Distraction (Westbrook Series Book 1) Page 16

  "Are you hungry?" Trevor asks, splashing my leg lightly with his foot, to get my attention.

  "Yes. I am definitely hungry."

  We both stand up and carefully slide down off of the branch. I can barely see our mud-caked shoes. I have no doubt that they are completely destroyed. I don't even want to put them back on, now that my feet are clean again.

  "Go ahead and sit down on the blanket. I'm going to rinse off our shoes. I think it's hot enough out here. They should dry most of the way before we leave." He scoops up our shoes, and skips down to where we were sitting by the water.

  "Thanks, Trevor." I walk across the grass, my bare, wet feet picking up random pieces of loose grass and gravel, along the way. I smooth out the blanket and sit down. The sky is turning fast. I don't even want to think about what trotting through the mud, back to the car in the dark, will be like.

  It's not long before Trevor is sitting down next to me on the blanket. Between the lingering red glow from the sunset, and the bright moonlight, we have just enough light to see our food. Trevor starts opening containers. He made us sandwiches, potato salad, and even a fruit salad. He hands me a ceramic plate, a stainless steel fork, and a blue and white gingham cloth napkin.

  "Fancy picnic basket, Maddox. I'm impressed."

  He chuckles lightly and shrugs. "Yeah, well don't be. I borrowed it from my mom."

  When he stabs two wire stakes with weird cylinder-shaped tops down into the ground, I cock my head to the side, wondering what on earth those things could be. I must have a strange look on my face because Trevor looks at me, shakes his head, and starts laughing. To answer my curiosity, he pulls two wine glasses out of the basket, and carefully places them inside each of the wire stakes.

  He snatches a bottle of wine out of the basket and easily uncorks it, as if he's done it a thousand times before. He pours the burgundy liquid into the two glasses effortlessly, and places the wine bottle back in the basket.

  This has to be the most romantic non-date, date that I have ever been on. Everything Trevor does just oozes with class and confidence. He hands me a wine glass, and we clink ours together.

  "To new friendships, new homes, and new places." He nods his head over to the water when he says new places.

  "To old friendships made new," I correct him, as my lips curl into a flirtatious smile. I say the word new as if it means more than it should. What am I doing? His eyebrows arch, as if he is as surprised by my suggestion as I am. I want to say to him, "That makes two of us, buddy."

  Instead, I change the subject. "So, how did you find this place? You've only been here, what, a week tops?" I ask curiously, as I sip my wine.

  I am surprised by how smooth it goes down. I've only had red wine one other time, and it was dry, bitter, and downright awful. This is different, though. It's smooth, and it has just the right balance of sweetness mixed with . . . I'm not going to even pretend to understand wine. What I do know is that I really like it.

  "My parents used to take Sasha and me here when we were little. It was kind of our secret family get away. We don't really tell people about it much. It's better that way. We want to keep it exactly how it is. If people find out about this place, it will become a tourist destination faster than you can blink an eye."

  "I'm just surprised that all these years later, nobody else has found it."

  "Well, it is private property."

  I sit up, nearly spilling my wine all over the blanket. "Trevor, are we trespassing?" I ask nervously.

  "You are so funny, Patterson. Just relax, would you?" I look at him doubtfully. "My uncle owns it. Geeze. You really are a spaz, aren't you?"

  I slap his arm lightly. "You could have told me that right away, you know. Here I am, thinking we might be hunted down by some crazy landowner with a rifle."

  He laughs as he falls back, tucking his arms behind his head. He stares up at the sky with that same half-dazed expression that he had on his face earlier.

  "It's so quiet and serene. It was always my favorite place to go as a kid. It's every bit as beautiful now, as I remember it being. I was a little worried it would be . . . I don't know . . . changed. I mean, it's been three years since I was last here."

  "Yeah, but do you really think your uncle would have done anything to it?" I ask.

  "You never really know with him. He has plenty of money, but is always looking to make more. I don't think he'd even blink an eye before selling it, if given the right offer."

  "Not a sentimental kind of guy?"

  "Not even sort of."

  "So, why are you sharing this with me, if it's your secret family get away?"

  He shrugs. "I don't know. I guess I figured you'd appreciate it the same way I do." He pauses and looks at me for a moment thoughtfully. A sexy, knowing smile sneaks on his face, making my heart flutter. "Now, I know that I was right. I mean, I know that you do. You don't even have to say it. I can just tell. I see it in your eyes."

  Now, he is propped up on his elbow, laying on his right side with his whole body facing me. I can see the many shades of green in his eyes, as they flicker in the moonlight. He is staring at me so intensely, it feels like his gaze is actually piercing through me, right into my soul.

  I don't know exactly how to respond. I think about what he just said, and realize that the words alone by themselves, if written down on a piece of paper with no context, mean very little. Looking into those eyes, and hearing the way he half whispers them, while his eyes tell the rest of the story, makes them almost surreal.

  I feel like right now, we are having another moment, and it makes me feel so many things I know I shouldn't be. I am excited, engaged, and alive, but I am also utterly confused. I feel guilty and ashamed for having these feelings in the first place. It's a very strange and complicated mess of emotions. I have no idea how to handle any of it. I down the rest of my wine, hoping that the rushing, burgundy liquid will wash it all away.

  Trevor holds the wine bottle above my glass. It is his silent offering for more, but he doesn't pour until I nod. He hands me the half-full glass, and inches his body closer to me. Every once in a while, a light breeze carries the scent of his cologne to me.

  I sip my wine as he stares at me. His eyes seem to be begging me for something, but I don't know what he wants. I wish he would just come out and say it, whatever it is. I have to look away because I'm having a hard time breathing, while looking into those dangerous, green eyes.

  "So, do you like Avery?" I ask casually, hoping his answer will help clarify the emotions swirling around in my head.

  "I do?" He says it more like a question than an answer. I sense there is a huge but at the end, that he is not telling me about.

  "You do, but . . . ." I try to help him along.

  "I do, but it's complicated." He looks away from me, as he says this.

  "Why is it complicated? Do you already have a girlfriend or something?"

  I want to ask him about the brown-eyed beauty from his Facebook page, but I don't. The last thing I want him to know is how I have already completely stalked him, especially since it was so soon after accepting his friend request.

  "It's definitely not because I have a girlfriend. It's more like the or something . . . ." He repeats my words, but he is being so cryptic. I don't know how to make sense of anything he’s saying.

  "What does that mean?" I think the wine is making me bolder than I would be without it.

  Trevor closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and lies on his back again. He reaches up and tucks his arms behind his head, causing the hem of his shirt to lift just enough to show a sliver of bare skin. I can see the outline of his stomach muscles moving up and down through his shirt, as he breathes. My heart is wild, as this strange anticipation creeps into my system. Now, my breathing seems to be somewhat labored. Why am I so nervous?

  "Avery is beautiful, smart, funny, and a whole lot of fun to be with, but . . . ." his voice trails off.

  There is that cryptic word again. I wish he wou
ld just finish his sentence. Trying to fill in the blanks for Trevor is damned near impossible. Attempting to read him is like flipping through a book full of empty pages.

  I decide to set my glass down, and lay back on the blanket next to him. The sky is finally dark enough that the stars are peeking out. I remove Kyle's baseball cap and toss it to the side, so I can get a better view. Trevor is still staring up at the sky, now with this lost expression on his face.

  "But what, Trevor? What is holding you back?" I ask sharply. He doesn't answer me, or say anything. "I think she really likes you," I add.

  "Yeah. I like her, too, but I can't help but feel . . . something for this other girl, too. It's not even something I want to feel necessarily. It's just there, and it happened so quickly." He puffs up his cheeks, and lets the air out in one gust, as if he is gathering enough courage to say something. "It's so . . . strong, that I don't know what to do about it."

  My heart begins racing, as I feel the panic rising in my throat. Surely he isn't talking about you, Laila. Don't be ridiculous. It has to be some other girl. Some other girl that I'd like to punch right about now.

  "Well, I know one thing you could do, and that is to stop messing around with my best friend. If you have feelings for this other girl, you shouldn't get yourself mixed up with Avery. It's not fair to her." I know I have far more tone in my voice than I should, but I can't help it.

  It sounds like he is just using Avery, when he obviously has feelings for this other girl. If I'm being completely honest with myself, though, that isn't the real reason I am getting so upset with him. The idea that Trevor likes some other mystery girl is what is really bothering me. I know it's not fair for me to feel this way. Not when I have Sam.

  Part of me wonders if Trevor isn't just a huge player. He is definitely the master at sending girls mixed signals. I think back about this whole weekend. He's in my face flirting with me, and trying to block my chance to kiss another guy at my party half of the time. Then, he spends the other half of it flirting with my best friend shamelessly. He made her believe that he is really into her, all while knowing in the back of his mind that he may actually like someone else. He takes Avery out on a real date last night, and yet here he is with me, on this non-date, date tonight. No matter which way you look at it, this is all just so screwed up. It's just how things are when you get yourself involved with a player.

  "You're right." That is all he says. I can tell he is once again, staring at me as he says it.

  I can almost feel his gaze, as if it is a hot laser cutting deep into my skin, leaving my whole body burning with need. I refuse to look at him, though. I don't want to get lost in those green eyes again. Instead, I want to stay mad at him. I need to remain hard and in control. It's easier that way with him, because that is when I know exactly where the line between our friendship and that something else is. That is when I know exactly how to keep my feet firmly planted on the right side of it, too.

  It's those other times, when Trevor hypnotizes me with those deep and soulful eyes that everything gets swept up into a furious windstorm in my mind. That is when it is hard not only to see the line, but it's almost impossible to know which side I am even standing on.

  The truth is, my feet are never securely anchored to one side over the other with him. At any moment, a tornado could easily sweep me up, and carry me back over to the other side quickly, and without warning.

  "Hey, don't be mad at me. I'm just trying to figure some stuff out, ok? I am trying not to lead Avery on. I swear to you. I haven't even kissed her, Laila." Trevor reaches his hand over to grasp mine in his, as he says this.

  His touch immediately awakens the millions of tiny butterflies that have been resting nervously in my stomach. I want to believe everything he is saying. I know he isn't lying about not kissing Avery because she already told me this earlier today, but I am still worried about this other girl. As absurd as it is, part of me secretly wishes it were me he is hung up on. I'm concerned about letting myself fall for a guy that I have no business getting caught up with. I'm also afraid of screwing up the best thing that has ever happened to me, actually the two best things.

  I squeeze his hand, to let him know that I'm not angry with him anymore. He gently rubs the pad of his thumb across the top of my hand. I once again, wonder if this action can be safely categorized in the friend-only zone. I'm pretty sure it can't, but I lie to myself anyway. I pretend that it can, and that it is. It's kind of like this non-date, date that we are currently on, or how it felt when Trevor's arms were wrapped around me in the coat closet, and when I was stuck in the mud.

  Right now, my body is floating amidst a funnel of emotions furiously swirling around me. Flying shrapnel and debris is everywhere, clouding my vision, and making my heart fly recklessly in every direction. At some point, someone is going to get seriously hurt by all of it. I just wish I knew how to make the tornados go away before that happens. I want more than anything to plant my feet firmly on the ground, and stay as far away from that damned line as I possibly can.

  Chapter Fifteen: Out of the Dead Zone

  Trevor drops me off a little after ten. It is a strange drive home because we barely speak. This is not because we are fighting or anything. It is just that we already said what we wanted to say, and now, there just doesn't seem to be much else for us to talk about. One of the things I really like about Trevor is that we can do that without things getting awkward. We just listen to his Dave Matthews playlist, and watch the tree-lined gravel road disappear.

  When we turn back on the main road, I feel like we have left something special behind, and it makes my heart ache a little. It's like Trevor's secret hide-away was our own little haven where we could say or do anything. There were no rules. I had allowed myself to feel things there that I normally would keep bottled up.

  When the road is no longer bumpy, we are greeted with flashes of multiple headlights scanning the windshield, like a mob of cops with spotlights trying to break up a riot. Between that and the insistent beeps and dings from our phones, reminding us that we are no longer in a dead zone, we know that what happened back there is now over. We are back to civilization, our lives at home, and everything that goes with it.

  Despite all of that, we both ignore our phones the whole way home. I suppose he does this because he is driving, but I’m ignoring mine for other reasons.

  When we pull up to my house, I thank him quickly and scurry out of his car. He simply nods while a faint smile sneaks onto his face. I am not sure what it means because instead of making my butterflies dance like his smiles usually do, it makes my feet unsteady and my stomach uneasy.

  I close the front door and peek out the side window. Trevor sits there for a moment, making me wonder why he isn't pulling away. It's almost like he wants to say something else to me. After a few minutes though, he shakes his head as if he is just waking up from a dream, and finally backs his car out of the driveway.

  "Laila, did you guys have fun? What did you do?" My mom is looking at me strangely. What is that about?

  "It was fun. We went on a picnic."

  Her eyes fall down to my mud-caked shoes with horror.

  "Sorry. I had to track through some mud to get there." She disappears for a minute. When she returns, she is holding a plastic bag and some towels.

  "So, where did you guys go?" she asks, as she spreads one of the towels out on top of the rug. I carefully slip off my dirty shoes, and step onto the towel. She hands me a wet rag, so I can clean up my feet.

  "It was this really cool, kind of secluded little place by a natural spring. It was on his uncle's property. We watched the sun set, ate dinner, and just talked."

  She is looking at me with that same silly grin on her face, but I decide to ignore it.

  "Mom, it was so beautiful. I've never seen water so clear. Oh, and the stars at night? It seemed like there were a million of them out there. We never get to see the stars like that here. It was really cool."

  Mom carefully
slips my muddy shoes into the plastic bag, and pauses with a frown on her face. Her eyebrows finally relax, and she smiles in that familiar, motherly way, which is a big relief. For a moment there, I was really worried that she had somehow found out about Sam.

  "That sounds really great, honey. You know, Trevor is a very nice boy. I like him." Her eyebrows are doing that thing where they arch up, as if she means to say something else.

  "Yeah. He is," I say casually, trying to shrug off her suggestive look.

  "He comes from a good family, and I could be wrong, but I think he likes you too, Laila." The way she says this makes my stomach uneasy.

  "No, Mom. We are just friends. He went on a date with Avery yesterday, and he may even like some other girl. He definitely doesn't like me." I am trying my best to convince her, but she is smiling at me, and shaking her head in that way that says, "You don't know what you are talking about."

  I hate when she looks at me like that.

  "Okay, honey. Maybe, my radar is a little off. I guess it’s possible, but I don't know. I'm usually pretty perceptive when it comes to these things."

  I look at her doubtfully. She sure hasn't picked up on the fact that Sam likes me. She holds out her hand, and waits for me to pass her my filthy rags.

  "Thanks," I mutter. She nods.

  "Well anyway, I'm glad you had a good time. So, I've been meaning to ask you. Did you get to meet the girl that Kyle had at the party on Friday?”

  "Georgia?" I ask, curious to find out what Mom knows about her. I follow her into the kitchen. She sets the bag with the ball of dirty rags down on the counter.

  "Is that her name?" she asks with hopeful eyes.

  I simply nod.

  "He didn't even introduce us. It was like he was purposely avoiding me all night. Do you know if they are dating?" Her eyes light up, and she leans over the counter on her elbows in a way that looks like she is expecting a big reveal.