When I round the corner to Senior Hall, it’s empty except for one person. Trevor Collins. Of course. My newfound boldness wavers the tiniest bit when I pass him and catch the mix of laundry detergent and the cologne he always wears that I always want to ask about so I can buy it for my future boyfriend. It’s clean and sexy with a little bit of spice to it, which is how I imagine him to be. The future boyfriend, not Trevor. I know him well enough to know better than to imagine him that way. I don’t say anything when I pass, but go straight to my locker, set the box of journals down, and spin the dial like I don’t notice him there. That’s when I feel him turn and look me over.
“Morning, Frost.” He says it like he knows I’m pretending not to see him, which I’m sure he does.
“Oh, hey.” I glance over, still trying to keep up the appearance that I’m surprised to see him there, then roll my eyes at myself as I push the lock up and open my locker. Where is Kat when I need her? It’s so much easier talking to him with her around to hide behind. I pull out a binder I don’t need, since I’m not going to class, and a stack of papers comes out with it and flutters to the ground. Perfect. Now I look as idiotic as I feel. I bend to pick them up and hide the blush I can feel creeping up my neck.
“Heard you’re up for the big money,” he says. I wait a second for an indecent offer to celebrate together in the art supply closet, but it doesn’t come. Instead, he comes over and crouches down to help me with my mess. Close. Close enough for me to also smell the cinnamon gum he’s chewing, and long enough for me to think it’s sweet and that maybe he does have a bit of chivalry to him after all.
“Congratulations on that. That’s pretty damn impressive.” He smiles, and somewhere in me something melts a little, because that smile is pretty damn impressive too. Before I can remind myself that it’s my turn to speak, he hands me the stray papers, then stands up. Waits for me to say something back.
“Oh, um . . . thanks. Congratulations on your snowboarding trophy.”
Trevor looks confused.
Oh my God, I need to shut up right now.
“I mean, I saw some pictures . . .” That were probably taken months ago, during the actual season, but that you put up yesterday . . . and now I’m a stalker. Trevor cocks his head, eyebrow raised. God help me.
“Never mind,” I manage.
He starts to say something, but God, in the form of Kat’s voice, interrupts. “Hey!”
I turn around way too eagerly at the sound of her voice, and she greets me with a signature butt slap. “Today’s the day you’re going to ditch first with me, I feel it. Just like I feel like a mocha with a view of my favorite baristo.”
A bemused smile breaks over Trevor’s face as he looks from me to Kat, and back again. I want to turn and run. “Sounds like you’ve got places to go,” he says. “Don’t let me keep you.”
Kat doesn’t bother to keep a straight face. “You can come if you want. I don’t want to interrupt whatever you guys have going on right here.”
I fight the urge to kick her. And then flee.
Trevor laughs a little, shakes his head. “Thank you, but I think I’ll leave the mochas and baristos to you ladies today.” He looks at me with clear blue eyes I could honestly dive right into if things were different. “You know, Frost, if you ever wanna see more than just Facebook pictures, I’m all yours.”
“I . . .” I sputter, grasping at the last shreds of my dignity. “That’s great of you, thanks,” I say flatly. Someone kill me now.
Trevor hits me with a smile that’s all confidence, then turns and walks—no, swaggers—down the hall, and I die right there. A slow, mortifying death.
“God, that boy smells good,” Kat says, watching him. When he rounds the corner, she turns back to me. “So, what was that about? You’re all red and flustered.” She smiles. “Or is that hot and bothered?”
“Shut up,” I say, trying to block the whole exchange from my consciousness.
She grins. “He just asked you out.”
I bend down and grab one last paper from the floor without answering.
“What?” she asks innocently. “He did.”
“That wasn’t asking me out. That was him being completely full of himself.” I close my locker and take a deep breath. “Besides. If he really were going to—which I would say no to—he should at least figure out how to do it without sounding like an ass. Or like he’s doing me a favor.”
“Sorry to break it to you, P, but actual guys don’t talk like the ones in Nicholas Sparks books. And—I’m sure he’d happily do you a few favors if you wanted him to.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m sure he would. And then the chase would be over and he wouldn’t be interested anymore. Which is why it can never happen. It’s better this way.”
“God, you’re impossible.”
“That’s kind of the point. Now let’s go get coffee.”
She cocks her head. “Really? You realize the bell’s about to ring, right?”
“Yeah.” I shrug, like ditching class with her is something I’ve agreed to plenty of times. “But there’s somewhere we have to go after. And you can’t ask me any questions about it, okay?”
“Anywhere you want, P.” She smiles. “I like this new you, whoever she is.”