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Authors: Stephanie Campbell

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BOOK: Delicate
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“Thank you,” I say.

 

“So, did you get out of it?” Trevor asks sympathetically as I sit down at our lunch table. Quinn must have already spread the good word.

“No, he did reschedule it for Friday, though. I’m just going to have to work out extra this week to make up for what I’ll miss,” I sulk.

Trevor’s mouth contorts into a grimace. I can feel the disappointment even before he speaks. Quinn and Tess must have clued into the sudden mood chan
g
e, because they simultaneously get up to throw their lunch trays away.

“Friday?” he asks.

“Yes. I’m sorry, I know you wanted to do something that night, and we will. It’ll just have to be after gym. And detention.” I explain.

“You’re right. It’s no big deal. Can I take you out tonight, then?”

“I think that can be arranged,” I say, leaning in to him.

Right now, life can’t get much better.

Detention aside, that is.

 

Confessional

 

I hit record and sit on the edge of the overstuffed chair.

“I have to make this a quick bit tonight, because I have a date!”
I affix my best smile, though I’m cringing inside at having to reveal this part of my life.
I tug nervously on the simple black linen maxi dress. “I’m not sure where my boyfriend and I are going, it’s going to be a surprise, I think.”
I really forgot to ask, and I hope I’m dressed okay.
“I don’t know if he’ll be up for it, but I will try to get Trevor to come in and say hi to you all afterward!”
That’s a lie. I have to tell him over dinner that this will be our last solo date. He’ll likely go ballistic. I slip my gold flip flops back on and fix my lip gloss.

-
Thirteen
-

 

Trevor and Dad are already talking sports, though I can’t decipher which one. I can tell you everything you ever want to know about gymnastics, but that’s my limit. I don’t even understand lacrosse
,
and I’ve been to countless games to support Trevor.

“Are you ready?” I
ask
, stuffing my lip gloss and house key into my purse.

Trevor turns to me with a broad smile. “Yep. Nice talking with you,” he says to Dad, shaking his hand.

“Was good to see you
.
Y
ou don’t come around enough,” Dad says to Trevor. “By the way, Syd, did you let the crew know where you’re going?”

My heart lodges itself firmly in my throat. I cough. Or choke.

“Crew?” Trevor asks, raising his eyebrows.

“Yeah, I didn’t Dad, I was going to have one more night of freedom,” I smile.  Trevor is still staring at me. Questioning me.

“The camera crew from the show wants to film a few spots of me doing something other than gymnastics,” I say.

“Cool, huh?” Dad says. He smoothes the pleats in his pants. “You kids be careful, don’t be home late, Syd.”

“Sure, Dad,

I say, but my eyes don’t dare leave Trevor’s.

Dad leaves the room.

“We can talk about this in the car,” Trevor says.

It isn’t a long ride to the restaurant
;
it’s just across town in Marietta Square. But it feels like
we should have crossed a state
line in
the silence. I don’t typically come to the Square. It’s normally pretty crowded and full of tourists, but even I can admit that the turn of the century vibe
,
thanks to
the
Gone
With the Wind
Movie Museum and other touristy hot spots, have made it a cute addition to our otherwise boring city. 

We walk together past
the unique shops that sell everything from eclectic and funky gifts to Asian antiques
and
sporting goods. With the s
ight
of the restaurant,
The
Greek Tavern, my heart sinks a little. I’d secretly hoped that we’d go somewhere more on the casual side. But Trevor seems excited, and he hasn’t brought up the show again, so, as usual, I put on my best enthusiastic smile as we’re seated at a blue table with brightly lacquered red chairs. I eye the menu nervously. I have no clue what to order so I pick the first thing that I s
ee
that
has the word chicken in it, figuring that’s always a safe bet. 

Once we’re seated, Trevor reaches across the table and holds my hand and just stares. I let my eyes wander around the room uncomfortably, and then
focus
back
on
his, which haven’t moved.

“What?” I finally ask him.

“Nothing at all, you just look beautiful.”

“Right,” I mumble.
I’m
so happy that the server arrives with our entrees and interrupts the awkwardness.

“Okay we have the Chicken Souvlaki for you
,
m
iss,” he says, placing the plate in front of me. From the looks of the plate, I’
ve
made a good choice. “And the Paidakia for you
, s
ir.”

“My family and I are going out to the lake house for a week next month. Do you want to
come with us
?” Trevor asks in between bites.

“Oh! I left my pearls there, I have to get them back,” I say unintentionally ignoring his question.

“Ok
ay.
W
e can go and get them tonight.”

“No, I can’t. I told my dad I wouldn’t be home late”

“Yeah, but wouldn’t the extra alone time be well worth it?” he asks suggestively.

I stare down at my skewered chicken to hide my flushed cheeks.

“Maybe some other time,” I answer, hoping that he’ll leave it at that.

“Right, when there’s a camera crew following you. What about next month?”

“I’m not sure. I’ll have to wait and see how the dates match up with Nationals. And if my dad will even let me.”

Trevor rolls his eyes in irritation, and that, in turn, annoys me. I can’t help that my dad is different from his parents. They never ha
ve
a problem with me going to Trevor’s room, or closing the door. They’
ve
even offered to have me stay the night several times.
I’m
pretty sure that my dad assume
s
I’
ve
never even let Trevor see my bedroom. And as far as gymnastics
is
concerned, things
will
quiet down after Nationals. I c
an
afford to take a breather after that, but I’
ve
worked way too hard to slack off now.

“I can’t believe we’re going to have to go out with cameras from here on out,” he finally says. There it is.

“It’s not going to be like that, Trevor. It’s not every time. And I don’t have a choice, they need more material. I signed on to do this


“Yeah, Syd, you signed on to do this, not me.”

The rest of dinner is full of small talk, and I can feel Trevor’s irritation with me silently growing.

When we walk to the car, I can’t help but feel guilty for killing the mood of our supposed special evening. Once inside the car, Trevor leans over across the stiff leather seats. He cups my face in his hand and his thumb presses
firmly
into my chin.


I
love
you,” He says.

His tone sounds like a dare. Like
he’s
trying to insinuate that I don’t feel the same.

I nod.

“I love you too.”

He holds my hand tightly the entire ride home.

Almost too tightly.

Almost.

********

Despite the awkwardness at the restaurant, the evening with Trevor had ended well and I was feeling so secure about us again
,
I had a little bounce in my step as I walked across the quad to meet up with him.

“Morning,” I smile.

“Morning, gorgeous. You’re in a good mood,” Trevor says, draping his arm around my shoulders.

“Just happy I guess,” I reach up and h
o
ld his hand that
’s
rest
ing
on my shoulder.

“Do I make you happy?”


You
make me so much more than happy,” I say. A couple of people scowl as they pass us in the hall.

“Hey, I meant to tell you, I have your necklace and stuff at my house.”

“At your regular house?” I ask.

“Yeah, I drove out last night to get it.”

“Trevor! You didn’t have to drive all the way out there to get my jewelry,” I say, feeling guilty.

“I wanted to. I knew how important it
i
s to you. I would’ve brought it to school, but I didn’t want to risk anything happening to them.”
“No, that’s great. I’ll stop by on my way home from gym tonight if that’s okay?”

“Absolutely,”
h
e says. When he leans in and kisses me goodbye, I let my lips linger on his.  I’
ve
kissed him hundreds of times before, but now, with everything out in the open, everything with the show and us being together,  somehow, I’d never felt closer to him than I do right now.

Mrs. Drez is collecting permission slips for the aquarium trip when I walk in. Grant is already in his chair, head down,
and his
nose in another book. His slip is already on the edge of the desk waiting to be collected. I take out my permission slip and hand it to Mrs. Drez as she passes. When she picks up Grant’s, he doesn’t look up. For a
moment, I debate whether or not to say something to break the ice with him, but I’m not sure what to say even if I had the nerve.

BOOK: Delicate
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