Falling For Dad’s College Rival by Flora Ferrari

Chapter Nine

Brooke

There’s a dreamlike quality to returning to the reunion on Trent’s arm instead of my dad’s this time.

Even the stuffy old man at the door raises a brow and tips his hat, wishing us a ‘very pleasant evening.’

If Trent has any hesitation when it comes to my dad’s feelings or not wanting to cause a scene, it’s gone now. Once he takes my arm and we leave the car right up until when we’re seated at the main table, he never lets go.

A few words to one of the waiters and a knowing nod in the Dean’s direction sees us pick up where we never left off.

About to have the main course and scanning the room I can see my dad’s table so far away I doubt he’d even notice us.

My dad’s sitting with the same woman I saw him with earlier, and they look like they’re having a great time.

“So far so good,” I murmur to Trent as he squeezes my hand under the table in a silent reply.

The food is so-so, but I’m hungrier than I felt before and I finish my plate anyway before anyone else sitting at the long table, which makes Trent laugh quietly to himself.

He’s almost done as well, and I know he’s not kidding when he asks if I want seconds.

I shake my head no, but he calls the waiter over again and asks for another helping for himself.

“Sure?” he asks me, and I say no, even though a part of me wants to.

“I need more than what’s here,” he remarks, but nobody else seems to notice making me wish I’d gotten extras too.

“We can always grab something later,” he lets me know when he finishes his second plate. Shrugging with a smile and repeating himself. “I need to eat, a lot.”

I sigh inwardly.

Is there anything that isn’t perfect about this man?

The plates are cleared, and there’s a gap between courses, I guess. This means the room starts to hum with conversation instead of the clinking of cutlery.

Trent has a few well-wishers stop by our table, as well as the Dean, with who he has a few lengthy but quiet words with.

Most eyes I can see though aren’t impressed by seeing Trent, and I wonder again just how bad a guy he was.

What happened to make so many people dislike him so much?

Still, there’s no sign of that creepy Barbie look-alike woman, and my dad’s yet to spot us together so all good so far.

Sensing my nerves about my dad, even though I promised I could handle it, Trent leans over, making me jump a little when his hand touches mine. But in the best way.

“Are you ashamed to be seen with me?” he asks, adding that there’s more than one person in the room who isn’t happy to see him although most people either don’t care or don’t bear a grudge.

“Never,” I tell him. “I’m having a great time,” I lie. Wishing that, if this was a date, I would kill to have it anyplace else.

Trent can sense my mood and smiles to himself. “I think I have to say a few words, for the Dean. Then we can get outta here if you want?” he suggests and I feel relief like nothing else wash over me.

I nod my head several times in eager response, and Trent gets up and strides over, speaking to the Dean a while before he takes the mike at a lectern between the two main dining tables.

A spotlight shines on him and the house lights dim, adding to my relief.

I see Trent give a sly little wink in my direction, his way of letting me know he won’t draw attention where it’s not wanted.

Not yet anyway.

How can I get through tonight, let alone the rest of my life hiding a Trent-sized secret?

Trent introduces himself, and there’s one or two groans and even a boo from the back, but he’s unfazed. He promises everyone that dessert isn’t far off and he just wanted to say a few words.

He gives a short but sweet speech about how great the night’s been, but mostly it’s about how great the college was and still is, and he gives a special mention to the Dean and faculty.

It’s not the Trent I’ve been spending time with though. He sounds more like a commercial or something. Like someone selling bonds but in a nice way.

I know I’d buy whatever he was selling, and I have to remind myself too, that as far as I know Trent’s in business.

Probably doing his bit for whatever deal he has going with the Dean.

Trent finishes up as promised, not keeping everyone from their desserts, with only a few more words from the dean before the lights go up.

“Come on,” Trent whispers in my ear before the Dean finishes speaking.

“Let’s get outta here,” he says, a mischievous smile playing on his lips, but I don’t need any encouragement.

I did what I told my dad I would, I returned to the dinner and now I’m leaving again.

A nice man offered me a ride home, but he was leaving early so I took it seeing as you were so ‘busy’ with your own date, dad.

We steal out, his hand in mine before anyone really notices, back out into the chilly night air that’s filled with a fine mist of light rain.

I’m not sure if it’s just for effect, but Trent is almost jogging by the time we leave, pulling me along behind him until I have to ask him to strop, breathless before we even reach his car.

“What’s the rush to escape?” I wheeze, pinching my side as I notice Trent hasn’t even raised his pulse above resting.

“You wanna hang around to find out?” he asks, sounding a little more serious but still smiling.

I feel my head shake quickly.

So much for either of us taking care of my dad.

I guess that explosion will have to come later. If it comes at all, I remind myself.

So far Trent’s been friendly, protective, and concerned. But I wouldn’t say he’s been overly romantic.

Maybe he’s just looking out for his ex-best friend’s daughter after all.

But I’m seriously starting to hope not by the time we get back to his car.

“I suppose you’ll want to drive me home now?” I ask, trying not to sound disappointed.

“Not unless you want me to?” he asks, reminding me it’s still pretty early and he only went back to thank the Dean.

“I have a little confession,” he says, looking a little embarrassed.

I hear myself gulp, suddenly dreading the real secret he must have.

He’s married.

He has a girlfriend.

He’s gay.

Has to be one of those. Nobody I’ve ever met is this perfect and available, and interested in younger, thick-set college graduates.

“What is it?” I ask, sounding almost terrified.

“I kinda got your address from the Dean and as a favor, in return, I had to impress his investor guests,” he explains, wincing as if it’s the crime of the century.

“Oh thank god,” I exclaim, leaning back in my seat. “I thought you were gonna tell me you were married or had a partner.” I gasp, flushing red once I know how much I’ve really just given away.

But Trent looks concerned for a different reason, asking me the same question.

“And what about you?” he asks, almost accusingly. “Any boyfriends, partners?” His face clouding over a little as he asks.

The same face he made when that gross drunk man got all handsy with me before he stepped in.

“Ha ha,” I reply slowly, with all the sarcasm I can muster.

His brow creases even more and he looks confused for a second.

“I don’t have anyone,” he tells me, going first so I have to tell him now.

“Well if a guy like you is single, what chance do I have?” I groan, wanting to change the subject already.

My Trent fantasy was way better somehow, without so many questions and talk about me.

“You mean, you really don’t have a boyfriend?” he asks, his face smoothing until he smiles wide. Beaming to himself like it’s the best thing he’s heard all week.

I crease the corners of my mouth, wondering if he’s serious or just having another of his little jokes with himself at my expense.

“Really,” I echo back to him, not hurt by what he’s said, but not really needing the reminder either.

“Well, maybe we can just be two lonely hearts for the rest of the night?” he suggests, asking again if I’m still hungry.

I want to make a snide comment about my weight, but I know it would be wasted on him.

Trent was right, he needs to eat a lot because he’s so damned huge as a person.

Next to him, I look tiny, but I don’t feel that way. I’m still hung up about my size, even next to a giant like Trent.

“I could murder a proper meal,” I hear myself say at the same moment my stomach gurgles loudly, making me flush with embarrassment but it only seems to make up Trent’s mind.

“Then that settles it,” he declares, shifting the car swiftly from being hemmed in by two cars, and in seconds we’re whizzing off to what I assume is another meal.

“What were you gonna have at home?” he asks casually.

“Mac n’ cheese,” I reply, feeling a stab of guilt because I left a double serving still in the microwave at home.

Hope dad doesn’t see it, he’ll freak.

But Trent growls with disapproval.

“You don’t like mac n’ cheese?” I ask, surprised if he doesn’t.

“Not as a main meal, no,” he replies dryly, and I almost say something about the cost of food, but his gleaming Rolex and hundred thousand dollar car kinda stop me.

I figure Trent doesn’t have any money worries and feel like defending myself by telling him we only get mac n’ cheese when it’s discounted.

But I don’t want to argue with Trent. Not about food or about anything else.

He smiles over at me as if he can read my thoughts and I hope like hell he can’t read them too deeply.

As we drive further from the college my thoughts become almost indecent when it comes to Trent.

We end up downtown before long, and Trent pulls up in front of a dark building.

“Where are we eating?” I ask, figuring he’s just parking here.

“My place,” he tells me. “If that’s okay?”

I feel my whole body shiver.

A new and different kind of hunger gripping me suddenly.