Trent handed her napkins while I apologized insincerely.
“You did that on purpose,” he stated once she left our table.
I didn’t even try to pretend as I dipped a fry in ketchup. “So?”
“Why would you do that?” He looked intrigued.
“Because she was flirting with you, and I didn’t like it,” I whispered as a guy with a goatee stepped onstage through the parted curtain. He delivered a long-winded poem that completely lost me. Once he mentioned something about rubber ducks and finding your inner peace with chain-link fences, I didn’t see the connection and tuned him out.
“So, anyway, are you jealous?” Trent asked once the reading was over. His tone sounded like he couldn’t understand why I would feel that way.
I looked at him balefully. He really was slow on the uptake sometimes. “Of course,” I replied. “Do you have a problem with that, Geek Boy?”
“Hell no.” He sat back in his chair, looking like a toddler who’d just been handed a giant cookie. I should reel him in. He was on the verge of developing a major ego. Of course, it was hard to blame him when my feelings were becoming pretty damn obvious. It was no secret to our friends and family that I was seriously crushing on him. Mom even dared to mention the L-word on Thanksgiving, but I told her to stuff that. We were far from using that word.
“Don’t let it go to your head, stud. I’m naturally a jealous person,” I said, wanting to save face.
“No, you’re not,” he said, turning serious. He laced his fingers through mine, looking to make his point. “Matter of fact, you’re a lot like a Tootsie Pop.”
“You’re comparing me to a candy?” I had no idea where he was going with this, so I didn’t know whether to be insulted or complimented.
“Yes, you have a hard exterior with a soft, delectable interior, like a Tootsie Pop.”
“Um, thanks. I’ll try not to let your compliment go to my head.”
He looked pensive for a moment. “Yeah, it sounded more romantic in my head. Would it help if I said you’re like the orange-flavored ones to me?”
“Because you love the orange ones?”
“Exactly. See, I knew we could figure this out,” he said, turning back to the stage as a young girl stepped up to recite a poem about lost love that floated away like a kite caught in a gust of wind. I watched her blankly, which I’m sure looked like I was into her reading, but really I was trying to sort through Trent’s words. Had he just told me he loved me in his own goofy way?
The young girl finished her poem and swiped away a stray tear from the corner of her eye. Trent regained my attention by squeezing my hand. “You’re freaking out, right?” he asked, looking pleased with himself.
“Well, it’s not every day my boyfriend compares me to his favorite candy,” I said, skirting around the subtle elephant that he had let in the room.
I could almost see the words in his eyes before he opened his mouth to speak. “Tress, I love you.”
“Well, goody for you,” I said, acting unconcerned. My heart was racing and felt like it was trying to jump out of my chest. I knew what my feelings were for Trent, and now I knew where he stood. I just didn’t know we were going to blurt it out tonight. It’s not like it would be the first time I’d said the words. Jackson and I had said we loved each other. Of course, we were teenagers. When you’re in high school, you fall in and out of love every other week. That was my relationship with Jackson. Fight and break up. Apologize and make up. It happened over and over again for nearly four years. Eventually, even after getting back together, we sort of stopped saying we loved each other. I’m not sure how or when it happened, but it did. After that, love became sacred for me. I promised myself I’d never say it again unless I was absolutely sure it would mean something. For a while, I doubted whether I’d get the chance. I’d seen real love firsthand with my parents and most recently with my two best friends, so I knew it existed.
“Are you scared?” Trent asked, drawing circles on my palm.
“Only that you’ll confuse me with your lollipop in your sleep and try to lick me to death.” The joke was lame, and he didn’t even crack a smile.
“I’m sorry to drop it on you without warning, and I know you’re not there yet, but I needed you to know where I stood.”
I bristled at his words. Why would he assume I wasn’t there yet? I could be in love with him now. I could even tell him if I wanted to. I felt like I was wading into ice-cold water. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath—in and out.
“I love you too,” I said, opening my eyes. “There, I said it. Are you satisfied?” As soon as the words were out, I felt relieved because I knew they were true. I loved every damn thing about him. Even his superhero collection had grown on me. Openly declaring my feelings for him did odd things to my body. I had a sudden desire to be alone with him, preferably with no clothes on.
“Do you want to get out of here?” he asked, leaving some money to cover the dinner we’d barely touched.
I answered by standing up to walk out without looking back. We threw a good-bye at Peewee, and before we could get outside, Trent was pressing me against the wall of the long hallway. He roamed my body with his hands and buried his mouth in my neck. “Say it again,” he moaned.
“I love you,” I answered, giving him what he wanted. My eyes met his, and I was a goner.
The ride home was an exercise in frustration. We tormented each other with roaming hands that only fueled our heat, which was already near a boiling point. The entire car seemed to blaze with sexual tension.
When we arrived at the apartment, Trent practically jerked the steering wheel of the car while trying to park. We all but jumped out and hurried toward the apartment. I fumbled through my purse for the spare key Trent had given me after Thanksgiving, not even considering that he had his keys in his hand. I wrestled with my own fingers, trying to slide the key into the lock. Trent was no help. He stood behind me, kissing the sensitive skin on the back of my neck. My head slumped forward and rested on the door as he ground his body against me. It was the sweetest kind of torture.