Jesus Freaks: The Prodigal (Jesus Freaks #2)(58)

I shake my head. “Not upstairs you don’t. Trent, I’m not going up there.” I move my hand to tug it away from his, but he only tightens it around mine. My heart races and I shoot my eyes toward him, trying not to let the fear show.

“Come outside, then.” His voice and face show nothing dangerous, but being led through the house with his hand tightly around my wrist does little to calm my nerves.

I know this is just how he is, how everyone around me is. Less words, more physical communication, but tonight, here, fresh off a few months at CU, it scares me.

And that pisses me off.

Three-quarters of a semester on The Hill has made me scared of the social normalcies of my former life. My normal life. But, which feeling is right? I’m smart enough to know that just because someone grows up one way, doesn’t mean that way is okay or acceptable.

On our way through the kitchen, we pass by Mollie, who is in an intense conversation with a guy wearing a Harvard sweatshirt.

“Bet you Harvard wouldn’t suck so bad,” the guy says, gesturing to her t-shirt, “if you’d have gotten in.”

Mollie chuckles. “I did get in, but all the money stuffed in the pockets of the admissions board turned me off.” She spots me out of the corner of her eye and whips around. “Where are you going?” she asks, eyeing Trent suspiciously.

“To talk in private.” I use my free hand to put air quotes around the last word.

“Stay near a window,” she says, arching her eyebrow before turning back to her academic rival.

Crossing into the chilly wind on the back patio, Trent shuts the door behind us and makes a motion with his hand toward a couple of kids, who look like they’re still in high school, who are smoking near the door. Magically, they comply with his unspoken request and move further back in to the shadows near the garage.

“What?” I ask, wrapping my arms around myself, rubbing my hands over myself for warmth.

Wordlessly, Trent takes off his coat and drapes it around my shoulders. It’s big, and warm, and that’s enough for me to ignore that it smells the way his pillows do. Like his shampoo. After we broke up, I had to stop buying his dad’s company’s products because they always smelled like the last time I was in his bedroom. The time he almost didn’t take no for an answer.

“I’m sorry,” he says, bouncing a little on his toes as the breeze grazes his skin.

“For?” I shake my head, looking around for an answer.

“For how I treated you when we broke up.”

“When I dumped you,” I add quickly.

He sighs. “Yes, when you dumped me. For being an *.”

“Trent, you already apologized. Like ten thousand times.” A chill runs down my spine, causing me to shiver involuntarily.

Taking one step toward me, Trent rubs his hands over my arms in an attempt to warm me. “Let this be the ten-thousand-and-first apology then. I’m sorry Kennedy. You were always too good for me, and how we ended things just proved that.”

Looking up at him, I twist my lips. “I was too good for you?”

He nods, and his eyes are as serious as I’ve ever seen them. “You’re a good girl. Smart, kind, funny as hell. You deserved better than I gave you. I was just a stupid kid.”

“We’re all stupid kids,” I say in more of a whisper than I intended.

Get out of this.

I take one step back, but Trent pulls me in closer, still unable to take no for an answer. When his lips press against my forehead, my heart races more. I’m scared. Fears of this going too far, of the rules I’m breaking, and of ignoring how I feel overtake me.

“Please stop,” I ask soft but firm in my delivery.

Immediately, his hands leave my body and he takes three steps back.

“Thank you,” I say, handing him his coat and tightening my sweater around me.

“I’ve changed, Kennedy.” Trent stuffs his hands in his pockets again, and lowers his head.

So have I, Trent.

So have I.

I offer him a smile. “I can see that,” I try, encouragingly. “You’re going to make some girl real happy someday.” Turning on my heels, I reach for the door where, thankfully, I can see Mollie has been watching our interaction from ten feet away. For quite some time, given the stern look on her face as she eyes Trent.

Trent follows me, placing his hand on my lower back.

Please stop putting your hands all over me.

He doesn’t hear my silent prayer. Instead, he leans forward and positions his lips an inch away from my ear. “One of these days you’re going to give me a second chance, Kennedy.”

I turn my face toward him, so he can see my grin. “You’re awfully sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

He grins back, and slides his hand briefly over my butt before reaching past me and opening the door.

Reentering the party, I immediately make my way to Mollie. “I’m leaving. Are you coming?” It’s not really a question since we never leave a party without each other.

“Yes. Assholes are lame,” she bemoans as loudly as possible.

A few minutes later, once we’re back on the road and I’m thankful that the interior of my car appears pee-free, I let out a frustrated growl.

“So,” Mollie feigns disinterest, “did you have a nice chat with Trent?”