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We finish our workout, but Tristan’s outburst is a heavy pall on the mood. Still, when we’re finished, I do what I always do, giving each boy fifty euros.
“Claude, can I trust you with Tristan’s?” I ask, pressing the bill into his hand. “Will he accept?”
“He will... he just needs to chill,” Claude says, looking over his shoulder toward the dorm uncertainly.
I force a smile, clapping him on the shoulder.
The truth is, Tristan’s words stung, even if they weren’t fully true. Yes, I’m lucky my aunt raised me. But I did have my fair share of struggle, and I’m trying to give back.
And even if he’s stubborn, even if he pisses me off sometimes, I won’t give up on Tristan. I understand where he’s coming from.
I just hope I can change his perspective before he does something... permanently stupid.
