Contradictions (16 page)

As I made the walk down the long corridor of the science building, I couldn’t help feeling pissed and a little hurt at being ignored so completely. Add computer programs to the list of sports, other girls, or any other thing guys had dissed me for in the past. Feeling disgruntled, I contemplated that maybe my issues with men had everything to do with me and not them. Maybe I just wasn’t interesting enough to hold a guy’s attention.

I was pushing the door of the science building open when my phone dinged, alerting me to a text. Pulling my phone from my pocket, I read the message.

You forgot your Tootsie Pop.

I’m surprised you noticed.

I notice everything you do. Sorry about the interruption. Hopefully we can get this done by tomorrow.

Right. You can’t deny you’re in geek heaven.

This stuff is cool, but it’s not my idea of heaven. That would require you.

I grinned like a mega cheesehead over his comment.

And what would your idea of heaven be?

Just put it this way: It doesn’t involve Professor Nelson. I gotta go, though. I’ll text later.

Fine. Have fun playing with Professor N and his toys.

Not funny.

TTYL

•   •   •

Trent ended up calling me late Thursday night. He apologized for not calling me sooner. He sounded exhausted but gleeful. I asked him if they killed all the bugs, which only confused him. He laughed, but I could tell his brain was not open for business. I instructed him to get some rest and told him I would see him the next day.

Smiling, I plugged my phone into the charger next to my bed.

Derek laid the book he’d been reading on his chest and looked at me. “Seems like you and Dreamy are getting along well.”

I shrugged my shoulders, acting indifferent. “He’s not as bad as I thought. It’s different going out with someone who is hung up on me. I’m sure soon enough he’ll find out his illusions of me were distorted and then he’ll probably drop me on my fat ass.”

“Don’t be a jerk. You’re not fat. If he’s hung up on you, it’s because he realizes how fabulous you are.”

“Right,” I snorted. “We all know what a catch I am.” My words were filled with sarcasm.

He shook his head. “Just because he treats you with respect and not like a doormat doesn’t mean all those other douchecanoes were right. He’s obviously smart enough to know what a catch you are.”

I shrugged. Why argue? I knew my flaws and weaknesses, and if Trent could look past those, who was I to argue? “I guess if Leonard can date Penny, who am I to argue with whatever is going on between Trent and me? Or should I say Sheldon?” I joked, referencing our favorite TV show.

Derek chuckled. “Just ask Adam, right? He was way off, though. Sheldon on the show is nowhere near as dreamy as your Clark Trent.”

I smirked. He definitely had a point.

The next evening Trent arrived to pick me up for the Halloween festival in Woodfalls, and Derek’s words from the night before couldn’t have been truer. Trent had delivered on his promise and came dressed as Han Solo, a sexy-as-hell Han Solo. All I could do was gape. I wanted to use my own version of the Force on him.

“Damn.” He whistled, reminding me he wasn’t the only one in a sexy costume.

I grinned wickedly, happy I wasn’t the only one turned on by a few scraps of material. “You like?” I sashayed around so he could get a full look at the barely there gold outfit. My midriff and back were both bare, and I had to admit, if nothing else, I most definitely had the chest to stand out in a crowd in this costume. Luckily for me, the Woodfalls Halloween festival was an indoor/outdoor kind of affair; otherwise, my heavy wool jacket would have hidden the best part of my Princess Leia costume.

Trent cleared his throat before answering, which earned a very non-Tressa-like kind of schoolgirl giggle. It was a heady experience to be looked at the way he was staring at me. “You look hot,” he finally spit out.

“You don’t look too shabby yourself. I have to admit, I had my doubts when you said you already had a Han Solo costume, but it’s awesome.”

“Told you,” he said proudly, smoothing a hand down the front of his shirt.

I heard a familiar snort of laughter behind me. “What’s so funny, chuckleheads?” Turning around, I spotted Derek and Cameo looking overly amused at my expense.

“No, it’s not funny,” Cameo said, trying to suppress her laughter. “I mean, you two definitely look—”

My aggravation level began to rise. “
Good
is the word you’re searching for.”

“She’s just teasing,” Derek said, pushing Cameo into her room. “You look hot. That’s a pretty extravagant costume, Trent. You actually got that from one of those Halloween stores?”

“Nope. I bought this sucker for Comic-Con a couple years ago.”

“Don’t forget to use protection for your lightsaber,” Cameo called out from her room, causing Derek to bust out laughing.

“Actually, Han Solo doesn’t have a lightsaber. He’s not a Jedi,” Trent replied, looking oblivious to the razzing he was receiving.

“We’re out of here,” I mumbled, grabbing my coat and purse. Taking Trent by the wrist, I tugged him toward the door before my roommates could say anything more that would cause me to do something I would regret.

“Tress, don’t be mad. We’re just goofing around. You guys seriously have fun,” Derek said.

“You guys can suck it,” I replied, slamming the door behind us. Sure, I liked to poke fun at Trent, but it didn’t mean I was going to stand by and let him be the butt of my friends’ jokes.

I stomped down the hallway and was halfway down the first flight of stairs before Trent spoke.

“Hey, where’s the fire?” He lengthened his steps to keep up with me.

I glared at him, which he responded to with the same clueless look he always had. Why he was so oblivious to the world around him I didn’t know, but he was seriously turning me into a two-faced twat. Anytime I was around him, my inner protective demon seemed to pop up. Well, protective from everyone other than me, considering at the moment I wanted to push him down the last remaining flight of stairs to make my point. Either that or hurl myself down the stairs.

By the time we reached the bottom step, I had gotten to the point that I was regretting even going to the festival with him. I could come up with some lame excuse and save us both some aggravation.

Trent halted at the first-floor landing and grasped my wrist loosely, but didn’t say anything as I turned around. As clueless as I thought he was, he could tell when I was upset. Of course, I wasn’t exactly a closed book when it came to expressing myself.

“I don’t need you to fight my battles,” he said quietly, sliding his hands inside my jacket, which was gaping open since I had pulled us out of the apartment in a rush. His warm hands slid intimately across my exposed midriff, leaving me breathless.

He tugged me in close, keeping his hands firmly hooked around my waist. “You make yourself an easy target,” I muttered.

“Tressa, I am what I am. You don’t have to apologize for me. Do you think I care what everyone thinks?”

“I care,” I replied. My words were sharper than I’d intended.

He tugged me against his body. “Why?”

His closeness was so distracting I could barely string together coherent thoughts. It was like getting wasted at a party, but without all the side effects. The subtle hint of his cologne combined with the smell of orange Tootsie Pop, which had recently become so familiar, filled my nose.

“Why do you care?” he repeated, rubbing my back. His touch was sure and confident.

I wanted to tell him the reason, but up until this very second, I wasn’t sure I wanted to believe it myself. I had been working so hard the past couple of weeks at denying my true feelings, even blaming Trent for my own hang-ups and insecurities. If I admitted now how I felt, I would be giving someone else control. “I care because I’m starting to like you, dumb-ass,” I snapped. My admission was a leap of faith against my better judgment.

He smiled and the urge to punch it off his face was so strong I clenched my fist. “I like you too,” he said smugly.

“No shit, Sherlock. We all know that. The issue is that
me
—Tressa the Party Girl—likes
you
.” I pointed at him dramatically.

“Whoa, let me step out of the way to make room for your ego.”

“It’s not my ego I’m worried about, it’s you. I told you from the beginning, we’re so different. You’re a genius and I’m, well, me. Eventually you’ll realize I’m not good enough for you, and shame on me for letting you do that to me,” I said, out of breath. I had nothing left to hide.

“Wow. First you insist that we are too different to be together. Then you admit you like me, and now you already know how the relationship—which hasn’t really started yet—is going to end. Talk about a spoiler alert,” he said, trying to make me laugh.

“It’s not funny. I’m just trying to give you a chance to get away,” I said, hitting him in the arm.

“Tressa, remember the speech you gave me about emotions? Well, I get that, but please listen this time, and trust me. Forget about your emotions, just for once, and focus on two facts: I like you and you like me. Plain and simple.”

Here I’d made up my mind that he was a nerd-brained nitwit who knew nothing beyond what was on a computer screen, and what he just said about us made more sense than any of my preconceived notions. So what if we liked each other? If someone didn’t like it, they could take a flying leap into mind-your-own-damn-business. Great, I had been taught a lesson in love from a robot. We were like an effing Lifetime movie—
The Party Girl and the Geek
. Tune in to see if the party girl can teach the geek to let loose.

“
Like
? You make it sound like we’re ten years old,” I joked. “This isn’t grade school. We’re not going to slip each other notes and chase each other around the slide and kiss under the monkey bars.”

“You were kissing under the monkey bars when you were ten? Damn, I went to the wrong elementary school.” His eyes sparkled with mirth.

“That’s not the only thing I was doing under the monkey bars,” I said, smashing my lips aggressively against his. I could tell he was shocked by my boldness when his hands slackened around my waist. Deciding to go big or go home, I slid my fingers through his hair, pulling him tightly against me. Just because I’d admitted I liked him didn’t mean I wasn’t still me. I had my ways of keeping the control in my favor.

I pulled back as abruptly as I had thrown myself at him. “Let’s do this.”

“Uh, do what?” His grip around me tightened.

I smirked. “Festival.”

“Oh, right. I knew that’s what you meant.”

I reached up to pat his cheek. “Get your mind out of the gutter, big boy.”

He dropped his hands from my waist abruptly, like I was electrified and had shocked him. He was pretty cute when he looked like a kid who had gotten caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“Come on,” I said, lacing my fingers through his. “It’s time I show you how to corrupt a small town.”

“Can you corrupt something more than once?” he taunted, opening my car door for me. Score another point for him. I’d always loved that move from a guy.

“I have so much to teach you about the Tressa handbook.”

During the drive to Woodfalls, Trent asked about my group project that had been turned in today. I was feeling more confident about our chances for a decent grade ever since Trent offered his input. Once I got the other lunkheads in the group to see reason, we were able to work through our differences. If we scored well enough on the project, I could bring my grade in the class up to a low B. I was close to getting all my grades back to a respectable level. The professor in my Microsoft applications class had reopened all my missing assignments, and with all my free time lately, I had raised my grade to an A, which was a first for me. My statistics grade was still in the toilet, but once I made up the section-two exam, it should at least be a C. I owed it all to Trent, and made sure to tell him so. He took the praise modestly, giving me credit for my hard work.

The conversation moved from my classes to his thesis project. Now that I had a better understanding of what he was doing, I felt I could hold my own in the conversation and even sound halfway intelligent.

The forty-five-minute ride to Woodfalls flew by and before I knew it, we were driving past the familiar
Welcome to Woodfalls
sign. Usually the drive home seemed endless. Being an antsy kind of person made riding in cars one of my least favorite pastimes. I always ended up dwelling on everything I could be doing if I wasn’t cooped up in a vehicle. Driving with Trent kept the ants in my pants at bay.

Despite my previous love affair with partying and living on campus, Woodfalls was still my home. My heart always felt pangs of warmth anytime I was away for too long. Once I graduated, my plan was to come home to work with Dad at his law firm.

His receptionist/business manager, Lola, wanted to retire soon, and in the grand scheme of things, it was assumed I’d take over for her. I had no interest in law, but I’d always enjoyed working in his office during the summer. In eight months, I would take over for her completely. Brittni was afraid I was giving up my life for my family, but she’d never understood the closeness I shared with them. She and her mom had only just recently forged a close relationship. What she couldn’t understand was that I didn’t find working for my dad a hardship. Going away to MSC was my opportunity to be wild. Woodfalls would always be my home.

I gazed out my window as Trent drove slowly through downtown Woodfalls. Main Street was decorated as it was every year. The bakery had its cupcake display in the shape of a giant jack-o’-lantern, and Trent’s grandfather’s hardware store had its usual fake Freddy Krueger standing in the window. Years ago, he had replaced the finger knives for long nails from his store. Dad’s office had its typical haystacks and scarecrows in front of the main atrium.

Fran’s general store was always my favorite with its display of carved pumpkins. Fran carved a different pumpkin for each of the thirteen days leading up to Halloween. They were all very intricate. I could study them for hours.

Trent pulled into the dirt lot behind the general store. “I figured this is the most central location for the festival.”

I nodded, climbing from the vehicle. A breeze blew through the large trees that grew in abundance throughout Woodfalls. I sniffed appreciatively, buttoning my jacket to ward off the cold temperatures. Woodfalls in the fall had a distinct smell. It was a combination of sawdust from the mill, woodsmoke from Penny’s restaurant, hay from the big pumpkin patch at the Baptist church, and pumpkin from the endless array of carved jack-o’-lanterns around the town square.

“Tressa, where you been hiding?” Fran chastised me, stepping out of her store. She reached a hand back inside and flipped off the lights before closing the door behind her. “You too good for us country folk?” She drawled her words for emphasis.

“You got me. Now that I’ve been to the city, I’m too sophisticated for you simple folk.” I laughed when she swiped at my arm.

“Don’t be sassy, little miss. I’ll put you to work scraping siding like I did when you were younger and you got busted putting firecrackers in my pumpkins.”

Trent turned to look at me. “You did that?”

“I plead the Sixth,” I answered, cracking a smile. Who knew the pumpkins would blow up so spectacularly? I paid for it by scrubbing dried pumpkin guts off the front of the store for three days. The windows alone took two days to squeegee clean. It was tedious work and definitely taught me a lesson. If I was going to blow up pumpkins, it was wise to be away from the building, or at least make sure I was nowhere near the prying eyes of adults.

“I think you mean the Fifth,” Trent corrected me. Fran laughed while I glared at him.

“Whatever. I plead that.”

Fran looked at us appraisingly. “I didn’t know you two were hooking up.”

Trent turned away, but I laughed. Fran might be the only woman her age that used the term “hooking up.” If I didn’t know any better, I could have sworn on a stack of Bibles that she was my biological mom. She had my foul mouth and sassy attitude. I’d gravitated toward her when I was much younger, sensing a kindred spirit. Mom tried to curb my fascination with Fran when I was eight because she thought my colorful language came from hanging around Fran’s store too much. It was no use, though. Fran and I were thick as thieves. Even when I was pranking her customers, she still kept me around.

“Trent is tutoring me,” I replied, winking at Fran.

She cackled at my words. “Is that the new word for it? In that case, I remember tutoring when I was younger. My lips saw more action than my schoolbooks.”

“Fran, you dirty dog. I knew you were a tramp.”

“Watch your mouth, missy, or I’ll be washing it out.”

I snorted. She was a fine one to talk. “I learned from the master,” I teased.