The Dating Deal (16 page)

Saturday morning as I was getting ready to go over to Trent’s to practice for our duet, Conner called.  “You were great last night,” he said.

I smiled, pleased that he’d been there.  ’Cause I’d rocked.

“Sorry about Laura and Aspen,” he said.  “And all of their stupid friends.”

For the briefest of moments, I thought about telling him what they had done to my dress, but decided not to.  I didn’t have time to go into a long discussion of how rotten Laura was.  If he couldn’t see it by now, well, then he was blind and stupid.

“Thanks for calling,” I told him.  “But I’ve got to run.”

I hung up without shedding a single tear or even thinking about shedding one.  No trauma.  No drama.  No nothing. 
You’ve come a long way, baby
!  I told myself.

When I got to Trent’s, he answered the door, leading me into his kitchen where he was making cookies.   Which, in itself was a shock.  Who knew Trent Ryan could bake? 

“They’re a treat for after we practice,” he said, as he pulled out a dozen cinnamony beauties from the oven.  “Because I have something to tell you.”

Hearing that would have been big news to me, only I’m easily distracted by cookies.  Instead of picking up on the seriousness in his voice, I exclaimed, “Oh!  Snickerdoodles!  My favorite!”

He grinned, reminding me, “They’re for
after
practice.”

As I watched him slide the Snickerdoodles onto the cooling rack, I noticed something (which is kind of remarkable, since there were cookies right in front of me). He had on a CTR ring!

 “Hey, you have a CTR ring!”  I exclaimed.

He gave it an appreciative glance.  “Yeah, it stands for Choose The Right,” he explained.  The way he said it, it was as though I had never seen such a ring.  It was cute.

He went on, “Most of the kids in our class have one.  So, of course, Wendy wanted one, too.  Then while I was there, at the church store, I thought I might as well get myself one.”  He bit his lip.  “You know, as a reminder not to drink and stuff.”

I stared up at him in amazement.  He was full of surprises, special, wonderful surprises.  Who was this boy that took over Trent Ryan’s body?!  I
loved
him.

Trent grinned, raising an eyebrow quizzically.  “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Because I love you, I wanted to tell him—but of course I didn’t.  Instead, I said, “You have a little cookie-dough on your chin.”  I reached up to him, rubbing the lie away with my finger.

Trent watched me as I did it, and he got that “look.”  The one he gets sometimes. That dreamy, “Come hither and be mine,” expression.  I thought he was going to kiss me.  It seemed as though he was going to.  I held my breath, thinking: finally!

But of course he didn’t kiss me.  He
never
kissed me.  It was my stupid rule.  Stupid, stupid rule!  Instead he cleared his throat, backing away.  “Are you ready?” he said.

Trent led me down to his basement.  It was finished and full of musical instruments.  “This is the music room,” he said, walking to the little refrigerator in the corner of the room.  “Do you want something to drink?”

Holding my breath, I peeked into the little fridge.  Then I smiled, warmed.  There wasn’t a beer in it, not one.  Just sodas.  Gobs and gobs of sodas.  Sweet soda! 
Wonderful
soda!  Maybe that night when he went down to the basement to get himself and Caitlin “drinks” he didn’t get them beers after all.  Maybe he got them one of these sodas.  It was possible.  More than possible, really.  It was like, probably.  After all, this was his basement, and this was the only fridge down here and it was stocked with: SODA!!!

“No thanks,” I said, twirling around in the massive space, loving the room.  It was like a music store right in his house.  But then I noticed something.  The store was void of customers, namely, Wendy.

“She’s at dance lessons,” Trent said when I asked.  “We’re alone.  Is that okay?”

I reddened.  “Sure.”  It wasn’t as though I thought he was going to attack me or anything.  But things were suddenly sort of awkward.

He watched me.  “It’s just I wanted us to talk alone after we practice, okay?”

“Sure,” I said, trying to sound breezy.  Only I wasn’t breezy.  I was suddenly worried.  What did he want to talk to me about?  And why did he need us to be alone for it?  Was he going to say something horrible?  Something that would make me cry?

I would have supposed he was going to tell me he’d decided not to sing the duet with me, only he was waiting until
after
the practice to tell me.  So, I was pretty sure that wasn’t it.

“Wh—what is it we’re going to talk about?” I asked.  Lately, he’d been acting funny.  Like he wanted to tell me something, only he kept chickening out.  Remembering that suddenly knotted my stomach.  It had to be something terrible, horrible even, to turn
Trent
into a chicken.

“After we practice,” he said. 

So, we practiced.  Practiced, practiced, practiced.  But the thing was, we were great.  Terrific.  We were so incredibly, awesome I couldn’t help jumping up and down and generally being a spaz.  “Don’t you think we’re fantastic?” I said, trying to get Trent a little spazzy too.

 “Yeah.”  He smiled ruefully.  “We’re great.”

 Why’d he seem so sad about it? 

I tilted my head.  “So what were you going to tell me?” I asked.  He started to hesitate, so I interjected, “Tell me now or I’ll die!”

Trent bit his lip, seeming anxious.  The knot in my stomach tightened.  What could possibly be so terrible?

“Let’s go upstairs,” he said.  “Have a cookie.  Snickerdoodles, your favorite.”

I followed him upstairs and let him pour me a glass of milk to go with my cookies.  “Okay,” I said, my stomach a tangled ball of knots.  “What is it?”

Trent sat down beside me, looking uneasy.  “Why do you think I like you so much?”

I blinked.  “Do you like me so much?”

“Gee, Megan, what does it take?  I took you to the dance.  I’m singing goofy show-tunes for you and dancing a jig.  I’m even taking missionary lessons so I can be the kind of guy you like.  What do you think?  Maybe I like you, a little bit?”

Suddenly my heart was pounding so hard I was sure it was going to pounce right out of my chest.  He was taking missionary lessons?!  He liked me?!  HE WAS TAKING MISSIONARY LESSONS?!!!!

I gulped down my milk, almost choking on it.  “You’re taking missionary lessons?!”

“Yeah.  I had a bunch of questions in Mrs. Springsteed’s class.  She had me make an appointment with the missionaries.  Wendy and I, we’re on the third discussion.”

I couldn’t help the gigantically huge smile plastered on my face.  I didn’t even try to control it.  “Trent, that’s so great!”

Trent ran his hands through his hair, still looking uneasy.  “Yeah, but why did I come to your church in the first place?  Why was I so attracted to you?”

“You were attracted to me?”

“Yeah, Megan, I was attracted to you.  I never made it a secret.  Why is all of this a surprise to you?”

“I don’t know.  I thought you were messing around.”

Trent shook his head, staring at me intently.  “I’m not messing around.”

He stared into my eyes.  “I’m completely serious.” 

He went on.  “But why?  Why do you think I like you so much?”

“ My … hair?”  I do have sort of nice hair.  It’s definitely my best feature.  Not that it’s perfect.  A lot of times it’s like a wild beast I can’t control.  But it’s long and full.  If I were to cut it short I don’t think a guy would look at me twice.  Needles to say, I have no plans to cut it.

Trent grinned.  “Yeah, that’s it.  Your hair.  It’s all I can think about.  It keeps me up at night.”  His eyes danced with amusement.  “Your hair’s great.  It is.  But that’s not it.  It’s
you
, Megan.  I like
you
.”

Hearing him keep saying that was getting me delirious.  I needed to change the subject before I started doing cartwheels or something. 

“It was Caitlin you did this for,” I reminded him.  Then I went on to tell him what I’d suspected all along, wanting him to know I was profoundly wise and understood what he was going through.  “You have deep, ambiguous feelings for her.”

“What?”  Trent looked at me as though I was nuts.  “I don’t have ‘feelings’ for Caitlin.  I feel bad for her.  I want to shake her and tell her she’s screwing up her life.  But I don’t have ‘feelings’ for her.” 

I looked at him skeptically, and he relented.  “Well, I guess at one time I
thought
I did, but that was a long time ago, before I got to know her.”  Trent ran his hands through his hair.  “See, that’s what happens all the time.  I think I like a girl until I get to know her.  But with you it was different.  With you—”

Right then Wendy came bounding through the front door.  “Megan!” she exclaimed, rushing to give me a hug.

“Hi Wendy.”  I hugged her back, noticing their Mom standing in the doorway, smiling at us.  “Hello,” I said to her.  “I’m Megan Turner.”

The woman looked a little puzzled.  “Megan Turner?  Why does that sound so familiar?—and you look familiar.  Do I know you from somewhere?”  Then she seemed to piece it all together.  “Oh, I know.  You’re the girl I bought Charlie’s computer from.”

I stood staring at her, now recognizing her as well.  “Yeah,” I said in astonishment.  “It’s good to see you again Mrs. Hayes.”

She smiled glancing at the heaping plate of Snickerdoodles on the table.  “You brought Charlie cookies?”

I shook my head, still slightly dazed.  This was too incredible.  Trent’s mom was the lady that bought my old computer, the one Conner had helped me sell?  I remembered she had said she was buying it to surprise her son for his Birthday.  Trent was her son?!  Trent
owned
my old computer?! 

“Trent made them,” I told her, referring to the Snickerdoodles.

Mrs. Hayes seemed amazed.  “Charlie made you cookies?  That’s a first.”  She smiled and gave me a wink.  “He must like you a lot.”

Trent put his hand on my shoulder.  “I do.” 

Mrs. Hayes looked surprised by her son’s candor.  “Well …”

Trent didn’t wait for her to go on with that thought.  Instead, he steered me toward the door.  “I’ll walk you to your car,” he said.

I looked back at him questioningly.  I hadn’t been planning to leave, not for a long, long time.  But he was hurrying me out the door as though the house was on fire. 

“My cookies!” I said.

Trent relented.  “Okay, wait by your car and I’ll get them.” 

I gave him a look that said, “What in the Sam Hill is going on?” 

Trent played with a lock of my hair.  “Just do it, okay?” he said gently.  “I need to talk to you—alone.”

He waited until I walked all the way to my car before he went back into the house.

Boy, he was acting weird!  But he liked me, and he was taking missionary lessons!  Nothing he had to say could possibly be bigger than that.   So I waited by my car with tickles in my stomach and a song in my heart.  It went like this:  He likes me!  He likes me!  He like, like, like, likes me!

When Trent came out he was carrying a gallon-sized baggie of snickerdoodles.  And I guess he gave up on breaking his horrible news to me gently.  I guess he decided the best approach was to simply plunge the knife into my heart in one brutal jab. 

He handed me the cookies saying, “I read your computer.”

My smile froze.  “What?”

“Your hard drive.  It was recoverable.  I read it.”

“No!”  I backed away from him.

“Megan,” he put his hand on my shoulder, but I shook it away.  Now I understood.  Understood how he knew so much about me.   Understood how this whole fraudulent, fantasy came into existence.  He read the files off my computer.  The jerk read my journal!