Page 90 of Pretty Please Me
My shoulders stiffen, and I shift in my seat but don’t respond.
“You two look great together,” one of the other ex-cheerleaders chimes in. “How long have you been an item?”
I look over my shoulder and meet Trent’s gaze, and he startles. “Oh, um, not long… I don’t really know that we’re officially an item. Just trying things on to see how it goes.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and rocks on his heels.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was more nervous than me… which is weird since he’s always been the confident, attention-seeking football star. Maybe he’s embarrassed about his divorce? Samantha didn’t show up tonight, which was surprising, but since they shared a friend group, I guess there was only room for one of them. Since Trent planned the reunion, I suppose it was an easy decision.
“Right. Well, here’s to finding the perfect fit!” Alison holds up her wine and everyone clinks their glasses together.
I bite my lip and try to ignore the suggestive innuendo. Is that what Trent’s thinking about tonight, too?
“Excuse me, I’ve got to make my speech. Then I can officially check off my presidential to-do list for the evening, and we can really get this party started.” Trent slaps his hands on the table and runs up to the stage.
He taps the microphone a few times and clears his throat. “Thank you all so much for coming tonight. It’s great to see some new faces around here.” He points at one of the cheerleaders, “I’m talking about you, Melanie!”
Everyone at her table erupts with laughter, and she flips him off as she chugs the rest of her wine.
“I’m kidding. You look great. Listen, it was a lot of work planning this event. I don’t know what I was thinking when I ran for student council president, but it all managed to work out in the end. Like many of you, my last ten years were filled with lots of growing pains with plenty of happy memories mixed in. The older I get, the more I realize you’ve got to hold on to the good times and treasure all the little moments you can get because you never know when you’ll hit your next speed bump and be thrown from the vehicle.” Trent laughs and shrugs at the mention of the inside joke about him flying out of the back of a pickup truck during an outdoor pep rally. One of our classes’ funnier memories that year.
“Anyway, none of this would’ve been possible if I didn’t have the beautiful Magnolia Anderson helping me out. Gaggy Maggy as most of you know her.”
My smile falls, and I purse my lips in annoyance as everyone laughs. I don’t even remember how the nickname started, just that it plagued me… and apparently still does.
“Stand up and take a bow, Maggie. Seriously, guys, you should see her glow up.” Trent claps his hands, and everyone joins in to shower me with applause. I grit my teeth and stand as I wave, then quickly sit back down. My skin burns bright red, and I wish I could crawl under the table and hide. I’m mortified, and I can’t help but wonder how I was so okay with it the other night, but now I just feel like an insecure child all over again.
“Okay, I’ve kept you all long enough. Let’s have fun tonight and make some great memories, so when we all come back here in another ten years, we have some new stories to tell!” Trent holds up his drink. “Cheers everybody!”
He runs off the stage, practically jumps in his seat, and wraps his arm around me. “Now that that’s over, how about we let loose?”
* * *
One hour later, I tighten my hands on the fabric of Trent’s shirt as he leads our group, plus a few other tables, in a conga line around the gym. I don’t think he’s drunk…yet… but he’s certainly reverted to the charismatic version of himself that I remember.
Everyone seems to be having a blast, and I have to admit, Trent knows how to throw a good party. We just ran out of alcohol, so I’m grateful that the party should be dying down soonish…
I wince as Malone grips my waist behind me, sending a warm gust of drunken breath over my shoulder every now and again as we dance around the gym. Thisshouldbe fun. I should be able to let loose and enjoy myself. But it feels like I keep noticing everything that irritates me… like Malone’s sour beer breath or how Trent’s managed to step on my toes at least five times with the heel of his shoe or the fact that we ran out of food within the first hour because Trent didn’t order enough…
Why am I so determined to be in a bad mood? Why can’t I just let myself relax and enjoy this party?
I think back to Kyle’s words when after I slept with him.“You’re just bland, Maggie. You just laid there like a plank of wood. I just don’t have any physical connection with you…”
Maybe he was right. Am I just a bland person who doesn’t know how to have fun? I’m in a conga line surrounded by drunken idiots who seem to be enjoying themselves. Why can’t I turn off my bitch switch and just enjoy myself? How was it that Sam was able to get me to relax?
My heart aches at the thought of Sam, and I have to fight to hold back tears. He hurt me so badly, but I still miss him. I miss how he took control and how I felt so safe when I was with him. I didn’t realize what a relief his dominance provided—in more ways than sexually. Because I trusted him so fully, I was actually able to let myself loose and experience true pleasure.
I realize now that I’ll never have that feeling again, so I’m just going to have to try to be that for myself. I bite my lip as I consider what Sam would tell me to do right now.
He’d probably be upset that I was surrounded by so many drunk people, and he’d be worried about my safety. Just then, Malone slides his thumbs over my hips, making my skin crawl. Sam would be furious I was letting someone touch me that made me feel uncomfortable…
And just like that, I step out of the conga line. Malone doesn’t miss a beat as he grabs Trent by the waist and continues dancing. I grab a bottle of water from the ice chest and drink half of it then start cleaning up the food the best I can, more to keep myself busy than anything else, as the party begins to die down.
I was right. Once everyone ran out of booze, they began sobering up and taking their parties elsewhere. Trent’s nearly sober now as he waves the last group of his friends goodbye. He wraps his arm around me and kisses me on the head. “We did it! We fucking did it!” He grabs the trash out of my hand and throws it back on the table. “Don’t worry about cleaning up. I’ve got a community service group coming in the morning.” Trent twirls his keys around his finger. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
“Yeah, okay. Let’s go,” I agree.
THIRTY-FIVE
Maggie
