“Hey,” I say, putting the phone to my ear.
“You ditched me, and someone saw you driving off with Trevor Mayson.”
“Trevor’s taking me home. I'm tired,” I tell him, which is not a lie. “I saw you with Tammy and didn’t want you to leave just because I wanted to go home.”
“She came on to me, I swear; I tried to push her off.” I roll my eyes, wondering how stupid he thinks I am.
“It’s fine. I told you, we’re just friends; you can do whatever, or whoever, you want,” I reply, looking over when I hear Trevor chuckle.
“You have my sweatshirt,” Bill says. I can hear the agitation in his voice.
“You said you had some new info on my brother, right? You can tell me tomorrow when I drop off your hoodie.”
“Yeah, all right. Look, just call me when you get home, okay? I want to know that you’re safe.”
“I’ll be fine; just go have fun,” I say, hanging up.
“What’s the deal with you and that guy?” Trevor asks.
“We worked together at the Tollie factory when it was open. We dated for about a year. When the factory shut down, he moved and started working for his uncle, who’s a private investigator. We agreed to see other people, but were always friendly. Then when I found out what Tim did, I called him and asked him to help, and he agreed,” I say, laying my head against the window, watching the moon follow us off in the distance.
“So, he’s your friend?”
“I guess.”
“I should have talked to you,” he says, and I couldn’t agree more. I thought that we were friends. We’d spent time together, we laughed, I could call and talk to him about anything, and he was there for me. Then it was like I wasn’t worth anything to him when he thought I was a virgin. He wouldn’t talk to me; he ignored me when we were in the same place. And worse, if we were out, he always had a girl on him. And any man that came and introduced himself, he would send someone over to make him leave me alone, even if it was the girl that he was talking to. It was like he was trying to say that I wasn’t good enough to have a relationship with anyone.
“Yeah, you should have talked to me,” I whisper, looking back out the window, ignoring him the rest of the ride home. “Thanks,” I say when we pull up in front of Mike’s. I grab Bill’s hoodie from the floor of the back seat where Trevor tossed it, and then I get out of the truck and start walking around to the back of the house to my entrance. I slide the key in the lock and notice that Trevor is behind me. “You didn’t need to walk me to the door,” I say without turning around. I push the door open and step inside, planning to turn and block Trevor’s steps, but he pushes the door open more and steps inside. “Now what are you doing?” It feels like I’ve asked him this a million times tonight, but I can never figure out what’s going on in his head. I cross my arms over my chest.
“What time are you seeing Bill tomorrow?” he asks, ignoring my question yet again.
“I don’t know; probably like eleven.”
“I’ll be here at ten-thirty; we’ll go talk to him before we go see July.”
“How about I meet you at November’s house at twelve?”
“I’ll see you at ten-thirty,” he says, grabbing the front of his hoodie I’m still wearing in his fist. My hands go to his biceps; holding on, I go up on my tiptoes. His mouth hovers over mine. I can feel his breath against my lips. “Are you going to be ready to go?” he asks, and I'm in Trevor’s universe, so all I can do is nod my head. “Good. I’ll see you then, baby.” He says softly, right before his lips touch mine in a gentle, sweet kiss. He lets go of the hoodie, puts his hand on my belly, pushing me back from the door, then he’s gone, leaving me standing there shocked and confused.
I go through my nightly routine on autopilot. My brain is mush from the emotional rollercoaster Trevor has put me on. I shake my head, toss Bill’s sweatshirt onto the couch in the living room, walk down the hall towards my room, get undressed, go to the bathroom, wash off my makeup, and brush out my hair. I walk back to the bedroom and look around to make sure I'm still alone. After pulling Trevor’s hoodie back on, I climb into bed and go to sleep, smiling because he’s never getting his hoodie back.
A loud buzzing has me jumping out of bed. I look around, trying to figure out where it’s coming from. I stumble and almost fall on my face when I see the time. “Crap,” I moan, as I stumble to the door, stubbing my toe on the way. When I get there, I pull the door open, hopping on one foot while my other foot is in my hand, and see his gorgeous face smirking at me. I want to hit him, but instead I say, “I overslept,” and start hopping down the hall towards the bedroom. I shut the door behind me, go into the bathroom, and pull off his sweatshirt, hoping that he didn’t notice. Jumping into the shower, I wash off, and quickly get out. I wrap a towel around myself, then open the door and stop dead in my tracks when I see Trevor sitting on my bed. His back is against the headboard, and he’s looking at a fashion magazine that I had on my nightstand. His legs are covered in black, baggy sweats; his plain white shirt is tight, and I can see the outline of his pectoral muscles. He has a tribal sleeve tattooed on one arm that travels up over his shoulder, and down one side of his body. I’ve never seen where it goes once it enters his pants, but I know how the top looks and tastes on his chest and arm. “Can you wait in the living room?” I ask. His head comes up; his eyes hit me and do a full body sweep, leaving me feeling naked—or more naked than I already am.