Porcelain Skin (NOW ON AMAZON KU)

43. Trevor!

Trevor and I are sprawled across my bed, both of us in our own world of research. We've already come to the conclusion that my creepy dream about the man in the shadows with chains around his ankles may represent helplessness. I can see that someone in my life is in need of rescuing or guidance, but I'm clueless as for how to help. This makes sense when you consider that bugs coming out of my hair could mean that I've got something weighing on my mind, which is what our Google search revealed to us.

This may all sound like a good interpretation, but in reality, I'm not buying it. The reason being that I already have my own theory, and it has nothing to do with feeling helpless.

It's strange that I don't feel like I can confess my theory to Trevor. It's not like it's really a secret, but there are parts of my past that I prefer to keep hidden. Revealing the meaning behind my dream would awaken a whole slew of questions that I'm not ready to dive into quite yet. So instead, I tell myself that it's not wrong to keep it from him since dreams don't technically prove anything. It's not like I'm lying if I don't tell him what I think it means because, in reality, my own interpretation could be wrong. Plus, dreams don't always mean something. Some people just have wacky imaginations.

"So you ever gonna tell me who you've got a crush on?" Trevor asks while lying across the end of my bed on his stomach.

His arms are hanging off the side to where his computer sits on the floor. He doesn't appear the least bit comfortable as his fingers fly across the keyboard. When I don't answer him, he pushes himself up enough to rest his elbows on the bed and turns to look at me.

"Trevor." His name escapes my lips with an exasperated sigh.

"What? Why won't you tell me?" He begs playfully, a smile lighting up his face. This only heightens my annoyance. It's like a game to him; he's not actually taking my emotions seriously.

"Why do you keep doing this?" I question, brushing my fingers through my hair in frustration.

My throat feels oddly thick with emotion. I hate that he keeps pushing this issue because he should know the answer already, and him trying to force me to confess my feelings for him is just making it seem like he's doing it for his own entertainment. There's no way he's dumb enough to not have figured it out by now.

He must sense the defeated tone in my voice because he pushes himself into a seated position. Bending one leg, he props his arm lazily on his knee, allowing his hand to hang loosely in the air. He spins a pen casually between his fingers; his eyes roaming back and forth between my own as if the answer somehow lies beneath their depths. I turn my gaze towards my lap when his scrutiny becomes too much. Fear clutches at my chest because I'm suddenly feeling vulnerable, as though he's somehow able to gauge every emotion swirling inside my wild heart.

"I'm sure whoever this guy is, he'd be thrilled to know how you feel." His words are gentle, as if he fears that speaking too loudly may shatter my weakened state.

A sarcastic laugh erupts through my stern lips.

"I highly doubt that," I tell him as I adjust the computer in my lap. Pushing a strand of hair behind my ear, I finally look up to meet his sober stare.

"Is it the guy in your dream?" he finally asks, never tearing his eyes away from mine.

I know he's analyzing every one of my features for a clue: the twitch of my lips, the lift of my brow, the clench of my jaw, the flutter of my flustered fingers, everything. It's impossible to control my body under such inspection.

"Yes," I finally mumble, hoping that it will be enough information to satisfy him for now.

I peer at him from under my lashes to see him nodding slowly, his face void of any emotion. I'm not sure if I prefer the unreadable Trevor over the teasing Trevor. The mystery behind his eyes is driving me mad. What could he possibly be thinking? Finally, a tight smile pulls at his lips before he leans over the bed to grab his computer off the floor.

Over the next few minutes, we work in silence, and I'm strangely wishing that I had just confessed my feelings for him. Maybe then this uncomfortable blanket wouldn't have settled around us. The air is heavy with uneasiness.

"Alright. Here we go," Trevor says, shifting himself so he's sitting beside me. He points to his screen and begins to read while I follow along. "A red robe can sometimes mean that you have a personal issue that needs confrontation, or it might mean that you have a secret desire to let loose." He stops reading to look sideways at me. "Which one seems more realistic for you?"

My eyes are still on his screen as I shrug. I turn to meet his gaze. "Both actually."

"I also found this," Trevor continues on. "It's about the lake. It says that raging or disturbed waters can equal emotional turmoil."

"That would make sense," I comment. "With my dad and all. I don't think I'll ever fully recover from that, so it could be the turmoil I've been experiencing."

"True." Trevor turns slightly to face me better. "Do you really think that's the emotional turmoil you were dreaming about?"

I don't know if it's the curiosity behind his question or the fact that he seems to already know that the dream has nothing to do with my father, but in seconds rage has boiled up from my stomach and out of my mouth.

"Trevor!" I growl. "Just let it go okay! I'm not going to spill my emotions to you. You can keep digging all you want, but who I like and whoever is causing my emotions to swing all over the place is really none of your concern."

My eyes swing to my lap again because I can't face him. My humiliation is too overpowering. I'm not one to let my anger overtake me anymore, and I feel like I've just backpedaled with our relationship.

I risk a look at Trevor, and he appears completely unfazed by my emotional outburst. Curiosity is churning in his eyes, and I suddenly can't take any more of his snooping. I push my computer off my lap and scoot off my bed. Without a word I make my way to the bathroom and lock the door behind me. Grabbing a hold of the counter, I dip my head to avoid my reflection in the mirror.

I hate how he has so much control over how I feel. If I could just turn off my emotions I gladly would, but he has captured me completely. His persistence to unravel the mystery behind who I like is causing tension to eat away my nerves. Once he discovers the truth, he'll be hightailing it out of my life. The easy friendship we've created will be like dust blown away in the wind. I can't risk that. I need him to be a part of my life even if I never get the full satisfaction of his affection.

I exit the bathroom a minute later, feeling just as crappy as I did when I went in. I prepare to offer an apology for my rude behavior, but when I look up I find Trevor sitting on the floor with yarn and knitting needles spread before him. The words freeze in the throat. He looks up at me with a boyish grin on his face.

"Are those my supplies?" I ask as I cautiously make my way over to him.

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This scene is to be continued in the next chapter. Sorry again for the awkward ending. Haha. :p

Anyone else getting annoyed with Trevor's curious side? Geez boy, just let it go!!! XD