Potentially You and Me (Two Truths and a Lie)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: MOTION SENSORS

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: MOTION SENSORS

Trent asked me to meet him in the library basement. I've only been down here a handful of other times. Once when Stephanie wanted to use the whiteboard to practice her presentation to me. Another time with Megan when there was some major private family drama between Stephanie and Savannah, a.k.a Rodriguez verses Rivera. And a few times I came down by myself when I needed some other blank cement walls to stare at outside my dorm room.

     The basement is composed of a bunch of rooms. Each staircase takes you to a different entryway. Some rooms are mini conference rooms with long dark wooden tables with rolling chairs and windows on all sides for classes or clubs. Some have long tables and chairs people can do homework on, and white dry erase boards people can have study sessions with. There are even couches sprawled around that some people take the opportunity to throw their hoods up and take naps on in between classes. All the rooms overlap and look into each other like a continuous maze. Similar to a completely comical chase sequence in movies that's all sped up as people dash and dart from room to room with doors opening and shutting, silly cartoon music, and people always getting close to catching each other, even taking a beat to make eye contact, but never actually getting close.

     "Hey," Trent whispers, making me jump a little, halfway through a text asking where he is. "Here." He holds out a cardboard hot cup.

     I gladly wrap my fingers around it, embracing the warmth of it against the slight chill down here. I bring it up to my nose a little and get the slightest whiff of chocolate. "Thank you." I smile.

     "You're welcome. Come on." He flicks his head towards the main hallway that connects all the rooms, lined with peach linoleum flooring and two bathrooms on either end.

     "Where are we going?"

     "I just wanted to talk to you about something . . . about an idea I had."

     "Okay . . ."

     "Here." He pokes his head into one of the rooms, but seeing a few people sitting inside he keeps on walking, but really more like swaying his feet from side to side as if his head's weighing on him a little extra today. He pokes his head into another room, checking for people before waving me inside after him.

     My eyes dart between the few rows of long white tables on the left half of the room and the long plum couches. I look over my shoulder, but Trent waves his hand again.

     "Wherever."

     "Okay . . ." I repeat because I don't really know what else to say.

     "Sorry, it's just"—he pauses as two girls move around us, chatting and taking seats on the end of one of the tables— "Dang." He whispers again. "Come on." He nods back out the door, and I reluctantly follow suit.

     He goes directly across the hall and pokes his head into a similar room only with a mirrored set up and some of the ceiling lights are flicked off, leaving one half of the room slightly shadowed while the other is still haloed in yellow-white lights.

     "Here." Trent places his cup on the end of one of the tables and pulls out one of the grey plastic chairs. He yanks it back all the way behind him before pulling back the adjacent chair and gestures for me to sit in it.

     I comply, crossing my ankles and keeping my hands tucked around my cup. I wonder if it's warm enough to drink yet and go to take a tentative sip while Trent flips his chair around and sits on it backwards, facing me.

     "So, I just had something I wanted to tell you, something I've been considering . . ."

     I take another delicious sip of hot chocolate since I did discover it has reached the perfect temperature where your tempted to chug the whole thing right then and there, but you don't because you also want to savor every moment of it. It's only a matter of time before it's too cold though. "Okay." I finally nod.