She laughed. “No, I never think about quitting law school. Instead I’ve quit sleeping and eating.”
“I thought you said you had a boyfriend,” Dean said. “How do you have time for him?”
“He’s pre-med and busier than I am.”
“Did you bring him?” Dean asked, like he couldn’t wait to meet Trevor. And he meant it, totally genuine.
“Yes!” she said, standing on her tiptoes, trying to see over the sea of heads. “He’s around here somewhere.” She didn’t see Trevor’s blond curls anywhere and stepped out a little from the small corner so he had a better chance of finding them. “How are you doing?”
“Same. I mean, not law-school busy, but I graduated—”
“With honors. Your mom told me. I don’t know why you skip over that part.”
“Right, well.” He was blushing. She couldn’t see it in the dark, but she knew. “I graduated and now I’m working a few jobs in the area.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
They grinned at each other like fools, and Trina honestly didn’t understand where this tidal wave of affection came from.
“What about your girlfriend?” she asked.
“We broke up,” he said. “She was not cool with my busy schedule.”
She winced.
“It’s tough,” he said. “But there’s a lot of competition for good jobs. Operations are shrinking in this part of the state, and a lot of guys that have graduated end up working part time in some office somewhere.”
“Oh you’d die!” she said.
“Exactly. She did not understand that it was life and death, and she split.”
“I’m really sorry to hear that.”
“I will survive.” He flashed that easygoing grin and glanced out at the crowd.
“I’m sure someone here will ease your pain,” she said with a laugh.
From nowhere there was a pang in her chest. Not jealousy, not really.
She had Trevor, after all. And Trevor was perfect.
But Trevor never looked so happy to see me. Trevor barely looked up from his laptop when I walked in his door.
Stop, she thought. That’s not fair.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” Dean said. She looked up and met his eyes, and for a second it was like the party was gone. The years were gone.
And that pang in her chest got worse.
This is ridiculous, she thought. It’s just the reaction to seeing him again. Memories of some happy times.
Some bleak awful times, too. But they did not seem to matter in this hot party.
He leaned in closer and his breath touched her neck, the side of her cheek, and despite the heat the hair stood up on her arms. “I think about you every year at Christmas.”
“You mean you worry about me every year at Christmas.”
“That too,” he said.
His smile was gone and all that remained were those memories of theirs. And something different. Something sharp.
“There you are,” Trevor said, pushing his way through the crowd into their corner. He smiled at her and then up at Dean. “This is some kind of party, man,” he said.
“I know,” Dean laughed. “I had no idea so many people would be free on Christmas Eve. I’m Dean.” He and Trevor shook hands and made a little small talk. Trina handed Trevor her beer.
“I’ll get another one,” she said. She left Trevor and Dean, because she was in a weird place in her head and she didn’t want to compare the two. Because there was no comparing the two.
Trevor was her supportive, amazing boyfriend, and Dean was a very old friend she hadn’t talked to in years who happened to make her feel…silly, somehow.
She pumped the keg and sprayed beer into a blue cup.
There was a sudden pounding on the door, and there was something about that pounding that made Trina’s head come up and look over at Dean.
Trina had a dog when she was a little girl. King was insane about squirrels. Even when King got old and blind and was allowed to sleep in the house, he’d stand up from his spot at the bottom of Trina’s bed and bark with wild, predatory delight, every time there was a scuttle across the roof or past Trina’s window.
Dean had a similar look in his eye right now, that for some reason made her think of his father.
“Is that the cops?” someone asked, and the music was shut down.
“Nope,” Dean said as he made his way toward the front door.
Trina put the cup down and followed.
“What’s up?” Trevor asked.
She didn’t know. Not for sure. But there was that ‘squirrel’ look in Dean’s eyes.
The party had shifted, everyone crowding toward the wall, into the corners, and she was able to follow Dean without a problem into the living room.
Don’t be him, she thought. Don’t be him.
Dean opened his front door. A big man with silver hair and a blue cashmere coat stood there, giving off enough raging disapproval that half the party was blown right into the bathroom.
“Who is that?” Trevor asked, coming up beside her.
Eugene McKenzie.
“Dean’s dad.”
“Looks pissed,” Trevor said, finishing his beer. “You want one?”