Watching the guys play pool, Bree sat next to friends she hadn't seen in far too long and tried her best to listen to what they were talking about. Concentrating was hard. She truly hadn't been prepared for Trent to be there, and the fact that he was served as a distraction.
Jason must've noticed her change in behavior. She'd mentioned Trent to him before because he'd come up when she was telling him some stories about things that had happened with this particular group of friends while they were in high school. Jason had specifically asked if Trent was going to be there, which Bree had thought was odd, until now. Jason wasn't the brightest bulb in the pack, but he had to have guessed there was more to her past with Trent than she was telling him.
There was more to it than Bree was willing to admit to, most of the time. The drink in her hand was helping with the introspection, though. Trent still looked good. In high school, she'd catch herself staring at him and have to look away before he noticed. They were friends, after all, nothing more.
Nora was telling a story, and everyone laughed. Bree chimed in, trying to fool them all into thinking she was a part of the conversation, but her mind had wandered back to junior year….
Out in the parking lot, Bree could still hear the music playing in the gymnasium. She felt so stupid, buying a new dress and getting herself all made up--for what? Stupid Chris Smith wasn't interested in her. He'd just been using her to make his ex-girlfriend jealous.
Bree pulled her phone out of her pocket and started to dial her mom. She hadn't driven herself to the dance, so she had no ride home. She might look like a little kid having her parents come and get her, but it beat walking home.
"Bree! Are you okay?"
She turned around to see Trent jogging toward her, the corsage his date had pinned on his lapel a few hours ago a visible reminder that he'd come there with someone else.
"I'm fine," she said, sticking her phone back in her jacket pocket. "I just… want to go home." There was no sense trying to hide her tears from him. Trent knew her better than anyone.
"I saw what that jackass was doing, Bree. I'm so sorry."
She wiped her nose on the back of her hand, realizing she was also still wearing her corsage. She took it off and hurled it across the parking lot. "Why do guys have to act like that?"
"I'm so sorry," he said again, brushing a strawberry-blonde lock of hair away from her face. "Not all guys are like that, you know."
Shaking her head, she folded and unfolded her arms, not sure what to do. "Well, it seems like everyone I date is."
"Yeah, I'll give you that." He chuckled, sticking his hands in the pockets of his dress pants.
"That's not funny." She pushed him playfully, and since he had his hands in his pockets, he staggered backward a little bit.
"I was just kidding, Bree. Trying to make you laugh."
"Yeah, except it's true."
"Bree…."
"God, Trent. I'm such a loser."
"You're not a loser, Bree. He's the loser." He had his hands on her now, pulling her by the arms so she'd look at him. "Anyone who doesn't know your worth is a loser."
She looked into his eyes for a moment but then dropped her head. "You're just saying that because you're my best friend."
"Best friend?" he repeated. "Wow. I've gotten a promotion."
"Stop. You know you are." He pulled her closer, and Bree put her head on his shoulder. His arms circled around her, and she inhaled deeply, wishing she had a way of telling him she wanted so desperately for him to be more than a friend.
But she had no idea if he felt the same way, and she couldn't mess this up. What would she do without him in her life? Shrivel up and die? Bury herself under a rock and stay there forever?
"You should come back inside, Bree." Trent's voice was just a whisper in her ear. "Don't give him the satisfaction of knowing he upset you."
"Are you kidding? And watch him dance with that stupid bitch all night?"
"Let him watch you dance with a bunch of hot guys all night. All right, well maybe not any hot ones--but me, and Isaac, and Hank…."
She raised her eyes to look at him. Did he really think he wasn't hot? He was the hottest guy in Shelbyville. "What about your dates?"
He shook his head. "Our dates all know that we're friends. Hell, Missy and I are just friends. You know that."
That's what he'd said, but she didn't know if Missy was aware of that. "Are you sure? I was just going to call my mom. How am I going to get home when this is over?"
"Hi--I'm your next door neighbor. Pretty sure I can get you home." He slipped a finger under her chin and gently raised her face so she was looking at him. "Bree, Bree… it's okay. You're okay. You're better than okay. You're amazing."
Bree took a deep breath. Something was happening here, and while it made her nervous and a little terrified, it felt really good as well. An energy filled the air around them, and Bree found herself staring at his lips for a second before she realized they were moving closer to hers.
He was going to kiss her! Trent Walker--her next door neighbor, hottest guy in school, best friend--was going to kiss her. Bree closed her eyes and leaned in, ready to accept his kiss and whatever it meant for them.
"Yo, Walker! You comin' back or am I gonna have to steal your girl?"
Trent jumped back about six feet, and Bree dropped her head. Stupid Hank! What the hell was wrong with him?
"I'm coming!" Trent shouted back. He took a few steps, ran a hand through his sandy blond hair, and then turned back to Bree. "You, uh… you ready?"
"Yep. Let's go." How could she not go back in now? She took a deep breath and walked alongside Trent, back into the dance, pretending what had just happened hadn't just happened….
Back in the cabin, Bree realized Nora was saying her name. "Bree? Are you even listening?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah. I'm listening. Sorry. Maybe I've had too much to drink."
"Isn't that your first beer?" Christy asked.
"Light weight," Abby joked.
Bree did her best to tune into the conversation, but her eyes kept wandering back to Trent. Things had never quite been the same between them after that night in the parking lot when he'd almost kissed her.
She wished she could go back in time and make it happen. If things were going to be odd, she may as well see what it would've led to. Instead, that night had been the beginning of the landslide of their friendship, and God how she missed him….
Two weeks later…. Bree sat on the beach, a drink one hand, Trent’s fingers interlaced with her other where it lay in the sand. The ocean waves rolled in, wetting the sand near their toes, the sun baking down on their tan skin as it dried from their first dip in the ocean. There would be plenty more.&nbs
The sound of the gavel echoed throughout the courtroom. No one said a word for what seemed like the longest few seconds Bree could ever remember. Then, the people around her came back to life, and she found air in her lungs again. “Are you okay?” Trent asked. He was always asking her that, checking on her, making sure she was all right. Bree nodded. She was all right. She was going to continue to be all right, too. It seemed like a nightmare that had lasted almost two years was finally over.&nb
Yet again, Bree found herself speaking to a police officer. This time, she wasn’t the one lying in a hospital bed, though. Instead, after they’d pieced together enough of the story to know that the maintenance man had been trying to make it so that the pipe above her head would move down, Bree and her bandmates had been asked to come to the police station. The others were sitting outside, or maybe one or two of them were being interviewed by other officers now. All she knew was the man sitting across from her, Detective Coop Wellington, didn’t look like the sort of person one kept information from. “We know Monica and this&helli
“All right--Bree Matthews!” a stagehand shouted, coming over with a clipboard and a microphone on his head. “Are you ready?” “We are ready!” Bree said for all of them, bouncing on her heels. “Then, head to your spots.” He signaled for them to approach their section of the stage. The band had been prepped on how this would work before the show. They headed to the places they’d been told to earli
Sitting in a chair, staring at a runway, brought back way too many uncomfortable memories for Trent. Had it really just been a little over a year since he’d spent at least one or two days a week sitting in just such a chair, waiting for Monica to come down the stage? It seemed so strange now. He tried not to fidget, but his leg was bouncing up and down so quickly, he was glad he wasn’t outside because he might manage to start a fire with the right kindling--and like Bree, he’d had enough of fire for one lifetime. “Are you all right?” Celia asked, leaning over to whisper in his ear. “You’re making me nervous, an
Anxiety bubbled up in Bree as she stood in the staging area, getting ready for the big show. All around her, models and bands were putting the finishing touches on their makeup and hair, the models getting into their first outfits so that they’d be fully prepared to grace the runway as soon as it was their turn to take the walk and show off the newest fashions to an invigorated audience. From what Bree could tell, this wasn’t actually one of those fashion shows where the clothing was practical and might be bought by the average housewife. No, it was mostly lingerie, and it was mostly, well, ridiculous, in her point of view. None of it was s