“What can I tell you? She’s a diva space dog. She needs her entourage to go with her.”
“They have strict protocols. You won’t be able to get in.”
“I already got my clearance,” I deadpanned, looking down at my hand that was still clasped in his.
“You can go out with me once she’s gone. You’ll need something to keep your mind off your dog being in space.”
“I’ll be too sad to date. I will be mourning her absence by sitting in her doggie bed munching on her treats.”
He looked at me pensively before giving up. “Fine, how’s your group assignment going?” he asked, dropping my hand as he shifted into all-business mode. I was used to his quick personality switches, but this time a feeling crept in that felt an awful lot like disappointment. For a moment, I wished I had accepted his invitation. During the last few days, I had discovered that with the exception of Derek, Trent was the easiest person to talk to that I knew. You had to get around his mega-geek lingo sometimes, but something about his voice made everything a little bit more interesting. Despite my denial, I was curious about what a date with him would entail. Now that I had gotten an eyeful of what lay beneath his clothes, that curiosity had morphed into something more like desire.
Pulling my thoughts back on track, I answered his question, which turned into a long-winded rant. The group project was hell. That was the only way to describe it. Everyone naturally had their own ideas of how our fictional company should be run, but getting everyone to agree had turned into an act of futility. The project was due right before Halloween, which was one week away, but I couldn’t see us finishing in time if we couldn’t agree on anything.
“Let me check what you have so far,” Trent said, waiting for me to navigate to the online section of the class so he could view our project up to this point. He moved the project to a new document so he could add notes. Peering over his shoulder, I saw that he was able to solve the equations in our business plan so they now made sense. “You have to account for supplies from this company and the overseas company you plan to use for this brand,” he explained, pointing to the notes he had added by our columns. “That’s why your numbers weren’t matching up.”
“Hey, not my numbers. Acne Greg has that job.”
“Acne Greg? You sure like your labels.”
“What?” I asked, feigning innocence.
“Acne Greg, Panty Muncher,” he listed. “Oh, and my favorite are my nicknames, of course. Nerd Boy, Geek Squad, Clark Trent. That’s the best one, by the way.”
I laughed as he listed all my pet names for him. It was something I’d always done. My friend Brittni and I had nicknames for everyone back in Woodfalls. Some were terms of endearment, while others were more of a label. Like the girl Brittni interned with that got busted for smacking a kid’s hand. She was forever known as McSlappy to Brittni and me, even after she got fired.
“Nicknames are awesome,” I replied when I had my laughter under control.
“What about the nicknames people have made for you?”
“Are you kidding? I dated Jackson for four long years. Do you think there’s anything anyone could call me that would be any worse than what he would call me?” I asked, still laughing. My hang-ups over Jackson were quickly slipping away to no-man’s-land. I wouldn’t allow sour memories of him to drag me down any further.
“I always hated that dick. Someone should kick his ass,” Trent mumbled, shutting down my laptop. “Maybe I should.”
“I don’t know, Jackson’s a big guy.” I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but even with the lean muscles that I now knew lay beneath Trent’s shirt, it was hard for me to imagine how he would handle himself in a fight.
“I know how to fight,” Trent said quietly, like he was picking the thoughts from my head.
“He’s not even worth the effort,” I said, stowing my stuff in my book bag. “Thanks for the help with the group project. Hopefully the boneheads and I will figure it out. I need at least a B on the project.”
“Looking at the grading rubric, you should be okay. The group portion only counts for fifteen percent of your grade. Your own section counts for the other eighty-five percent.”
I stuck out my tongue at him. He liked to deliberately quote percentages because I had told him how they tripped me up like ratios. “You’re hilarious. I’ve got to go,” I said, heading for the door.
“Big plans tonight?” He stood and stepped close to me, resting a hand against the door so I couldn’t open it. It was a classic guy move and was completely out of character for Trent.
“I’m not going out partying, if that’s what you mean.” I hated the defensive tone in my voice. Tutor or not, I didn’t owe him any explanations.
“That’s not why I’m asking.” His voice came out strangled as a flush crawled up his neck.
“Then what’s your deal?”
He choked out an answer I didn’t quite catch.
“One more time, Geek Squad,” I teased.
“Do you have a date?” He was finally able to spit out his answer, but not before his ears turned a bright shade of red.
“Yes,” I said, seizing the opportunity to put the necessary distance between us.