May 22nd, 12:53 PM

"So when did this start?"

Trent's voice knocked me out of my mental escape. The whole cab ride back to the vacant apartment had been awkward; we both sat as far apart as we could and stared out the windows. I spent the whole ride reviewing my last time up on stage in my head like a treasured home movie of an event that would never happen again. The lust, the connection, feeling like I was only dancing for him, the kiss; all of it flashed through my mind as I prepared to be left with nothing but those last pleasant memories. I thought these thoughts and nothing else as I mechanically threw some cash at the cab driver when we got to my building. On auto-pilot I walked up the stairs, unlocked the door and walked over to flop down on the couch where I was currently located.

"What?"

"Stripping, when did you start stripping?" Trent asked in a frustrated but calm tone of voice. He had taken up a spot across from me on the wall, leaning up against it in a manner that left me wondering if he planned to embed himself into the drywall.

"Oh. Well I started as a waitress there off-and-on eight months ago, but I started dancing there about six months back. Actually," I laughed half-heartedly, "my first time was because I gave you what I thought I could spare to get your amp out of the pawn shop. Remember CBGB's? No way would I let you miss that, it was too big. Turns out though that I didn't have as much to spare as I thought, and then I ended up short on my monthly budget for food. I couldn't even buy instant noodles. I thought it would be a one-time thing; something I would never do again."

"So then," he said in a hoarse voice barely above a whisper, "you're saying this is my fault apparently. You didn't have to give me the cash; you've always given me too much Daria …"

"Cut that shit out, it was my fault for not paying attention to my bank account. I'm realistic about this and I know when to take responsibility for my actions. Even if that hadn't happened, I still went back there a month later for another cash flow problem. The place has just become like an emergency bank account for me and I grudgingly go there when I need some desperately. I'm trying to find a better day job and sell some stories but for now I need to pay my rent. Besides, I've never given you enough."

"Huh? What do you mean that you've never given me enough?"

"Credit, Trent, I've never given you enough credit. Maybe if I had given you more trust, credit, openness, honesty, whatever … back when I was fully clothed I wouldn't have let this crush grow to this point …," I paused when I saw Trent raise a questioning eyebrow at me and smirk. "YES! I know now that you knew about my crush then. Anyway, if I had dropped my shell and given you a chance to rebuff me then we wouldn't be here. I wouldn't be throwing myself at you naked in front of a room full of people … just to be rejected because you're repulsed by me."

Trent shook his head quickly before saying "Is that what you think? Daria I wasn't repulsed by you. I don't think I've ever wanted anyone more than I wanted you tonight. You were grinding down on my lap hard enough to feel that for a fact."

I felt my stomach do a back flip when he brought up that particular memory. I shook my head to try and dislodge the distraction.

"No, that was for the stripper whom you didn't know. As soon as that wig was off, you didn't even want to look at me."

This blank statement was the truth in my mind, but apparently it really pissed off Trent. He abruptly became Angry Trent again and stepped away from the wall, shouting at me as I continued to lie on the couch.

"What the fuck was I supposed to do Daria? It just stunned me! There I am one minute with some anonymous woman that is looking at me like she'll ride me raw right there, and the next with someone I had to tell myself for years that I couldn't touch!"

He stopped and we stared at each other, both of us knowing exactly what he had just admitted.

Ok then, that clears up a few lingering questions. So he does, or at least did, have a thing for me. His issue was my age? That can't be right because I've been legal for a over a year now; there has to be more to it than that.

"I'm 19 now and I know you know that because you helped Jane with my birthday party. Trent, I'm not a kid anymore."

"Well obviously, and you seem to have no problem showing that fact off," grumbled Trent. I chose to ignore that barb, even though it hurt.

"You once told me that if I were older, you would want to date me. I always figured that you said it as a joke, but now it brings up a good point if you really feel that way. I'm a few years older now, aren't I? If you have … or used to have … those kinds of feelings for me … you haven't acted on them yet. How many 19 year-old groupies have you slept with so far this year? How many 18 year-olds? When am I going to be old enough for you to make a move?" I asked earnestly.

Trent started to grab at the back of his neck like it was an anchor. It gave me a chance to check out his gangly arms and the new tattoos sprinkled in with the old; his arms were really just a momentary place for me to keep my gaze so that I didn't have to look him in the eyes anymore.

"I know you're not a kid, but it's still complicated. You're doing well in school and, up until tonight anyway, I thought you had a nice stable life here. I didn't want to screw that up by trying to get you involved with me. Mystik Spiral is just starting to gain a good-sized following and we are all over the place, and when I am at home I'm still hours away from you. Even if we managed to get together Daria, I'm not made of stone and I've screwed things up in past relationships because of the temptations surrounding the band. I couldn't bear it if I hurt you, and musicians almost always hurt their girls one way or another. Even knowing now that you sideline as a stripper, you still deserve nothing but complete devotion, support, and respect from whomever you end up with."

"When did you become so god-damn gallant?" I huffed with contempt. Looking back up into his eyes I saw the hurt sweep across his face as he turned away from me.

Good one Daria, show him you care by belittling his heartfelt declaration that you deserve better. All either of us are doing tonight seems to be hurting each other. I don't need this stress, I've already had enough tonight to trigger a heart attack.

I pulled myself up off the couch with a sigh and walked over into the open kitchen. Pulling out a lowball glass from the cabinet, I got out the chilled bottle of vodka from the freezer and poured myself a double.

Trent had followed me, and was now leaning against the doorway with one hip jutting out while watching me with a dark air about him.

"You want a drink?"

"No," he replied a little irritably, "and I don't want you to have one either. How much have you already had tonight? I don't think it's good for you to be drinking this much."

Who the hell does he think he is? I've seen him try to play his guitar backwards because he was too high to figure out which way it was supposed to point, and he's telling me how much alcohol I can handle? I'm a college student; doesn't he know that learning how to handle my liquor is part of the curriculum?

"There you go again, talking about what YOU think is best for ME. You're not my brother you know, and you don't even care when Jane does get blitzed. So why do I get the lectures? Don't drink, don't smoke, are you on drugs, don't strip, you weren't ready for a relationship, dating a musician is a bad idea, you deserve to be respected, blah, blah, blah …"

I don't know what got into me right then but instead of drinking my vodka I picked up the glass and slammed it into the sink, shattering it before tossing Trent a look that was nothing but my frustrated years of lust mixed with rage.

"You want to respect me, fine. But I can't FUCK your respect, Trent."