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The past few weeks were nothing like I expected my life to be under Trent’s roof.
I’m so confused, I can barely think.
And now, I’m sitting in my bedroom reading about Carl Jung before I leave for class.
The worst part is, I only have one week until I perform in front of the staff, and I can barely concentrate.
None of the Trent parts of my situation is as bad as I thought it would be. It’s just confusing as hell. Especially the last time I was at Cresthill.
Trent.
He’s different than I imagined.
And then there’s the talk with his mom. Every day, I become more and more confused over who he is.
The angry son of Ronald Aldridge.
The caring friend to Henry Wian.
The benefactor—cough, torturer, cough—of yours truly.
The hot guy in the sauna I wouldn’t mind seeing naked some more.
Thinking about Trent in all of his forms, clothed and not, has become something I’m doing far too frequently.
And right now, I can’t.
I have too much to do.
I need to get through a grueling day of classwork, but more studying first. I had too much work for my actual business major before he assigned this damn presentation on top of it.
I pray he’ll let it go, not make me do this silly book report and presentation, but I know he won’t. There is no point in wishing when I am certain this man is going to take every opportunity available to make me suffer through his “homework” regardless of my coursework.
No amount of begging and pleading for him not to will work.
Placing the book down, I stand from the bed and fix my dress before heading out the door.
It’s late enough in the morning, so Trent won’t be around.
I step out into the hall, and like I expected, it’s clear. Walking toward the front of the loft, I bump into no one.
Just the way I like it.
I can finally breathe when I step out into the city air.
It’s cold today. Winter is officially in the air.
I didn’t bring a coat, but I guess it will be okay.
The subway is only a few blocks away, and then I’ll be hot.
I am halfway up the street when I hit a proverbial wall. My body lurches forward, my hands shooting up to brace for something to catch my fall.
There is nothing there.
My hands grasp air.
The next thing I know, I’m falling to my knees.
