Overall, not too bad. I’d kept a light hand with the makeup knowing that the light I was using in the hotel bathroom might not be the best for the task, but that was probably for the better anyway. If I’d gone too crazy with it, it would have felt like I was trying too hard.
I shut the light off and then retrieve my shoes from the side of the bed. I wonder if I should go wait outside so Trent doesn’t have to wander the hotel looking for my room. I don’t even remember if I gave him my room number when I told him where I was staying.
I glance down at my phone, but he hasn’t texted me. I sigh, pacing back and forth a little to try and relieve some of the nervous energy. In spite of River’s vote of confidence, I’m still not quite convinced that I’m making the right decision, going on this date.
I came back here to Lacqua Bend because it feels like home, but I have to wonder if another messy breakup would impact that. I’ve already signed a 6-month lease on my apartment, so no matter what happens, I’m here for a little while, at least.
And that’s not even factoring in the possibility of this affecting our friendship with Mason. I haven’t forgotten about what he’d confessed back in junior year, about his feelings for Trent. But that was six years ago, right? The two of them have been living together since, surely that would be excruciating if he still had those unrequited feelings. And we’re all adults now, not horny college kids still coming out of the confusion and hormone surges of puberty.
And if Mason was really bothered by it, I feel like Trent wouldn’t actually go through with it. They fight sometimes, like any other normal guys would, but they don’t go out of their ways to do shit to hurt each other.
If you were really that worried about him, you would have given him some thought before you said yes to this, something in the back of my brain tells me nastily.
I feel a stab of guilt, but I remind myself again that we’re all adults, and it’s too late to turn back now. Especially when I hear someone rapping on my hotel door.
I snatch my purse off the table and head to the door, swinging it open hurriedly, realizing too late how crazy I probably look. “Hey.”
Trent stands in the hallway before me, looking devastatingly handsome in a royal blue button-down and a pair of black jeans. His dark hair looks like he’s gotten it cut since I last saw him, and his beard’s been closely and carefully trimmed. He looks me up and down, taking in the full sight of me, and grins. “Hey.”
That grin is enough to make my heart do cartwheels in my chest. “So, where to?” I ask, trying to sound casual and unaffected.
“My car,” he replies matter-of-factly as I step out of the hotel room and close the door behind me.
“No shit, Sherlock,” I laugh and roll my eyes, and the two of us start walking down the hall, “And then where is the car going?”
“That part’s a surprise,” he replies.
I look at him, and while he’s maintaining a straight face, I can tell it’s a struggle. I poke him in the side and he yelps in surprise, but it’s enough to break him, and he laughs.
“You’re really not gonna tell me?” I ask, widening my eyes into a puppy-dog stare and fluttering my eyelashes at him, “Pretty please?”
“Not a chance, no matter how lovely the please is,” he replies with a smirk.
My cheeks flame. “That was smooth,” I laugh.
“Did you expect any less?”
“I mean, kind of, I’ve seen you walk into a sliding glass door.”
He grimaces. “Ok, point taken.”
We make it outside and he leads me to his car, opening the passenger door for me. I find myself kind of wishing I’d gone with a skirt or something to make the moment a little more special.
But I slide in, jeans and all, and he closes the door carefully behind me before moving around to his side of the car and getting into his own seat. I can’t resist the urge to look around a little, wondering if I might be able to pick up any hints and figure out where he’s taking me, but there’s nothing.
I do see a cooler in the backseat. Could he be taking me on some kind of picnic or something? Or maybe he just keeps it in the car for transporting frozen groceries and I’m jumping to conclusions.
“You ready?” he asks me.
I glance at him and see a knowing smirk plastered on his face. He’s enjoying my confusion. I pull the seat belt over my chest and fasten it. “Am now,” I reply, shooting him a playful glare.
He snaps his own seat belt into place and hands me his phone, open to Spotify. “Here, you’re in charge of music on the way there.”
He takes off driving while I scroll through his playlists and favorite artists. Many of them are ones I recognize, as one of the things he and I have always shared is a pretty similar taste in music.
So it’s not hard to pick something we’ll both enjoy, and when he recognizes the track I’ve chosen, a smile spreads over his face. “What, did you expect my tastes to have changed or something?” I ask him.
“Hey, who knows? Maybe five years of being a Montana cowgirl got you all into country music or something.”