Contradictions

by Tiffany King

  “Let me check what you have so far,” Trent said, waiting for me to navigate to the online section of the class so he could view our project up to this point. He moved the project to a new document so he could add notes. Peering over his shoulder, I saw that he was able to solve the equations in our business plan so they now made sense. “You have to account for supplies from this company and the overseas company you plan to use for this brand,” he explained, pointing to the notes he had added by our columns. “That’s why your numbers weren’t matching up.”

  “Hey, not my numbers. Acne Greg has that job.”

  “Acne Greg? You sure like your labels.”

  “What?” I asked, feigning innocence.

  “Acne Greg, Panty Muncher,” he listed. “Oh, and my favorite are my nicknames, of course. Nerd Boy, Geek Squad, Clark Trent. That’s the best one, by the way.”

  I laughed as he listed all my pet names for him. It was something I’d always done. My friend Brittni and I had nicknames for everyone back in Woodfalls. Some were terms of endearment, while others were more of a label. Like the girl Brittni interned with that got busted for smacking a kid’s hand. She was forever known as McSlappy to Brittni and me, even after she got fired.

  “Nicknames are awesome,” I replied when I had my laughter under control.

  “What about the nicknames people have made for you?”

  “Are you kidding? I dated Jackson for four long years. Do you think there’s anything anyone could call me that would be any worse than what he would call me?” I asked, still laughing. My hang-ups over Jackson were quickly slipping away to no-man’s-land. I wouldn’t allow sour memories of him to drag me down any further.

  “I always hated that dick. Someone should kick his ass,” Trent mumbled, shutting down my laptop. “Maybe I should.”

  “I don’t know, Jackson’s a big guy.” I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but even with the lean muscles that I now knew lay beneath Trent’s shirt, it was hard for me to imagine how he would handle himself in a fight.

  “I know how to fight,” Trent said quietly, like he was picking the thoughts from my head.

  “He’s not even worth the effort,” I said, stowing my stuff in my book bag. “Thanks for the help with the group project. Hopefully the boneheads and I will figure it out. I need at least a B on the project.”

  “Looking at the grading rubric, you should be okay. The group portion only counts for fifteen percent of your grade. Your own section counts for the other eighty-five percent.”

  I stuck out my tongue at him. He liked to deliberately quote percentages because I had told him how they tripped me up like ratios. “You’re hilarious. I’ve got to go,” I said, heading for the door.

  “Big plans tonight?” He stood and stepped close to me, resting a hand against the door so I couldn’t open it. It was a classic guy move and was completely out of character for Trent.

  “I’m not going out partying, if that’s what you mean.” I hated the defensive tone in my voice. Tutor or not, I didn’t owe him any explanations.

  “That’s not why I’m asking.” His voice came out strangled as a flush crawled up his neck.

  “Then what’s your deal?”

  He choked out an answer I didn’t quite catch.

  “One more time, Geek Squad,” I teased.

  “Do you have a date?” He was finally able to spit out his answer, but not before his ears turned a bright shade of red.

  “Yes,” I said, seizing the opportunity to put the necessary distance between us.

  “Oh—cool. Well, have fun.” The electric blue of his eyes that was so captivating seemed to lose its brilliant luster.

  I sighed. I was being suckered by a pair of eyes. “I have a poker game at my house tonight with some friends.”

  His face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. “Poker? I’ve been known to play a few hands,” he said, looking hopeful.

  Before I could even stop myself, I asked if he wanted to join us. It was the damn eyes. Like I said before, they were my kryptonite. Trent accepted before I could even attempt to retract the invitation.

  Oh hell. What did I do?

  12.

  If I hadn’t needed my feet to drive, I would have kicked my own ass all the way home. Two weeks of keeping Trent at arm’s length completely down the tubes.

  I needed to vent. Picking up my cell phone, I opened my contacts and tapped the name at the top of the list. “I hate you, bitch¸” I said as soon as she answered.

  “What did I do this time?” Brittni asked, laughing.

  “You brainwashed me.”

  “Well, honey, you had to know that was my ploy all along. But, just so I know, how did I brainwash you?” I could picture her sitting on the couch rolling her eyes at my dramatics.

  “With Clark freaking Trent.”

  “Who?”

  “Trent James. Don’t act like you don’t know who I’m talking about.”

  “Sorry, my sweet foul-mouthed friend. The name wasn’t ringing any bells.”

  “Seriously? Clark Trent is brilliant. You know, like Clark Kent?” I said. Then I realized it. He was turning me into a nerd. My life as I knew it was ending.

  “Okay, I get it now. Tutoring starting to wear you down?”

  “No,” I snapped. “I mean—maybe, I guess.”

  “Well then, what has your thong all in a bunch?”

  “I invited Trent to my apartment tonight.”

  “Oh my. Is it me or are things heating up?” she purred.

  “Stop. We won’t be alone.”

  “Oooh, trying a little kinky college experimentation, look at you.”

  “Can you stop being a perv for a few minutes?”

  “What’s that phrase about people in glass houses?”

  “Brittni, this is serious. In an hour, Trent will be hanging out with my friends and me while we play poker. With anybody else this wouldn’t be a big deal, but we both know Trent’s not going to see it that way.”

  “So, why is that such a bad thing?” She laughed when I growled over the phone. “Okay, seriously. Tressa, I love you like a sister, but your dating snobbery is getting a little old. You’ve gone out with every dickhead who’s ever asked you out. Meanwhile, when a nice guy comes around, you don’t even want to give him a chance. It’s time to pull on your big-girl pants and go out with someone who doesn’t treat you like a doormat.”

  “I’m not a doormat.”

  “Exactly my point. I dare you to go out with him,” she said, raising the stakes.

  “Brittni,” I warned.

  “Double-dog dare you.”

  I swore under my breath. Growing up, Brittni and I had a made-up rule that neither of us could back down from a dare initiated by the other. I made Brittni do some pretty outrageous dares over the years, and she took great pride in payback whenever she got the chance. The sad thing is that the rule was originally my idea when we were like six or seven years old, and now it was going to bite me in the ass.

  “And no veto either,” she added hastily before I could use that loophole.

  “Bitch, I hate you,” I grumbled, clicking off my phone without saying good-bye.

  My phone chirped, alerting me to a new text message as I was pulling into my regular space behind my apartment complex. I smiled when I read the message from Brittni.

  I love you, whore.

  What could I say? I loved her too.

  Love you back, sugar lips. Revenge is beautiful, though.

  I’m quaking in my rain boots.

  You just wait. It’ll happen when you’re least expecting it.

  Bring it on.

  Kiss your handsome hubby for me.

  You wish.

  True story. Text you later.

  You better. I want to know all about your card game. Wink wink.

  I tossed my phone in my bag and climbed cautiously from my Jeep. It was starting to sleet, so the pavement was becoming slick. Landing on my ass was never fun. I’d learned
that lesson the hard way more than once.

  I had less than an hour before everyone arrived, so I spent the time tidying up the apartment. Cameo helped me move our dining room table to the living room since there would be more people playing this time.

  She and I had reached a tentative truce again on Monday when I helped her drag the bookcase she found by the Dumpster up the three flights of stairs. During the last few days we had maintained the peace by steering clear of the touchy subjects, most notably my new nightlife activities, or lack thereof. Where to put the new shelf, picking up more laundry soap, the teacher who gave her a D on a paper because she was five words shy on a five-thousand-word assignment—these were the safe topics we stuck to lately.

  I thanked her for the help, but as we smoothed the wrinkles out of the tablecloth, I made the mistake of asking if she wanted to join us in the game. She shot me a look of disdain before stalking off to her room to finish getting ready for an evening out.

  “I guess that’s a no,” I said to the empty room. I told myself it didn’t matter, but truthfully, it hurt. It was becoming clear that Cameo and I may never have the same kind of friendship again. It amazed me how quickly things had changed in a few short weeks. Part of me was angry at her for being a bitch, but I was also pretty sad that she had dropped me so easily.

  An hour later, Cameo left without so much as a good-bye. Luckily, the guys were beginning to arrive, allowing me to push my woes with her to the back burner. Adam and Tim showed up with dripping jackets from the sleet outside. Adam pulled me into his arms for a bone-crushing hug before spinning me around.

  “You’re getting me all wet,” I said.

  “Well, that’s the first time a girl’s ever said that to me,” he said, grinning.

  I barked out a laugh.

  “Don’t let him fool you. He had all the girls in high school panting after him before he came out of the closet,” Tim said, giving me a spaghetti-arm hug. “Where’s Derek?”

  “He should be home in a few. I think he had to work till seven. I told him to pick up pizzas and booze on his way home,” I said, taking their jackets as someone knocked on our door. Crap, crap, crap. I had hoped Trent would change his mind.

  “Who’s that?” Tim asked, opening one of the bags of chips they had brought with them.

  “A friend of mine. He’s here so maybe you guys can win some of his money and not mine. Not that there was a chance of that anyway,” I teased, trying to sound nonchalant as I opened the door. For the second time in one day I got to see water dripping from Trent’s hair. He was at least dressed in more than a towel this time, but for some reason, I still felt my insides beginning to heat up as I looked at him. There was something different about him, but I couldn’t pinpoint what it was as he unzipped his jacket. His geeky Star Wars T-shirt wasn’t a problem since I knew what lay beneath the worn material. Even his normally bothersome glasses looked sexy. I found myself mentally undressing him.

  “Are we moving the card game out to the hallway?” In my momentary trance, I didn’t notice Adam coming up behind me and throwing an arm around my neck. Trent’s eyes narrowed behind his glasses and I could see him processing Adam’s familiarity with me.

  “Oh my, who is this?” Adam drawled, eyeing Trent appraisingly. “Love the shirt, by the way. Where have I seen that before?”

  “Excuse me?” Trent asked, nervously pushing up his glasses.

  “I’ve got it!” he said. “The Big Bang Theory. Sheldon wore that shirt on the show. Tim and I are avid fans,” Adam said, indicating his partner, who joined us. Adam gave Trent another once-over, clearly liking what he saw.

  Derek arrived with the food and beer before Trent could say another word. “Hey, it’s Clark Kent,” he said, clapping Trent on the back while basically pushing him away from the front door. “Too late to turn back now, buddy boy.”

  “Oh, I’m not going anywhere,” Trent said, catching everyone’s attention by eyeing me meaningfully.

  “Aww, isn’t that sweet. Sheldon here has a crush on our girl.” Adam dabbed at his eye like he was wiping away a tear. “This is my kind of card game.”

  “Adam, you’re impossible. Everyone, this is Trent,” I said, making the introductions. “Trent, this is Adam, Tim, and, of course, Derek.”

  “Hello, Trent,” the three of them answered in unison.

  Oh God. Tonight was going to be like a trip to the seventh circle of hell. I should have bought marshmallows and wieners to roast in the pits of fire, although I was starting to think I would be the one roasted.

  Trent remained unfazed as he shrugged out of his hooded jacket. This night might seriously be my undoing. It had been easier when I could place Trent in the “geeky” box, but lately I had realized there was more to him than that. He was smart, of course, and acted like a robot at times, but he was surprisingly sensitive and caring. It also didn’t hurt that he was sporting a chiseled abdomen beneath all those clothes.

  “Do you want some pizza?” I asked Trent, deciding I might as well play the good hostess. I tossed the three jackets I was holding on the couch. That was about as far as my hostess duties extended.

  “Sure.” He followed me to the table where the others had already sat down, leaving two remaining chairs right next to each other.

  “Two seats left,” Adam said, patting one of the chairs. “You two lovelies come on now. I am eager to get this game started.”

  Between the five of us, the pizzas Derek brought home didn’t stand a chance. I divided out the poker chips and began shuffling the cards.

  “You play a lot of poker?” Tim asked Trent oh so casually.

  “I’ve played a few times. Haven’t had a whole lot of opportunities for a sit-down game lately, though,” Trent replied, arranging his chips in precise stacks. It was like an OCD wet dream.

  Tim and Derek grinned at each other, deeming Trent an easy mark. I should have felt bad for him, but I had a feeling Trent would be able to hold his own.

  “Hold ’em, right?” Derek asked as he dealt the first hand. I watched everyone’s faces as each card was tossed in front of them. I liked to study their expressions as they discovered what they had received. I noticed Trent waited until all the cards were dealt before he checked his hand. He slightly lifted the corners of the two cards so no one could see what he was holding. He had also angled his chair so he was practically on top of me.

  At first I thought maybe he was trying to sneak a look at my cards, or maybe he was trying to keep Tim from catching a peek at his cards since he was sitting at the end of the table near Trent. Whatever the reason, Trent was definitely invading my personal space and the extra distraction wouldn’t help me or my game.

  The issue was his damn hot-as-sin cologne that swirled around me like some freaking erotic blanket. I wanted to bury my nose in the crook of his neck. One of my favorite spots on a guy was the soft part of his neck, just above the collarbone. It was a perfect spot to start kissing. After which, my mouth would take a slow journey down to his pecs, making sure to give proper attention to each nipple. Finally, my tongue would trace each and every groove of his eight perfectly sculpted abs, past his belly button until I reached his . . .

  “Yoo-hoo, Tress,” Derek said, waving his hand. “Are you going to bet, or are you waiting for an engraved invitation?” He was looking at me like he’d just read my thoughts. I kicked him under the table and smiled when he reached down to rub his leg.

  Finally focusing on my cards, I discovered I’d been dealt pocket queens, which put me in a strong position. I made my face an unreadable mask and placed a bet that wasn’t too aggressive so I wouldn’t scare anyone into folding.

  Trent was next. I angled my chair away from him to give myself a little more personal space. Watching him closely as he peeked at his cards again, I was unable to get a good read on him. He kept a small smile on his face like he was amused. At first I thought I’d figured out his tell, but he killed that idea when he folded.

  “Getting out wh
ile you can?” Adam commented. “Good, that gives us a chance to chat. I fold too.”

  “It’s not even your turn,” Tim said.

  “Oh, I’m so bad. Tell you what, honey. You can spank me later.”

  “No whips, I hope?” I joked.

  “Heavens no. My soft tush can’t take it,” Adam replied, rubbing his bottom.

  I looked at Trent, who was smiling.

  Adam turned his attention to Trent. “I guess you go to MSC also?”

  “Yes. I’m finishing my master’s and then Professor Nelson is going to help me with my doctoral thesis.”

  “And you’re single and heterosexual?” Adam probed.

  Derek spit out his swig of beer. Luckily, his head was turned away from the table.

  “Really, Adam? You’re going to make him leave,” Tim said, taking Adam by the hand.

  “It was just a question. For years everyone thought I was the only square peg in my family until my cousin Jake came out of the closet. He was a big-time football player. So you see, you never can tell.”

  “It’s cool. Yes and yes,” Trent answered as he placed an arm on the back of my chair. I would have glared at him, but I was in the process of taking Derek to the cleaners.

  All the signs were there. Derek was so easy to read. I was just about to lower the boom when Trent’s fingers grazed a small patch of my shoulder. My breath left me and my hands jerked forward simultaneously, sending my chips flying and my cards to the table, faceup.

  “I fold,” Derek said after seeing the two queens I had been holding.

  “That’s cheating,” I snapped at Trent, who had withdrawn his hand from my shoulder.

  “What?” He feigned innocence.

  The others cleaned up the mess on the table as they watched us like we were part of their favorite reality show. No one noticed what Trent had done, but they were enjoying my reaction immensely.