She was cherry chapstick and failed job attempts at the beginning of every summer. Like this one, she was in the pit of the heat, knee deep in "Guess who got job at's" and the never ending demise of being fired by the end of the day. Although she'd never admit it, she hated it. It's not that she was lazy or couldn't put in the hard work; wait— she actually was a little lazy and tended to blow everything off. It was her unspoken identity. Trish Del La Rosa, a girl who couldn't keep a job for more than a week. The girl you couldn't count on. The girl you couldn't count on.

Though it wasn't anybody else's fault but her own. She had crafted this disgusting persona of herself for people to chew up and spit out. Yet she never really felt the problem lied within herself most of the time. She felt as if she never really enjoyed the jobs she chose to get herself involved it. "Excuses, excuses." she would tell herself every morning on her way to another wretched workplace. The only job she found herself treading through deep waters for was being both Austin's and Ally's manager. Sometimes it felt like the only thing she knew, the only thing she was decently good at. Sadly even then, she managed to screw up even the best of her career.

Being manager was like being in a safe haven. Her friends often forgave her for every little moment of selfishness and immaturity and greediness. It was a vicious cycle of sketchy opportunities, her major slip ups, and a big group hug for whenever she found a way to resolve everything. She craved so heavily for it to end, for her to be straightforwardly perfect at all times. Though that wouldn't be Trish Del La Rosa; goddess of all things pity worthy.

She rolled her eyes at the thought of her two clients. There wasn't much managing to do when both took time out of their day to suck face and "find each other", whatever that meant. As much as she was happy for them finding love after their countless breakups and resorting back to friends, she kinda wished she'd focus on the aspect on what they've been doing for almost five years. Maybe it was the jealously of her best friend overcoming her stage fright and becoming who she is today beside a loving, and let's not forget famous boyfriend. Where was her excitement? Where was her prince in leather armor to swoop her up and go through this journey of ups and downs?

There were no princes in scrubbing floors and washing dishes, though. It was already weird enough for her to think about romance either way. She took no interest into what Miami had to offer nor had she had anyone blatantly ask her out. Sure, she had went through countless bullying incidents that without a doubt tore down the walls she took so much time building. Yet she was confident in how she looked and she honestly didn't care whether some beach bum didn't find her attractive. Why'd everyone think she made a song catered to people wishing they were her?

Sunlight spilled through the open windows of 'Grilled Cheese, Please'. It was another job in her continuous line of expected failure and she determined to accept it. She silently swept the floor while her peculiar coworker, Ryder Maxwell stood behind the counter whispering things to his block of cheese. He named it Charlene and brought it with him everyday to work. His southern accent was often too thick for understanding, which seldom drove Trish to ignore him. She usually got him to do her job while she sat at one of the tables reading some fashion magazine, but today had been filled with too much thought of who she wanted to be.

If the black haired weirdo could do his job properly, why couldn't she? As tempting as it was to curl up and ignore her responsibilities, her fingers just couldn't leave the aching grasp of her cleaning utensils. The air smelled of bleach and some cheap car freshener to waver the smell away. Business was slow like always. If they were lucky, an old couple or some lost tourists would stumble in here to lessen their hunger, but that was about it. Grilled cheese didn't beat pizza or ice cream or something as trendy as that. She was mostly grateful, not having to deal with pesky customers who's order wound up wrong or somebody's dumb screaming baby.

Sighing, she everything to it's rightful closet and began to work on cleaning the counters. Ryder mumbled a few more incoherent sentences to the cheese and turned to Trish. His calloused palms fell on top of hers, causing Trish's to turn red and swat his hand away.

"I'll clean the counters for ya darlin'." He drawled, his lips upwards in a smile.

"Um, no thank you Ryder. I think I got this one today." She smiled tightly, flickering her back to the dirty surface.

"But you never do your own work." He whined.

"But I think I want to do it today."

Did she forget to mention that the few times she actually talked to Ryder, he was either sickly sweet or just a total prick? He was cute with his dark curls and green eyes, but not in the cute she wanted to date. He was too much of a gentlemen, in fact. Which made her suspicious. What was all the hand touching for?

"Who are you trying to impress?"

She narrowed her dark brown eyes, careful to keep her own hands to herself. She was only trying to boost her confidence with this whole job thing. There was no one to impress but herself in this situation. Her friends didn't know of her closeted vulnerability. She could see what he was getting at, and that made her all the more furious. Stopping what she was doing, she turned toward him and slammed his back into the wall. Her blood boiling even more when he smirked.

"You're a feisty one. I like that." He crooned.

"And you'll be a dead one if you don't shut it. I don't have to impress anyone. Yea, I got you to do my job for the past two days I've been here. But don't think for one second I'm catering to anyone." She gritted.

"I'll still cater to you. I mean, if it makes you feel any better."

Trish would have said pummeled him if it weren't for the chime of the door cuing that they had a customer. She glared at Ryder and brushed off her apron, turning around to give whomever her best cheery smile.

Although her face looked friendly, she gave off a bored "Welcome to Grilled Cheese, Please. The only place where a plate comes with a smile."

Her eyes slightly widen when she realized the familiar freckled face, auburn haired kid who annoyed her to no possible end. His smile was genuine, his long legs dressed in checkerboard jeans and a t-shirt they had gotten from a Zalien convention. As the days grew longer, it seemed as if he had gotten taller. She maybe have really been invisible now.

"I thought you were working at Cherry On Top." He spoke, hands deep in his pockets.

"I was. But apparently workers can't eat all the free ice cream they want. I still owe them payment in all that ice cream I ate." She replied.

"Well I would like one triple cheese sandwich with a large cola."

"Will that be for here or to go?"

"Um, I'm standing in here, duh."

Trish rolled her and turned back toward Ryder. "Get the man his order."

"Anything for you, sweet cheeks." Ryder winked, walking toward the cash register.

Retrieving her magazine from the back, she takes her usual seat at one of the tables near the window. It was a small eatery, with an 60's type of feel to it. The tiled floor reminded her of Dez's jeans with it's black and white checkboard theme. A unused jukebox collected dust in the corner while dim light fixtures hung overhead as if they were to fall and injure someone in an instant. 60's style paintings decorated the teal wall that reminded her of chipped nail polish. It obviously didn't appeal to Miami's mainstream crowd. She flipped through the pages of photoshopped models and celebrity breakups, expensive clothing and what would be next week's gossip.

So engrossed into the process kicking back and scanning over the latest trends, she hadn't even noticed Dez sitting down across from her. He gazed at her intently, blue eyes taking in the décor of her outfit and the way her lashes looked when she blinked. She wore a headband with a plastic grill cheese model stuck to it. He liked the brightness of the yellow shirt under the stained apron. He thought the color looked nice on her and he grinned at the thought.

"What's so funny?" She questioned, peering over the magazine.

"Oh, I just really liked your grilled cheese headband." He responded, his face a shade of pink from being caught.

"You can have it whenever I'm fired from this place."

Before he could reply with his words of encouragement, Trish finished up for him.

"So, why aren't you hanging out with Austin?"

"I don't wanna play third wheel with Austin and Ally anymore. It's not a very fun game." He sipped his soda in disgust.

"That's because it isn't a game, Dez. It's just how a couple makes a single person feel whenever you agree to go with them on some dinner date or something." She sighed.

"I don't care. I just want someone to hang out with me until I get the real Austin back."

"I mean I'll hang out with you. They're just going through the honeymoon phase."

"Really?"

Trish nodded her head, returning her attention back to the magazine. She was actually sympathizing with Dez. For once she could relate with how he felt. She was waiting for Ally to snap out of it too. Sure, her and Ally weren't entirely connected at the butt like Dez and Austin were, but their friendship still meant something to her and it felt kinda agonizing to give it all away to some guy. If that made sense. Maybe it was a possibility that she even felt sorry for Dez.

"So how about the movies? I heard a new horror movie came out by the same people who made Zaliens!" He suggested, one of the stupidest grins his face could produce.

"Sure."

They sat in silence for the remainder of Dez's eating. Trish noticed how his smile stayed between bites of melted cheese and burnt crust. She shook her head, never understanding what quite went on in his head. Everyone pretty much thought he was stupid or "special" to put it in terms. She'd admit, she shamefully thought he was far off most of the time to. Though her and other people had to realize that Dez was a complicated human being with feelings and an even more complicated way of thinking. Maybe she wanted to understand that. She wished he'd babble to hush away all the thoughts infiltrating her head.

"I'll pick you up at eight." He spoke, spewing crumbs.

She watched as he pushed his chair forward and headed toward the trash can. It wasn't until he was halfway at the door until something went off in her head.

"Dez, wait—"

Biting on her freshly done nails, he whirled right around.

"Don't be late you, doof." She mumbled.

Dez simply smiled and promised her he'd be directly on time before finally departing. Now that he was gone, her mind went back to the same busy stage it had been all morning. "I'll pick you up at eight, I'll pick you up at eight." Was this a date? She thought to herself, overreacting. She could have just drove herself over to the theater, but he insisted on driving her. She's could exactly say no to that. "He just wants someone to hang out with." "No one has a date at the movies anymore." "Didn't he like that Kimmy girl?"

"What happened to being an independent woman, Trish?" She mumbled to herself, gathering her things.

"Look's like you got yourself a hot date." Ryder hollered and whistled, as if it weren't just the two of them in there.

"Shut up." She replied, hurling her magazine toward him.

The only thing she heard as she walked out was the cries of Ryder from paper cut. "It wasn't a date. It couldn't be."

—

Trish Del La Rosa never worried about what to wear. At least not until tonight. The clock is on 7:30 and it feels like she's swimming in a pile of her own clothes. Dresses and skirts were too intricate for what they were doing tonight. Though she didn't want to look like she didn't care if Dez planned on driving her through another one of his crazy shenanigans tonight. Blowing a frizzy curl from her face, she settled on a pair of her signature black tights and a grey shirt with a drawing of a rose. She contained her hair with a simple green headband, because brushing it would have made it extremely worse. It would never be Trish without those flats either.

She couldn't worry too long because it was almost eight and she was half-expecting Dez to keep his promise. She's biting her lip and putting earrings in her and just being more nervous than she should be. She shouldn't care about stupid stuff about this. She shouldn't care about Dez. She was just doing this so he could feel better about Austin being away. Being mean to Dez was her thing, so why was it so hard to look at this in a different light?

The clock is on eight and the sight of Dez's headlights illuminate her. She smells of citrusy perfume and she secretly hope Dez likes it. All she can think about is those ocean eyes watching her and him grinning like an idiot because the idea of her grilled cheese headband made him happy. She never cared about what anybody thought, so why was Dez opinion so important to her now?

"Why are you wearing a tie?" Trish questions, her heart rate speeding up.

"I think everyone should wear a tie to the movies." He replied, fixing it before backing out of the driveway.

She smiles because she thinks he's weird, out of his mind. But he's not Ryder Maxwell weird. He's the good kind of weird and it makes her stomach erupt into a home for butterflies. He interrupts to ask her what kind of music she wants to listen to as if it matters at all. She's driving in the passenger seat of Dezmond Wade's car and he's paying attention to her music taste while she's paying attention to the way his face is a shade of pink and his fingernails are worn down. Seeing Dez nervous was a rarity, and it made her realize that maybe it was more to Dez than everyone led on.

They're at the movies and he's dressed in plaid jeans and a shirt decorated with tacos. He walks at the same speed beside her, causing their arms to brush against each other. Trish kept her gaze down, not wanting him to see through the dark night the effect he had on her. They're at the ticket window, Dez cheerfully asking for their pair.

"Two tickets for Alien Blood, please!"

"That'll be thirty bucks." The monotonous pimple-faced teen spoke behind the glass.

"I'll pay for it." Trish offered, fishing through her purse for some crumpled bills.

"Good, because I forgot my wallet." He smiled in embarrassment.

Trish shook her head, giving the teen the money. Classic Dez.

"You owe me one." She added, following him in the theater.

There were obviously way more people who came during the day, as the night here looked absolutely deserted. A disinterested girl stood behind the counter, fingers texting away on the latest smart phone. Her blonde hair was dyed purple at the tips and the piercing in her lip looked painful and swollen. Dez's nagging her about popcorn and the girl behind the counter with the name "Rebecca" is smirking at them. Trish finally makes her mind and decides to get him the fudging popcorn because he already owes her back anyway.

"You two are cute." The girl smiled, scooping popcorn into a large box.

"We're not together!" They speak in unison.

The girl gives them their popcorn and their walking toward their designated room but not without a "Enjoy your movie, lovebirds!" which makes Trish look like a tomato. Their brushing arms again before they take a seat in the all too empty room. They're greeted by sponsors of products and ads of other movies or television shows. She watches as Dez holds no self control, eating up all the popcorn before the movie even started. His hair has started to grow a little longer, hitting the nape of his neck, swooping before his eyes. She found his freckles...cute?

Was it even normal to find Dezmond Wade remotely attractive? She shook the thought, not being able to figure out any excuses for when she was caught. She didn't think he was cute. She thought his freckles were. So why was the constant beat of her heart speeding up? Why did she feel so terrified of talking to the one person she thought she hated? She thought she might has well vomited with the summersaults violently sitting at the pit of her stomach and oh god why was she blushing every five seconds?

"Want some?" Dez smiled, shoving the popcorn her way.

Trish said nothing, taking a handful before giving it back to him.

"Tell me if you get scared." He whispered.

"Yea, yea." Trish responded, relaxing slightly as the lights dimmed.

After the basic lecture of having their cellphones quiet and the consequences of illegally recording the movie, they were greeted by a galatic beginning and a women narrating through some basic information. From what she was told, the main character, Tara, had thought up a demonic alien hybrid when she was five years old, and now they have abducted her. They plan to destroy the planet and she is their only hope. It was pretty basic and cheesy effects were laughable. The only "scary" parts is when the creature jump scars little Tara in the flashbacks.

A high pitch scream filled her ears and butter was spilled all over her. A frightened Dez grabbed her arm and held it tightly. Startled, Trish pushes him away.

"Dez, you doof! You spilled popcorn all over me. It wasn't even that scary!" She exclaimed, swatting the popcorn away.

"Are you kidding me? This is why I sleep with the lights on!" He whispered as if someone else was gonna hear him.

"Well next time, find someone else to hold on to!" Trish sneered.

"Don't tell anyone I told you that."

"Wouldn't dream of."

That's how the next two hours went. Scream. Hold. Insults. Repeat. Oh, and somewhere in the mix Trish's emotions were out of control. At one point, Dez had gotten up to use the restroom and with that he had lightly touched Trish's knee. Next, their fingertips had touched when Trish had dropped the popcorn and they proceeded to both reach for it at the same time. Now they were at the end of the movie with Dez's light graze against her lower back that had her heart leaping out of her chest. She didn't need guidance, but she didn't necessarily want Dez to remove his hand either. For once she had felt a sense of safety.

"That was fun." Dez laughed, closing the car door.

"Yea, when Tara died at the end." Trish rolled her eyes, a small smile on her face.

"Thanks for hanging out with me today."

Trish nodded, returning her gaze back to the outside world. Rain became to fall quietly and she wished Dez would just hurry up and take her home. It wasn't supposed to end like this. She wasn't supposed to get this happy ending. She was supposed to be at Dez's throat. Dez was supposed to be cowered over in fear. She was supposed to exude power. She didn't want to feel fear or anxiety or questionable. The fact that Dez treated her so nicely despite the fact that she was a total prick irritated her to no end. He was supposed to walk away.

"You didn't really look like you were having fun. I get it, I'm not Ally." He spoke.

"And I'm not Austin, but that doesn't mean I didn't have fun." She replied, her voice cracking.

"Then why do you look so, I don't know, sad?"

Trish sighed, finding more interest into the dirt under her nails then his question. He wasn't supposed to be concerned. He was supposed to be Dez. Oddball, happy, oblivious, Dez.

"It's just that today Ryder asked me who I was trying to impress when I decided to take responsibility and do my job."

"And why is that such a bad thing?"

"Because Dez. He proves that I'm only good for slacking, and messing up, and breaking promises. I couldn't stand you being so nice to me today. We're supposed to be at each throats. You're supposed to be scared of me. I'm supposed—"

"I'm supposed to be me." She finished.

They sat in silence and it made Trish afraid that she had said the wrong things. She played with the idea of just getting out the car and walking home in the rain, but the outside world terrified her more than that movie ever would. She needed to get out and cry and scream and build up her walls once again. No one was gonna see this side of her.

"You don't have to be what people see you as. You don't have to be who you've been in the past. You can always be someone different. Just make sure that different is yourself." He smiled.

"No one ever saw me as a brain surgeon or a film direction. Obviously I chose the second option, but that was still me. That was still who I was. I don't have the answers to all the problems nor am I ever really right. But I know who I am, and your real friends will too."

Trish's smile turned into a soft laugh.

"When did you become so wise?"

"Maybe I was always wise and people just have realized. Hey that rhymes!" He smiled.

"Even if you can't keep your promises, I'll keep mines for the both of us."

"Thank you Dez, for everything. I wanna do this again sometime."

Overjoyed, Dez started the ignition and the soft buzz of bubblegum pop filled their ears. He flicked the AC, hoping to cool off some of the tension that built between them. He got back to observing Trish's features again. He memorized the exact placement of the dimples in her cheeks and the way her nose crinkled up whenever she was disgusted. The faint remembrance of her laugh was louder than the music itself, and her smile was enough to send his line of thoughts off the tracks.

And he just did.

He placed a warm kiss on her cheek. It was probably the most cowardice move ever, but it meant something to him. He hoped it meant something to Trish too.

"Dez!" She jumped, touching her rosy cheeks from where his lips had connected.

"You tell no one about this. Understood?" She demanded, holding back a smile.

"I promise. It'll just be between you and me." He smiled, driving out of the parking lot.

By then his hand was sitting atop hers as he drove with the other. It reminded her of the way Ryder back at the job, but this time it didn't emit anger. It emitted something else; a crush. She didn't protest. No sputters or spatting. Just the gushy lyrics of some love song crooning them at close proximity. She was supposed to slip up and make mistakes. But maybe she could be the best mistake Dez had ever made.

This was far from a love song, but it was perfect start to their cheesy beginning.

Hey all my fellow Trez shippers! Thank you so much for checking out the first one-shot in this series. I just enjoy the thought of Dez and Trish being idiots together and navigating their awkward love for each other. I definitely felt like there should have been more coverage of their relationship on this show. Every one-shot will be a little different which ranges from K-T and through multiple genres. The rating may change for future chapters. Go ahead and grab your box of tissues or just die of laughter. You can definitely request any ideas you have and I won't hesitate to look into it. Constructive Criticism & Feedbacks are especially appreciated. Tell me your thoughts! Review, Follow, Fave. Until the next one-shot!~