CHAPTER TWELVE: VANILLA VELVET
"Would you stop pacing? You're creating a draft." Stephanie waves her hand in the air.
I stop mid stride, but my hands continue to wrestle each other.
The roles are reversed on this parallel universe Friday night. Stephanie's the one curled up in her bed while I'm dressed to go out. The only difference is she's scrolling through her phone, and it's not even that late. It's only a little after dinner.
"Stop fidgeting." Stephanie doesn't even glance up as she waves her hand again. "You look fine."
Another difference.
Stephanie's usually all cool and collected, while hear I am all shaky and sweaty. My hair keeps getting in my lip gloss, and I keep pushing it out of the way. But each time I run my fingers through it, I'm reminded of the few pimples crowded around my left temple. I probably created them with the constant habit.
"âpsychopath."
"What?" I whirl around to find Stephanie with her finger pointed in the air like Professor Collins mid-way through a speech.
"I took a Forensics class in high school, so I was just saying that the odds of Trent turning into some crazy person ten years from now are pretty high, but right now he should be fine."
I'm finally still as I contemplate her words. "That's oddly reassuring . . . sort of."
Stephanie triumphantly slumps back down against her pillows while I go back to fidgeting only a little more discreetly. I settle on just literally twiddling my thumbs.
I left my phone on my bed and watch as the black screen lights up.
On my way be there in a few minutes.
"Then again, college guys can be unpredictable."
"What was that?" I whirl around again, but this time Stephanie's eyes remain glued to her phone screen.
"Nothing." She continues scrolling with her curls all splayed out beside her head.
I catch a glimpse of myself in the small, silver circle mirror on her desk. I used it to apply mascara before, but also found myself flipping it around to the magnified side. Every eyebrow hair, pour, and acne scar was visibleâtoo visible, but I couldn't bring myself to apply more makeup. I never really wear makeup.
Plus, it's just Trent.
I also never really add anything to my hair except for some leave-in conditioner and mousse, but today Megan added a few more waves to it with her curling iron. So now my hair is leaning more towards wavy opposed to its half-wavy, half-straight self. For now, at least, if I can bring myself to stop running my hands through it.
Because it's just Trent.
And before I flipped the mirror back around, I relaxed against the back of Stephanie's desk chair and stared back at myself.
"It makes your eyes pop." Stephanie had approved of the army green sweater I threw on, and I finally embraced it in that moment. Even though Trent's eyes are still greener, like some unexplainable electricity. Clear. Charge to three-hundred. Shock delivered. Blazed and sizzling. Even when his shoulders are slumped with exhaustion and his eyelids droop, his irises still remain crackling.
But he's still just Trent.
At least, that's what I keep reminding myself as I finally throw on my black peacoat, and when I slip on my black moccasin slippers opposed to boots.
"Okay, well." I slip my cross-body bag over one shoulder with one hand while gripping my phone in the other. "Wish me luck."
"Good luck!" Stephanie calls. "Text me if you need anything . . . you know some snacks, a condomâ"
"Not funny!" My hand practically flies away from the door handle.
"I'm kidding." She cackles at the ceiling before flinging her body up. "Seriously, you can text me if you need. Especially, if he starts to give you creepy serial killer vibes."
"Will do." I nod.
She smiles. "No go onâget out of here, or am I going to have to push you out?"
"You just might." I laugh as I reach for the door handle again. My fingers quiver a little, but I lock them around and push them down along with any of my remaining hesitation. "Bye, crazy!"
"Have fun!" she singsongs.
I catch one final glimpse of her in between the crack in the door. She sticks her tongue out, matching the precarious bounce of her medusa curls. I mimic the expression before a smile takes over my face as the door finally clicks closed behind me.
****
I picked the end of another rectangular table with my back facing the food counters. I don't know if it's my stomach, my heart, or maybe even one of my kidneys that's been stuffed up into my throat. Either way, I feel full there and hollow everywhere else as I press send on the text.
I'm here
Luckily, there's only leftover dinner commotion with a few people scattered around. Some are in small groups, some in pairs, and most are marking finals season because they are accompanied by just their notebooks or laptops.
The chatter grows and then softens every few minutes with minimal laughter in between, but it all sounds loud to me. It all only reminds me of the empty seat across from me.
"Yo! Look who it is."
I hear some back slaps and handshakes.
"How are you, my man?"
"Yeah, bro. What's happening?"
"Nothin' much." Just two words, mumbled out from the very back of his throat where your esophagusmeets your tongue, where your vocal cords break out into the softestvibrations. My throat feels like it's closing again.
"Whatcha got there?"
I hear some rustling of plastic bags.
"Oh nothing." There he goes again.
"Ah ha, well you should come down to B-three."
"Yeah buddy, Swansons' got the hookup."
I can only picture the way Trent's shoulders shake as he chuckles. "Maybe later."
"All right, man."
There are a few more heavy back claps before someone's sneaker squeaks against the linoleum floor.
I keep my eyes glued to my phone screen. I didn't even realize Trent responded to my text with an on my way.
"Hey," Trent says as he gently places a white plastic grocery bag on the table. "Sorry for taking so long."
He shrugs off his black fleece jacket, and I notice he also decided to wear a sweater and jeans. Only his sweater is black and hugs his every curve, while mine is tight around the arms and loose everywhere else.
"So." He claps and rubs his hands together. Both his eyebrows quirk up in inquisition. "You ready?"
I mimic the expression only in hesitation. "For what?"
Trent only smiles as he reaches into the grocery bag. "I thought we could try each other's flavors." He wiggles his eyebrows, but then freezes. "Not like that I swear."
I can't help but laugh. Clear, charge to three-hundred, and it finally feels like I can breathe again, at least a little bit. "It's okay. I knew what you meant."
"Good." His chestexpands as he sucks in a deeper breath before he reaches into the plastic bag again. He pulls out a plastic container filled with twelve mini vanilla cupcakes and a wider container with only six larger red velvet cupcakes. "Sadly, cupcakes were the best I could do."
My lips curl together. "You can't tell me you've never had a vanilla cupcake before."
Trent rolls his head back along with his eyes. "You know what I mean."
He pulls some brown napkins out of the bag and passes me one before cracking open the containers. We both reach our hands out but retract them when we realize our trajectory was the same. The process repeats, and we both pull back sheepishly.
"You go," Trent offers.
"No, you."
We both reach outagain, and our fingers bump together. We both look up, our lips stretching intosimilar smiles, before we finally maneuver our arms, crisscrossing them overeach other.
I make sure the icing on the red velvet cupcake I choose isn't smudged against the side of the container while Trent doesn't hesitate in reaching for a vanilla one.
"So," he starts as he begins peeling the clear wrapper off the bottom. The mini cupcake looks even smaller perched between his fingertips. "Got any plans over break?"
I shrug. "Honestly, I haven't really let myself think about it. I've been more focused on getting through finals."
Trent jokingly shakes his head. "They're really not that bad. Don't believe the internet."
"I know." I breathe out a laugh. "But if I already think about being able to do nothing over break then I'll stop doing stuff now."
Trent covers his mouth as he chuckles, but I start laughing when I realize he stuffed the entire cupcake into his mouth. His shoulders shake as he holds his finger up and even picks up a napkin.
I finally finish flattening the wrapper around the regular sized cupcake in front of me and stick my finger into the icing.
"I have a question," I say before licking the icing off my finger. I wait for Trent to clear his throat and catch his breath before continuing, "if we never met in the grocery store, would you still think my favorite flavor is vanilla?"
Trent has another vanilla cupcake perched between his fingers and pauses halfway through unwrapping it. "Yes."
I slam my hands down so hard that the table rattles. "What?" my mouth opens and closes a few times. "But why?"
Trent's shoulders shake as he attempts to lick the icing off his lips. He ends up having to put the cupcake down and wipes his fingertips.
"Because," he finally says as leans forward. He uses his pointer finger to draw a circle around me. "Everything about you just sort of screams vanilla." He picks the cupcake back up and goes to bite it just before his eyes dart back over to mine. "It's not a bad thing."
"But it sounded like a bad thing." I'm starting to have more than just cupcake in my throat again.
"It's not." Trent laughs.
I press my lips together as I stare back at him. "I don't believe you."
This time he's the one sputtering, but it's over the bite of cupcake he just put into his mouth opposed to his words.
"Okay fine." He wipes at his mouth and his fingers before he sits up straighter. "What about me? What flavor would you have used to describe me?"
I wait until I'm finished chewing before shrugging. "Chocolate."
The puppeteer yanks Trent's eyebrows all the way up to his hairline, but he pursues even more theatrics by splaying a hand across his chest. "Really? Just plain old chocolate?" He throws in a pout. "That's lame."
"But red velvet technically isâ"
"Don't." Trent holds his finger up. "Don't even go there."
My lips continue to quiver and quake with my amusement. "What's so special about red velvet then?"
He cups his pointer finger and thumb around his jaw as he leans back. More theatrics. I'm surprised no one's noticed. Then again, this may be the longest time he's gone by in public without a catcall or shout out.
"Well, red is my favorite color." He finally drops his hand. "And velvet isn't just soft, but rather smooth." He runs his hand over the air as if he's metaphorically feeling it, and his lips are all pinched together in some kind of cigar dangling smolder. I don't know what the puppeteer is thinking today, but I do know that my laugh is way too loud for the people around us.
Thankfully, I finished my cupcake because my head falls forward way too fast, and the last thing I need is a face full of icing.
"Well, now I have to have one." Trent's hand darts out for a red velvet cupcake, and I sit back up just in time to catch him peeling off the wrapper. "Okay," he says after placing the now naked cupcake down on his napkin. "Same question." He goes to run his fingers through his hair, hesitates, checks hisfingers for icing, and then proceeds. He goes to rest his hands in his lap butdecides to fold them in front of him. "Why vanilla?"Â I raise my eyebrows at him, making his lips quiver, but he keeps up thenow therapist theatrics. "I'm listening." He throws out his hand before curlinghis fingers together again.
I shake my head as I reach for a vanilla cupcake and pick the sprinkles off with my fingers. I can just hear my family cringing at me inside my head as I eat them, but that only makes me smile.
"The way I see it," I say after wiping my fingers on my napkin. "Vanilla is like the base of all the other flavors." I begin peeling down the wrapper. "You know, you add coco to vanilla to get chocolate. You can add any fruit to vanilla, and it becomes that flavor. You are essentially always starting with the same ingredients, with vanilla, and then only adding things too it. The same way oxygen is needed to make carbon dioxide and water and glucose and . . . a bunch of other things."
My spine goes a little stiff at the fact that I just willingly mentioned chemistry, and all Trent seems to be doing is blinking back at me. I ruined the moment for sure. Ran it over with my big mouth. And I finished all the sprinkles, so I have nothing left to do with my fingers.
Just this once the puppeteer pulls through. Just this once I'm relieved to see the amused, lopsided curve that is Trent's light pink lips. The theatrics ensue as he sighs through his nose and leans his head on his hand.
"I just love when you talk science to me."
I shove a big chunk of icing in my mouth to prevent from smiling, but I fail. I fail big time.