I was always taught to never judge a book by its cover. The people who taught me this, teachers and my parents, failed to mention how this applies to anything but the library! But I figured it out with the help of a guy named Tristin Morrow. To me, he was just a player who couldn’t contain any real emotions, but loved to play with mine. I ended up being very wrong. What I learned from Tristin Morrow was this: it takes one act of kindness to change a stubborn girl’s perspective and never judge a book by its cover, even if that book is Tristin Morrow.

Beth had convinced me to go to a party. I almost refused; but, she insisted. If I didn’t go, she would be without a designated driver, and who would leave their best friend to drive drunk? How could I refuse? So, I would sit in the corner and mind my own business. That’s when he came around.

“You’re not dancing Doll, aren’t you enjoying the party?”
That’s when I had the urge to say something along the lines of, “I was enjoying it a lot better when you were on the other side of the room … or the other side of the planet,” but I didn’t say that; I kept my mouth shut. I had absolutely nothing nice to say to Tristin Morrow.

“May I have this dance, Doll?” Tristin asked me, while grabbing my hand and bringing it up to his lips. This guy really thought he was something special.


“I’m not much of a dancer,” I tried to get him off my case, “but Beth is single and ready to mingle, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind taking you up on that offer.” I was about to leave when he grabbed my arm, saying,

“But I really want to dance with you.” Tristin was so serious in that moment, agreement almost slipped from my lips. My mind was screaming,

“Don’t fall for that cr**! This is what guys like him are good at, playing mind games! You know what he wants! You’re better than this!” I regained my composure, yanked my arm from his grip, and said,

“No, thank you, I’m not interested.” Then I went to get some punch. I was probably safer with Tristin.

Rule number one when attending a crazy party with Beth is don’t drink the strange, bubbly punch. The music became unbearably loud and everything started spinning. I stumbled and staggered outside, and next thing I knew, I was throwing up beside someone’s car. I was freaking out! I had never been drunk. The music was still blaring in my sensitive ears, everything was a blur, and I really just wanted to go home. I was in such panicked state of mind, I hadn’t realized until then that someone was holding back my hair, rubbing my back, and a very familiar voice whispering,

“Shhh, calm down. It’s going to be ok, calm down.” That voice was Tristin. It still surprises me how different he looked and acted in that moment. His bright green eyes held nothing but worry. There were no snide or sarcastic remarks, no flirtatious intents; there was only comfort and concern for me. That’s when I felt like the biggest jerk in the world.
Parents and teachers have always taught me to never judge a book by its cover. I judge Tristin Morrow a little too quickly and missed out on discovering a genuinely miraculous individual between the pages. Like any good book, it’s what’s inside, in between the words and lines, that makes it unique. Chivalry is a hard thing to find lately, but sometimes, when you’re not even looking for it, it peeks out in the most unsuspecting of people. There are three things I learned from Tristin Morrow:
One, don’t drink the strange, bubbly punch.
Two, it takes one small act of kindness to change a very stubborn girl’s perspective.
Three, never judge a book by its cover, even if that book is Tristin Morrow.