“I needed some ferret food,” he shrugged, pushing the cart forward and reaching up to push the brim of the baseball cap out of his eyes.
“Ferret food?” I questioned in disbelief.
“Yeah,” he shrugged. “I have a ferret and he has to eat.”
“Do they even sell ferret food here? And there’s a Pet-Smart right down the road, why wouldn’t you go there?”
“So many questions, Row,” he sighed, grabbing a container of orange juice and heading for the eggs. “Yes, they have ferret food here. I don’t go to Pet-Smart because if I did that, then I’d want to bring home every furry creature I saw while I was there.”
“You seriously have a ferret?” I continued to drill him.
“Yes, I seriously have a ferret. His name is Bartholomew and he’s really cute. You should come over and play with him sometime. He needs friends,” Trent grinned at me. “How are these?” He held up a carton of eggs.
“Those are great,” I answered his question. “You know, I could see you with a snake or a lizard, but not a ferret.”
Trent shuddered. “Don’t tell anyone, because it’ll ruin my street cred, but I hate reptiles. I’m not saying I’m going to go out and kill a snake because I hate them, I’m all for saving any little creature, I just don’t want one living in my house.”
I cracked a smile at that. “You’re an interesting guy, Trenton.”
He gazed down at me, studying my features. I found myself squirming at the intrusive stare. “Why did you stop talking to me?”
Shit.
I brushed past him and grabbed the handle of the shopping cart. I walked as fast as my legs could carry me, but Trent jogged after me.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he reached out, bringing the cart to a halt. “You’re not getting away that easily. You don’t want to answer the question? Fine,” he shrugged like it was no big deal, “but I’m not going anywhere.”
“Of course you’re not,” I grumbled under my breath. Trent would stick around and fester under my skin. He’d find a way into my heart, and when he did I’d have to tell him all my secrets. And when he found out what I had done…he’d hate me, and I wouldn’t blame him.
“I’m a Wentworth,” he bumped me aside with his hip and took over with the shopping cart, “and we’re incredibly stubborn, so get used to it.”
“Believe me, I’m well acquainted with your stubbornness,” I grumbled under my breath.
Trent glanced at me over his shoulder, grinning like the cat that ate the canary. Uh-oh. What had I said? “I like that you’re admitting just how well you know me. This might not be as difficult as I thought.”
“What might not be difficult?” I ground my teeth together. I swear, only Trent seemed to know what buttons to push to piss me off.
“Getting you to see that we’re perfect for each other.” He pushed the cart forward, and I had to force my gaze to the ground so that I didn’t study the way his shoulders flexed beneath his leather jacket.
“We are not perfect for each other,” I said vehemently. “So stop wasting your time.”
“It’s okay to fight what we have, Rowan. I like your spunkiness,” he winked.
Ugh.
“Why now?” I asked. After what we did on the school camping trip, I’d avoided Trent. Yeah, he’d tried to pursue me, but eventually he gave up and moved on. When we returned for our junior year of high school we’d both changed a lot, and he’d left me alone. But for the last year or so, whenever Trent was home from college, he was constantly popping up when I least expected him. It was quite a talent he had.
“Now is our time. We weren’t meant to be together back in high school, but now we’re both older and ready.” He stopped in the middle aisle and reached out to caress my cheek. I hated how good it felt to be touched by him. I didn’t want to admit it, but I had missed him.
“Trent…” I couldn’t seem to make myself say the words to tell him he was wrong. Being with Trent had always been effortless. He had been my best friend, and I knew if I let him he’d easily step back into that role…as well as lover…but I wasn’t sure I could let him. We’d both end up broken in the end. “I—never mind.”
He grinned crookedly. “I’m so happy you see things my way.”
“Whatever,” I rolled my eyes. Arguing with Trent was futile.
“What’s left on the list?” He nodded at the piece of paper still clenched in my fist.
I unclasped my hand and looked down at the wrinkled paper. I could barely read my own handwriting I’d crinkled it so much.