by Ellis Marie
“I’m a big guy and I’m a stranger in his house, he just needs to trust me,” Trent explains as if he knows dogs inside and out. I hesitate to let go of Obi who is tugging against me in an attempt to get closer to Trent. “Let him go, trust me, I’ll be okay.”
Cautiously, I let go of the material around his neck. My breath stops as I wait for the dog to attack him, images of blood and terror circling my mind, but that doesn’t happen.
Instead, I watch as the old dog shuffles towards Trent, who is kneeling with his head down slightly. The growls still echo around us until he reaches his face and stops. Silence fills the room. Trent lifts his head carefully and stares at Obi, as if the two of them are having a competition. My palms begin to sweat at the tension filling the room.
What is going on?
After a moment’s hesitation, Trent leans back right as Obi launches forward, throwing himself onto Trent’s body. I gasp, rising out of my seat.
“Oh my god!” I half-scream in panic, my hands fumbling for something to use to pry the dog off him.
Trent is going to die, what am I going to do?
I feel like I can’t breathe. It’s only when I hear laughter that I freeze and actually look at what’s happening below me. Unlike what I thought, Obi isn’t mauling Trent. Instead, he is smothering him in kisses just like he does to me. He rapidly wags his tail from side to side as he jumps around.
“Okay, Obi. Enough, enough!” Trent laughs, pushing the dog away a little. Obi, for once, actually listens to someone other than his owner and settles down beside Trent. He still adoringly watches him, and I blush when I realise that I probably look the same half the time.
It’s hard not to be in awe of the beautiful boy.
“I told you, he just needed to trust me.” Trent grins up at me. I sit back down on the sofa, embarrassed at how worried I had gotten. “Thanks for the concern though,” he teases. I throw a pillow at him, my flaming cheeks making the room warm.
Trent knocks it away with one hand, smirking cheekily at me as he continues to rub the puppy’s belly beside him. It’s such a cute image.
“Annabelle, please tell me that you did not just throw one of my plush pillows,” a stern voice asks from the doorway. I guiltily look at Mrs. Grenway, feeling like a child who just got caught stealing from the cookie jar. “I am so glad a polite gentleman like Trent is here with manners to keep you right.”
I pout but accept the cup of tea she passes to me, not missing the wink she throws with it. I stick my tongue out in reply to her, knowing exactly what she is trying to do.
“It’s alright, Mrs. Grenway. We can attempt to make a lady out of her yet,” Trent replies and I glare at him, wishing I could duct tape people’s mouth shut with my mind.
Stupid smug boy.
Mrs. Grenway laughs at his words and places another cup of coffee beside me on the table, her wicked grin flitting onto her face again.
“Oh, Trent, call me Margaret. And why don’t you come and sit over here? I prefer the seat you’re in.”
That damn old woman.
I know for a fact that the couch I am on is her favourite place to sit. I know this because I tried to sit in the seat beside me for years. She always moved me over to the other cushion, stating that the spot she was in was the best one in the house. She just wants Trent to sit next to me. Plus she hates being called her first name. Where had all this special treatment come from?
Trent obliges, standing up while giving Obi one last pet, who watches him walk towards me with unblinking eyes. His attention is only being drawn away when Mrs. Grenway takes the seat instead and begins to stroke his belly.
Trent sits down beside me, removing his jacket. I almost want to laugh at how funny he looks sitting there, his tattoos on a background of antiques and paisley patterns while his height dwarfs the tiny lamp resting next to him.
I pass him the other cup of tea, trying not to spill any. He takes it carefully, his finger lightly ghosting across mine as he does, making my eyes look up at him.
It’s so brief, but for a moment, I swear I can see something sparkling in his eyes, but it’s gone before I can reassess it. He turns away from me to look over my shoulder at Mrs. Grenway.
The old woman sits on her own, watching us with a gleeful smile. I roll my eyes, blushing at her obvious stare.
“So, Trent, tell me about yourself? Any siblings? What do your parents do? Do you have a girlfriend?”
I choke on my tea at her last question and splutter into coughs, my body hunching over as I try not to drown in my mug. Trent glances at me in panic while he laughs and taps my back slowly, helping the cough to ease up.
Is she trying to kill me?
“My mother works for the town while my dad has his own contracting business,” he answers, glancing between the two of us, but he doesn’t remove his hand from my back, even after I stop spluttering. “I don’t have any siblings and I don’t have a girlfriend either.”
He chuckles at the last part and I roll my eyes, but then, pause and look at him questioningly, ignoring the fire dancing across my back where his hand is slowly rubbing up and down.
“I can’t believe that you’re single,” Mrs. Grenway interrupts dreamily, making us break eye contact. “In my day, a handsome young man like yourself would have been snatched up before you could blink. Heck, if I was sixty years younger, then you currently would be!”
“Mrs. Grenway!” I gasp, giggling at her words. Trent bursts out laughing beside me too. His hand leaves my back and I can’t help but feel disappointed at the loss of contact.
“What? I was just complimenting the boy!”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Trent responds with laughter still in his voice. I’m glad I’m sitting down because that word leaving his lips makes my knees feel like they’re about to crumble.
“No girl has caught your eye?” she persists, not so subtly glancing at me. I internally beg the ground to swallow me up whole. “No one good enough?”
Trent smiles, turning his head to look at me. I quickly avert my gaze from where it had been resting on his toned arm and stare at the teacup in my hands.
“I’ve just never found the right one before,” he explains, his voice soft. My heartbeat quickens in my chest. Is he a complete hopeless romantic? “Although I’m starting to think that maybe that’s changed, I just need to know how she feels.”
If my entire body could blush, it would probably have done so and then melted into a puddle because I cannot suppress the feelings that overtake me as I look at him, his words repeating over and over again in my head like they’re on a loop.
Is he talking about me? Am I crazy to hope that he is?
I feel a small smile curve my lips upwards and his shining eyes flick down to my lips. He mirrors the expression as he looks back into my eyes, our gazes not leaving each other.
I could sit and stare at him for hours, even just into his eyes if I have to. Although, the full body would be a much better deal.
He rejected your kiss.
The voice in my head stops the excited thoughts that are dancing around like a merry-go-round and brings them to a screeching halt. The memory of last night is still fresh and painful to recall.
He seems to notice my change in response because his lips dip down too. I quickly break eye contact, turning back to Mrs. Grenway and my cup of tea.
She watches the two of us with a calculating look crossing her features, as though she’s putting together pieces of a puzzle. When her brows finally shoot up and she looks as though she’s figured something out, I quickly butt in, not wanting her to ask him anything more about having a girlfriend or what exactly those words mean.
“Tell us one of your stories!” I half-shout, wanting her to get distracted. “You’ve never told me much about the ornament above the fireplace or your trip to Cairo,” I state. I calm down when I see her immediately begin to think about old memories, her questions for Trent long forgotten.
“Ah, yes.” She sighs,
collecting it from the countertop and placing it down in front of us, its elegant painting and carving adding to the beautiful detail of it.
“Mrs. Grenway used to travel a lot,” I explain to Trent who lifts the piece carefully, studying it closely as if he was genuinely interested.
“A story for every place.” Mrs. Grenway laughs, motioning to all the decorations around her.
“It’s gorgeous,” Trent murmurs, his fingers gliding over the inscriptions. “I’d love to hear about it.”
Mrs. Grenway looks over the moon at his words and wiggles into her seat so she is further down and much more comfortable. “Well then, it begins with Ernie and I accidentally getting the wrong plane and ending up in a place we hadn’t even planned to visit . . .”
She begins to tell the story and I smile, completely content to sit and listen to her rabble on about different countries and cultures until the day I die; it is all so fascinating.
I also don’t mind the fact that Trent is sitting beside me the entire time. Not at all.
It’s one of her most amazing stories yet, and I almost forget that I’m sitting with a boy who isn’t mine because I’m so wrapped up in her tale of romance and adventure that I don’t feel like I’m even living my own life.
At one of the tensest parts of her story where she’s telling us about how Ernie fought off a mugger, I reach out and grab Trent’s hand automatically, not knowing what possesses me to, but in the moment, it just feels right. He doesn’t say anything about it and just flips his hand over and intertwines our fingers, reassuringly squeezing it.
I notice how, although she is as caught up in the story as we are, Mrs. Grenway still glances down at our hands and a smile makes its way on to her face as she continues recalling the events.
I have always wanted to travel the world—to see places that I’ve never been to and experience a life that isn’t mine, but so far, I haven’t been able to do any of that. If it is up to Matt and my father, then I never would, so Mrs. Grenway’s stories are almost like an escape for me, where I could imagine that I’m free.
By the end of her tale, I have sweat prickling the back of my neck and I feel as though I’ve just fought my way out of a campsite with my heartbeat still erratic from listening to her recount it.
“That’s incredible,” Trent murmurs, his eyes still wide. I nod in agreement. “Ernie sounds like an incredible man. He must have been strong to go through all that.”
Mrs. Grenway looks at Trent in a way I don’t recognise but smiles.
“Yes, he was. When I met him, he was already married to someone else to benefit his family and hers. He couldn’t end it, so we ran away together. The reason we went to so many places was so that they never caught up to us. Eventually, it wasn’t them that caught up with him but his own bad health.”
I heard her say this before; she told me many times about how in love they were and how it was basically a Romeo-and-Juliet type of story, but I have never heard her say it with such an edge to her voice.
She always said that Ernie died from his health, but from what I remember he was always in perfect health . . . although I suppose I maybe wasn’t as observant at seven as I am now.
“Annabelle, would you help me clear up?” Mrs. Grenway asks, although it’s not really asking because she says it as a statement. However, I nod anyway and stand up, dropping Trent’s hand in the process. I quickly replace it with a cup, so I don’t feel the need to reach back out again.
Trent looks as though he is deep in thought as I follow the older woman out of the room and into the kitchen where I begin to start stacking dishes in the dishwasher.
“I saw that hand-holding,” Mrs. Grenway says, her voice hushed so that Trent can’t hear us. “Why are you fighting it?”
I sigh and straighten up, turning to face her as I lean on the counter with a dishtowel between my hands. “Because I can’t be with him.”
“Why not?” She actually looks shocked at my words, and I groan, hiding my hands in the towel. “He is charming and very intelligent, you said so yourself. And it’s obvious that he cares about you. It reminds me of how Ernie used to look at me.”
I still at her words, not knowing how to respond to that.
Maybe she just needs to wear her glasses.
“Trent . . . Trent isn’t—” I whisper, shaking my head and the soft patter of her feet tells me that she’s coming closer to me. “We barely know each other, he just wants something he can’t have.”
The words I speak leave a bitter taste in my mouth, and I immediately regret saying them. It must show on my face because Mrs. Grenway raises an eyebrow, knowing full well that I’m in denial.
“I love Matt,” I correct, knowing that it’s the sole basis of me not being able to be with Trent. “I don’t know who I would be without him.”
Her kind eyes look at me with sympathy and she reaches out, taking my hands in her frail ones. “Take it from an old woman who has experienced the best parts of love; love is not about who you are without that person, it’s about who you are with them. And if you think you’d be someone else without them, then you weren’t yourself in the first place.”
I feel the tears spring into my eyes as I listen to her. I can see how much love she has for Ernie shining through. Even after all these years, she still seemed like she was as in love with him as she was on day one. How did she have so much knowledge? How did she find such a true love?
“My sweet girl,” she whispers, stroking the side of my face with one hand. “Loving because of happiness is one thing, but loving because you fear being alone is another.”
Tears slip down my cheeks at her words, the wisdom of them astounding me. She smiles at me warmly, letting my face go as she steps back, but not before wiping the moisture away from my eyes.
“I love you so much,” I tell her, and her cheeks puff up in happiness as she pulls me into a hug.
“Oh, Annabelle, you have no idea how much you are loved.”
Sometimes, I wish that my grandmother had still been here. I would have loved to have grown up with her, but I could never say that I’d prefer to have her over Mrs. Grenway. She has done too much for me and has half raised me to be the person I am today.
Our warm embrace is interrupted by a hesitant knock on the wooden door, and I look up to see Trent standing there with a worried and anxious expression on his face.
“Sorry,” he begins. I quickly look away, not wanting him to see the tears while Mrs. Grenway turns to face him. “I was just going to ask if you needed a hand with anything.”
He’s so sweet.
“Actually, Trent, I do,” Mrs. Grenway replies. I glance at her in suspicion, my tears long gone. “Obi needs a walk, so you can accompany Annabelle if you’d like, make sure she doesn’t get into any bother.”
I have walked Obi a thousand times; there is no bother around here. The old lady is still up to no good, but I kind of loved it.
“I’d love to, Margaret,” Trent responds with an amused smile on his face as I turn and look at him, watching as his gaze sweeps down me quickly, as if checking to see if I’m hurt.
“Perfect!” she shouts and disappears out of the room to get Obi’s leash. I walk towards Trent, aiming to leave the room, but for some reason, I stop at him and look up, watching the way his eyes never leave mine.
“Are you alright?’ he asks hesitantly as if he’s scared to ask. I suddenly realise how much he actually seems to care about me; the question is so genuine.
I nod silently, and he seems to almost sag in relief, the tension in his shoulders releasing and it makes me giggle.
“Good, because if you don’t want me here, I can leave. I don’t want to push you or anything.”
I think that even without experiencing how Matt is, I would still be shocked at how polite and patient Trent is, but because I’ve spent the last four years with someone who only seemed to ever push me, it’s almost overwhelming to have someone take a step back and offer me space. Even if they�
��re just a friend.
I carefully place my hands on his chest and his whole body freezes in shock as his eyes widen, watching me slowly rise up on my tiptoes in order to reach his face. I lean forward, resting our bodies together. Underneath the palm of my hand, I can feel his heartbeat jump and begin again at a pace so rapid I almost want to check to see if he’s okay.
Instead, I lean into his cheek and press a kiss on it gently, my breath fanning over his ear as I do. I ignore the way that his hand has closed around my hip, balancing me against him and the tingles that shoot all over my body because of it.
“Thank you,” I whisper before pulling back a little, but his arms stop me from retreating entirely. I’m left hanging only an inch or two away from his mouth.
His eyes are so bright that their colour reminds me of the artefact hanging from the wall in the living room, the royal crest of an ancient Egyptian family embedded into it.
“For what?” he asks breathlessly. He looks confused and my fingers curl into the material of his shirt.
“For caring about me.”
One side of his mouth tilts up in response and my breath catches in my throat at how perfect he looks as his fingers squeeze me a little tighter.
“You never have to thank me for that.”
I smile back at him, looking at the way the light freckles across his nose dot all the way up to his hairline and how one of his brows are slightly bushier than the other. He isn’t perfect, but he is pretty much the closest thing you could get to it. And having him looking down at me, smiling in the way he is, seems to almost be a dream.
“Found it!” Mrs. Grenway announces down the hall. I quickly step out of Trent’s touch, missing his arm around me as soon as I do. He seems to feel the same because a flicker of disappointment coats his features before it disappears again and an easy-going smile replaces it, much like my own.
“Now, you guys take your time and don’t worry about rushing back,” she lectures, pointedly looking at me. I have to stop myself from rolling my eyes as she turns to look at Trent. “And I would say be careful, but I think someone would be crazy to try anything with you around.” Her gaze travels up his arm, which is crossed over his body and flexed. “Very crazy.”
