Playing the Player(43)

He shrugged. “I dunno. You’re working together, right? Isn’t your golden boy glam working on her?”

God, he was as bad as Alex.

“She’d rather stay home watching documentaries than go out with me. Trust me.”

Trey laughed. “Same ol’ T. She’s like seventeen going on seventy.” He tossed his keys in the air and caught them. “Whatever, dude. Maybe I’ll see you tonight.”

“Maybe. Catch you later.”

But as I walked to my car, I knew that I’d be the one staying in tonight, watching lame movies by myself.

My stomach twisted as I thought of what Desi said Trina thought about me. I didn’t care. Not really. She was just a coworker.

Nothing more.





Chapter Twenty-Two


Trina


Saturday, June 15

My phone pinged, rousing me from my couch doze.

Call me asap!

Desi.

I dialed her number. “911. What’s your emergency?”

She giggled in my ear. “Are you sitting down?”

“Technically I’m lying down.”

“Perfect. Now close your eyes. Ready?”

I rolled my eyes, but closed them. Not like she could see, but I’d play along.

“Slade is totally into you.”

My eyes flew open and my heart flew around inside my chest, looking for somewhere to land.

“What?” My voice was a whisper.

“Slade! Oh my God, Trina. He totally stalked me at the mall asking a million questions about you. He’s mad crazy in love with you, girl.”

I closed my eyes, not daring to believe it.

“Maybe you misunderstood. Maybe he was just—”

“Just what?” she snapped. “Since when does he go hunting for girls? Trust me, this is big. I know his style. Slade never works at getting girls. They just line up, and he picks who he wants.”

“Then clearly you’re wrong,” I said. “If there’s a line of girls wrapped around the block, why would he care about me? He probably just stopped in for free pretzels and made small talk with you.”

I tried to believe the words as I said them, but my stupid heart was still flying around inside my chest like a caged bird trying to burst free.

Desi snorted in my ear. “He blushed, Trina. Slade never blushes.”

I kicked the blanket off my legs. I was burning up.

“So you embarrassed him. You’ve made me blush before.”

“You’re damn right I embarrassed him—when I accused him of falling for you.”

“You what?” I jumped up and paced around the living room.

“To quote, I said, ‘Slade Edmunds. I never would have guessed you’d fall for her.’ And he said he hadn’t fallen for you, but his face totally gave him away.”

My heart sank back into place. “Desi, you’re contradicting yourself. If he said—”

“You didn’t see his face when he said it. Trust me, girlfriend, you’re the brightest light on his radar right now.”

No way.

“What did he want to know?”

She hesitated. “Oh, just stuff. You know.”

“Now you’re going to be vague? You could quote him thirty seconds ago, but now you don’t remember what he asked?” What was she hiding?

She sighed in my ear. “Trey’s waiting for me, Trina. I’ll call you tomorrow. Maybe I’ll remember better then.”

“You suck at lying, Desi.”

“I know.”

“Just tell me.”

She sighed. “He’s trying to figure out…he wants to know why…”

“Why I’m such a freak?” I flopped face down on the couch and buried my head in the cushion.

“He never called you a freak. Or any other name.” She paused. “Honestly, Trina, I’ve never seen him act this way before.”

A loud car horn sounded through the phone.

“I’ve gotta go before my dad kills Trey for honking.” Desi’s voice was rushed. “Call you tomorrow!”

I tossed my phone on the coffee table and buried my head deeper in the couch cushion. Slade figuring out the Freaky Trina show was not going to happen. No way.

Why did he care, anyway?

I headed into my bedroom and booted up my computer. I stared at my screen, willing it to swallow me whole and send me into its circuitry, like that weird Tron movie. I’d rather battle video game characters who could kill me than write my weekly report for Slade’s mom.

Or think about why Slade was asking prying questions about me.

Even worse, another paycheck had arrived in the mail from Dr. Edmunds. I’d shoved it in my desk drawer because I couldn’t bring myself to deposit them anymore. Not when my feelings about Slade were such a jumble.

The cursor blinked at me, daring me to put on my “mentor” hat and document all the things Slade had done wrong. Or right.

What about me? What about all the things I’d screwed up? Maybe I should write a report about myself. I sighed heavily and started typing.

The kids are bonding well with Slade.

I paused. What about Slade and me? Were we bonding? Something had shifted at Jungle Fever. There’d been that moment under the tree, when I thought maybe….