They say first impressions are everything. I’m not sure who they are exactly, but I’ve always lived by this saying and tonight is no different. I look at my reflection in the mirror and feel my confidence rise, even if there’s still a part of me that’s nervous about tonight.
I’m dressed in tight skinny jeans that show off my ass, my go-to ruby-red stilettos which are not only ridiculously comfortable for stilettos, but also incredibly fashionable with pretty much any outfit, a tight red tank top that hints at my cleavage without sending a come and get it message, and my favorite worn black leather jacket. I grab my clutch and head out to meet my Uber at the curb.
I’ve spent the last two days questioning my sanity. How could I have asked—okay, practically begged—Trent to be my dating coach?!
Trent of all people.
The same Trent I grew up with. The guy who was my brother’s best friend growing up, even when they had completely different interests. If someone had told me a week ago that I’d ask Trent Bridger to be my dating coach, I would’ve laughed in their face and then promptly flipped them off. I’ve already decided that I had momentary insanity when I suggested the idea to Trent. The more I’ve thought about it over the past couple of days, the more I realized the last thing I need right now is to be dating at all. I need some me time to reevaluate what I really want in a partner—and to make sure I don’t settle for less than what I deserve the next time I decide to date a guy.
But instead of bailing on tonight, I decided to still meet up with Trent because it’ll be nice just to spend some time with him and see how he’s changed over the years. I know he still talks to Will, but it’s been years since he and I have seen each other. And it’s been even longer since I’ve been back to our old neighborhood. That feels like someone else’s life sometimes. We’ve all come so far since those days—Will’s now a famous pro football player, and Trent is getting panties tossed at him while he performs on world famous stages.
And yet, he still seemed like the down-to-earth guy he’s always been when we hung out at the coffee shop. I hope he is still that guy, and that it wasn’t just a fluke. It’ll be awkward if he turns out to be an asshole himself, since my boss announced yesterday that I’m going to be the point person for all the PR for the Rapturous Intent documentary.
I slide out of my Uber in front of the trendy bar in Hollywood. It’s clear the city is trying to clean up this stretch of Hollywood, but the faint scent of urine that seems like a fixture of this area still permeates the air.
The door opens to a platform with a set of stairs on the left going up and another set on the right going down. A sign in the middle signals that upstairs is a comedy club, while downstairs is the bar. A smaller black chalkboard sign sits at the top of the stairs leading to the bar and says, “Trivia Night—know-it-alls welcome, but leave your condescending attitude at the door.”
Sassy. Interesting.
I carefully step down the stairs, not wanting to trip in my heels and make the least graceful entrance possible. The moment my feet land on the last step, I glance up and immediately see Trent and his brother, Tristan. Trent’s bodyguard sits discreetly behind them, sipping on a water as his gaze watches all the patrons in the room. Trent’s cerulean-blue eyes instantly light up the minute he sees me, and it’s impossible to stop my lips from spreading into a huge, giddy smile. His face is open and honest, and it’s something I didn’t realize I’d missed until now. When I get to their table, he stands to greet me, and I give him a quick hug before turning to Tristan.
“Hey, Tris! It’s been ages; how the hell are you?” I ask as I lean toward him and give him a hug. Tristan has filled out a lot since the last time I saw him in person.
“I’m good, just doing the band thing.”
I let out a small laugh. The band thing makes it sound so small compared to how big they’ve gotten in the past few years. You’re no longer a small band when you’ve made it on the cover of Rolling Stone Magazine.
“Where are Robbie and Jo? I’m surprised they’re not here. You guys were always attached at the hip.” Robbie and Tristan have been best friends for as long as I can remember. Wherever one went, the other was right there too. I wondered if things would change when Robbie fell head over heels in love with Jolie when they were fifteen, but she never got between them. It didn’t surprise me when Robbie married her five years later, although I could never in a million years imagine getting married at only twenty. Hell, I just turned twenty-six and it’s only in the last year that I started feeling like I was ready to settle down and get married. Of course, that’s when I thought I’d be settling down with Brad.
Ugh, fuck that guy.
“Jolie’s got the flu, so they stayed home tonight.” Thank God for Tristan, or else who knows where my thoughts would’ve spiraled to.
“Bummer. Well, maybe another time we can all get together. It’d be great to see everyone from the old neighborhood.”
“Kasen and Miles would’ve come, but Kasen decided to go to a party in the Hills, and Miles thought he might need a chaperone,” Trent explains.
“Since when does Kase need a chaperone?”
Trent and Tristan share a look that tells me there’s a lot more going on than they’re willing to say. They do that brother thing where they have a complete conversation with just their eyes before Trent turns to me and says, “We can’t really talk about it.”
“Got it. I’m not quite in the trust circle yet, right?”
Trent looks increasingly uncomfortable and shoots another look to Tristan, who simply responds, “Something like that. We’ve learned not everyone can be trusted, even when we’ve known them since we were kids.”
I turn a questioning look to Trent. He sighs heavily and rubs his neck. “You remember Jesse, Miles’s brother?”
“Yeah, what about him?”
“He sold a story to the tabloids back when we were first starting to take off,” Trent says.
“He sold out his own brother?”
“People do a lot of stupid shit for drug money,” Tristan says, disdain dripping from every word. His gaze is hard, and his hands are gripping his beer bottle so tightly that his knuckles are starting to turn white. I’m reminded that their mom chose drugs over them, which led to them living with their aunt and uncle—which was probably the best thing for them both since their uncle was a great guy and the one who got them started with music.
“I’m so sorry you guys had to go through that. I get the hesitancy to share. It’s no big deal. I don’t need to know.”
Trent’s deep blue eyes shine with a look I can’t quite describe—maybe a mix between curiosity, respect, and appreciation. He opens his mouth like he wants to say something but is interrupted by the emcee for tonight’s trivia night.
“Welcome, everyone, it’s nineties night, which means all the trivia questions are nineties themed. Let’s hope you remember the decade that is coming back with a vengeance. So, just a reminder how tonight goes. Each table is a team, but no table can have more than six people. All trivia questions will be displayed on the monitors—there are three, one back at the bar, and then one on each side of the stage—and on the tablets at your table, which is also where you’ll input your answers.” He points to each of the monitors and uses the table closest to him to point out the tablet that looks like a really thick iPad. “There will be five rounds with five questions each, and we’ll update the standings after each round. Any questions?”
When no one says anything, he smiles and says, “Then let the games begin! What 1990s teen movie was retitled after a song by Britney Spears?”
Oh shit, I know this!
I grab the tablet and input Drive Me Crazy. I look up at Trent and Tristan who are staring at me with matching bemused expressions. “This game was made for me. I love everything about the nineties. The music, the sitcoms. They don’t make ’em like that anymore.”
“Lock in those answers!” the emcee shouts as all the monitors start displaying a red pulsing screen and a countdown. When it hits zero, all the answers entered on the tablets pop up. Correct answers are shown in green and incorrect answers in red. Our table and two others got the correct answer. I beam at both the guys, and Trent smiles wide.
“Alright, folks, next question. What was the first animated feature film to be nominated for a Best Picture Oscar?”
Both Trent and Tristan immediately look at me, eagerly awaiting my answer. “Oh, come on, is this whole game going to be on my shoulders?”
“Hey, you’re the one who said you love the nineties. We’re just letting the queen do her thing,” Trent says with a smile that is far sexier than it should be.
Wait, no. Not sexy. I cannot find Trent sexy. He’s a rock star. His life is spent touring and being surrounded by gorgeous women. He’s not the stable, put-together guy I’m looking for. He may not be an asshole, but he’s still not what I need. Besides, I came here tonight determined to firmly reestablish our friendship, not flirt with him.
“Okay, fine. Uh, give me a minute.” I’m thrown off. God, I can’t believe I thought Trent was sexy. I haven’t had the hots for him since we were teens. Now is not the time for this.
I start thinking about the question and all the random, typically useless trivia I have about the nineties in my head. Animated feature in the nineties will most likely be a Disney movie. Despite the fact I work in the film industry now—at least in some capacity—I was never all that invested in the Oscars, so I have no idea.
I shrug my shoulders. “I’m at a loss, guys.”
“Beauty and the Beast,” Tristan says casually.
Trent and I both stare at him, our mouths gaping slightly.
“What?” He shrugs like it’s no big deal. “It was Jolie’s favorite. She loved the library.”
The monitors start blinking red and I quickly type it in. When the results show up, Tristan’s answer turns out to be the correct one.
“Wow, that was impressive.”
“If it has to do with Jo, Tristan knows all about it,” Trent says before taking a sip of his water.
Tristan shoots him a glare but doesn’t say anything. Clearly I’m missing something, but I decide not to press. We finish the round, only missing one question out of the five, when the emcee announces there will be a five-minute break.
“I thought you were here to hook Becka up with someone. Seems you’re slacking,” Tristan says.
Trent’s jaw—his very defined jaw with just the slightest hint of stubble—clenches before he looks around the room. He tilts his chin and gives a small nod to a group of guys two tables away from us.
“What do you think of the blond guy? That’s Cooper. He’s a good guy.”
“Blond guys aren’t really my type.”
“Ah, right. You like them tall, dark, and preppy.”
I’d take offense, but that’s exactly the type of guy I’ve dated pretty much my entire life. Trent might be the closest to “bad boy” that I’ve ever liked and that was so long ago, I doubt it counts. Not to mention, Trent may look like a bad boy, but he’s far from it. The more time we spend together, the more I can tell that my initial judgment was correct. He’s still a good guy.
“Alright, what about the brunette next to him? That’s Scott.” Trent turns to Tristan. “Scott’s still single, right?”
Tristan nods. “I’m pretty sure.”
“He’s a good guy. Works for a tech firm and only does serious relationships. I don’t think I’ve ever known the guy to have a one-night stand.”
Tristan excuses himself to go get us all another round of waters, and I take the opportunity to be honest with Trent. I fold my hands on the table and lean forward. “Actually, as much as I appreciate you agreeing to be my dating coach, I’ve been thinking about it the past few days and think it’d be better if I take a break from dating. Give myself a reset and all that.”
His body mirrors mine, and it reminds me of when we would sit in the cafeteria together and swap stories about our days across the table. “That’s not a bad idea. That’s what I’ve been doing too.”
“I, uh, I read about your breakup a few months ago. I’m sorry.” My cheeks flush because I totally just gave away the fact that I’ve been watching his band, or at least news about him.
He shrugs it off. “I should’ve seen the signs sooner. And I’m not at all surprised that the news blew up the way it did. I’m sure she fueled those flames. She loved the attention.”
“How’d you two get together anyway? Liv Warren seems like the complete opposite of you.” Liv Warren is an actress who’s notoriously high-maintenance.
“It started out as a publicity stunt for her new movie. One of our songs was on the soundtrack, and the studio was looking to hype up some excitement for the film. Her costar was already engaged or else they probably would’ve considered putting him and her together. Either way, I was single and the timing worked, so I said okay. But I guess I was never that good at acting, and even though she’s outrageous in front of the camera, she was more down-to-earth behind closed doors. We spent a lot of time together when we didn’t have to and decided to make it real. We dated for a few months before I realized she was just acting.”
“You don’t think any of it was real.”
He leans back against the seat and tilts his head up at the ceiling before looking back at me. “I can’t be sure anymore. I look back on our time together, and I can’t tell what was real and what was fake. I think that’s what pissed me off so much. I’d never doubted myself like that in a relationship, and I didn’t like feeling like what I thought was real was just some step up the ladder for her.”
He picks at the edge of his beer bottle—the only one he’s had all night—his mouth turned down in a frown that makes me want to move to his side of the booth and hug him.
“I’m so sorry you had to go through that, Trent. You didn’t deserve to be treated that way.”
Once again he shrugs it off. “Just remind me never to date anyone famous again, okay?”
He’s talking like I’ll be around to advise him on his love life, and I admit it thrills me that we both seem to be needing our friendship again.
“Do you have much free time before you leave for tour? I’ll admit I don’t know all the prep it takes to get ready for a tour.”
“I’ll have some. Why?”
“Want to hang out with me? I could really use a good friend these days, and I didn’t realize how much I’d missed you.”
His lips quirk up in a smile and his blue eyes shine. “I’d love that—more than you could ever know.”