I glance up as I continue pouring my salad dressing onto my salad. His gaze is on me like he’s been waiting for me to look up.
“I just fucked up this lunch, huh?”
“No.” Although I feel odd that eight months ago he lost his cool over a girl who ended up ruining his reputation. “It’s just lunch.”
“Is it?”
His question throws me for a second. “Isn’t it?”
A cocky grin tips one corner of his mouth. “I asked first.”
“Technically the rule is you don’t share stories about ex’s on a first date, so I assume this is just a lunch.”
He dips his fry in ketchup, chews and swallows. “If we’re being technical the story was more about my public crash and burn, not what caused it. I volunteered that information after you asked for more.”
Man, this guy is hard to read.
I shrug like I don’t care. I might as well let this guy know he’s got no worries with me. I like to keep things casual anyway. “It’s cool, I don’t do relationships.” I shrug.
He stops mid-bite. “You don’t do relationships?”
I shake my head since I’m chewing a fork full of lettuce.
“Do I dare ask?”
I shrug. “No reason. There’s no deep dark secret if that’s what you’re implying.”
He chuckles, wipes his mouth and leans back. His gaze steadies on mine for so long I fidget in my chair. “Okay, cut the bullshit.”
“What? I’m serious. I’m just one of those screwed up kids from divorce.”
He shakes his head some of the hair from behind his ear falling loose and resting against his cheek until he tucks it back again.
“Seriously. Both my parents couldn’t keep their hands off people who weren’t their spouse.”
He shakes his head again.
“What aren’t you believing?”
“That you don’t do relationships.”
“I don’t.”
He clears his throat, leaning over the table and lowering his voice. “I get that you don’t think you do but I think maybe you’ve never found someone worth trying one with. Until last night that is.”
My heart flips over in my chest. “What are you saying?”
“That you can bet that sweet ass of yours that this is more than just lunch.”
My cheeks flame and he leans back satisfied with my reaction to his words. Something tells me saying no won’t be as easy as it normally is.
7
Sophie
Trent holds my hand when we leave the restaurant, which feels bold. But then again, he held my hand last night when I thought he was just a surfer dude who’d be a one and done, so I’m probably overthinking this.
My phone vibrating in my bag causes me to unlink our hands, and he pauses on the street waiting for me to dig it out.
“What do you have in there? A body?”
“Hardy har.” The jokes about my purse are constant around my friends. But I like to be prepared whether it be with pain killer for a headache or tampons for an early period. So what if I have a plethora of gum and mints in there? Fresh breath is important.
I grab my phone to see that it’s Henry. Holding my finger up, I tell Trent, “My boss. Give me a minute.”
He pulls out his own phone and leans against the wall of the dry cleaners we’re standing in front of.
I step away. “Hey Henry,” I say.
“It’s funny, I figured that your picture this morning as a big middle finger in my direction was a good sign. I actually smiled. Then I hear from Olive that you’re attempting to seduce the guest host.”
What a witch.
“I’m not seducing him. If anything—”
“Yeah, I don’t want the details. Is he there with you right now? Olive said the two of you went to lunch.”
I glance over at Trent and he looks up like he knew I was staring at him. He smiles and my stomach flips over. “Not close.”
“End whatever the hell is going on. I took a risk giving you this opportunity. Don’t mess it up by getting the reputation that you’re sleeping your way to the top.”
“I don’t think lunch with a pro surfer would be considered sleeping my way to the top.”
Anger burns in my veins like acid. My head falls back and as my eyes come back down from the sky, I spot a billboard for Time Magazine and I’m reminded that my goals are bigger than this magazine. My degree deserves to be used for something great. But in order to get there I have to crawl up the rungs of the ladder. I can’t wait to step on Henry’s face when I step on him to reach the next rung.
“It’s mixing business with pleasure. Not to mention the guy’s got the reputation of a toilet in a crack house. Just do your job and get out.” His voice raises the longer our conversation goes on.
I could argue some more, especially as my gaze falls to Trent and he smiles once again. But then I watch as two guys on skateboards approach him. He shakes their hands and they look at him like they’re awestruck. He really is a celebrity whether he wants to be or not.
I have to say that little line at the restaurant piqued a ”what if” in my head. But am I really going to have a relationship, something I haven’t attempted in a long time, with a guy who travels all over the world in a bathing suit and has women wearing bikinis all over him? Hell, they probably run suntan lotion over his abs between waves.
“Don’t worry. I have it all under control. You won’t hear from Olive again.”
“I better not.”
The phone dies in my ear. Henry’s call is the reminder I need that I have a reputation of being a screwup too, and I need to keep the big picture in mind and do what’s best for my career.
Then I see another text on my phone from Jagger.
Jagger: Give lover boy from last night my card if he’s looking to get into movies.
Me: Go to hell.
I shove my phone back inside my purse and walk back to Trent where his group has gone from two boys to six.
“Hey, do you have a Sharpie?” Trent asks me, eyeing my purse.
“I don’t know, you make fun of my purse and now you want something.” I dig into my pen and marker pouch, pulling out three colors, Gold, silver and black. He chuckles and takes the black one.
“This your girl?” one guys asks.
Trent signs his T-shirt, chuckling and glances over to me when he finishes. “Yeah.”
Snap.
Someone takes a picture. Trent scowls and signs the other guy’s skateboard, shoves the marker in his back pocket, takes my hand and with a smile and a wave, we’re gone.
“I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry,” he says, walking so fast I can barely keep up.
“It’s okay.”
“No. I didn’t see the phone out. I thought they were just cool fans, but that picture will be posted by the end of the day. I’ll have Jen on it as soon as we get back.”
I pull back on his arm and he stops, but instead of looking to me, his eyes are focused down the sidewalk. “It’s okay. I’m a big girl.”
He steps forward, again his eyes shifting, moving and never landing on me until the last second. “You don’t understand. They’ll seek you out. Find out where you live. Stalk you night and day hoping to catch me with you. They find out everything from your coffee order to how much you have in your bank account. It can get ugly.”