I’m about to embark on a new chapter in my life. No, a new book. And in this book, there’s no Trent Randall as the hero. I’ve closed that version.
I look around again, and still don’t see him. I should ignore him, or better yet, leave. I’m not even enjoying myself. But despite my better judgement, I reply to the text.
Me: What corner are you lurking in?
“I don’t lurk.” A low voice whispers in my ear.
“Jesus!” I spin around. I’m pinned between the counter and Trent Randall’s stupid muscular chest. “What the hell do you call that? You creeped up on me while you were lurking around.”
“Oh yeah? Pretty sure you’re just drunk and unaware of your surroundings, which is very dangerous, by the way.”
“Gee, thanks Dad.”
“Ha. I’m not your daddy, but if you want me to spank you…”
“Why is your judgmental goody two-shoes ass here?”
“Wow, Rachel. When did you get so angry? How much have you had to drink?”
I fight back the tears. He knows exactly when I became angry. I’m angry that God took my best friend away. I’m angry that my life has not gone according to plan whatsoever. And I’m angry that, despite how many times Trent pushes me away and then pops up to give me attention, I still want him. I’m still ridiculously attracted to him. Worse, I’m angry that no matter what I do or accomplish from here on out, I know I’ll never be happy, because I’m too busy being angry at the world. Because, like right now, I’m at a party, but I have no one to celebrate tonight with, no one in my corner who’s truly proud of me.
“You know exactly when I became this way.” My voice is full of venom. I turn my head, so he doesn’t see my unshed tears.
He leans into me, placing a hand on the counter and caging me in. In my ear, he gently says, “I miss him, too. But he wouldn’t want to see you like this. Let me take you home.”
I push on his chest, but he doesn’t budge. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“Rachel.” His voice is soothing, which I both love and hate at the same time. “Stop. Please.”
“What are you even doing here? Aren’t you a little old to be hanging with this crowd?” Trent’s only four years older than me, but he’s the one who made our age difference such an issue.
“Rachel.” He growls. “Stop acting this way. This isn’t you.”
This isn’t me? My blood boils, and the new rage, firing within me, gives me enough strength to shove him away from me. “What do you know about me, Trent? Other than I was your brother’s girlfriend?” His eyes squeeze shut, and his lips thin into a straight line. I slide past him and the counter. That was a low blow, and I feel slightly ashamed I went there. Landon and I never actually dated, but as far as anyone else knew—including Trent—I was Landon’s girlfriend.
Trent’s right. This isn’t me, and I don’t know who I’ve become in my grief over losing Landon. I’m just so mad and hurt. My life is so confusing right now, but it didn’t have to be. Trent could be with me if he really loved me. Luke didn’t have to be a homophobic bully. Landon didn’t have to die!
The music and voices around me seem to be getting louder and the air is thinning. I can’t think, and my lungs can’t get enough oxygen. I need to get out of here. I try to push through a group of people blocking my path. A hand grips my arm firmly and spins me around.
“I know that you don’t typically take shots of vodka. You’re more of a Bud Lite girl. I know that you hate just about everyone at this party, especially me. I know that you hate me for the same reasons that I hate myself. I also know that if you drink anymore or stay here any longer, you’ll regret it tomorrow. You didn’t work this hard, just to come here and get trashed.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. It’s still early. Why don’t you let me take you out to eat? Some place nice, that’s proper for celebrating graduating high school a year early.”
Focusing on his deep, blue eyes, my breathing becomes regular again as all the noise fades away. But, I can’t fall for him.
Not again.
I narrow my eyes and press my lips together in a hard line. In response, his dark eyebrows are pinch together, and I watch as his chiseled jawline hardens. He’s beautiful but still extremely masculine. I swallow the lump in my throat and jerk my arm out of his grasp. “Why are you here, Trent?”
The crease between his eyebrows smooths as his eyes widen in disbelief. “Isn’t it obvious? You.”
I hate how my heart skips a beat. Trent’s wrong. I don’t hate him. I hate myself.
Trent pours wine into my glass and then takes his seat across from me. I lift my glass and arch a brow at him. “I thought you were going to take me some place nice?”
He makes a point of looking around the dining room. “The guest house isn’t nice?”
The Randalls’ guest house is about the size of my parents’ house, only way nicer. “You said take me out to eat, emphasis on the ‘out.’”
He points to the to-go boxes on the counter. “Take out. And we’re eating. But I’m trying to keep it classy by plating your food.” He winks. “Besides, we couldn’t celebrate with wine if we were dining out at a restaurant, now could we?”
“I guess not.” He has a point since I am only seventeen. I take a sip of my wine and relish the sweet flavor on my tongue.
I gently place my wine on the table and begin cutting my steak. After a few bites, I take a forkful of the garlic mashed potatoes. The smell assaults my nose. I gag and quickly spit them out as I drop the fork. Wiping my mouth, I feel humiliated. I just practically threw up in front of Trent. Wouldn’t be the first time. When Landon and I were in junior high, we broke into his parents’ liquor cabinet. By the time Trent found us, I had already consumed way too much alcohol. I remember how he had held my hair back, while I threw up. As sweet as the moment was, it was even more embarrassing. I’d rather not relive that experience.
“You okay?” His voice brings me back to the present.
I place my napkin down and give a small smile. “Yeah. Sorry.”
“Told you to slow down on that vodka. Maybe mixing wine isn’t the best idea?”
I nod because I don’t need any more wine anyway. I need a clear head while I’m around him.
“What are your plans for the rest of the summer, until classes begin?”
“Leave here and move into the dorms as soon as possible.”
“You’ve worked so hard. You should take some time to enjoy it.” The pride in his voice stops me short. But I don’t think he understands that being here is hurting me more than anything. There is no joy in Lumberton. Not anymore.
“I have worked hard…to get out of here. So I’m going. I’m going to get my degree, and I plan on having no distractions.” That meaning you, buddy.
Trent gives me a lopsided grin. He holds his wine glass up. “To no distractions.”
I opt for my water glass and lift it up. “No distractions.” From here on out, no distractions of any kind.
Trent stands up, and I watch his powerful body cross the room. His dark denim jeans hug his toned legs. His white button up stretches across his chest and biceps. It’s rolled up to his forearms, which somehow makes his arms look even hotter. Taking a container, he places it in front of me and slides his chair closer to mine. I look down and see the strawberry cake with a chocolate covered strawberry on top. My favorite.