Oh, nice. You stay the night with the most beautiful girl in school and all she garners is an, “eh?” He’s more arrogant than I had thought.
“I had an incredible time, actually,” I say smugly.
“What’d you do after prom?” he asks.
I let out a loud laugh and Mrs. Drez shoots a warning look my direction.
“What do you think I did?”
“Um, is this a trick question? I have no idea. I was just trying to make conversation,” he says. Did he seriously not see me at the lake house? Was he really that oblivious when he was with Shayna? I decide to give him the benefit of the doubt since he’s never lied to me before.
“I went to my boyfriend’s lake house. I saw you there, too,” I say flatly.
He mulls this over for a second.
“That was your boyfriend’s place?” His voice holds a twinge of amusement.
“Yep. And it sure seemed like you were enjoying yourself,” I mumble. “Now, can I have my permission slip?”
“What?” he asks.
I shake my head without repeating myself. He looks puzzled as he processes the accusation.
“No, Sydney, it’s not like that,” he says. “I can totally explain.”
“I’m sure you can,” I say. I’m being absurd. I know it as the words come out, but I can’t stop them. I have no right to be talking to him like this. I have a boyfriend, and Grant can spend time with whoever he wants. But Shayna? Of all people, Shayna?
“Sydney, just listen.”
“You don’t owe me any explantions, Grant. Really. Just answer this for me. Was spending time with Shayna to get back at me for not telling you about Trevor?”
He scoffs and I feel even more ridiculous.
“So, what, Trevor was the quid and Shayna was the pro quo? I don’t think so, Syd. Playing games isn’t my style.”
He slides the permission slip across the table and positions his chair away from mine.
When I get to English, Quinn is practically foaming at the mouth for details about my night with Trevor. Her round of questioning is unending, but I tell her everything. Or, as much as I can without blushing. Or mentioning the fact that I saw Grant at the lake house.
She and I are so engrossed in our conversation, we don’t notice Mr. Brody standing right next to our desks. My face flushes as I wonder how much of our conversation he’s heard, but Quinn just leans back in her chair casually and reaches up to pull her long brown hair back into a ponytail, as if she’s clueless as to why he’s standing here.
He sets a small, pink slip of paper on each of our desks and walks away with a grunt. Quinn rolls her eyes. Detention doesn’t faze her, but to me, it’s a different story. I have to go tell Sam that I’ll have to miss another workout with Nationals around the corner.
When the bell rings, I tell Quinn to leave without me so that I can talk with Mr. Brody. I plaster on my best guilty face.
“Yes, Miss. Pierce?” he says curtly without looking up from his stack of papers. He’s balding badly, but he tries to conceal that fact by parting his existing patch of hair in ways which it was never meant to be parted.
“I, um…” I stutter. I’ve never been in trouble at school before, so I don’t know how to do this. “I’m so sorry for disrupting class, sir.”
“And?” he says, briefly glancing up from his grading.
“And, I have gymnastics every day after school. I really can’t miss. Is there a way that I could do, like, an extra assignment or something rather than detention?”
“No,” he says categorically.
“Oh.” My heart sinks.
“What I will do is schedule it for later in the week so that you can give adequate notice to whomever it is that you report to,” he says.
I guess I could plan on working out extra this week to make up for what I’d miss later on. He hands me a new detention slip for Friday afternoon.
“Thank you,” I say.
“So, did you get out of it?” Trevor asks sympathetically as I sit down at our lunch table. Quinn must have already spread the good word.
“No, he did reschedule it for Friday, though. I’m just going to have to work out extra this week to make up for what I’ll miss,” I sulk.
Trevor’s mouth contorts into a grimace. I can feel the disappointment even before he speaks. Quinn and Tess must have clued into the sudden mood change, because they simultaneously get up to throw their lunch trays away.
“Friday?” he asks.
“Yes. I’m sorry, I know you wanted to do something that night, and we will. It’ll just have to be after gym. And detention.” I explain.
Trevor clasps his hands behind his head, sucks a quick breath in through his teeth. I hold mine. He’s more than annoyed.
“I’m sorry,” I repeat.
“You’re right.” He shakes off his annoyance, and I let out a relieved breath. “It’s no big deal. Can I take you out tonight, then?”
“I think that can be arranged,” I say, leaning in to him.
Right now, life can’t get much better.
Detention aside, that is.
I hit record and sit on the edge of the overstuffed chair. It’s supposed to look plush and comfortable, but I feel the opposite of comfortable in front of this camera.
“I have to make this a quick bit tonight, because I have a date!” I affix my best smile, though I’m cringing inside at having to reveal this part of my life. “I’m so excited to be able to get out of the house and do something other than go to the gym, or work on school stuff.” Grant and I turned in our Oceanography project this week. I should look at going out to dinner tonight as a celebration of that. No more complications. I hope. I tug nervously on the simple black linen maxi dress. “I’m not sure where my boyfriend and I are going, it’s going to be a surprise, I think.” In reality, I just forgot to ask. I hope I’m dressed okay. “I don’t know if he’ll be up for it, but I will try to get Trevor to come in and say hi to you all afterward!” That’s a lie. I have to tell him over dinner that this will be our last solo date before the cameras have to follow us. He’ll likely go ballistic. I slip my gold flip flops back on and fix my lip gloss.
Trevor and Dad are already talking sports, though I can’t decipher which one. I can tell you everything you ever want to know about gymnastics, but that’s my limit. I don’t even understand lacrosse, and I’ve been to countless games to support Trevor.
“Are you ready?” I ask, stuffing my lip gloss and house key into my purse.
Trevor turns to me with a broad smile. “Yep. Nice talking with you, Sir,” he says to Dad, shaking his hand.
“Was good to see you. You don’t come around enough,” Dad says to Trevor. “By the way, Syd, did you let the crew know where you’re going?”
My heart lodges itself firmly in my throat. I cough. Or choke.
“Crew?” Trevor asks, raising his eyebrows.
“Yeah, I didn’t, Dad, I was going to have one more night of freedom,” I smile. Trevor is staring at me. Questioning me.
“The camera crew from the show wants to film a few spots of me doing something other than gymnastics,” I explain to him.
“Cool, huh?” Dad says. He smoothes the pleats in his pants. “You kids be careful, don’t be home late, Syd.”
“Sure, Dad,” I say, but my eyes don’t dare leave Trevor’s.
Dad leaves the room.
“We can talk about this in the car,” Trevor says.
It isn’t a long ride to the restaurant; it’s just across town in Marietta Square. But the silence makes it feel like we should have crossed a state line. I don’t typically come to the Square. It’s normally pretty crowded and full of tourists, but even I can admit that the turn of the century vibe, thanks to the Gone With the Wind Movie Museum and other touristy hot spots, have made it a cute addition to our otherwise boring city.
We walk together past the unique shops that sell everything from eclectic and funky gifts to Asian antiques and sporting goo
ds. With the sight of the restaurant, The Greek Tavern, my heart sinks a little. I'd secretly hoped that we’d go somewhere more on the casual side. But Trevor seems excited, and he hasn’t brought up the show again, so, as usual, I put on my best enthusiastic smile as we’re seated at a blue table with brightly lacquered red chairs. I eye the menu nervously. I have no clue what to order so I pick the first thing that I see that has the word chicken in it, figuring that’s always a safe bet.
Once we’re seated, Trevor reaches across the table and holds my hand and just stares. I let my eyes wander around the room uncomfortably, and then focus back on his, which haven’t moved.
“What?” I finally ask him.
“Nothing at all, you just look beautiful.”
“Right,” I mumble. I’m so happy that the server arrives with our entrees and interrupts the awkwardness I’m feeling.
“Okay we have the Chicken Souvlaki for you, miss,” he says, placing the plate in front of me. From the looks of the plate, I’ve made a good choice. “And the Paidakia for you, sir.”
“My family and I are going out to the lake house for a week next month. Do you want to come with us?” Trevor asks in between bites.
“Oh! That reminds me, I left my pearls there, I have to get them back,” I say, unintentionally ignoring his question.
“Okay. We can go and get them tonight.”
“No, I can’t. I told my dad I wouldn’t be home late”
“Yeah, but wouldn’t the extra alone time be well worth the trouble?” he asks suggestively.
I stare down at my skewered chicken to hide my flushed cheeks.
“Maybe some other time,” I answer, hoping that he’ll leave it at that.
“Right, because we’ll get lots of chances when there’s a camera crew following you. What about next month? Do you want to come with me and my family to the lake house?”
“I’m not sure. I’ll have to wait and see how the dates match up with Nationals. And if my dad will even let me.”
Trevor rolls his eyes in irritation, and that, in turn, annoys me. I can’t help that my dad is different from his parents. They never have a problem with me going to Trevor’s room, or closing the door. They’ve even offered to have me stay the night several times. I’m pretty sure that my dad assumes I’ve never even let Trevor see my bedroom. And as far as gymnastics is concerned, things will quiet down after Nationals. I can afford to take a breather after that, but I’ve worked way too hard to slack off now.
“I can’t believe we’re going to have to go out with cameras from here on out,” he finally says. There it is.
“It’s not going to be like that, Trevor. It’s not every time. And I don’t have a choice, they need more material. I signed on to do this—”
“Yeah, Syd, you signed on to do this, not me.”
And he’s right. I signed on to do this crazy thing, and expected him to just roll with it. It wasn’t exactly fair of me to do that. I needed to do this to help with the cost of my training, but at what cost am I doing that? I never see my friends anymore, and my relationship with Trevor is suffering worse than I imagined. The rest of dinner is full of small talk, and I can feel Trevor’s irritation with me silently growing.
When we walk to the car, I can’t help but feel guilty for killing the mood of our supposed special evening. Once inside the car, Trevor leans over across the stiff leather seats. He cups my face in his hand and his thumb presses firmly into my chin.
“I love you,” He says.
His tone sounds like a dare. Like he’s trying to insinuate that I don’t feel the same.
I nod.
“I love you too.”
He holds my hand tightly the entire ride home.
Almost too tightly.
Almost.
Despite the awkwardness at the restaurant, the evening with Trevor had ended well and I was feeling so secure about us again, I had a little bounce in my step as I walked across the quad to meet up with him.
“Morning,” I smile.
“Morning, gorgeous. You’re in a good mood,” Trevor says, draping his arm around my shoulders.
“Just happy I guess,” I reach up and hold his hand that’s resting on my shoulder.
“Do I make you happy?”
“You make me so much more than happy,” I say. A couple of people scowl as they pass us in the hall.
“Hey, I meant to tell you, I have your necklace and stuff at my house.”
“At your regular house?” I ask.
“Yeah, I drove out to the lake house last night to get it.”
“Trevor! You didn’t have to drive all the way out there to get my jewelry,” I say, feeling guilty.
“I wanted to. I knew how important it is to you. I would’ve brought it to school, but I didn’t
want to risk anything happening to them.”
“No, that’s great. I’ll stop by on my way home from gym tonight if that’s okay?”
“Absolutely,” he says. When he leans in and kisses me goodbye, I let my lips linger on his. I’ve kissed him hundreds of times before, but now, with everything about the show being out in the open and the fact we’ve taken things to the next level, somehow, I’d never felt closer to him than I do right now.
Mrs. Drez is collecting permission slips for the aquarium trip when I walk into class. Grant is already in his chair, head down, and his nose in another book. His slip is already on the edge of the desk waiting to be collected. I take out my permission slip and hand it to Mrs. Drez as she passes. When she picks up Grant’s, he doesn’t look up. For a moment, I debate whether or not to say something to break the ice with him, but I’m not sure what to say even if I had the nerve.
Mrs. Drez makes another cycle around the class, passing out our grades for the bathymetric charts. She slides one down the smooth, black table toward Grant and me. We both reach for it simultaneously. I quickly withdraw my hand. Touching is off limits.
“Go ahead,” I say quietly. He picks up the piece of paper and examines it, then hands it to me. I’m surprised to see that he’s actually looking at me.
“Good job, partner,” he says with a faint smile. I glance down at the sheet of paper. We got an A, naturally.
“You should be congratulating yourself, since you’re the one who did all the work,” I say, remembering how I lay comfortably on his sofa while he painstakingly assembled the complex chart. My thoughts drift to him carrying me down the long staircase and I shiver at the memory of his strong arms wrapped protectively around me. He narrows his eyes at me. Did he notice the small chill?
“I had a good time working with you, Sydney,” he says carefully.
“You know, I enjoyed it, too,” I say. It’s honest. Albeit awkward.
We stare at each other silently for a moment, neither of us quite sure where the conversation should go from here. Mrs. Drez finally makes her way back to the front of the classroom to announce that we need to pick up our charts after school if we want them, otherwise, they’ll all be recycled. I really don’t have any great desire to hang on to this project, but maybe it’ll be helpful to Quinn next year if she decides to take Oceanography, or even Maisy down the line. Grant offers to meet me after school to help me get the large map to my car.
When I arrive at the classroom after school, Grant’s already beaten me there and is leaning against the door frame, holding the large map easily under one arm.
“Lead the way,” he says with a cheerful smile.
We walk to my car without talking much. But it isn’t the same complicated silence of intentionally avoiding each other that has haunted us the last couple of weeks. Somehow, things have changed. Like both of us are just struggling to find the right words to break the ice. I, for one, am too nervous about saying the wrong thing to take a chance. Grant is the braver one, and speaks first.
“So, how’s gymnastics going? I saw your name in the paper. You’re going to a big competition?” he asks.
“That’s right. Nationals are com
ing up,” I say.
“That’s really great, Sydney,” he says. He flashes a genuine smile for the first time in a long time and his eyes light up like they did the night of prom.
“How about you?” I ask, hoping to continue the small-talk while turning the conversation away from me. “What’s new in your world?”
“Same old stuff. I’m going out of town for a couple of days.”
“Oh? Where to?” I ask. “Sorry, not my business.” I bite my lip. Way to overstep, Syd.
“I’m headed to New York for a few days to see my brother and my dad.”
“Wow. That sounds nice.”
“You wanna come?” He asks with a smile. I can’t tell whether or not he’s joking, so I just smile and shrug. But something about his smile says, “I dare you to say yes.”
Grant loads the map into the trunk of my car and slams it shut. He runs his hand absently across the silver paint.
“Well, have a safe trip,” I say.
“Thanks Sydney. See you in a few days.” He turns away from me.
I’m not sure what possesses me to do what I do next. And even as I do it, I subconsciously know that I’ll regret it. Grant has only made it a step or two away from me when I reach for his hand and pull him back toward me. His eyes smile with surprise.
“Thank you,” I say. He stares back at me. Surely he knows that’s not all I want to say. “I mean, thanks, for helping me get this to my car,” I add. I drop his hand, and shove mine into the pockets of my jeans. I can’t explain it. I just didn’t want him to walk away yet.
“Not a problem,” he says. He tilts his head slightly to one side curiously.
“It was nice to talk to you again. I’ve…” I let my voice trail off, knowing that I’m only digging a bigger hole for myself.
“I’ve missed talking to you too, Sydney,” Grant finishes for me.
I feel the heat on my cheeks and that’s my cue to leave. As if there weren’t a million before this.
“I’ll see you in a few days,” he says. He turns away from me again, and this time I keep my hands to myself and let him go. What the hell was I thinking?
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