The Dating Deal (10 page)

Trent took my hand, looking into my eyes.  Suddenly, I couldn’t move.  Or breathe.  Or remember my name.  “Maybe,” he said.

Caitlin, Nina, and I—we all blinked.  “Huh?”

Caitlin shook her head with disgust.  “This is too much.”

This time she did storm away, fuming.

I took a sip of my water, trying to gain composure.  But I could still feel the warmth of Trent’s hand. 
It’s just an act
, I told myself. 
The hand holding, the words, all of it—just an act
.  But it was hard to convince myself of that.  Because it didn’t feel like an act, not to me.

Saturday morning, the day of the dance, I found myself sitting in front of the phone, unsure what to do.  Today was a primary activity, and for a personal progress goal, I was helping out. 

As I was getting ready, I got this great idea to invite Wendy to come along, but I wasn’t sure whom to call.  Wendy, herself?  I wasn’t sure if that was a good idea.  I didn’t want her mom to get the wrong idea and think I was trying to pressure Wendy into coming to our church. 

After giving it a lot of thought, I figured I should probably talk to Mrs. Ryan herself.  Only the lady didn’t know me and I didn’t know her and the phone conversation might be kind of awkward and I’m not always so good on the phone with people I don’t know. 

So, of course I knew the best thing to do would be to talk to Trent about it and let him handle his family.  Only, I wasn’t quite sure I was up to calling Trent.  Sure, we’d been getting closer, becoming friends, but I didn’t want to give him the impression I was forgetting all of this was only an act, just part of our deal.  I didn’t want to make him worry I was starting to fall for it.  That I was going to, you know, stalk him.

“It’s for Wendy,” I told myself.  “Get over your geek-o-rama and do it for her.”

I knew she would enjoy the activity.  So, I took a deep breath and dialed the Ryan’s number.  But it was Trent who answered the phone, and hearing his voice got me all spazzy.

My palms were suddenly soaked.  I quickly wiped them on my jeans, saying,  “Hello.  May I speak to Mrs. Ryan, please?”  For some reason, I tried sounding like a business-person.

“Is this Megan?”

I wanted to smack my head with the phone.  “Uh, yeah.  Hi, Trent.”

“Hi.” He sounded surprised that I’d called.  “My mom is Mrs. Hayes,” he said.  “My dad died.  She remarried.”

“Oh.”  Wendy had told me that before, but I’d completely forgotten.

“Do you want me to get my mom?” Trent asked.

“Uh, no.  I was just wondering if Wendy might like to come to a kid’s activity at our church this afternoon.  They’re making gifts for mother’s day.  I’m helping at it, so I’ll be there to help her and everything.”

“Yeah,” Trent said.  “She would probably like that.  Only, if you’re going to be working, maybe I should go with her, to help her.”

“You can, that would be great.  But you don’t have to.  She’ll be fine.”

“Well,” Trent didn’t sound convinced.  “I’ll just go.  Just to make sure.”

*  *  *  *  *

By the time Trent and Wendy showed up at the church, I was already covered in flour.  The kids were measuring out the dry ingredients for chocolate-chip cookies and filling them layer by layer into canning jars.  But, they were kids, so it was a messy job—besides the fact I’d gotten into a couple of flour fights.

“This is how you get ready for a big ‘cool’ dance?” Trent asked with a grin, saying the word “cool” as though it was anything but.  “Covering yourself in flour?”

I flicked a dab of it at him.   Then made a pose.  “What?  You don’t like this look?”

He raised his eyebrows.  “I do.  It’s great.”  The way he said it—so completely sincere—gave me the desperate need to look away, appear busy.  I quickly scooped a cup of flour into Josh Taylor’s canning jar, realizing too late, I’d already given him a scoop.

I made a harried mental note to catch the kid later, give him a jar with the correct ingredients.  But I couldn’t do it now.  Trent was staring at me and I was internally spazzing-out.

He asked, “Aren’t you supposed to be doing your nails or getting your hair done or something?” 

I got the impression he was impressed that I wasn’t doing those things.  So, I didn’t mention that I planned to do them the minute I got home.  Instead, I acted offended, placing my hands on my hips.  “You don’t like my hair?  But I spent hours getting it to do this!” 

I’d quickly harnessed it back into a pony this morning, not even bothering to wash it since I planned to put it through the works later, and now it was full of flour.  I’m sure it looked delightful.

Sister Springsteed wiggled her finger at us, playfully.  “More work, less chatter,” she said.

I scooped up a cupful of flour, pouring it into another canning jar, this time making sure I hadn’t already done it.  At the same moment, Sara Woodland from Wendy’s primary class offered to take Wendy around to the activities.  Besides the cookie jars, they were also making their mothers paper roses and necklaces made from colored cereal rings.

Wendy looked up at Trent eagerly.  “Can I go with her?”

Trent was hesitant.

“She’ll be fine,” Sara coaxed.  “I’ll help her.”

“Okay,” Trent said cautiously.  “Wendy, I’ll be right here if you need me.”

Trent watched his little sister run off with Sara.  I could tell he was happy for her, but a little worried too.

“Sara’s a good kid,” I said.

“Yeah, she seems like it,” Trent agreed.  “But sometimes kids are pretty brutal.  Even the ones that seem nice.” 

Trent smiled at me, brushing away his dark thoughts.  “I guess I can help you out here.  I’ll just check on her now and then, without her seeing.  She thinks I’m overprotective.”

I smiled at that, saying nothing.

He grinned.  “What?  You agree?”

“No.  It’s nice.”  I laughed, thinking of him sitting in primary for the last two weeks with all the little ten year olds.  Most likely, the girls all fell madly in love with him, while the boys all wanted to be just like him.  With Trent around, Wendy was probably the most popular kid in class.

Trent grabbed a measuring cup and helped the kids scoop out ingredients with me.

“So, you’re volunteering
again
,” he said with a grin.  “Anywhere help is needed, you’re there.  Like a super hero.”  He made a trumpeting noise.  “Look, it’s Volunteer Woman.”

Just then he opened a bag of flour a little too aggressively.  Flour flew everywhere. 

I laughed.  “Hey, you got my cape dirty.”  I flung some flour back in his direction.  And that was the beginning of a flour fight. 

“Truce,” Trent called, dusted with flour, laughing as I was about to stuff a handful down his shirt. 

By now, we were both covered from head to toe.  So, I acted concerned, “Do I have flour on my face?”

He scrutinized me.  “Wait.  We missed a spot.”  He smeared more flour across my cheek.  “There.  Perfect.”

“Thanks!”

He asked for it!  I stuffed my handful down his shirt. 

Then, of course, we quickly cleaned up our mess—super quick, like lightening.  Before Sister Springsteed could see, and scold us again.  She runs a tight kitchen.

Believe it or not, even the clean up was a blast.  Everything was fun with Trent.  Everything!

When the activity was over, Trent smiled, seeming pleased.  “Wendy had a good time,” he said.  “We both did.”  He seemed hesitant to leave, but he backed away anyway, as there wasn’t anything left to do.  “Well, see you.” 

He headed for the door, but then turned back to me as though just remembering, “Hey, tonight.  I’ll see you tonight.”

I raised my eyebrows.  He better not forget! 

“Right,” was all I said, but under my breath added, “In five hours and twenty-seven minutes.” 

Obviously, my mind was a little more on the dance than his.

We were double dating with Nina and Justin for the dance.  Dad wouldn’t let me go alone with a non-member boy.  It was just as well.  I hoped I would be less of a spaz with Nina by my side.  I knew I could count on her to give me a kick if I started to dork out.

I spent like an hour on my hair, trying to force it into this fancy ’do I’d spotted in a magazine.  It had step-by-step instructions and everything.  But I’m not hair competent, and it didn’t work, and finally, I gave up, re-washed it, and wore it down, and full, and normal.

I zipped up my dress just as the doorbell rang.  So I only had a moment to admire my image in the mirror but I actually did admire it.  For once.  A seamstress had specially tailored the dress, so it actually fit nicely.  The way it was supposed to.  I was amazed.  I didn’t look twelve. 

The way Trent gazed at me as I came down the stairs made me feel confident I looked okay.

“Wow.”  He raised his eyebrows.  “You look—wow.”

Suddenly, I felt shy. I was torn between wanting to race back upstairs, and wanting to jump into his arms.  Yowza, yowza!  He looked hot.

“Just breathe,” I told myself.  How do you do that again?

Trent gave me a beautiful wrist corsage, and a wrapped package.  I stared at the gift with bewilderment, then gazed up at him.  “What’s this?”

“Just a … ”  He brushed away his attempt to answer.  “Just open it.”

I looked up at Mom and Dad.  They shrugged, looking pleased, but just as bewildered as I was.  I opened the box, then dropped my jaw.  It was the elegant wrap from Jordan’s!

“I thought you’d like it for tonight,” Trent said.  “Since you looked so
stunning
in it and everything.”

My face reddened as my parent’s didn’t have a clue Trent was teasing me.  They probably thought he was in love with me or something.  I would have explained the whole thing to them—only I was stunned speechless by his gift.  Why would Trent do this?  Why would he buy me such an extraordinary gift?  Why would he buy me a gift at all?

“I … ”  I didn’t know what to say.  My parents were standing right there.  I knew they wouldn’t let me take such an expensive gift from a boy.  “Thank you so much, Trent. Really.  But I don’t think I can accept it.”

“No.  Accept it,” Trent said, refusing to take the box back as I tried to give it to him.  “Your song—I played it and I didn’t even ask you if I could.”

“Well, you can,” I told him quickly.  “I was flattered that you wanted to.”

“So, take the gift,” he said.  “Your song’s amazing.  You deserve it.”

I looked at my parents. 

“It’s beautiful,” Mom said, placing the wrap over my shoulders.

I guessed that meant it was okay.  I was glad ’cause I loved it.  I didn’t want to have to give it back.  I’d treasure it forever and ever.  Especially because Trent gave it to me.  He actually went back to Jordan’s and bought it.  That touched me so much I could have cried.  Right then.  And there.  Even as Mom and Dad snapped picture after picture of us, posing us this way and that. 

When we got to Nina’s, her parents were snapping off a roll of film of her and Justin.  They were digitizing movies too.  No wonder.  Justin was every parent’s dream catch for their daughter.  (He was an Eagle Scout and everything.)  The only problem was, Nina had to ask
him
to the dance.  His long-time girlfriend, Nicole, had just dumped him.  For weeks now he’d been moping around, looking lost and sad.

The only one out of the four of us who wasn’t on the rebound was Nina.  Boy, weren’t we in for a fun night?

*  *  *  *  *

The night was turning out perfect.  We’d had a wonderful dinner at a romantic Italian Bistro, and I had begun to settle down a little, feeling comfortable on Trent’s arm, until we entered the dance.   Then it was a new experience all over again.