Page 59 of Loving Trent
Shawn squeezes my hand, and I briefly glance at him. His eyes shine bright in the glow of the radio lights and the fading sun. “I’m so fucking proud of you.”
A lump forms in my throat, and I have to blink multiple times to keep the tears away. I’m not going to cry tonight. “Thank you, Baby Boy.”
The song changes, and Shawn gasps, leaning forward to increase the volume. He connected his phone the second he got inside and has been playing his music the entire time, which Idon’t mind because he has good taste. A drum starts, and I swear I feel Shawn vibrating in his seat. As soon as the singer starts singing, Shawn’s voice accompanies it, and chills race up my spine and spread all over my body. Keeping my eyes on the road becomes the hardest thing I’ve ever done as Shawn sings about this being the start of something good. Shawn puts his whole being into the song, gripping my hand and singing at the top of his lungs. The words sink deep into my soul and erase the last bit of loneliness that was holding on.
As the song fades, I hurriedly say, “Who was that?”
Shawn turns the radio down and settles back in his seat. “That was 'Start of Something Good' by Daughtry, and it’s our song.”
I turn on my blinker, pull into the parking lot of the Italian restaurant Betty found, shut the truck off, and turn toward Shawn. His smile is blinding and sends a warming sensation through me. Without saying anything, my hand grips his neck, and my lips attack his. Shawn opens up for me and strokes his tongue against mine. His arms go around my neck as he pulls me closer. We both are bent forward over the console, and while I want to push it up and pull him into my lap, I hold off. There will be plenty of time for this later. With one more bite of Shawn’s bottom lip, I break the heated kiss. It takes Shawn a second to open his eyes, but I never push him. I don’t care if we are late for the reservation.
Once we have composed ourselves enough, I kiss Shawn’s nose and say, “Come on, Baby Boy, it’s time to start this date.”
Twenty-Eight
SHAWN
For someone who has never gone on a date before, Trent is blowing it out of the park. I’m trying not to compare him to the other men I’ve been with, but it’s harder than it sounds. While I’ve been asked on a date, I’ve never had someone plan one. Even though they did the asking, it was on me to plan, execute, and pay for the date, not with Trent. Walking into the restaurant after a soul-altering experience—choosing a song and that kiss—I’m riding a high already. As the waiter seats us, I find myself bracing for what comes next.
But I should have already guessed that Trent is nothing like my exes. They would always take control of the ordering for both of us. It was all about what they wanted. Trent, on the other hand, takes one look at the menu and says, “There are so many good options. What do you think I should try?”
Never have I been asked about my opinion. I’ve been told what my opinion should be, so it takes me a second to recover and help him choose his meal. The conversation starts flowing the second the waiter walks away with our order, which is full of things that I wanted because Trent let me choose it all. Trent asks me serious questions, along with silly ones. He never pushes me to answer quickly, and he listens. His attention neverfilters to anyone else around us. That feeling of flying high on a cloud grows, and by the time our wine is delivered to the table, I don’t need to take a sip to have a buzz.
With every question Trent asks me, he also offers an answer. Bringing the wine to my lips, I take a small sip, loving the taste of cherry with earthy undertones. “The first time I drank, I tried to be like the other guys in college. I quickly learned that beer wasn’t for me. What about you?”
Trent picks up his water glass, and for the first time, I notice that his wine glass is empty. “I actually don’t drink anymore. Right after moving in with Uncle Joey, I met a group of guys that wasn’t the best influence on me. All it took was getting drunk once, and I was addicted to the numbing qualities. But once that stopped working, I turned to harder things. I’ve been clean and sober for almost nine years now.”
My buzz explodes around me, and my face grows uncomfortably warm. Raising my arm, I try to signal the waiter so he can take the wine away, but Trent grabs my hand and pulls it down. His brown eyes are serious as he says, “Don’t do that. You aren’t allowed to go without something you enjoy just because I don’t indulge in it. I’m a grown man. If I can’t stand watching someone enjoy a drink, then I need to do more work on myself.”
He picks up my glass and puts it in my hand before guiding it to my lips. “Whatever you want, you will get.” Taking another small sip, I question how in the hell I got so lucky. That question stays at the forefront of my mind throughout the rest of dinner. We stick to safer topics like our likes and dislikes until our main course is delivered.
That question of how I got so lucky reappears when the pasta I ordered is a little too spicy for me. Trent somehow notices and twirls some of his Alfredo noodles on his fork and holds them out for me to taste. As soon as the moan falls from my lips, hisplate is placed in front of me, and mine in front of him. I melt into a pile of gooey lust when I try to take the bill from the waiter, but Trent beats me to it.
“No man of mine will pay for a date that I asked him on,” Trent says as he places his card on top of the black tray. After signing his name, Trent comes around the table and helps me stand up like the perfect gentleman he is.
“Do you have anything else planned, or can I take you somewhere?” Trent’s arm is over my shoulder, and mine is around his waist as I snuggle closer to him, trying to absorb some of his body heat.
Trent turns his face to look at me and smiles. “Actually, I do, but I’d be up for a change in the plan if it’s something you really want to do.”
Every time I’m in the presence of this man, lust is constantly simmering on low, but right now, it’s consuming me. I’ve never felt the need to be with someone as strongly as I do this second. It feels like we’re standing right on the edge of something big.
Something wonderful.
Something that is going to change the rest of our lives.
It’s never felt like this before. I’ve never kissed another man I’ve dated before the second date. I’ve definitely never done anything sexual with them for at least two weeks. Honestly, what I’m feeling for Trent is like what I felt for Zak, but multiplied by a million. Do I know that it’s crazy? Yes. I understand that the fact that when I’m not with Trent, I want to be, and that when I’m with him, it’s never close enough, is insane, but that doesn’t make it any less accurate.
Through our late-night talks of sharing the things we keep hidden from everyone else and our hour-long conversation about absolutely nothing and everything over dinner, I've come to feel like I’ve known Trent my whole life. What’s between us is so much more than lust.
“Can I take you somewhere?” The question comes out low, heavy, and coated with the need I can’t hide.
Trent walks around to the driver’s side of his truck, opens the door, and motions for me to get in. The cab light hits his eyes just right, and his pupils are eating away at the brown color the more he stares at me. “Anything you want, Baby Boy.”
Trent’s own lust hits me hard, and the semi I’ve been sporting throughout the night grows harder, pressing against my zipper. Pushing away the urge to kiss and pull him closer, I climb into the driver’s seat and watch as Trent walks around the truck, my eyes never leaving his ass that is being hugged perfectly by his dress pants. I did a little research earlier on when he was getting dressed. I wanted to find a place where we could go and be alone, not purely for a sexual reason but because, right now, our lives are nothing but chaos. I overheard Dad’s best friend, Joe, talking about a hidden place outside of town he goes to when he needs to find peace in his life. I think Trent could use a little peace right now.
“Is your phone still hooked up to the Bluetooth?”
Reversing out of the parking spot, I dig my phone out and hold it out for Trent to take. “I think so. You can turn it off if you want.”
