Do Over (13 page)

John addressed Trey next. “Dude, no.”

Trey ignored him and pulled on his T-shirt. He held out a hand to me. “Let’s go.” He nodded at John, and led me out the other door.

Trey lightly swung our hands as we walked across the parking lot through the afternoon heat. My phone beeped. I didn’t recognize the number, but scrolled over the text. The message was from Asher, the guy who’d hosted the River Oaks party on my ill-fated date with Blaine. I looked from my screen to Trey. “I need to know if we’re dating.”

Chapter Eleven

Trey stiffened and dropped my hand. He’d withdrawn from me like we were guests on a talk show and the host had just confirmed,
you are not the father
. “Why? Are you going to announce it with a mass text?”

We reached my CRV and I leaned back against the heated metal of the driver’s door. “Like anyone would believe me.”

He stared at the distance. “Why do you want to know?”

“I’m being asked out, and I want to know how to respond.”

Trey kicked at a tire. “If you want to go out with someone else, go out with him.”

“No. That’s not how a relationship works. I pick you. If you choose me too, I tell Asher, ‘No.’ If you don’t, I’ll make a decision then.”

“Asher?”
Trey sneered, shoved his hands in his pockets and looked away.
“Tell him, no.”

“Okay.”

***

Trey didn’t call or text me that night or the next morning. I caught up with him in the hall after third period. He glanced at me, then away. I mentally rolled my eyes. Did he think I’d demand his letter jacket and his senior ring? His eyes got even more fearful when I stepped closer. He probably thought I’d drop to a knee and propose.
Trey, Trey. I’m so much smarter than that.

I took his hand. “Relax. Our relationship is no big deal. It’s like a new haircut. You think it’s a remarkable change and then no one notices.”

Trey pressed his lips together. I waved two rectangular tickets at him, offering a treat.

His gaze narrowed, but he didn’t reach for them. “A museum? Some costume thing?”

“I learned my lesson from Blaine. I’ll be gentle with you.” I waved the tickets again. “Clue. It’s not NHL, NFL or MLB.” I tapped the tickets against my lips.

Trey relaxed. “Sports.”

“Clue. Their uniforms are a horrible shade of orange.” Next, I pulled two laminated badges from my pocket and swung them until their lanyards wrapped around my wrist.

Trey tugged me close enough to smell his cologne. Nice.

He said, “Sideline passes?”

“Star got ‘em. She has connections with the Dynamos.”

“You’re kinda cool.” Trey leaned down with a quick kiss--a sweet, fleeting one--like licking icing off your fingertip.

“No PDA in the hallway, Mr. Tresmont,” a nearby teacher said then turned to another couple. “You, over there, Mr. Williams, let me see what’s in your hands.”

I tucked the tickets away and held out my hand. “Walk me to class?”

Trey linked his fingers through mine and followed me down the corridor. With each step we took, more heads turned. The whispers started after ten steps, and the stares became blatant by a dozen. By fifteen, I tried to pull free, but Trey tightened his grip.

Lauren rushed over to us, her books clasped to her chest. She glared at our hands a full second then at me. “What are you doing?”

“I told you last night. I’m dating him.”

I tried to release Trey’s hand. He refused to let go.

“God, I thought you were joking,” Lauren said. “You can’t date Trey. No way.”

I felt warmth hit my cheeks. “We’ll talk about it at lunch.”

Shooting another gaping stare at our hands, Lauren said, “At least try to hide it.” She made no attempt to disguise the exasperation in her voice.

Trey’s head tilted, and his eyes narrowed. He looked like he was about to accept a challenge I hadn’t made.

“Geography.” I pulled him toward class. I dropped his hand the second we cleared the doorway and hurried to my desk. When I got there, I tucked my hair behind my ears and took a deep breath, trying to appear normal.

Trey dropped his bag at his own desk then walked straight to mine. He put both hands flat on the surface then leaned down and kissed me.

My cheeks burned at all the stares. Everyone in class saw that kiss. Not one person, not two. Everyone turned and stared. Trey liked a good fight, and their judgmental expressions had dared him to misbehave. He gave me another quick kiss and moved back to his desk.

Carla sat across the aisle, her hand clasping her budget spreadsheet.

I jumped on the distraction and cleared my throat. “How are we doing?”

“Bands a go. Several school clubs are a go.” Carla erased an item then her dark eyes bored into me. She jabbed her eraser in the direction of Trey’s desk. “That’s going to end badly.”

I had to peek at Trey.

Ian seemed to be giving him a lecture. He shook his head and waved his skinny arms toward the window as if pointing in the direction of the field house.

Trey slouched in his chair, loose-limbed, carefree. He winked at me, and I turned back around.

Carla was right.

This
was
going to end badly.

***

The Houston Dynamos stomped FC Dallas. What could be better? Trey’s arm slid around my waist, and he kissed me.
That was better.
Smooth, warm, happy, the celebratory kiss added a shimmer to a great date. A tap on my elbow made me glance sideways. A fan with a painted face pointed toward the field. Across the field, an image of our kiss appeared on the arena’s Jumbotron in huge Technicolor glory. My jaw dropped and I glared at the electronic screen, until the camera abandoned us to exploit another couple.

I refused to kiss him again near the cameras, but promised him an amazing kiss if he walked me to the door.

When we got to Dad’s, Trey made it to my side of the car before I un-clicked my seatbelt. He helped me out and led me to the door. We stood on the darkened front porch. Trey leaned down. I raised on my tiptoes eager for the goodnight kiss.

Before my lips could meet his, the outdoor light beamed on and the front door opened.
Click.

Dad stepped outside. “In here. Now.”

I shook free and moved across the threshold.

“Bye,” Trey said, easing toward the path.

Dad jerked his thumb toward the foyer. “You, too, Tresmont.”

We followed Dad into the living room. Dad didn’t get far, before he turned and faced us head on.

He pointed a finger at me.

“Paisley Oilers Johnson.”

Chapter Twelve

“Dad!” I gasped. Dad had broken the cardinal rule. He had used my middle name.
When the Houston Oilers moved their football team to Tennessee, Dad joined the Houston movement against the team’s departure. He’d rarely used my middle name after that betrayal. Thank you, God.

Dad folded his arms across his chest. “Why did you kiss Trey?”

“We’re dating.” My voice pitched high and lacked conviction.

“No, you aren’t.” Dad shook his head and spoke slowly.

My arms folded over my chest and my chin tilted in the air. “Yeah, we are.” My voice strengthened.

“You are not dating him.” Each of Dad’s word increased in force.

“Oilers?” Trey stared at me. The corner of his lip twitched.

“Shut up.”

Both corners of his mouth edged upwards. “Oilers?”

“They played in Houston when I was born.”

“The Oilers were born here like Paisley. That’s all that matters.” Dad defended his choice. “Not the point. She’s not allowed out with you. Not on a date.”

“Trey’s a good kid, Paisley, find him a nice girl.” Quoting Dad’s own words back at him never worked well as a strategy, but I couldn’t resist.

“Sorry for the confusion.” Dad spoke even slower.
“Let me clear it up. You are not allowed to date Trey.”

“Coach--”

Dad cut Trey off. “We’ll see you tomorrow at school. And to be more clear,” Dad slowed his speech down to a ridiculous speed and emphasized each word,
“You are not allowed to date my daughter. I’ll show you out now.”

***

The cafeteria smelled like breakfast cereal and pancakes. I scooted around a freshman with a wobbly hold on her oatmeal and found Trey in his usual spot.

“That went better than I thought it would.” Trey shoved his tray aside and held out his hand.

I let him pull me onto the seat beside his. Even now, I could see the stares we were getting from other diners. I pasted on a smile and nodded at some of his jock friends. I lowered my voice. “Not really.”

The first warning bell rang for class.

“Oilers?”

My heart raced. “Shh.” I checked the room to make sure no one heard him, shifted my satchel to my back, and got up.

“My parents want to have yours over for dinner,” Trey said. “They think we’re adorable.”

Nightmare.
My eyes widened. “That’s really sweet.” I took another step toward the corridor.

“And?”

“Um, Mom’s out of town this weekend,” I stammered.

“So ask Star and Coach?”

“We’ll see.”

***

I worried a lot before we got there and sat on the edge of my seat during dinner, but the meal went fairly well. Everyone stayed on neutral topics. No one mentioned that Trey’s parents didn’t come to his games. No one mentioned Trey’s reputation. No one mentioned Star’s decision to wear a keyhole neckline paired with a handkerchief-hemmed skirt. And, most importantly, no one mentioned my middle name.

Trey’s dad leaned forward and braced one arm on the polished walnut tabletop. He gestured to the living room with his free hand. “We can catch a game on TV.”

Dad looked tempted for a moment then shook his head. “Star has a performance so we have to get down to Reliant Stadium.”

Trey’s dad murmured a polite invitation to get together again soon. Dinner wound up quickly after that. Dad and Star said their goodbyes and Dad ended his by giving me a long look. “Your mom expects you home by nine p.m.”

“Okay.” I smiled. My curfew at Mom’s was midnight, and he knew it. “Good luck tonight, Star.”

After waving Aster off, I joined Trey and his dad in the living room.

His dad clicked the remote and stopped on an icy image appeared on screen. “This is Curling.”

“Yes.”

Trey said, “Stones resting closer to the center of the house wins.”

“Yeah, Dad made my brother and me go to the Olympic Prelims. It’s like shuffleboard.”

Trey grinned. “You’re going to be the one girl I never have to explain sports to.”

“I think that’s most girls. We either know sports or don’t want to. I’m a bit of both.”

Trey’s dad got up, rubbing his hands together. “I’ll check on your mom and the popcorn.”

“He really means the popcorn,” Trey said, his gaze on the plasma screen.

“About the prom…” I said and waited.

Trey sent me a serious glance. “I’m not joining Sparkle.”

“Really? I had a name badge made up for you already.”

Trey turned back to the TV.

I nudged him with my pink ballet flat. “About the prom…”

“Will you be my date to Prom in a Field?” he asked, not looking away from the broadcast.

“Yes.” I grinned. I wanted to squeal and hug him, but knew better than to come between a guy and the game. Grabbing my jacket, I pulled a lollipop from the front pocket, making sure to make a ridiculous amount of noise yanking the wrapper off.

Trey glanced over, half interested.

I waved the red-and-white wrapper. “Your favorite. Strawberry,” I said around the white stem.

His eyes widened, and he pulled me onto his lap.

I giggled and leaned back when he tried to grab the candy.

When his dad and mom came in carrying two bowls of popcorn and a tray of sodas, Trey let me slide free. I got up to help but Trey stayed put. Spoiled.

Toying with the discarded candy wrapper, Trey sent me several glances during the game, mostly at my mouth.

This was, by far, the best time I’d ever had watching curling.

“Your dad’s having a fall wedding?” his mom asked. “That’s not much time. How are the plans going?”

“Mmm, a lot of the work’s done for us, with all the planning books out there.”

His mom nodded and looked interested, so I continued. “We’re picking dresses now. Star bribed me into a mermaid number.”

Trey twitched a smirk my way. I hadn’t realized he was listening.

His mom winced. “We’re going to have a bridal gown in our spring show, but it won’t be mermaid style.”

“Show?”

“Yeah,” she said. “I can do some of my work here. But fashion design keeps me in New York most of the time.”

Trey’s head turned and his eyes watched me.

My mouth opened a little and I felt my face flush. My voice rose, “You’re a fashion designer?”

His mom examined Trey’s T-shirt. “You wouldn’t know it from how my kid dresses, I know.”

Trey actually dressed better than anyone in our class.” I lightly hit his arm. “Why didn’t you tell me what your mom does for a living?”

Trey sent me a sideways look from the corner of his green eyes and smiled a wicked half-grin.

If his mom hadn’t been standing there, I’d have done something more about it.

“Would you like to see some of my designs?”

“Yes.” I rose to my feet before his mom finished the invitation. “Trey needs a tux for prom. Do you design men’s wear? Has Trey told you what the swim team’s wearing?”

***

I met Trey at his locker so we could walk to class together.

“You should leave some of your books here, so you don’t have to carry them from B wing.” He shut his locker with a metallic click.

“Maybe.” I handed him my backpack, and he threw the strap over his shoulder. The bag should have made him look weird, with its pink polka-dots, but somehow he seemed more masculine. I touched a hand lightly to his waist. “Do you think Star will make you wear some type of
under the sea
accessory at the wedding?”