Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 111464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
“I didn’t need you to do that, Trent. I don’t get in your relationship, why would you get into mine?”
“Because I saw it, the second she agreed, I knew how bad you would want it to be real, and I didn’t want you to fall if she...”
“If she wasn’t?”
He nods.
“Why wouldn’t she?” I look to him.
He lifts his hands, holding them up a moment before letting them drop. “You guys weren’t friends, you never talked, and she thought you hated her even though I told her several times you didn’t.”
“You saw how we were together, man,” I say, shaking my head. “You’re the one that said it seemed too much too fast.”
“I know you, Nic, and I saw how much deeper it was getting for you, but I couldn’t tell if she was acting. I didn’t realize she was into it until I witnessed her jealousy over Miranda.”
I look away.
“You need to go over there. I’m sure she’s home by now. Explain better. Fix this, Nic.”
“No reason, I’m nothin’ but a liar to her now.” I look his way. “She wanted me for a minute, at least I got that much, right?”
“Wrong, she’s fucked up.”
My ribs begin to ache. “She’ll be good.”
“Yeah?” Trent looks up at my mom’s bedroom window, dark as always, and back to me. “And what about you, man, will you be good?”
“I am good.” Done talking, I push to my feet and hold my hand out.
He eyes me, clapping his into mine as he stands.
“You’ll be at the game tomorrow?” he asks as he walks toward the gate.
“Not sure yet.”
“You know Coach will let you play, get you excused for the days you missed.”
I look away and he walks out.
When he’s gone, I drop back in the chair and look up at the sky.
And they say senior year is supposed to be your best year yet.
Yeah fuckin’ right.
We’re only months in and everything fucking sucks.
The knock at my door has my stomach jumping into my throat, but I don’t have it in me to ignore the possibility of who might be on the other side or what they’ll have to say.
As quietly and gently as possible, I place my palms on the door and lean forward to look into the peephole.
Trent?
I take my hands off the door, sneaking a single step back before his voice floats from the other side.
“I know you’re there, Dem. Come on. Please.”
A frown takes over, but I give in and pull it open.
One side of his mouth tips up in what’s supposed to be a smile, but it’s not hard to tell he’s got a lot on his mind and happy-go-lucky is the furthest thing from how he’s feeling.
“Your mom home?”
“No, she’s” —a sad scoff leaves me— “it’s just me.”
He tilts his head.
“Why are you here?” I ask him.
“Think I could come in?”
I eye him a moment, smashing my lips together as I shake my head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” I shift against the frame, putting my hands in the pocket of my hoodie. “Trent, I don’t think we should be talking, especially if you haven’t worked out everything with Nico yet. I can’t and won’t get in the middle of your friendship any more than I unknowingly already did. He not only deserves you, but needs you.”
Trent’s eyes grow clear with understanding, only for a heavy sense of guilt to wash over him seconds after, his chin falling to his chest on a long exhale.
He didn’t believe in us.
Or more, he didn’t believe in me.
He looks up, but only with his eyes. “You love him.”
It’s not a question.
This isn’t why he’s here.
He knows everything, other than maybe before Nico and I fell apart again, we had taken the first step to moving past my sleeping with the guy standing in front of me.
“It doesn’t really matter how I feel about him, does it?” My eyes sharpen. “I was a forfeitable play piece.”
He frowns, taking a half step forward.
“Dem, no,” he stresses, eyes grave. “You are so wrong.”
I give a lazy shrug, but he knows where to start to keep me from closing the door and leaving him on the other side.
“Nico told me you agreed to fake all this the morning after it happened.”
I hesitate a moment, but a frown takes over and I step from the house and onto the porch.
“I’m listening.”
He nods, continuing, “I was a little hard on him, told him it wasn’t a good idea, and he knew it, too, but once you were in reach, there was no way he’d back out. I knew that as much as he did.” He leans against the wall, looking across the lawn.
What he’s saying, though, still doesn’t make much sense to me.
“At dinner the night after the boardwalk, I gave him more shit, told him it seemed like too much, too quickly and he got mad. It sort of kept on like that, I’d say things that would piss him off. You guys acted like you’d been together for years when it had only been days or weeks. You moved and spoke and looked at each other like you understood the other and like...” His eyes come back to mine. “Like you loved each other, but it was fake. Watching you two made me nervous, I was worried.”