Delicate (7 page)

I stare at a piece of chipped paint on the doorframe rather than make eye contact with him. I’ve discovered it’s increasingly difficult, both because he always seems to be looking directly at me, but also, because I really
want
to look at him.

“Don’t
.
I was happy to do it,” he says.

Another gust of wind. Another chance to try to catch my breath.

“Do you want to come in?” I ask.

“I’d better get back to school. I just wanted to bring this by.”

He hands me a white paper bag with a small container inside.

My brows
pull
together in curiosity.

“It’s some of Jules soup. Hope it helps,” he explains. My stomach grumbles again, this time, in thanks. Nothing sounds better than more of this soup.

“Thank you!” I say. “Wow, you’re pretty perfect, aren’t you?” I can’t help but gush.

“Eh, I’m all right. You deserve it, though.” He shoves his hands in his pockets, and before I know it, he’s leaning in and kissing me lightly. It’s just a peck, before he turns around and walks away.  The spot where his warm lips touched mine is tingling with delight as I stand there half
-
dazed. Did that really just happen? In the same moment I’m contemplating whether or not I’m still actually asleep, I see the familiar Range Rover pull into the now vacant spot in the driveway. And that’s when it dawns on me. Grant has no idea there’s a Trevor in my life. Have I been leading him on?

I don’t really have time to think much on it, because my
actual
boyfriend is walking up the drive. I quickly turn and set the bag on the counter, then plaster a big smile on my face. It’s not phony. I
am
happy to see him. Just a little more conflicted than usual.

“Hey, beauty,” Trevor says, wrapping his arms around my waist and leaning in to kiss me. I pull back abruptly.

“You don’t want to do that, I’m really sick,” I say, pulling farther away and covering my mouth.

“I don’t care,” he says, reaching for me again.

“Well,
I
do.” I frown. I pull a bar stool out and sit down. My head feels like it’s going to explode. I really do need to go back to bed.

“What are you doing out of school?” I ask, already anticipating the answer.

“What do you think?” he says. “You didn’t reply to any of my texts or calls. I came to check on you.”

“That’s really sweet,” I say. I rest my head on the cool marble counter top. It feels like lidocaine on my throbbing skull.

“So, since we’re alone, what do you want to do?” Trevor asks with a wink.

“Don’t even finish the thought. I’m so ill, Trevor, that’s the last thing on my mind.” I shake my head and swat him on the arm.

“You think maybe you should go to the doctor? You hear about those celebrities being treated for exhaustion. Maybe that’s what’s wrong with you.”

“Maybe.” I shrug. “After Nationals I’ll have a break.”

“Maybe you should think about dropping that reality show. You know, to give yourself a little break,” he says.

“It’s a documentary, not a reality show. And I can’t. I signed a contract.”

He pushes a loud breath out.

“I love you,” I add.

He starts rubbing my shoulders gently and I let myself relax and close my eyes.

“Hey, what’s in the bag?” I open my eyes and he gestures to the white paper bag I’d tossed onto the counter. “Smells good.”

My heart has lodged itself into my throat.

“Oh, that? Just some soup. Want some?” I wrap my words in innocence before letting them escape my mouth. Why am I so nervous? It’s soup. Oh, and there was that mini-kiss from Grant.

“No, thanks. You should probably eat some though. Did your dad bring it by for you? You must really be laying it on thick,
Syd;
he never takes a lunch, right?” Why, today of all days is Trevor so ultra observant?

“No, not Dad.” I could tell him that Quinn made it. That’s believable. She’s always cooking something. But what if he’d already seen Quinn today at school? Would he know I was lying? Did I really need to lie? Would he even care if he knew Grant brought it to me?

I take a deep breath.

“Actually, my partner from Oceanography brought it by,” I say harmlessly.

I stare at him, trying to gauge his reaction. His hand tightens on the back of the bar stool. His knuckles turn white from the stiffness of his grip and an unfamiliar flash of anger crosses his eyes. I’ve never really seen Trevor angry. Irritated, yes. Disappointed, sure. He wasn’t a gracious loser when it came to his lacrosse games. He usually had a tough time dealing with it. He’d hold it in and stay quiet for a long time. I never knew what to say in those moments, and I feel the same way right now.
He’s
quiet. Motionless. For a long time.

“He came here?” he asks calmly. His sudden break from the silence startles me.

“Yeah, but just for a second. He didn’t even come in. Just dropped it off,” I say. It
i
s the truth, but something in Trevor’s eyes ha
s
me doubting that honesty
i
s going to make a difference.

His eyes lock on mine. We d
o
n’t have an intense relationship. This side of him
i
s new.

“So, that was him leaving when I pulled up just now?” he asks. A sinister smirk fills his face.

“Yes,” I nod.

In one quick movement, he spins the barstool I’m sitting in toward him, so that we are face to face
,
h
is fierce eyes boring into mine.

“What the hell is going on, Sydney?”

“What do you mean?” I ask. I jerk back away from his face. “I just told you.”

“I mean, do you have feelings for this asshole, or what?”

“Are you joking?” I let out a nervous chuckle.

He continues to stare back at me. So, not joking?

“Trevor,” I say firmly, cocking my head to the side. His penetrating stare is seriously starting to make me uncomfortable now. I straighten up and give him a quick kiss on his lips. Nothing.

“No. No. No,” I say. “If that’s what you’re waiting to hear, the answer is no. Of
course
I don’t have any feelings for him. Or anyone other than you. You know how much I love you.”

He finally blinks and breaks the stare.

“Seriously.” I pull his face back toward me, but apparently
he’s
going to be stubborn, because now he’s refusing to make eye contact with me at all.

Gripes, how frustrating.

He walks around to the other side of the kitchen.

“I’m sorry, Syd. But how would you feel if some girl was stopping by my house to bring me things?” His tone is filled with spite.

My head is pounding. I just want the argument to be over so that I can go to bed. Besides, he does have a point.
I’m
more than a little insecure in our relationship already. I can’t imagine if the situation were reversed.

“You’re right,” I concede. “I’m sorry. But please believe that it was completely innocent. Grant was just trying to be nice.” I wonder if he can hear the bit of untruth in my voice.

“I understand,” Trevor says. He takes the container out of the bag. “It’s just that it’s
my
job to take care of you. Not his.” He walks to the sink, and before I can protest, he dumps the soup down the garbage disposal. “Do
you
understand, Sydney?”

His warm smile doesn’t match his vengeful actions, so I just nod.

-
Seven
-

When I get to school the next morning, though I’m feeling much better physically, I can’t shake the uneasiness from the day before. Trevor’s lack of trust in me stung, but his anger was what really bothered me. I park in my usual spot and pass Trevor’s car on my way onto campus. Not surprising
ly
, he beat me to school. I walk to the quad contemplating what I’ll say to break the ice. He left a few minutes after washing my lunch down the drain without saying much, and I can’t help but feel nervous that I don’t see him anywhere. He always waits for me.
Always.

I stalk across campus alone toward Oceanography. While practicing pirouettes on beam this morning, I resolved to tell Grant about Trevor. I mean, he’s never professed any interest in me, but I’m tired of feeling awkward that I haven’t been straightforward with him. Just in case he does feel
that way
about me. Not that he does.

I’m not entirely sure how I’m going to start this conversation. But it’s the right thing. The mature thing. Right?

“There you are.” I hear Trevor’s voice behind me at the same time his muscular arms wrap around my waist. I spin toward him in confusion.

“There
I
am?
You
weren’t waiting for me,” I say.

He smiles apprehensively and kisses the tip of my nose.

“Yeah, sorry about that. I had something to take care of really quick. How are you feeling?”

“Much better.” I’m still wondering what he’s been up to, but decide against pressing him after our argument yesterday.

“Good. Don’t want you sick and changing your mind about things,” he says suggestively.

“Changing my mind about what things?” I laugh.

“Oh, you know, with prom coming up, I just want to make sure you’re feeling up to par,” he says with a smirk.

“All right, all right,” I say. I smack his shoulder. He doesn’t even flinch. “Get your mind out of the gutter and get to class,” I order.

He smiles broadly and then leans in and kisses me.

“Love you, Syd,” he says.

“Love you.”

I pause in the doorway to Oceanography. Grant is already at our table, with his head down and a book on his lap.

When I get to the table and set my things down, he doesn’t look up.
Weird.
Yesterday he brings me soup, today, he isn’t going to acknowledge I exist. Maybe he’s just engrossed in his book? I take out my text book and binder and organize them. He still hasn’t acknowledged my presence.