His bed is neatly made. All his books are organized into size order on the shelf opposite from where I stand. I spy a pair of jeans on the floor near his closet, but other than that, there is nothing littering the carpet.
He's got a large, worn recliner in the far corner near the bookshelf, and a desk to my left. My senses are fully aware of the tangy-spicey smell, mixed with a hint of cinnamon, that is easily recognized as Trevor's cologne.
I decide to stop wasting time and start setting up my supplies on his bed. I've got my portable speakers sitting on his side table and I'm reaching for my iPod when the front door opens, welcoming a set of voices into the apartment. I freeze. I'm supposed to have another ten minutes to myself, according to the information that Chuck gave to Lindsey that she passed on to me. I'm pulling the remaining supplies from my bag like a madwoman when my ears perk up at the sound of my name.
"Emma's coming over in a bit." It's Trevor's voice. It sounds like he's somewhere near the couch.
Seconds later my suspicions are confirmed when I hear the rustle of fabric as he plops himself down into the worn material.
"Emma, huh?" The voice is unfamiliar to me, but he seems to know who I am by the suggestive tone in his voice.
"No man," Trevor deadpans. "It's not like that. It will never be like that."
I clutch my throat to prevent a gasp from escaping. I'm tempted to move closer to the door so I can hear better, but my bones are frozen solidly in place.
"Why not?"
"She's just..." He trails off, apparently not sure how to explain. "She put my family through a lot, you know?" His question is met with silence and I can imagine that the other guy is giving him a look that says, 'No, I don't know.'
Trevor groans. "I just don't trust the girl."
Wow, he can't even bring himself to say my name. I'm just 'the girl' now.
"My sister had a lot of problems because of what she did."
"Yeah, and didn't she apologize for that?" his friend asks, and I immediately decide that I like him. He's the voice of reason.
"Yeah. I just... I'm not ready to just be okay with it."
"Would it be such a bad thing to give her a chance to prove herself?" The unknown voice asks. There's a pause and a sound of someone opening the fridge.
"Why are you defending her?" Trevor sounds irritated.
I've concluded that his friend is the one rummaging through the fridge since I can still hear Trevor's voice near the couch.
"I'm not! I don't even know the girl," he says.
I rub my temples. 'Come on guys, I have a freaking name!' I growl inwardly.
"I'm just saying," his friend goes on, "maybe you should just give her a chance." He pauses and I can hear a smile in his voice when he speaks up again. "Or are you afraid she's going to bully you into tears." I hear Trevor grumble something under his breath. "I'll be here to pat your back and dry your eyes when you start crying into your pillow every night."
"Shut it, man," I hear Trevor scold, but there's humor in his voice. There's a beat of silence before I hear what sounds like Trevor getting up from his seat. "I can't help but kind of hate her," he admits so nonchalantly that I have to hold the back of my hand to my mouth to prevent the shards of my broken heart from escaping with a gasp.
He hates me. I always suspected it, but I never really accepted it. My heart was pounding wildly in my chest as it slowly shriveled up. It would soon resemble a dried up raisin. I held back a tight sob, refusing to give away my location.
"Just be nice." I hear his friend's motherly advice, and I don't realize that it's too late to hide until Trevor responds.
"No promises." He laughs, and suddenly he sounds way too close.
I've been too absorbed looking down at my fingers while listening to the conversation that I don't realize that Trevor's standing in the doorway staring at me until I glance up. The shock on his face is worthy of a photo, but at the moment I barely notice. I jump up from where I've been sitting on his bed as if I've been caught doing something naughty.
"Emma." My name leaves his lips with a regretful sigh. There's no denying that I've heard everything, and he knows it. I absentmindedly push my hair off my shoulder and pull it around to one side.
"I think—" My brain is swarming with the truth he's just revealed, and I can't get my head to pull together a coherent thought.
"What are you doing here?" He doesn't sound angry, or accusatory; just curious.
"I came early to... uh," I gesture around me, but don't have the guts to confess my reason for breaking into his private territory.
Trevor's eyes take a fleeting glance behind me to where I've set things up, but I doubt he really sees it. He's too focused on my reaction.
"Emma..." He pushes a hand through his hair, and I get the sense that the guilt churning in his gut is making him sick. He doesn't look good, and I know I don't look good.
Instead of accepting my emotions, Trevor has unknowingly rejected them, and I'm not sure how long I can hold back the blockade of despair and desire warring together beneath the surface. Something dark is battling inside me as well. Anger. Bitterness. Fragments of the old me - the shameful me.
I know the hurt is evident on my face as I glimpse the remorse lining his eyes. A small leak has formed in the feeble wall of my heart and is now trickling down the contours of my cheek. I flick the tear away impatiently as I grab for my near-empty bag on the floor. I don't bother cleaning up my mess because I know I've only got seconds before all hell is released through the dam behind my eyelids. I brush past him in a desperate attempt to get away; the solidity of his frame not hindering my escape.
"Wait," I hear him call behind me.
I see his friend standing in the kitchen with an 'oh crap!' look on his face. His hand is frozen in the air where he was preparing to pour orange juice into a glass. I don't acknowledge him as I turn to face Trevor.
"It's fine," I say, even though my vocal chords are straining against the quivery words, "You were just being honest. You have every right to feel that way." I tried to remain calm, but the ugly blackness of my broken soul had just shown its face as the words left my lips with an angry hiss.
And then I'm spinning back towards my exit. I faintly hear his friend mumble to go after me before I'm out the door and speed walking as fast as possible. I don't hear anyone behind me, so I assume Trevor isn't following.
My bag bounces haphazardly against my back as I aimlessly make my way back to my dorm. It's hardly even registered that I'm back in my room until I've shut the door behind me. My eyes are surprisingly dry, but I know it's only a matter of time. I need to get away from here before Trevor decides to come find me.
---
So... I've got people saying that Emma is the idiot and other's who think Trevor's the idiot. What's your opinion? :p
Anyway. Even if this chapter made you mad (lol), I hope you still enjoy the drama. Cuz who doesn't love a little drama, right? :D
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Porcelain Skin (NOW ON AMAZON KU)
Teen Fiction"When I tell you that he hates me, you'll probably assume it's because he's a jerk...but you'd be wrong. He's not a jerk. I am." --- Several years ago tragedy struck Emma's home, leaving her broken... like a cup with cracks spiraling and sli...
