A moment later he sent a smiley face. I hadn’t done anything after the showdown with my mom, so I knew I looked horrible. I took the quickest shower of my life, towel-dried my hair, and applied more make-up than I normally would to hide the red mark on my cheek.
He said he’d pick me up in thirty minutes, so I tugged on a pair of worn jeans and gray sweater. It had dropped into the teens, so I grabbed my warmest coat, black mittens, and my infinity scarf with the words BAM! and POW! on it with drawings of superheroes. I knew Trent would like it.
The door to my mom’s room was closed. I didn’t bother telling her where I was going or checking on her. I didn’t care. I’d stopped caring a long time ago.
When I reached the front of the house and looked out the windows Trent’s black car was parked by the mailbox. I hurried outside to him, excitement filling my belly. A short amount of time surrounded by Trent was turning me into a completely different person.
I opened the car door and slid onto the warm leather seat. When I looked over at him and saw him watching me, my heart skipped a beat, just like they always talked about in romance books. The sound of my breathing filled the car and I couldn’t be bothered to be embarrassed by it. Our eyes connected and neither of us moved. The silence swirled around us and I found myself desperate to shatter it.
“Why are we going to Griffin’s?”
Jesus, Rowan, of all the things you could ask him, that’s what comes out of your mouth? Brilliant.
He grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners with amusement. “I’m not telling. You’ll see soon enough.”
He turned the radio up and Goodbye by Glenn Morrison sounded through the speakers.
We didn’t really talk along the way. We didn’t need to. That was something else I liked about being with Trent. There was no awkward silence, only comfort.
He parked across the street from Griffin’s and hopped out to put change in the parking meter.
He opened my door for me and held out a hand for me to take. I stared at it with unease.
“It’s just a hand, Row,” he said, “you can let go as soon as you get out if you want. There’s no obligation for you to hold my hand.”
I placed my hand in his and he closed his fingers over mine. He helped me onto the curb, and went to release my hand, but I tightened my hold. He glanced down at me in surprise. I smiled up at him and he grinned in response, a dimple popping out in his cheek. I liked that dimple. A lot. I itched to stand on my tiptoes and press my lips to the indent, but I didn’t. I wasn’t brave enough yet. I’d take it one step at a time, starting with handholding.
Traffic zoomed by and we waited for the crosswalk to flash our turn. I itched to pull my hand away from his, but I forced myself to keep it where it was. There was nothing wrong with this.
When it was our turn we jogged across the street, our breath fogging the cold air. The sky was gray with the promise of snow.
Trent held the door to Griffin’s open for me and I stepped inside. It was packed and I was taken aback by all the people.
“Come on,” Trent took my hand again, reaching up to adjust his maroon colored beanie with the other, “back here.”
He pushed through the crowd and I didn’t know how he got his body to fit through such small spaces.
In the back area of Griffin’s there was a stage where musicians could perform. Someone was up there now.
A hand shot up, waving us towards a table.
I was trapped behind Trenton and couldn’t see who it was.
It turned out to be Trace and Olivia. Trace was grinning from ear to ear, and Olivia bounced Dean on her lap.
“I’m so happy you guys could make it,” she smiled, her cheeks flushed a rosy pink. There was a nervousness to her demeanor as she bit down on her bottom lip and glanced nervously at Trace.
“Are you okay?” I asked her, pulling off my black mittens and shrugging out of my coat.
She nodded. “I always get nervous before I sing.” She began chewing on the side of her fingernail. Trace grabbed her hand, pulling it away from her mouth, and twining his fingers with hers. He looked at her with so much love that even I couldn’t help but be affected…especially when I’d seen Trent look at me in a similar way.
“You’re singing?” I asked her, a bit surprised.
“We’re singing together,” Trace clarified as Olivia tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, then proceeded to cover the top of Dean’s head with kisses. She looked like she was going to be ill, poor girl.
“Do you sing?” I turned to Trent, who’d taken the seat beside me.
“No,” he replied quickly. “I’ll leave the singing to those two.”