This is a draft chapter in a posted work. It will be kept unless the work is deleted.
PreviewChapter 12: Birthday Surprise Chapter by TrevorPhilipsIndustries Chapter Text
I started sleeping in Trevor's bed. I was tired of sleeping alone on the couch. I convinced myself that simply sleeping next to him didn't count as cheating. I had already cheated on Patrick twice, and I didn't intend on doing it again. Trevor seemed to have some sort of power over me. He could look at me the right way, and I would go weak in the knees. Next time, I told myself, I would be strong and say no.
I woke up next to Trevor the day before my birthday, knowing full well that I wouldn't get to spend it at home. I had made peace with my current lifestyle. Sure, I missed Patrick and I missed home, but as long as I had my schoolwork and some paper to sketch on, I would be alright.
Still, Patrick and I had made plans well in advance for my birthday. We wanted to go to the aquarium in the morning, sit around on Vespucci beach in the afternoon, and end the day with cheap hot dogs and funnel cakes on the pier. It would've been perfect. I let out a sigh as I sat at the table, daydreaming about my perfect day. Instead, I would spend it with grumpy Trevor. Well, unless he was in a good mood.
And indeed he was. I woke up on my birthday to find him already in the kitchen, eating cereal straight from the box, one handful at a time. "Gooood morning," he hummed.
"Hi, Trevor," I exhaled, still in a half asleep state. I wasn't even awake enough yet to remember that it was my birthday.
"Guess who's 26 today?!" He exclaimed, looking at me with a childlike joy.
"Oh yeah," I mumbled, "That's today, isn't it?" I shuffled into the kitchen and leaned back against the counter next to him.
"I made you breakfast." He extended a hand out to me, filled with Captain Crunch. It spilled over onto the floor and he shot me a goofy smile.
"Well, aren't you thoughtful."
"I am," he insisted, dropping his box of Captain Crunch on the counter. He spoke through a mouthful of cereal. "I got you somethin'."
He pointed at the table in the corner of the room, and I followed him over to stare at a large brown leather box with a fancy gold latch on the front. There was a giant, glossy red bow taped on top of it; much too large for the box it was placed on. I smiled up at him.
"Thank you, Trevor," I murmured, staring at the mystery box.
"Well, open it," he demanded. He stood next to me, staring at me anxiously as I reached for the gold latch. I gasped when I lifted the lid, staring at my gift.
A full set of watercolor paints; nice ones. The fancy set of acrylic paints that Patrick and I could never afford. A pile of different paintbrushes, varying in shape and size. A professional painter's palette, a full set of lead shading pencils, pastels, and a huge stack of drawing pads; the good kinds with the thick pages that held up against watercolor paints. I clamped my hands over my mouth and stared at it all in awe.
"Do you like it?" He asked excitedly.
I nodded slowly, still staring at the box of art supplies in front of me. "Oh my God, Trevor. This is amazing. I don't even have stuff this nice at home."
"Just thought you'd like to be able to work on your art while you're still out here. I felt kinda bad watchin' you draw on printer paper with a plain blue pen this whole time."
I threw my arms around him and pressed my head against his chest. "Thank you so much! This is the best gift ever!" I sounded like a child on Christmas morning. I couldn't help myself; he had gotten me the best of everything, all packaged up nicely in an ornate leather box.
He chuckled, and moved his right hand up to run his fingers through my hair. He planted his fingers underneath my chin, and lifted until I was staring up at him.
I pushed against him slightly when he ducked down to kiss me. He looked at me with a wounded expression, and I felt an immediate pang of guilt. Here he had just spent an incredible amount of money on a gift for me, and I was rejecting his affectionate gestures. I just couldn't cheat on Patrick anymore.
"What the fuck?" Trevor blurted out. His tone wasn't one of anger, just hurt.
"I can't," I said quietly, trying to hide the sadness in my voice.
"What, so you can hop on my dick, no problem, but the minute I try to show you an ounce of affection, you push me away?" Now he was angry.
"I'm with Patrick," I mumbled.
"Yeah, and that's the fuckin' problem!"
And now I was angry. "What the fuck does that mean?!"
"I think I've been more than fair to you out here! I feed you, I let you sleep in my bed! Fuck, I bought you a birthday present! I'd hardly call this a hostage negotiation!"
"Then why won't you just let me go home?!" Tears soaked my face, and I stood in front of him in my slippers, looking like an absolute mess.
"Why do you even want to go back there?!"
"Because of Patrick!"
"He's a snake, Tara! He lied to you! He kept shit from you! Why the fuck do you want to go back to him so badly?!" He gesticulated wildly at me as he spoke, and he had begun pacing back and forth. "I would never do that to you!"
"Why does that even fucking matter?!" I yelled back at him.
"Because I-" He stopped in his tracks, interrupting his own sentence with a deep, shaky breath. "Because I want to be with you."
Silence. I wiped away a tear from my cheek and stared at him, completely dumbfounded. He looked back at me, seeming almost ashamed of his confession. His chest heaved and he inhaled and exhaled loudly, trying to catch his breath after yelling at me.
"I can't." My voice was soft, and filled with regret. I didn't want to hurt him. I never wanted to hurt him. But I knew I would eventually go back home to Patrick, and I had to go back with a clear head. I shuffled past him, heading towards the bedroom, where I pulled at the door behind me.
"Your meth head boyfriend called me," he called after me. "He paid me off. You can go home."
I whirled around to look at him again. "Why didn't you fucking tell me?!" I shouted, filled with a newfound fury. "How long ago did this happen?!"
"A week ago," he said blankly.
"A week! You've known for a week and you didn't say something?! What the fuck is wrong with you?! When were you planning on telling me?!"
He looked guilty as he shrugged in response. "I just wanted more time," he said quietly.
"For what?!" I yelled, marching up to him and staring up at him with fire in my eyes. "For what, exactly, Trevor? To hold me hostage just a little longer? Or what; were you hoping you could weasel your way into my pants one or two more times?!"
He furrowed his brow and threw his hands up in the air when he shouted back at me, "Weasel my way in?! Excuse the fucking shit outta me, but I didn't force my hand down your pants! I didn't tell you to get on your knees and suck my cock! That was all you, princess! Take some fucking responsibility for once!"
"Fuck you, Trevor! I hate you!"
He shoulders dropped and he looked defeated. I had known Trevor long enough at this point to know his mannerisms and his expressions. I had hurt him.
I rolled my eyes and stormed into the bedroom to gather the few belongings I had accumulated during my stay, throwing them all haphazardly into a trash bag. I slipped on a pair of flip flops and stormed out the front door, not caring about my messy ponytail or the fact that I was still in a pair of sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. I left him standing in his trailer in silence.
I sat on the curb outside The Yellow Jack Inn, waiting for the cab I had called from the phone inside the bar. I was filled with anger and sadness. I hated Trevor. I hated him so much. No, I didn't. I was trying so hard to convince myself that I hated him; just to take away the sting of leaving his company so suddenly. Would I ever even see him again? What if he spent the rest of his life out in the desert, lonely and angry? Who cares, I told myself. I just wanted to go home and sleep in my own bed. I was done with Sandy Shores.
