Chapter 2:
"I'm having trouble getting motivated," had admitted Trent, responding to Daria's inquiry of how the thirty second sound clip was coming, for she and Jane's multimedia project. "Or inspired. Whichever."
"Oh." She'd loathed the thought of sounding like "the man", but a nervous little tingling burned the tips of her toes. "Well...the project's due next week, so, maybe soon?"
Trent bobbed his head in agreement, sliding a guitar case into the back of the tank. The party had ended, and the band packed up their gear, and under-aged drinkers. Tom was spending the night at the party house, and Jane already sat on her crate, half asnooze against the wall. "Tell you what, Daria," said Trent, grunting as he and Jesse lifted a half-stack. "Why don't you come over tomorrow, and we can work on it together. It would help me, to have someone..."
"Looming over you?" sighed Daria.
Raising an eyebrow, Trent laugh-coughed. "Nah...consider yourself like...a producer. Giving direction to the recording."
And so the next day Daria found herself at the Lane household, once again clad in her normal comfy duds. Though she'd left Jane a note about the study date, her best friend was no where to be found Saturday evening. Of course, why would Daria expect her to be, at this point, with so many other amusements at her disposal? The thought of spending more time alone with Trent left a confusing medley of emotions to mix in her mind, ranging from anticipation to terror of making a fool of herself.
Daria knocked softly on Trent's door, hoping he wasn't asleep. "Yo, it's open," came his invitation. She entered the room, to find Trent sitting on his bed, acoustic slung over his knee. The keyboard he'd bought sat on the floor, hooked up the computer that had migrated from Jane's room to his.
"Jane's out with Tom," said Trent in answer to a silent question. "So I guess it's just us. Not so bad, right?"
"Um...yeah. Not so bad," Daria agreed sheepishly. "Did she even read my note?"
"Yeah, but she said something about three cooks in a kitchen on her way out...I guess she thought too many of us would spoil the soup?"
"And here I thought we were just composing music..." sighed Daria, taking a seat next to Trent on the bed. As he glanced over, he found her to seemingly be very interested in the toes of her boots.
"It's ok, Daria," he tried to console her. "This can't last forever. You know how Jane is. She'll lose interest in Tom in no time."
"But what if she doesn't? I guess I just don't get it. What can be so great about a guy, that you would abandon your best friend to spend time with him?"
For a moment Trent thought this was just another quip born of Daria's legendary sarcasm, until he realized she truly didn't understand. She didn't know what it was like to be overcome with a desire to be near someone, or intoxicated by the fact that they want to be near you too. It was probably mostly the reciprocation that escaped her...she'd never had a boyfriend before.
"I don't know how to explain it to you," admitted Trent. "It's an intense feeling, that can't be summed up by words."
"It's not love," Daria grumbled, nudging an errant dust bunny with her boot.
"Probably not," Trent agreed. "It almost feels better than love, in a way. Love comes with time, and trust...but nothing can duplicate the euphoria of those first few months." Lord knows he and Monique had tried, over and over again, before realizing it was time to call it quits.
Daria could feel Trent's dark eyes upon her, and the self-consciousness she usually always felt while around him suddenly caught up to her in a flourish. Refusing to look his way, she said quietly, "It's that good, huh?"
Trent gave a soft chuckle in response. "Daria, have you ever kissed a guy?"
Her wide eyed expression of embarrassed horror could have served as an answer in itself, but still, Daria answered, "Uh...no." As though she didn't already feel like the biggest square in the land, that damned blush made it's predicted entrance, warming her cheeks.
Turning back to his guitar, Trent strummed a G. "It's ok, it doesn't make you un-cool." he tried to assure her. "Just, I don't know. Try to cut Janey some slack. You'll realize what she's going through sometime. Until then, I'm sure things will work themselves out."
He hoped, anyways. Of course, there was nothing to guarantee that they would. If both continued to be so stubborn, a beautiful friendship could slip through the girl's fingers, before they even realized it.
OOOOOOOOOOO
As the sun sank in the sky, the pair played with ideas for the sound clip, Trent with his guitar, and Daria seated on the floor before the keyboard. Daria discovered she had a certain aptitude for picking out interesting melodies on the keys. It was as the heavily slanted shadows of dusk fell across the walls that one of Daria's little ditties caught Trent's ear. "That's cool, Daria," he said, tapping his foot and bobbing his head.
When she paused with surprise at his praise, turning back to look at him, Trent shook his head. "Don't stop, don't lose it. Keep playing."
Reaching over to the computer, Trent flipped on the record function of the composing software he'd purchased just for this occasion. Staring up at Trent as though he'd grown a third head, Daria obeyed, small hand continuing with the tune she'd discovered. It was a low and mournful beat, reflective of her mood at the moment. Towering over her sitting form, Trent contemplated the keyboard intensely, watching her hands, and seeming to envision what could come next in counterpoint to the bass line. She could see the notes unfolding behind his eyes, playing through his head.
Daria expected him to request her to move at any moment, and let him take over. Let the musician do his work, and what not. What she did not expect was Trent to crouch down beside her, reaching long arms around her to access the keys he needed. She was small of frame, and posed hardly an obstacle to his reach.
Amidst the melody that rose from the keyboard at his suddenly inspired manipulations, Daria was utterly surprised she did not hit a mistaken note on her end. In fact, she was surprised she did not drop dead of shock right there, paralyzed and tantalized by the warmth of his narrow torso behind her, and the wafting spiced scent of his skin. His cheek brushed against hers as he reached for a far note, and it was all Daria could do not to jump out of her skin. Did he realize the effect he had on her? A glance out of the corner of her eye told her no, he had no clue that his nearness utterly scrambled her nervous system. Judging by his expression, eyes narrowed, lips pressed into a thin line, she determined he was lost in his own musical world.
Thirty seconds passed as though it were an eternity. Dutifully, Daria continued with the bass line, as Trent created. He was not so oblivious to Daria as she thought, practically holding her in his arms as he played. He enjoyed this. Sharing creativity with her, sharing space. He considered it something of a personal feat, holding his concentration while her soft hair brushed his cheek. Though he could tell Daria didn't wear perfume, there was something about the clean, feminine scent of her skin that appealed to him greatly.
As he felt the piece should come to a close, he gently lifted Daria's hand from the keys, finishing the clip with a few choice notes. Daria froze at the contact, her small hand engulfed by his own. Still seemingly oblivious, Trent released her, long fingers sliding over hers as he reached out to play back their music. In nearly the same position, they listened. Daria couldn't distinguish what dominated more of her attention, their musical creation, or Trent's slow steady breathing, the rise and fall of his chest behind her. The clip ended, and Daria could hear the smile in his voice, as he said, "That was cool, Daria. Maybe we should get you to play bass for Spiral."
Daria turned back to look at him, a shy smile spreading over her lips. "I don't think I could fill the responsibility of fighting with Max," she confessed, inspiring a cough-ridden laugh from Trent.
"Probably not," he agreed. Smiling in understanding, their eyes met. The sun had dipped below the horizon, and though true dark had yet to fall, the room was still heavily swathed in shadows. Daria felt transfixed by those eyes, seemingly black in the darkness. Maybe we should move now, she thought, but could neither voice the idea nor act upon it. At least turn on a light. For the second time in less than a week, Trent found himself faced with the urge to kiss Daria, her body so near inspiring a warm tingle to spread through his core. What would it be like to taste those lips? Would they be as soft as they looked? He studied her carefully, gauging her possible reception, wondering if he was crazy and about to make a huge mistake.
Daria's eyes flitted from his eyes to his lips, betraying her thoughts. She pressed her lips together, pink tongue flicking out nervously to wet her lips. No longer able to stand it, Trent leaned forward slowly to brush his mouth against hers. Oh God, thought Daria, eyes lulled closed on reflex. This is it. When she did not jolt or pull away, instead tentatively kissing him back, Trent lifted a hand, cradling the side of her face gently, as though she were an object of precious value in his care. For the moment, Daria's terror faded into pure adrenaline, caught up in this alien but pleasurable sensation. He kissed her languorously, exploring her soft lips and the moist hollow beyond. As Daria felt the slightest hint of tongue slide along her bottom lip, inquisitive but not invasive, an involuntary groan escaped her throat.
At this sound, this near squeak of what Daria felt sure Trent would perceive as inexperience, she expected Trent to pull away. To laugh, to make light of it, to get up and walk away. However, it only seemed to spur him on, as he pulled her closer against him. Perhaps he'd half expected her to run, terrified of such contact with a man, but when she melted against him he couldn't help but deepen the kiss. This was so strange for Daria, so new. The feel of Trent's tongue teasing hers, slick and soft against her mouth. There was an unexpected strength in his wiry arms, holding her close, supporting her weight as he leaned over her. A groan tore from his throat as she reached up, tentatively running nails up the column of his neck, and into his raven black hair.
The sound of the front door downstairs slamming shut caused them both to freeze, eyes opening. "Jane's home," Daria whispered shakily, as Trent drew back with a rattling gasp for air. He studied her with intense eyes, hardly able to believe the event just past. Her heart knocked against her ribcage, and Daria felt equally certain that this must be a dream.
"Shame," confessed Trent, reluctantly standing from their comfortable and undeniably interesting position. He offered her a hand up, and surprisingly she accepted. His touch burned her, grasp lingering on her hand, reluctant to pull away. With a sigh he turned on the lights, temporarily blinding them, just as Jane decided to push open the door without knocking.
"Hanging out in the dark?" Jane asked suspiciously, an eyebrow raised. She wasn't quite sure how to interpret the detached looks both Trent and Daria paid her. If she didn't know better, she might have read them as hostility.
"We were working," said Trent. "Listen to this." Quick to distract, he clicked at the computer and cranked up the speaker, playing their creation for Jane. She bobbed her head contentedly as she listened, crimson red lips spread in a smile. "That's awesome!" she exclaimed. "That's perfect for illustrating the hell we know as high school. I especially like the bass line, it's so dark."
"That's Daria's," admitted Trent with a smile.
"Oh yeah?" Jane quirked an eyebrow, smirk turning to her friend. Was it just her, or was Daria's hair slightly tousled? Surely not. "Our little Daria, hiding the musician within behind that writer's exterior all this time."
"It's the least frightening of my inner conflicting identities."
"Unleash the one that tells you to kill and kill again next time Kevin is nearby, and we'll be set."
"Mmm." Daria seemed to muse on the possibility, and not in the least remorsefully.
"Well, let's put this all together," said Jane, sitting down at the computer with a renewed sense of purpose. "We'll have something that passes for a project in no time." She opened the video editing program, and quickly began pulling things together. "There's left over pizza downstairs, if you guys want some," she said absently, fixated on the screen.
Behind Jane's back, Daria and Trent shared a long meeting of eyes. Had they really kissed on the floor, not two feet away from where Jane sat? What now? With a warm smile, Trent shrugged at the unspoken question that hung in the air between them. Nodding towards the door, he invited Daria to accompany him downstairs for Pizza.
With every step down the stairs, Daria's level of anxiety rose higher and higher. She felt lost in a sea of inexperience. What came next? Would they just go back to normal, pretend like nothing happened? Why did he kiss her? Merely physical desire, or did Trent want something more? She realized that for all the time she'd spent musing on the fantasy that perhaps Trent could care for her, she'd never really considered the possibility realistically. It seemed far too unlikely to even entertain.
Did he want a relationship? Did he want to date her? Be her boyfriend? Oh God. A great uncertainty loomed over her head. Boyfriend. Relationship. She had complained earlier of being left alone by Jane, and yet now the thought of losing even more of her alone time to someone who was not Jane ruffled her feathers. Even if it was Trent. All the things boyfriends and girlfriends do ran through her mind. Dates. Going to the movies. Making out in random deserted parking spots on the sides of isolated country roads. Obligations to remember holidays, birthdays, anniversaries. Arguing bitterly over points of seemingly little consequence. Power struggles. Meeting the parents. Promise rings. His and hers cemetery plots...
Calm down, Morgandorffer, she urged herself, following Trent's lanky form through the living room towards the kitchen. Trent's not a creep, not a meat head. He doesn't want to dominate you, or demand things of you. The kiss was probably just a whim. It probably meant nothing.
Then she went on to experience an equal and opposite reaction: fear that Trent didn't really want her. What if it really had just been a whim of lust, unlikely as that seemed in her case? Maybe he'd liked that black dress from the weekend before, but she was back to her normal garb now. Nothing teasing or enticing here, she mused self deprecatingly, glancing down at her familiar green jacket and pleated skirt. Well, the lights were off, when he'd kissed her. Maybe that helped...
Trent and Daria mulled around the kitchen, digging out the pizza, plates, warming it in the microwave, sitting down at the table, all in silence. He could certainly sense something was bothering Daria, and he had a good guess what. Trent couldn't help but think, despite of how much they both seemed to enjoy the kiss, that perhaps he'd irresponsibly added an element of complication into their lives together. She'd liked him for a long time. He wasn't so oblivious as to miss that...so what now? Even if she thought that perhaps she wanted him as a boyfriend, he mused with something like regret, he knew that in reality, she really probably didn't. He was a little older than her. He was in a band, that dominated most of his waking hours. He was never on time, he was forgetful...and about a million other things that would probably drive her crazy, should she try a relationship with him. Especially as a first boyfriend, expectations can be unrealistically lofty. Romanticized. And eventually, disappointed. He didn't want to hurt her like that.
Daria was so cool, and so mature in most ways, that he easily forgot her true age. He certainly had at the moment he kissed her. But there was so much she had yet to learn, about relationships, and interacting with people...things time would teach. Did he really want to be the one to take that responsibility on? In a way it seemed like a bad idea, and yet, the thought of spending more time with Daria still intrigued him. So what was the right thing to do? Trent realized he had no idea.
Before he could ask Daria if she was ok, she looked up from her untouched pizza, thoughts whizzing past at hurricane speed behind her eyes. "Why did you kiss me?" she blurted out, tone as excited, or perhaps exacerbated, as he'd ever heard come from Daria. He hadn't expected quite that reaction, and his surprise lay clearly written across his face. Before he could answer, Daria sighed, exhaling some tension. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that. It's just...what now?"
Trent chewed thoughtfully, and swallowed his bite of pizza before answering honestly. "I don't know. Um...let me ask you. What do you want?"
Elbows on the table, Daria rested her face in her hands, releasing yet another long, lost, sigh. "I have no idea," she groaned.
Quietly, almost as though he were afraid of the answer, Trent asked, "Are you mad at me, for kissing you?"
Daria looked up from cradling her head in her hands to study Trent's expression. He gazed at her earnestly, trying to guess what was going through her head. Averting her gaze, she smiled shyly. "Uh...no. I liked that part...a lot."
Trent's lips curled in an unassuming smile. "Me too," he admitted. In his laid-back manner, he suggested, "Well, maybe if you have no idea what you want, and I have no idea what I want, then maybe we should keep it loose."
Raising an eyebrow, Daria asked almost suspiciously, "Loose, how?"
Patiently, Trent answered, "Loose like, I like you a lot, and I like being with you. You seem to feel the same about me. So when we feel like it, we could hang out or something."
Nodding slowly, Daria digested the suggestion. Trent could imagine the wheels of her mind turning over it, lightning fast, examining every angle. Finally, she admitted, "Yeah. I think I like that idea." This could be the beginning of something unique, and interesting. Yet, something she felt she could handle. It was funny, how awkward Daria felt when faced with the paces most ordinary people must be put through. And yet throw an odd situation her way, and she managed to feel comfortable.
Studying the musician across from her, the nerves subsiding, a tingling thrill slowly made it's way down her spine, spreading warmth as it went. Now that she was not faced with the imminent responsibility of turning her world upside down, she couldn't help but hope their next kiss would be soon. Meeting her gaze, Trent had much of the same thoughts. Coolest highschooler he knew, indeed.
