Page 28 of Pretense & Sensibility

I step a fraction of an inch closer to Trinity. Close enough that I’m hovering right over her shoulder.

Chad’s gaze flickers in my direction, trying to assess whether or not Trinity and I are together. Estimating if including me in the invitation will increase the chances of her showing up.

I take the decision out of his hands by placing my hand at the small of her back to steer her further down the path. “Come on, Trinity. Let’s get you inside before it starts raining again.”

“Maybe next weekend?” Chad asks.

“Sure. Definitely.”

The guy jogs back to his friends, shaking his head as if they’ve all been waiting to hear her answer.

“Well, he certainly seemed attentive,” I mutter as we head up the driveway toward her apartment.

I dropped my hand from the small of her back, but we’re still walking closely enough that she bumps her shoulder to mine as she says, “You could’ve been nicer.”

“Unlikely.” I don’t bother to point out that she could probably stand to be a lot less nice. “Do they have a party every weekend in hopes you’ll show up?”

“They invite me every weekend. They probably just hope I’ll buy the beer.”

“Pretty sure that’s not why they’re inviting you.”

“You don’t think…” She shoots me a look full of genuine surprise. “… They’re hitting on me?”

“You seriously don’t?”

She tips her head to the side considering and then waves away the suggestion. “No way. For starters, I’m way too old for any of them. Besides, they’re all?—”

“Such nice guys?” I finish for her.

She harrumphs. “I was going to say so young. But yes, they are all very nice. I’m sure they don’t see me that way. I think I’m more of a mother figure to them.”

Christ. Clearly she has no idea how beautiful she is or how much her beauty transcends her physical appearance. Yes, she’s gorgeous, but it’s more than that. She glows. She’s a beacon and every male in her radius is reduced to a damn bug.

Of course, if I tried to explain that to her, she’d think I was crazy. Or worse, she’d see through the facade of indifference I’ve been trying so desperately to maintain because I’m terrified that if that facade slips and she realizes how much I want her, she’ll shut down this tentative thing we have going. This almost-friendship that seems to be sprouting up.

So instead of telling her any of that, I say, “If that guy looks at his mother the way he looks at you, he needs therapy. A lot of it.”

“You are being ridiculous.”

“Maybe, but I’m still hesitant to leave you alone with the date-rape party going on next door.”

Her steps slow and she turns to face me. “Thank you for looking out for me, but their parties don’t get that out of hand.”

I glare back towards the house, before meeting her gaze. “Are you sure? Because a landlord demanding his tenant attend social events could be construed as harassment and?—”

She busts out laughing and punches me playfully in the arm. “Stop!” She loops her arm through mine and steers us back toward her apartment. “First off, Chad isn’t my landlord. His parents are. And second, issuing an invitation is not demanding I attend. Besides, I’m pretty sure he only invites me so that I won’t call the cops on them when the party goes too late.”

“How late do these parties go?”

“It’s sweet that you’re concerned, but you don’t need to be.”

I huff. It’s not sweet. And I’m not concerned—not really. Trinity, despite her sunny disposition is a grown-ass adult woman living in the modern world. She’s kept herself alive this long; I’m not going to infantilize her by pretending she can’t keep herself safe without me here to watch over her.

Besides, what I’m feeling now is nothing as sweet as ‘concern’. Nothing so altruistic. I’m jealous, plain and simple. I’m jealous of her neighbors merely because they’re the bugs who get to spend time in her light.

Jesus, if this is my reaction to her neighbor, how am I going to react if I actually meet this boyfriend of hers?

By now we’ve reached her apartment. I eye it skeptically. It’s detached from the big house and sits at the back of the yard. It’s impossible to tell if it was ever actually a garage, carriage house, or just a storage shack someone thought they could earn some extra money from. There’s a small fenced area off to the side with a hen house. At the sound of her voice, two hens poke their heads out and then scurry down to cluck at her.

---