-12.
Daria soon found herself at the Lane household, making her way down the walk way she had traversed countless time. It was something of a haven for her; a place to go when all else seemed to be falling apart, or turning just too weird to bear. Not that the Lane house was ever normal...but it was right. Just right.
She knocked on the door, three steady raps of the knuckles upon wood. Enough time passed that Daria debated either leaving, or letting herself in to search for some form of life, when the door cracked open.
"Hey, Daria."
As it had every time since the first time she'd laid eyes on him, Daria's stomach did a little flip flop at the sight of Trent at the door. And her name on her lips? It inspired an infuriating rush of adrenaline to spread through her limbs, all the way to the tips of her fingers and toes. Being with Tom had not quelled this reaction; nothing probably ever would.
"Hey Trent. Is Jane here?"
Trent scratched his hair, of which Daria could never tell if it was sleep tousled, or the way he'd styled it. There probably wasn't a difference. "No. She went out for art supplies. Something about a show deadline."
"Oh." Daria couldn't mask the disappointment in her voice, or on her face. And maybe even a little desperation. "Ok. I'll see you later then, Trent."
She retreated from the front stoop and turned to go. A few steps down the walk and "Daria?" stopped her dead in her tracks. She turned to look over her shoulder, eyebrows raised expectantly. "Is something bothering you?"
With a heavy sigh, she turned around to face him, eyes on the walk. "Is it that obvious?"
Stepping back, Trent opened the door wider in invitation. "You can come in and wait for Janey. She should be back soon."
Somewhat relieved, Daria took Trent up on his invitation.
Two hours passed, and still no Jane. The sunset filled the sky with oranges and pinks, then receded below the horizon, drawing all light with it. Daria waited in her room, contemplated Jane's latest skewed figure painting, read a little, tried writing some Melody Powers, and stared at the ceiling. None of which managed to distract her from the problem at hand, her ensuing consummation of her love with Tom.
The wavering notes of an acoustic guitar drifted in from next door; Trent had apparently not fallen back asleep, but decided to practice instead. She liked listening to him play the acoustic; a softer version of Trent's singing voice rising mournfully above the clear, harmonious notes. She played briefly with the thought/fantasy that he was playing for her, before banishing the thought to the heavily guarded chest within her heart, labeled Trent: Thoughts to Never be Realized. It was really quite full by now.
She'd had her reality check, she knew its label to be truthful. Did she regret that? A little.
Only a little?
Mrrr.
Oh, Trent. Trent was older, he'd been through all this, with Monique or some girl before her. Maybe he'd even have some better insight than Jane, being more...experienced, in such things. The very thought of broaching the topic with him caused a hot creeping blush to spread across her skin.
With a sigh, Daria got up from Jane's bed, deciding she would wallow in her troubled thoughts, toss and turn all night, and bring it up with her friend on the walk to school tomorrow. She made to escape down the hall, only to find herself face to face with the object of her blush-inducing musings once again. "You're leaving?"
Daria shrugged, only marginally containing her disappointment. "I'll catch her later."
But she did not move to do so, stuck in her tracks. She and Trent eyed each other quietly, attempting to read the thoughts both kept guarded behind their masks. Daria may have been the grand master of hiding her feelings and banishing them into exile, but Trent wasn't exactly an open book either.
Some may have dismissed it as a lack of depth, or the musician never actually waking up from his seemingly perpetual state of napping, but here and there Trent proved that he noticed what went on around him, and could diagnose a situation dead on. Daria remembered the way he'd caught on to she and Tom's attraction, as though it were brazenly displayed openly for all to see. He'd said that guys can always tell when other guys are into a girl. Where perhaps that was true, there was another fact of his perception; Trent knew Daria well enough to read her too.
Trent leaned against the wall, arms crossed nonchalantly. "Maybe I can help you?" Daria seemed troubled to him. Nervous. And where he knew she was still often a little jittery around him, for reasons he was not entirely oblivious to, this was beyond the pale. This was definitely something else.
Daria found herself fighting not to blush. Still, there was that itchy warmth again at the base of her throat, just waiting to explode across the rest of her skin. At least it wasn't hives.
Well, here was her chance. She didn't have to ask for his help; he'd offered it openly. She could get some good insight, from an older guy. A more experienced soul, someone who'd probably essentially been in a similar situation before. Well, similar, but on the male side of the river.
But dear God, it was Trent!
You're such a coward, Morgandorfer. Why not just take the leap off the cliff, for once? Take a chance. Trent wouldn't make fun of her. Trent wouldn't blanche at the mention of sex. He would do his best to help, as he always did.
Thinking that maybe she was signing her own tombstone, Daria swallowed hard, and backed up for a running start.
"Um...it's about Tom. And I."
Trent raised a sharply arched eyebrow. "Yeah? Did you get into a fight?"
Daria sighed, leaning against the wall, as well. She found it easier to talk when she wasn't looking directly into Trent's smoldering dark eyes, but off at the other wall. "Not exactly, though I can't help but think it may be a pending analogy for what we're about to get ourselves into, soon in the future. We--"
A cough interrupted her, of which Daria recognized to actually be a laugh from Trent. She turned to look at him again, to see a small but sly, knowing smile curled on his lips. "You're ready for the...ah...next step, and you're worried."
Daria stood silent for several seconds, stewing in a medley of surprise and embarrassment. How did he do that? Read her like that? Maybe he'd heard a vague conversation between she and Jane before...but she doubted it.
Finally, she spoke. "Yes, I'm worried."
The sly and knowing dissipated from Trent's expression, softening to something Daria didn't exactly recognize on him. Nostalgia? Perhaps.
"That's natural, Daria. Everyone's first time is...scary as hell." He said the last with a self deprecating laugh, that strangely seemed to set Daria less on edge. Trent wasn't always the cooler than ice lead singer of Mystic Spiral. He too was once a lost teenage lover, perhaps even in the very back seat upon which she'd sat many times...she wasn't sure if she was disgusted or amused by the thought. Surprisingly, it seemed, more the latter than the former.
"Yeah...well...we've set a date. And a time. That helps a little, I guess."
Trent raised his eyebrows, surprised. "Whoa, like an appointment?"
An irrepressible sigh compressed Daria's lungs, but seemingly originated from far deeper inside the fortress. "Yeah. Like an appointment. Go for a check up, get a tooth capped, lose your virginity..."
"Is...that what you want? That totally goes against the beauty of the random, you know? The heat of the moment...and all that. Those are part of the fun."
It would be part of the fun. Perhaps part of the problem was that Daria wasn't exactly viewing this whole experience/impending fiasco as fun. Not entirely, anyway. It was almost impossible to.
"I don't know what I want," she admitted sadly. "I mean, this whole thing is...I don't know."
Though Daria didn't think she'd actually presented any definite point, Trent nodded sagely. "There's so much pressure. You want it to go well, but don't know what to expect. And there's no way to really prepare. Porn isn't accurate, and books aren't usually any better."
It was Daria's turn to nod in agreement. That was a great part of her dilemma, wasn't it? The pressure, the lack of experience. The courage to take on something new, and just cross her fingers that it didn't ruin everything she and Tom had built between them. The possibilities for nasty disappointment were endless!
"It would be nice," continued Trent, musing on a tangent, "If there were lessons, that could give you an idea of what you're walking into. Like a teacher or something."
Daria vaguely recalled something she'd read, though truthfully it may have been a Sick Sad World reel. "Some tribes in Africa do that. It is the uncle's and aunt's job to break brides and grooms to be in, so to speak, before the wedding. It's kind of civilized, really. Sparing them the extreme embarrassment or disappointment."
Trent couldn't repress a smile. "Passing on the knowledge. Cool. Like a gift, from someone older and wiser."
They laughed in unison at the thought. It seemed so odd, so unprecedented. So strange. Yet at the same time, it wasn't exactly a bad idea, was it? Their laughter faded into a silence that lasted for several long seconds, charged not with noise or tension but the thoughts behind their eyes, and wondering what the other was thinking. After playing the avoidance dance with her eyes, Daria finally had the courage to meet Trent's gaze. His dark eyes were unintentionally piercing; she was sure he didn't mean to do it, but often she felt he laid her bare with just a look. Take it back, Morgandorfer. This isn't civilized. It's a bad idea. A horrible idea. You'll only get yourself into a horrible mess. She tried to command her legs to move, to run away from the situation's potential to get very strange very fast.
Strange, or interesting, she fought with herself. Oh crap.
If when Daria woke up that morning she'd made a list of things most likely to NEVER happen that day, this definitely would have been at the top. Before she could finally convince her legs to move, Trent approached her, cautiously. He watched her every move, but perhaps it didn't count for much, because she found herself incapable of movement.
Daria watched it come, like a train wreck, unable to look away, unable to move or prevent. As he leaned down towards her, Trent's long musician's fingers slid lightly across her jaw, pulling her ever so slightly into a tantalizing brush of lips. It was hardly anything at all, yet that one little touch sent something akin to a jolt of lightning through both of them.
Trent noted Daria's wide eyed look, and cursed himself mentally for being so brazen with her. Stupid, Lane. Very Stupid. She's going to tell you to go to hell in about two seconds. She was always so skittish of human contact, especially around him. Did he really think this could possibly be a reality? That she would really let him--
Trent was not able to finish his thought, for much to his amazement and surprise, Daria closed the fraction of an inch between them again, locking their lips in a true kiss. At first it was sweet and light, a game of flirting lips and barely perceptible tongue. But soon it grew into something much more, no longer a game but an exploration, two mouths eager to know the tastes and textures of the other. Seemingly of it's own accord, Trent's arm wrapped around her slender waist, pulling her warmth close as he leaned against the wall. Her lips were so soft, and the moist hollow between them...he felt sure he could lose himself in it for hours and hours.
Shuddering and surprised at their sudden passion, Daria and Trent came up for air, studying each other's reactions. Daria felt herself surrounded by Trent, his arm around her waist, the other arm near her head against the wall. She liked it, didn't she? And Tom never kissed her like that, did he? Still, there was that spark again, that nagging itch down low, curiosity of where all this heat could go. You are not really considering this, Morgandorfer. It was insanity.
And all the while, Trent was looking at her like he'd never seen her before. He stood quietly, not urging her in one direction or the other, though by the deep rattling breath he drew into his narrow chest, she could tell which direction he was hoping she would lean.
Alright, now she's going to tell you to get the hell off of her, thought Trent. It had to be what happened next. Because there was no way he could be so lucky. And so Daria's next words struck him to the core:
"Tom can never find out about this."
Surprise and adrenaline coursed through his wiry limbs. The musician tried twice before finding his voice.
"Alright."
a/n: Feedback is golden, even if you just plain hate it...
