Page 19 of Ordinary Secrets (Secrets Trilogy #1)

19

ARELLA

Trey’s bruises sure healed quickly. When he comes to pick me up, the shiner on his face is gone. The gashes on his knuckles have disappeared, too. His injuries were worse than mine, yet my face is still purple. It’s only been three days. How did he heal so fast?

“Did you drink some magic potion or something?” I joke as he ushers me into his kitchen with a hand on the small of my back. I barely flinched when he placed his hand there, and I’m pretty proud of myself for it.

“Magic potion?” He drops his hand from my back, and I kind of wish he hadn’t.

“Yeah, to heal your knuckles.”

He flexes his fingers, staring at the places where the gashes used to be. “They weren’t that bad.”

Maybe, but his hand looks brand-new . . .

With a waggle of his eyebrows, he says, “So, am I allowed to classify tonight as a date?”

“Is that what you want?” I smile back and set my purse on his black countertop.

“I only want to call this a date if you want to call this a date.”

I nod a little too eagerly. “I’d like that.”

“Great!” He flashes me one of the biggest grins I’ve ever seen on a man. “For our date, do you wanna teach me how to bake?”

I perk up. “Really?”

We spend some time picking out a recipe online. After we decide on something easy, I teach him how to correctly measure out flour.

“When baking,” I say as I dump the spooned white fluff into a mixing bowl, “you usually want to put the dry ingredients into the bowl first. Then you add the wet ingredients after you make a well.”

“Make a what?” He’s cute when he doesn’t have any idea what he’s doing.

“Here, I’ll show you.” After I measure out a few more dry ingredients into the bowl, I show him how to make a well.

He scoffs. “That’s it? It’s just a hole in the middle with a fancy name.”

I laugh as I pour in the wet ingredients, and then I gesture for him to mix it all together. “You don’t bake very often, do you?”

He takes the bowl. “I’ve never baked anything at all.”

“Um...” I gesture at all the baking supplies scattered across his countertop. “You sure have a lot of baking tools for someone who never bakes.”

“I just bought all this shit last night.”

“Why?”

“Because I read on Google that baking can be a fun date activity. You love baking, so I figured you’d like this.”

I laugh, slapping my palm against the counter. “Wait! You Googled date ideas?”

“Yeah...” He looks away sheepishly. “I’ve never done this before. I’m clueless, and Professor Google has never let me down.”

“You’ve never done what before?”

“Date.”

That can’t be true. “How many girlfriends have you had?”

“Eh. Let’s not talk about that.” Trey passes me the bowl, then picks up his phone and pretends to read the snickerdoodle recipe.

“That many, huh?” The dough isn’t completely incorporated yet, so I resume mixing it.

“No. I just didn’t invite you over to talk about other women.”

“Sorry, I was just curious.”

Trey steps around to the other side of the island and takes a seat on one of the barstools. “How ’bout this? For every personal question you ask me, I get to ask you one.”

“Deal. I’ll start. How many girlfriends have you had?”

“Just one.”

That’s it? One seems low for a guy with a face like his. Although, to him, women he’s slept with and women he’s called his girlfriend are probably two different things.

“How long did that relationship last?”

“Nuh-uh.” He wiggles a finger. “You’re jumping ahead of the game here, Miss Rance. I believe it’s my turn.” He thinks while I line the baking sheet with some parchment paper. “Did you take your mom’s last name or your dad’s?”

“They got married before I was born, so technically, I have both their last names.” Between my palms, I roll some dough into an inch-wide ball, dip it into the cinnamon sugar, then place it onto the parchment. “So how long did your relationship last?”

Trey digs his fingers into the dough and repeats my process. “Shit, I dunno. I think Jess and I made it, like, three months.”

“Do you still talk to her?”

“Not really. And now, I get two questions. First: You mentioned that your parents worked together. Do you know which company they worked for?”

“No...” I don’t understand why Trey is so interested in my family. I suppose since he doesn’t have a family of his own, it’s reasonable to be curious about mine, but he asks about my family a lot.

“Second question: Have you ever Googled your parents?”

“No . . .” I narrow my eyes. “Should I?”

“Nah.” He rolls out another dough ball. “I was just wondering ’cause I Googled mine recently.”

“Did you find anything interesting?”

“Not really, and now it’s your turn.”

“Okay.” I’ve been thinking about this topic a lot, so the question comes easily. “Your bad-boy habits. All the fighting, drugs, and girls, and stuff... has it stopped?”

“That’s a hard question. If you wanna know when I stopped doing drugs, it was about two years ago. The fighting stopped around then, I think. As for the girls, I’ll still occasionally enjoy a good time here and there. I mean, if the opportunity presents itself.”

It makes me happy to know he’s been clean for two years. I’m not happy to know he still sleeps around, although I’m not surprised. “What changed you?”

We roll out a few more snickerdoodle balls before Trey finally looks at me. “Two things. First: music. The first time I picked up a guitar, I was hooked. Whenever I play, my mind feels less... chaotic. When I moved out of my hometown, I left my guitar behind, and it all went downhill from there.

“A few years later, I came to LA and met Kevin in a guitar store. We got to talking, and he told me about his dream to play in a band. I said I wanted to help him live his dream. So we started our band, picking up Marcus, Emmy, and Liz along the way. Once everything took off for us, I decided it was what I wanted to focus on, so I dropped the bad habits.”

I finish rolling out the last doughball, then turn on the sink to wash my hands. Trey comes up beside me, running his palms under the faucet too.

“What was the second thing that changed you?”

“Liz.” He doesn’t offer any further explanation, and it makes the jealous green monster awaken inside me. Liz seems to be important to him. I know they’re close. I just wish I knew exactly how close.

Are they the type of friends who come with benefits? Judging from the way the Internet talks about them, yes. Liz kept glaring at him for talking to me and not her at his house party, so I wouldn’t be surprised if they have a past.

Trey dries his hands off on a towel, then leans his back against the counter. “Liz taught me that shit happens and you’ve got two choices. You can either let it bring you down or build you up. While the things she and I went through are completely different, they are equally as shitty, yet there I was, getting high and drunk and fucking faceless women, while Liz moved halfway across the country by herself to pursue her dreams in dance. If Liz can go through her battles and still make something of herself, why can’t I?”

I stick the baking sheet into the preheated oven, then set the oven timer. “It sounds like she made a huge impact on you.”

“Yeah, but don’t tell her that. She’ll get all mushy, and I hate it.”

With a chuckle, I toss all the dirty baking supplies into the sink. “ Sure you do. I bet on the inside, you secretly like it.”

“I plead the fifth.” His tiny smile confirms that I’m right. Then his smile dips into a light scowl as he gestures at his black countertops sprinkled in flour. “Damn, babe. You really know how to make a mess ’round here.”

I run the dough-covered rubber spatula under the water. “It’s baking. Messes are necessary.”

“Maybe this is why I don’t bake.”

I don’t even think about it. My hand simply digs itself into the bag of flour and plops it onto his countertop.

Trey’s mouth pops open. “Oh, hell no!” In one swift motion, his hand flies into the flour, and he throws a handful onto my chest.

I gasp, jumping back as white dust flutters to my feet. “Hey!”

I reach for the flour again, but he snatches it first. With a sly look, he dashes around the other side of the island.

I chase him, giggling. “Give that back!”

“Not a chance. If you wanna make a mess in my kitchen, then baby, we will make a mess.”

He flings another handful of flour across the island at me. I put my hands up to block, but I’m too late. Flour lands all over my hair and dress. More of it flurries onto the floor.

I cross my arms over my chest with a pout. “I’m covered in it.”

It only takes him a second to cave. Instantly, he’s back at my side, setting the flour bag down. “I’m sorry, babe. I’ll help you get it out.” Gently, he shakes some of the white powder off my dress.

Too easy. My hand goes straight into the bag, and flour flies into his face. “Ha! Gotcha!”

A slow grin spreads across his lips as his tongue runs along the inside of his mouth. “Damn. I shoulda seen that comin’.”

As he wipes the flour off his face, I laugh hysterically. “I can’t believe you fell for that.”

Trey goes motionless, staring at me. I see it in his eyes—the moment his willpower snaps. Before I can get a word out, he shoves the hair from my face, and then his lips devour mine.