws her a glare, and she giggles. "Oceana."

"Like ocean..." He grabs his chin in between his thumb and index finger, putting a thoughtful expression. "Interesting."

She rolls her eyes. "What's yours?"

"What's my what? What's my number? What's my social security number? What's my address? What's my mom's cat's name?" He says too quickly with a severe face that only makes Oceana laugh. "You've got to be a little more specific."

"Your name," she laughs. "Why would I want your security number, anyways?" She raises an eyebrow.

"So, you do want my number, my address, and mom's cat's name," he looks at her with a cheeky grin. "Well, my number is—"

"Your name, Charlie," she shakes her head amusedly. Oceana thinks he's sort of a goofball, but he's also kind of cute, and she finds him funny. He has hair the color of chestnut, a set of slightly arched eyebrows over his light brown eyes, thin nose, and pink lips, fair skin, and lean figure.

"Well, you just said it," he claps his hands, snickering.

"Really? Your name is Charlie?" She asks in disbelief, thinking he's trying to fool her.

"No," he beams at her. "My name's Thaddeus. Thaddeus Hancock."

She glares at him." That's not your name. Liar," she snaps. "Come on. What's your name?"

"Call me Charlie. I like it," he tells her. "Too bad my parents didn't give me that name. I have a Charlie face, don't you think?"

"Are you serious?" She leans back, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "Why don't you want to tell me your name?"

"Actually, to annoy you is very amusing." Oceana only thinks that he wouldn't say that if he saw how she gets when she loses her patience. "The name's Cai. Cai Boulya."