Chapter Six: Relationship Waters

****Trev****

"Come on guys! We're only behind by fourteen!" I clapped my hands and tried to encourage the offense as they ran off the field, but my efforts didn’t do much good. Every single guy that walked past me looked like a beaten down dog; none more so than Ryan.

"Shit!" No matter what I do, what we try, we can't get a guy open in the end zone; not that it matters since I can't seem to keep from throwing interceptions!" I knew exactly how he felt and would’ve reacted the same way if I’d thrown even one interception, but I also knew that if he focused on his mistakes, his confidence in himself would falter even more and lead to other missteps.

"Don't beat yourself up." I gave his back a couple of hard pats. "It's pre-season, they've got one of the quickest defenses, and we're only down by two touchdowns. We'll get another chance when we get the ball back."  Most would consider it a miracle that we weren’t trailing by more. Our opponent was the Pleasantville Panthers who were considered the team to beat that season and early predictions had them as a shoo-in for the Super Bowl. Any team would have a hard time beating them, even one that had a solid starting quarterback.

Not that Ryan wasn’t good. He’d started all three of our preseason games and played great during the first two, but the Panthers were on a whole other level and would’ve rattled most veteran quarterbacks. His inexperience and lack of confidence in himself didn’t help him and even though I wanted a chance to play, I found myself trying to help him. It was an unusual situation that gave me conflicting feelings; one moment rooting for him as a mentor and coach, and then the next wishing that I was the one on the field. But until Coach White made that decision, I set my mind to helping Ryan and the team.

I walked over to the bench with him to talk about some adjustments that he could make, but stopped at the sound of Coach’s voice. "Trev!" My gut sank knowing that more than likely Coach was coming over to tell him that he wasn’t going back in. "You still feel warmed up?" I nodded.

He thought for a moment and even though the sound of the crowd, pads hitting on the field, and guys on the sidelines talking should have been deafening, they all seemed to fade away as I anxiously waited for Coach to make a decision. The slow nod of his head signaled that he had. "Get your helmet; you're going in.” He finally spoke the words that I longed to hear and my sigh of relief was met with a disappointed one from Ryan. The reversal of roles brought a new set of conflicting feelings; excitement over being the chosen quarterback but also sympathy for Ryan for becoming the one that stood on the sideline.

He gave me a faint smile when I patted his back one last time and I darted over to the bench where my helmet sat. As my hands grasped the facemask, the crowd let out a big roar and the defense celebrated the fact that they kept the Panthers’ offense from scoring any points. Right before I turned to go on the field, Ryan gave me two big pats on the back and we exchanged a smile. It partially surprised me that as I ran up to the guys on the field, the crowd began to cheer and I let myself feel the excitement of it for a moment; the hard, fast beating of my heart, the surge of adrenaline that pumped through my body and gave my muscles a burst of energy. . .I had missed it more than I had let anyone know.

As I approached the guys, I took several deep breaths and tried to center the surge of energy the crowd gave me. After two plays, we had only gained two yards and as I looked up at the clock and saw the last four minutes start to tick down, I knew we needed to do something unexpected and called a timeout.

"This is fucking insane!" Tiny complained as we stood on the sidelines with Coach White and Ned. "We can't do shit against them."

I looked around at the frustrated and disappointed faces and got pissed. "You're right, not with that kind of attitude!"

"Spare us the sunshine speech, Davila." Brewster rolled his eyes.

I looked around. Everyone had the same pessimistic look as Brewster and I had a brief flashback to Ryan's and my conversation at Coach Haines’ house about the team’s morale.

"Since when is it wrong to want to win? Are we going to win? Probably not, not with so little time on the clock; but dammit. . .! When did we become a team of half-asses?! When did we become the team that everyone expects to lose?!"

Brewster let out a low, throaty chuckle. "When our chances got ruined by a half-ass quarterback." He said just barely loud enough for all to hear. I knew that what I had done or hadn't done was one reason that the team's morale was lower than I had ever seen, but hearing it voiced from one of the guys was a different thing. With that admission it felt like someone had hit me in the stomach and I felt sick thinking about my contribution to the situation the team found themselves in.

I wasn't about to give up though and nodded as I again looked into their eyes. "You're right, but I'll be damned if I'm going down without a fight! I can't take back what happened, but I'm not gonna to use it as an excuse to lose! What about you?!" I glanced around at them again. "Do you want to be known as a team that gives up, or a team that fights?!"

They all slowly started to nod and looked at each other before their eyes decidedly met mine. "What’da have in mind. . .?" Tiny wondered.

A quiet disappointment followed all of us as we filed into the locker room, but I was glad for it. It sucked that we ended up losing by one touchdown, but the fact that everyone was upset and even angry about it was better than not caring.

I listened to the frustrated sighs as I walked towards my locker but the noise of someone swearing stopped me. "Dammit! If I hadn't thrown those interceptions. . .we might’ve actually won!" An uncomfortable silence fell over the locker room as no one made any move to agree or disagree with Ryan, and even though I understood his and other’s frustrations, it seemed to me that we had lost sight of the bigger picture.

"We just lost to a team that everyone expects to go to the Super Bowl this year."

"Is that supposed to make us feel better Davila?" Brewster huffed.

"Hell yeah!" I cheered. "We lost by a touchdown. One fucking touchdown!  How many did they expect us to lose by?"

There were several murmurs before Tiny spoke up. "Four."

"Four. . ." I said and nodded as I looked around the room at all the tired and upset faces. "They expected us to lose by 28 points, expected them to run over us. . .Hell! They expected us to lie down and just hand them the game!!"

"It's not like it mattered. It was just a preseason game. If this had been a real one we all know we would have lost by more." Brewster mumbled the last part as he threw a towel into his locker.

"That's bullshit, Brewster." He whirled around and glared at me as I continued. "Did you see them playing? Sure, at first they played like they expected to win the game by just walking on the field, but they soon realized that we came to play and by the end of the game we were playing them toe to toe."

There were several nods and a couple voices that agreed. "I'm telling you, if we play as a team, like we did near the end of the game; if we give one hundred and fifty percent each game and during practices, we'd surprise a lot of people and I think we'd have a shot at beating those cocky assholes we just played. The same assholes that everyone thinks will win the whole thing." Several more guys started to nod including Ryan. "We're more talented, quicker, and better coached than most people want to give us credit for and I’m sick of people looking at this team and snickering. But this isn't a one man show; we have to do it. . .together." Even more guys nodded, including Brewster and I tried to hide my shock.

My impromptu pep-talk was cut short by the sound of the locker room doors flying open and all attention shifted to the group that stopped outside the circle of players. Coach stood in front of the others and slowly scanned the faces of all the players that stared back at him, nodding just before opening his mouth to speak. "We played a great game, and came close. . .but I don't like close. I want to win; and goddammit, next time we're going to win! We had some issues but they'll be fixed the next time we play them and those idiots won't know what hit them!" The room erupted in agreement and I shared a smile with Ryan.

"Andrews! Davila!" I turned around from hearing Coach yell my name over the noises of determination. "Shower and head to the press room for post-game conference." I made a disagreeable noise as Ryan and I headed to the showers. The last thing I wanted to do at that moment was listen to a bunch of asshole reporters, the same ones who had underestimated us, ask a bunch of stupidass questions.

****Pamela****

"What the hell got into Trev?" I heard Victor ask another reporter. "He hasn't played like that in. . .years!"

How quickly opinions change. I thought to myself and smiled. Only a month before, the reporters gathered had voiced their skepticism about Trev’s abilities and his return to the field, but his appearance at the end of the fourth quarter and the touchdown that followed had everyone forgetting they ever doubted him.

While others talked about their shock over Trev throwing a touchdown to a player that he normally didn’t, I flashbacked to the morning at ASU that I spied on him reviewing plays; when he got mad at himself for not seeing that throwing to the player least expected would’ve worked better. I started to chuckle as I wondered if he’d thought about that morning too when he called the touchdown play, but chastised myself for letting such a thought enter my head. It was silly to think that his attention was anywhere but the game and I wondered at the thought even popping into my head since there was no reason to believe that he would even think of that or any other moment that we shared during his summer visit to ASU.

A Bucks’ rep stepping up to the podium quieted the room, and his announcement that Coach White, Ryan and Trev would answer questions was met with satisfied murmurs. Ryan came out first and no one could miss the disappointment that he felt in his performance. As I listened to him answer questions I couldn't help but feel that he took on too much responsibility for the team's loss. Once he finished, he walked toward the exit and as he and Trev passed each other, Trev patted him on the back and whispered something to him. It was a gesture that didn't go unnoticed by the press gathered in the room and many mumbled about it as Trev sat down in front of the microphone and faced his first question.

"Trev, how did it feel to get back on the field?"

The familiar smirk of his appeared on his lips as he answered. "It was good. . ." He paused and his smirk turned into a blinding smile that caused a chuckle to spread through the room. "I really appreciated the opportunity to play." He finished and waited for the next question.

"The team seemed to really pull together after Coach White put you in the game. . .Do you think that if he had put you in sooner, you might have been able to save the game?" The question shocked me, although it shouldn't have considering the jerk that asked it, but I still couldn't believe the audacity of the question poser. The room collectively held its breath as Trev sat quietly for many seconds before answering it.

"No, I don't. We don't win or lose games based solely on what I or what anyone else on the team does. We win or lose games as a team, and the same team that struggled in parts of the game is the same one that came pretty close to having a win tonight. I mean, hell, most of you guys thought we'd lose by a buttload of touchdowns and with four minutes to go we were only down by fourteen. That's no small feat, even if it is a preseason game, and there's no way the game would have been that close without both the offense and defense giving everything they had. My contribution to the team was just a small part in that and to diminish what was done before would be a disservice to the guys that played."

Trev looked away from the reporter to search for more questions but instead looked into a sea of completely shocked journalists. As I glanced around at the floored reactions, I realized that while Trev's humble response wouldn't have been something that I would've expected before, it didn't shock me then nearly as much as it had others. In fact, I realized that I would have been more shocked if he had been his old, cocky self.

Slowly the other reporters' brains came out of the stupefied fog and the questions resumed. I hadn't asked a question yet, which was rare for me; I almost always had a question for him. But as I sat there and listened to others ask questions and Trev's responses, I became more and more engrossed in the scene and had trouble thinking of a question.

"What made you decide to throw to Anderson for the touchdown? It seemed like you would have thrown it to Nester." The second I heard the question, I quickly glanced up at Trev and for a brief moment our eyes met. "I. . ." A big grin appeared on lips while he thought. "I, spent a lot of time during the summer reviewing plays. . ." He again smiled as he briefly looked down at the table, but his expression turned serious when he looked back up. ". . .And I realized that I had done a piss poor job of reading defenses and making play calls. Something that I used to do a pretty decent job of in years past, and I'm convinced one of the reasons was because I used to review games. I had gotten away from doing that in the last couple of years and since I knew I would need to prove my abilities to earn the starting quarterback spot, I thought it couldn't hurt."

His eyes started to scan the room again and as he called on Victor, he briefly glanced at me and smirked. A gesture that coincided with the room feeling hotter and I tried to ignore it by concentrating on Victor's question.

"Did you do anything else to prepare for this season?" Victor asked and I bit down on my bottom lip. Trev's eyes tore away from mine and concentrated on the table in front of him.

"I did." He slowly started. "I. . ." He again paused, and for a split second I felt myself tense up as I thought about him not giving credit to Dad for all of the help he had given Trev; but within the next second I berated myself for thinking it. It was between him and Dad and even if he didn't mention Dad's involvement, I knew that Trev was grateful for his help. He paused for another second before continuing. "I sought the help, knowledge, and feedback from a man that I greatly admire. Who's always been completely honest with me about my abilities and isn't afraid to kick my ass and push me to not only be a better player, but a better person."

I looked down at my hands that were folded in my lap and felt a small smile spread across my lips as I thought about Dad. "Mind telling us who?" Victor asked and my head shot up to meet Trev's eyes that were already locked onto mine.

He genuinely smiled at me and then slowly scanned the room as he answered. "My old coach, the head coach at ASU, Nick Haines." There was once again a shocked silence as every reporter in the room turned to look at me and I couldn't decide if I wanted to hide under my chair or try to stare them all down. "I'm very grateful that Coach Haines and Mrs. H. . ." He continued very loudly until everyone turned their attention back to him. ". . .that the both of them welcomed me into their house this summer and that Coach took time out of his busy schedule to give an old player some pointers." I appreciated his attempt to direct the attention of every reporter away from me and back to himself, but it was only a matter of time before I would be bombarded with questions.

After the press conference was over, I tried unsuccessfully to avoid any questions about my knowledge of Dad's involvement in aiding Trev. I lost track of how much time I spent trying to answer but not answer them, walking a couple of feet and being bombarded by more questions that I tried to answer but not answer. Enough time had passed though that by the time I made it out to the parking garage, there weren't many cars left. I did notice Trev's sitting near mine but didn't think much of it since I knew he usually stayed later than most.

I pushed the unlock button on my car remote and had just placed my bag in the back seat when I saw Trev starting to walk through the parking lot and he sheepishly smiled when he saw me. "I hope you didn't have to answer many questions. . ." He hinted and I couldn't help but laugh.

"I honestly lost track of how many I answered but didn't answer.  I can only play innocent so much before it's not believable." I joked and he winced as he chuckled. "Thank you, though; for mentioning Dad. You didn't have to but. . ." My voice trailed off as I realized I didn't know what else to say.

"I wanted to, and I asked him about it when Ryan and I were there last month." He chuckled as he looked at the ground for a moment. "He of course told me he didn't help me so he could get credit for it, but did it because he wanted to. And we went back and forth for a while before I somehow convinced him that I wanted to give credit where credit was due. I expect to get a text message from him soon about how unnecessary it was." He smiled.

I chuckled my agreement. "Yeah, he will." His smile got even bigger and something happened that had never happened before; I stared at it and wasn't irritated. So many times I had looked at that smile of his and thought of smacking it off his face because usually, whenever it had been directed at me, it had been to further irritate me after a teasing.

"Are you okay?" I was horrified to realize that I had not only been staring at him but had gotten completely lost in my thoughts.

". . .Yeah. I'm fine." I was obviously anything but fine but I hoped that he would let it drop nonetheless.

"You. . ah. . .didn't ask any questions tonight. . ." I knew he was further hinting at me not being okay, but it was a statement that I used as a diversion.

"What, you mean like If you had gone in sooner, do you think you might have been able to save the game?" I did my best Dave imitation.

"God, what an asshole." Trev whispered.

"Yeah, I'd have to agree with you. But once the other questions started, I didn't really trust myself to ask anything."

"If anyone had looked at you after Bill's question about why I threw to Anderson, they would have known you were hiding something." He teased, but instead of getting upset, I laughed.

"Me?!" He smirked and nodded. "You should have seen the grin that was plastered across your face. Even though I wasn't sure if you were thinking about what happened at ASU, it was obvious you were thinking of something amusing."

His smirk turned into a smile. "I was most definitely remembering how interesting pointers can come from those who sneak into rooms and watch unsuspecting people."

I was about to continue our banter back and forth when a voice interrupted me. "Hey, Trev. Sorry I’m late. Traffic is horrible after a game!"

Trev turned his attention to the guy that had approached us and shook his hand. "I should have warned you. Sorry about that." They stopped shaking hands and he turned back to me. "Stan this is Pamela Haines, Pam, this is Stan Yeger."

Stan stuck his hand out and I shook it. "Nice to meet you Stan."

"You too, Pam."  I winced a little but decided to let it slide.

"It's Pamela, Stan. I've teased her relentlessly about it for years and it's kind of stuck. . ." Trev smirked at me again and I rolled my eyes and smiled back.

"Oh. . .Sorry, Pamela."

"No worries. I should probably go. I have some work I need to do." I looked at Trev. "Thanks again for mentioning Dad." I quickly smiled at him before looking back at Stan. "Nice to meet you."

"You too."

I quickly got in my car and drove away, going over and over what had just happened between the two of us. He was still teasing me, but I wasn't annoyed by it; and that smile of his. . .it almost made me feel. . .happy.

****Trev****

"Hey there Trev!" Tina called out from behind the counter. "You and your friend find a seat and I'll be with you in a moment."

"Thanks!" I called back and we found a booth that was away from most people. Soon after we sat, Tina came over and both Stan and I ordered a coffee and a slice of pie.

"Hey, thanks for meeting me." I said to Stan once Tina walked away. "I should have just mentioned meeting here instead of the stadium."

"No problem. It's been a crazy day for you." He paused for a moment as Tina brought us our orders. "So was it bad this time?"

I nodded. "I figured the urge would be worse after a win, but maybe it's because of the high you get from being in the game and feeling good about what you did. . .I don't know, but I was taking a shower before the press conference and my hands started to shake a little from the urge. I'm not gonna lie, it scared me." He nodded. "Plus there's the fact that some of the guys go out for drinks after every game and I, of course, used to be one of them. . ."

He nodded as he stirred sugar into his coffee. "Besides talking to me after the games, what have you been doing instead of going out with the guys?" He asked before taking a sip.

I shrugged as I poked at my pie with my fork. "Go home, usually talk to my brother Will and sometimes my other brother George and my sister Charlotte. . ." I took a bite of pie as I wondered if I should admit the next part. "Play the piano. . ."

He tilted his head at the last part. "Play the piano? You play?"

I nodded and looked down at my pie in embarrassment. "Yeah, had lessons when I was younger. I've had a piano in my apartment for years; don't know why since I never played it, but after the first pre-season game I went home and it was sitting there, so I figured 'What the hell.'"

"That's awesome. So you've rediscovered playing the piano. . ."

I nodded. "And it helps sometimes when I think about it."

"Cause you get lost in the music?" I nodded again. "Yeah, playing guitar does that for me. I enjoy it and it helps me relax."

"I didn't know you played guitar." I admitted and Stan chuckled.

"You and I might be able to start a band! Know any drummers?" We both laughed and enjoyed our pie and coffee in silence for several minutes before I found the nerve to ask him the question that had been on my mind since my last trip to ASU.

"So. . ." I cleared my throat for some reason, probably since it gave me a chance to delay my question. "I was wondering. . .when I was in rehab, they mentioned that the time frame to start a relationship after leaving was determined by each individual. . .I wasn't too concerned about it then since I was more worried about getting and staying sober. . .but. . ."

Stan gave me a knowing smile. "Pamela?"

"Perhaps." I somewhat conceded. "But let’s just say it's for future reference. How am I supposed to know I'm ready for a relationship?"

He sighed and thought for a moment. "It's really like you said, there's no definitive answer since everyone's different. The standard answer is a year. There's even the belief held by some that you shouldn't start a romantic relationship until two things happen. One, that you buy a plant and once you have successfully kept a plant alive for a year, you then buy a pet. If the pet and the plant are still alive at the end of the second year, then it's time to start a relationship."

"You're shitting me."

"No, I'm not." It felt like someone punched me in the stomach. A whole year. . .or two! I couldn't comprehend the thought. "There's reasons for waiting a year, one is because of people substituting one addiction for another, another is to allow people, yourself and those who know you,  the chance to know who you are after you’ve sobered up."

"So I'm just supposed to put that part of my life on hold? I mean, I didn't plan on jumping into anything right away. . .but a whole year? Or two?"

He slowly nodded. "Now, have people not listened to that suggestion and continued to have successful recoveries and relationships, yes. Look, Trev, I can't tell you what to do. I can share my knowledge and experience with you, but what you do with that is up to you. But one thing I would definitely stress, is take it slow; and whenever you think about starting a relationship, take time to really think about where you are in your recovery and if you're really ready to handle all that goes with it."

I wasn't thrilled with what he said, but I knew he was right; at least about the taking it slow part; and as the next months passed by, that's what I did. Most of my attention was centered on my recovery and career. After our preseason loss to the Panthers, I was named starting quarterback and the team won the last preseason and first three regular season games. Ryan and I both continued to rally the team and promote all of us working as a unit, which even Brewster seemed to be on board with.

My coffee and pie meetings with Stan continued after every home game and the urges to drink gradually lessened. By the time we reached our fifth game, in early October, I had a pretty solid routine in place that not only included practicing, playing, AA meetings, talking with Stan and my brother Will, and spending time with my family, but also included dinners out with Ryan after away games, and what appeared to be coincidental run ins with Pam in stadium parking lots and garages after press conferences, practices and games.

Our fifth game ended with our first loss, and I went through the normal routine of returning to the locker room, having an after-game team pep talk, shower, and then press conference. Most of the questions were the same after every game, but there were a few reporters who asked interesting and thoughtful questions, one of them being Pam, and like other press conferences, I found myself looking forward to her question.

As I exited the press room and made my way back to the locker room to grab my bag, there was no indication that anything would be different about the rest of my after game activities. I planned to grab my bag, chat with several people on the way out so I could appear to run into Pam at just the right time, and then head to the diner to meet Stan. But as I entered the locker room and made my way to my locker, I soon realized that what I planned wasn't meant to be.

"Hi Trev. Long time no see." I didn't need to turn around to see who was behind me, I already knew her last name was Haines, but it wasn't the one I wanted to see.

"Tiff. . ." I said as I turned around and had to will myself to not look down at the figure hugging dress she wore. "You surprised me. . .How did you get in here?"

She shrugged and smiled. "Being the daughter of a college coach can get you into a lot of places." She stepped closer and I instinctively took a step back.

"I bet it does." I casually looked around the room and prayed that we weren't really alone. My surveillance proved what I already knew and dreaded though.

"Oh, no worries, we're alone." She inched closer to the bench that separated us. "I came into the city to see Pamela and told her I was staying for the game and then leaving, but then I realized that I might as well try to see you while I was here."

It didn't take a rocket scientist to know what she was really there for, and it was partially my fault. I hadn't seen or talked to Tiff since the summer; hadn't told her that I wasn't interested, and it was coming back to bite me in the ass.

"Listen. . .Tiff. . ." She rounded the corner of the bench and I tripped backwards as I tried to move away from her.

She giggled. "What's wrong, Trev? I don't bite. . .hard."

****Pamela****

Once Coach White was finished answering questions, I grabbed my bag and rushed out of the press room to head down the stairs. Normally, I would keep heading straight out the front doors to my car; an action that led to Trev and I running into each other. I still hadn't figured out how he was able to time it; the first two times it happened I chalked it up to chance, but by the third time, I knew that chance had nothing to do with it. But what it meant exactly, I didn't know. We had some kind of a weird friendship going on, one where we only talked briefly at a few practices and in parking lots. I kept telling myself that I wasn't interested in a deeper friendship, I knew he was focused on his recovery and career, but I couldn't deny that I found myself looking forward to our "run ins" and the banter that seemed to happen whenever they did.

My feet touched down on the floor and I looked out the front glass doors before turning to the left to head down the hallway. I had talked to Paisley earlier in the day, and she mentioned coming into town the next night and wondered if Trev and I would be able to meet her for dinner. I told her I would ask Trev after the game, thinking I'd see him in the parking lot. But Tiff was visiting and even though she said she was leaving after the game I didn't want to chance her seeing me in the parking lot and then running into Trev since I didn’t know if he'd talked to her since the closet incident at ASU.

I smiled as I kept walking and thought back to the day several months before when he hid in my closet. I had never seen him so rattled, especially when it came to women. His reputation with women was akin to a legend and from what I witnessed in college, I wouldn't have doubted if the stories I heard since then were true. But how he acted this summer was something that went against all that I had seen and heard and it had made me start to wonder. Who was Trev, really? Was he the womanizing, cocky guy I had known for nine years, or was he the funny, thoughtful, some would say humble guy that had appeared on the stairs at ASU months before? I knew which one I hoped he was, but I also didn't want to get my hopes up.

I approached a security guard and flashed him my credentials. He nodded and I continued down the hallway until I reached the connecting one I was looking for, the one that led to the team locker room. I smiled when I heard Trev's muffled voice but stopped when I heard another and I stared in disbelief at the door as I was bombarded with a flurry of thoughts and emotions. That's Tiff! What the hell is she doing in there? He said he wasn't interested in her, was more concerned with his recovery and career than having a relationship? Have the two of them been lying to me the whole time? My heart raced and I inched closer to the door as my curiosity got the better of me.

"I came into the city to see Pamela and told her I was staying for the game and then leaving, but then I realized that I might as well try to see you while I was here." So this isn’t a planned meeting.

"Listen. . .Tiff. . ." I heard some scuffling and then Tiff giggle.

"What's wrong, Trev? I don't bite. . .hard." My eyes got huge and I started to back away from the door. I didn’t want to listen to my sister fling herself at him and I didn’t want to listen to Trev prove me wrong. I wanted to believe what he  said that summer at ASU was true, that he was completely focused on his recovery and career and had no interest in having a string of meaningless relationships with women.

"Tiff, stop!" His voice was so commanding I found myself heeding it and it seemed like an eternity before I heard Tiff's voice.

"Have I missed something? Surely you know I'm interested in you."

There was another excruciatingly long silence before he responded. "I know, and this whole situation is my fault. I should have tried harder to talk to you at ASU." He loudly sighed. "Tiff, I like you. You're fun to be around, you're nice, but. . .I can't get involved in a relationship. My main focus right now has to be my recovery and career." I felt horrible for Tiff, but also relief that he hadn’t lied during the summer.

"What if I'm not looking for a relationship?" I felt the blood rush out of my face.

"Tiff. . ." I heard movement followed by a brief pause. "Whenever I do decide to enter the relationship waters again, it won't be for a fling. I don't want that anymore. I want the kind of relationship that my brothers and sister have; that my parents had and your parents have. . ."

"And you don't think that you can have that with me." She said and there was another pause.

"Do you honestly think that we could have that kind of relationship?" The tenderness in his voice took my breath away and I turned to leave but not before I heard Tiff's reply. "No."

I didn’t know what I felt as turned down the hall and walked back towards the front doors. I knew I felt bad for Tiff; it always hurt when someone you were interested in turned you down, and as much as she had been interested in Trev, his rejection would sting for a while. And as glad as I was that he had chosen his recovery and career, I couldn’t help but wonder about what would’ve happened if I heard him make the other decision. The thought made me stop dead in my tracks, right in front of the glass doors.

"What's wrong, Trev? I don't bite. . .hard."

I could imagine his smirk and him pulling her towards him. “I do.”

The image made my stomach and heart hurt and I tried to ignore it. I pushed the front doors open and hoped that my reaction to my overactive imagination wouldn’t follow me. But with each step, the feeling grew stronger and as much as I tried to ignore it, I knew what I felt and I knew Tiff probably felt something similar as she walked to her car. I would have felt rejected if he’d made the other decision, but it baffled me why I felt that way. I had no claim to Trev, we were some kind of. . .weird friends that occasionally talked in parking lots, garages and on practice fields. And even if there had been something else, which I felt more than certain that there wasn’t, his focus was on his recovery and career, which was the way it should be. There was no reason why I should’ve felt that way, but I couldn’t deny that I did.

I continued to try to reason with myself as made it to my car and flung my bag in the backseat, trying to convince myself that I was crazy and deranged for feeling the way I did.

"We should probably stop meeting like this; people might start talking." I closed my eyes and took a big breath, hoping it would help me convincingly face him. But when I looked up at him and saw the worry written across his face, I knew that my attempt to look normal had failed.

"Are you okay?"  His question made my stomach start to hurt again and all I could do was nod. The concern didn't leave his face as he continued. "I'm surprised you're still here. I got out a little later than I expected." He said the last part quietly and I again could only nod as I looked at the ground. He took several steps toward me and I felt the warmth of his hand even before he placed it on my arm. I looked up into his concerned eyes again and froze. "Are you sure you're okay? I'm supposed to meet a friend for coffee, but if you want to talk to someone. . ."

I quickly shook my head back and forth and took what I hoped would look like a cleansing breath, when in reality it was my lungs remembering to work again. "No." I barely whispered and I had to fight to keep from being distracted by the warmth of his hand that was still gently holding my arm. "Paisley. . ." I blurted out and he looked quizzically at me.

"Paisley?" He looked away as he tried figure out what I was talking about.

"She's coming into town tomorrow. Wanted me to ask you if you are available to have dinner."

His eyes returned to mine and his lips curved into a small smile. "Are you going to be there?" I barely nodded. "I'll be there." He confessed and I felt both relief and agony "When and where?"

I shook my head. "I don't know. She'll probably text me sometime tomorrow morning."

He nodded. "You can text me when you find out." I looked at him confused. "What?"

"I don't have your number." I admitted and he looked shocked.

"Hasn't your dad given it to you?"

"No. I haven't asked and even if I did he wouldn't give it to me without asking you first." I felt the warmth of his hand leave my arm and he held out his hand.

"Let me see your phone." He whispered. I pulled it out and briefly felt the heat of his hand on mine as I placed it in his. He quickly entered the info and held it back out for me to take. When my hand rested on the phone, his fingers closed around mine and my eyes again met his. "Are you sure you're okay?"

I didn't know. My mind was swirling so fast that I didn't know what I was thinking or feeling. Everything was a confusing mess and he was the reason. I took in a deep breath and slowly let it out before placing a fake smile on my lips. "I'm okay. It's been a long day."

I wasn't sure if he completely believed me, but his fingers loosened their grip on my hand and I slowly pulled it away. "I should probably get going. I'm late meeting my friend." He paused and raised an eyebrow at me. "If you want to talk, you've got my number." I nodded and turned to open my car door. He slowly backed up towards his car and as I pulled away, he waved at me. I gave him a small wave and drove the whole way back to my apartment in a confused daze.

Without thought, I went about doing my normal after game routine; I changed, got myself an iced coffee, but instead of heading over to my laptop, I continued to stand behind the kitchen counter and stare into the living room as I thought about what he had told Tiff. Whenever I do decide to enter the relationship waters again, it won't be for a fling. I don't want that anymore. I want the kind of relationship that my brothers and sister have; that my parents had and your parents have. . .

I had tried to ignore the thought that kept creeping into my mind from the moment I heard his words; the thought that made no sense especially since his words should have convinced me that the opposite was true. But as I stood in my apartment with only the sound of the ticking clock to offer a distraction, I couldn’t stop the thought from invading my mind. I wanted the run ins, the teasings, the smiles, and the reassuring touches to mean something. And even though his words to Tiff had said the opposite and I knew he should think of nothing else but his recovery and career, a part of me hoped that the person he was describing to Tiff, the person that he could have that relationship with, could be me. 

****Notes****

- The next chapter for Trev will be published soon, but it will occur at the same time as one of his brother's chapters. I will post links for each on both websites since there are different points of views and events for each character.

- Trev a piano player? Yes, yes he is; and he's very good. Seems he inherited some of his grandmother's musical ability. Most of the time that I write for him and Pamela, I listen to a playlist of piano music he likes to play. I've included it here if you're interested in listening to it too, and I'll be adding a tab at the top of the blog that will eventually have several playlists that have inspired and contributed to Trev's story in some way.

Thanks so much for reading and listening!

♥Sandybeachgirl♥