How could there be a future?
He's temporary, remember…
I quickly put on my black fuck-me heels and head out toward the living room. Amy is sitting on the couch, watching some ridiculous reality show. She appraises me with a wide smile.
"You look fuckable, Ellie Belly. I'd totally do you." She pats the couch cushion next to her.
I take a seat next to Amy. "Really? You don't think I've overdone it?"
"No, not at all. You look really nervous though." She puts her arm around my shoulder, pulling me towards her.
I place my head on her shoulder and let out a big sigh. "I am so ridiculously nervous. Why am I am so freakin' nervous, Amy?"
"You really like this guy. And don't worry, he feels the same way about you, sweetheart."
"I really hope so, but what's the point of all this? I mean, he's only in Charlotte for a short time." I frown at the thought of Trent eventually leaving.
"You don't know that. You could be the reason he decides to stay in Charlotte." She runs her fingers through my hair. She's doing her best to calm me down, and for that, I love her dearly.
"Let's not get ahead of ourselves. Trent staying in Charlotte for me would be ridiculous. For one, we barely know each other. And two, his entire life is in Seattle."
"Do me a favor and give this guy an actual shot, Elle. Don't put up your walls, okay? Let Trent in and be open to every possibility." Amy is starting to go Dr. Phil on me, and that's when I know she's being completely serious.
I sit up and put up both of my hands in defeat. "All right, all right. Cool it with the Dr. Phil talk. I'll try really hard to just live in the moment with Trent."
I hear a knock at our apartment door and stand up to answer it.
Amy smacks my ass as I walk past her. "Good. Now go have fun with Dr. Thrust Me."
I'm laughing at her nickname for Trent as I open the door. I'm quickly taken aback by the handsome man standing in front of me. He's freshly shaven and his blue eyes are overwhelmingly gorgeous. The deep blue button-up shirt he is wearing seems to make them stand out even more than usual. Trent is smirking at me as I appraise him greedily.
I quickly clear my throat and try to get my mind off of dirty Trent fantasies. "Hi."
"Hi," he says back with a wicked gleam in his eyes.
Oh my.
"Hey, Trent! Take care of my girl, all right?" Amy yells from the couch. She's grinning like a goofball, watching the exchange between us.
Trent takes my hand and kisses it softly. "Don't worry, Amy. I will take very good care of her."
We say our goodbyes to Amy, and I grab my purse off of the collect-all table by the door. Trent leads me out with his hand pressed against the small of my back; the heat from his hand is practically scorches me through my dress. If I'm finding myself this worked up over him just touching my back, what in the hell would I feel with a full-on naked Trent pressed up against me?
Again, I'm shaking my head a little in a pathetic attempt to get these wayward thoughts out of my mind as Trent opens the passenger door to his black F-150 truck and helps me in.
A truck? Really?
I expected a surgeon like Trent to be driving a BMW or Mercedes. I'm not judging his choice of transportation; I'm actually fascinated by this.
"Hot shoes," he remarks with a smirk before closing the passenger door.
Trent hops in and starts the engine.
"So you drive a truck?" I ask him as he pulls out of my apartment's parking lot and heads towards the main road.
He chuckles, "Yes, I drive a truck. Were you expecting something pretentious like an Audi or Jag?"
I chuckle at his ability to read my mind. "Yeah, I guess I was. Every surgeon I've ever known has driven some sort of 'pretentious' car." I motion air quotes with my fingers when I say the word pretentious.
He grins widely at me and glances in my direction. "I'm not every surgeon, Ellie girl."
"What's with the Ellie girl? Is that my special Trent-given nickname?" I turn towards Trent in my seat and ask with curiosity.
"You're my Ellie girl. And you look devastatingly beautiful tonight by the way."
He grabs my hand and kisses the inside of my palm then continues to hold my hand in his lap. I sigh with complete contentment at being this close to this perfect man. As much as I want to tell myself that I'm not going to feel serious about Trent, that's what he is to me—one hundred percent perfect.
Trent motions with his eyes for me to choose some music on his iPod. I unwillingly pull my hand away from his and start to scan through his large selection of music. I stop at the one man whose voice nearly makes my panties fall off every time I hear him.
Ray LaMontagne.
Oh my sweet Jesus, I would have sex with his voice, his sexy, too-fucking-hot voice. I choose You Are The Best Thing and let out a little squeal of excitement when I hear the raspy, god-like voice begin to play over the speakers.