“You need to answer me now,” he said.
Despite the firmness of his words, his tone was nothing but gentle. He put his hands on my shoulders and peered into my eyes. Instinctively, I leaned closer.
“Tell me what keeps happening,” he said.
I hung my head, and my shoulders drooped. Trent’s hands coursed down my arms until he found my fingers and interlocked them with his. He gave my hands a reassuring squeeze, and I knew I had to tell him.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN:
Crazy Train
“I’M NOT SURE I CAN EXPLAIN IT.” My palms were sweaty in his hands, but I couldn’t force myself to let go of him. Something about his touch grounded me, and right now, I needed something stable.
“You have to try.” His voice was insistent, borderline demanding.
“If I do, will you do the same? Will you tell me what you know?”
Reluctantly, he nodded.
I took a deep breath, struggling to find the words for something that made no sense. Trent remained unmoving, his gaze never wavering. I studied him, desperate to understand who he really was and why I was so drawn to him. His face reddened, like his skin was getting sunburnt right before my eyes.
I tilted my head. “Are you okay?” I asked, leaning closer. “Your face…”
He dropped my hands and turned away from me. “I’m sensitive to sunlight.” Then he moved faster than anyone I’d ever seen move back to the driver’s side door. “C’mon, let’s sit in the car and talk.”
Slowly, I got back into the car. He’d turned the AC up on high, and the frigid air blasted me as I settled into my seat.
“You sure you’re okay?” I asked.
“I’m fine. Now, please stop stalling, and tell me what’s happening.”
“I told you. I don’t think I can. It’s… weird.” I adjusted my seat so I was pushed all the way back from the dashboard. “It’s like déjà vu, but it’s not. I have this sensation that I’m reliving the same moment or conversation. I have the slight dizziness and disorientation that comes with déjà vu, but…”
“But what?” His tone was encouraging, and the inside of the car suddenly felt a little too cozy.
“But whatever moment or conversation that’s happening… it feels more like an actual memory. Which makes sense, I guess, if Jaxon is telling me the truth about knowing you.” I sliced a look at him, but he remained stoic, waiting for me to continue.
“Everything about the memories, or whatever they are, are so vivid. I can smell things and hear things and feel things. It’s like I’m really there.” With a sigh, I rested my head on the back of the seat and closed my eyes.
“What things?”
My eyes popped open, and I glanced at him. “What?”
“What feelings do you experience?”
“Seriously, Trent?” I rolled my eyes.
“What?” he asked innocently.
“What feelings do I experience?” I said in a mocking tone.
He nodded.
My frustration built, and I turned to stare out the passenger’s window. How could I tell him what feelings I had during these episodes? He’d never understand. I already felt like I’d boarded the crazy train, and it was a one-way trip with no stops. I didn’t need him confirming I was crazy.
“Chloe?” He took my hand. “It’s okay. You can tell me.”
I still couldn’t look at him, though. “Mostly confusion. But sometimes there’s more. Like this sense of complete safety and…” I chewed on my lip and slowly turned my head toward him. “Love. I have these really intense feelings of love. For you.”
Trent’s expression didn’t show any emotion—none—not even shock.
I stared at him in disbelief, and a silent stare-off ensued. Why wasn’t he saying anything? Surely, dropping the big “L” word on him like that must have freaked him out.
“Thank you for telling me,” he finally said.
I jerked my hand from his. “You have got to be kidding me. That’s really all you have to say to me right now?”
A wave of dizziness hit me, making my head spin and my stomach roll. Yanking the handle along the side of the seat, I reclined it and squeezed my eyes shut.
I tried to force all thoughts from my mind, to center myself until this feeling passed. But it wasn’t going away. In fact, it became stronger. Nausea coiled and twisted around in my gut. I inhaled several deep breaths through my mouth.
Thank you for telling me.
I’d heard those words before. From Trent. But that wasn’t possible, was it? I couldn’t have possibly forgotten him or entire conversation we might have had. Right?
Trent reclined his seat, too, the sound causing me to snap out of it. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. When my heart calmed, I once again looked at him. He was so handsome it physically hurt.
“Now it’s your turn. Do you ever experience anything like this?” I whispered.
“No.” He gazed up at the roof of the car, unblinking. “But I do feel… different around you.”
“Different?” I shifted so I was almost on my side in the seat, and I tucked my hands under the side of my face. “Different how?”
He mimicked my position—which was quite the sight considering the steering wheel was in his way. But he’d managed it, and every movement was graceful. He could make a ballerina envious with the way he moved.
“It means I’m drawn to you, Chloe. Completely and inexplicably.” He coursed his fingers along my cheek, leaving a trail of goose bumps. “And I can’t stand that you’re with Simon.”
I laughed—I couldn’t help it. The way Trent said Simon’s name was equal parts disgust and jealousy.
“Simon’s actually really nice, but we’re not together.”
“Nice is boring.” Trent shifted over onto his back again and folded his hands on his stomach.
We fell silent, and I let his words tumble around my mind. Simon was nice, and until Trent
