You Don't Want Me Back. Trust Me.

I stared blankly at the sheet of drawing paper, the charcoal 7B barely held between my fingers. 'I'm such an Idiot.' This was the same piece of paper I had pulled out nearly two hours ago. The fall festival was coming up, no less then a week later would be the yearly anticipated Fashion Design Contest.

Despite my father's noticeable influence setting up the event, I was still able to enter. Our judges were editors, photographers, and designers from many fashion magazines on the west coast. They were randomly selected by those Magazine's to judge and document the event, another way for new and upcoming designers to get noticed. Despite every effort to make the event an equal opportunity for all, the first four years I entered were filled with rumors of my father pulling strings to see me placed. Last year I had finally taken first, and for once the rumors died down. Second place had gone to Brayden's design.

Groaning I dropped my head onto the desk. 'Why can't I stop thinking about him?'

'Why did I let him kiss me?'

I couldn't move that night. Paralyzed by hope and disbelief. Brayden wasn't just any boy. He was my first boyfriend. And when you date someone for two years. . You want to believe you know them, that you can trust them.

'Do I still trust him?'

A smile spread across my lips recalling Isabella's shocked face as she barged out onto the balcony holding a plate of cake. Moments later that cake splattered all over Brayden's back as he moved to shield me. I don't know who was more shocked that he risked his clothes, Brayden was incredibly sensitive about his clothes.

Seething and at a loss for words Isabella stormed away. Shocked by the kiss and her reaction I left quickly after, not trusting myself with Brayden any longer. He followed me out the front of the house, catching my arm, but I pulled away leaving him with, “I need time.”

'I – Don't – Know – What – To – Do!' I beat out each thought with my forehead against the surface. Someone cleared their throat near by. I quickly sat up to find Trevor leaning against the door of my office. He tilted his head looking at me puzzled.

“I was just – tired,” I blurted out smoothing my hair back with one hand while leaning over the paper, one arm in front to block the nothing that was there.

'No fooling Trevor..'

He grasped the corner of the paper tugging it gently out from under my arm. Giving up I released it and sat back, eyes averted to the calendar beside my desk. Father had given the office to me as a premature graduation gift, my future as a Knight Designer was not something anyone questioned.

“Anything you need to talk about?” Trevor asked sliding the empty paper back to me before siting down on the desk corner.

“It's nothing. Just a bit of artists block,” I mumbled irritably crossing my legs.

“Okay than,” he stood up and walked out. Biting my lip, I couldn't help but feel guilty.

Trevor was like an old brother to me. There was no one my father trusted more. “My Unofficial Son,” Darren Knight had once called Trevor.

Trevor's father had been Knight's silent business partner for years, until a car accident four years back. Though Trevor didn't share any of his father's interest in art or fashion he had a head for business. That was enough for Knight to pull him on board for a grueling training in the business.

“Men deal with grief by working,” he told me when I first questioned his motives. It seemed to be true enough, but even I was surprised when he took it a step further and invited Trevor to live with us. Like me his mother died while he was young, and being only only 20 years old at the time Trevor needed a place to stay and someone to look out for him. Despite his initial dark moods, I broke through months after he moved in. With no other sibling it was a nice change to have someone else at home other than a Father who spent most of his time there on the phone. We became something closer then friends over the next few years.

Which was why I wasn't surprised when he walked through the door again with my coat saying, “Let's get a bite to eat.”

The restaurant was busy enough. I ordered my usual salad while Trevor asked for the stake and a beer. Playing with the napkins while we waited I tried to ignore the feel of Trevor's gaze burning on my face.

“If you don't want to talk about it . . I'll understand, but you and I both know Knight's don't have artist block,” he spoke finally, breaking the silence.

“So my father would have the world believe,” I smiled slightly placing the swan, my napkin creation, on the palm of my hand. Trevor's sky blue eyes watched me on either side of the swan's body, not buying the distraction. He had this unnerving ability to make me spill any and all secrets, and looked more determined than usual.

The ringing of my cell phone broke our gaze and I fled his eyes to search my purse, the cliché line 'saved by the bell' running through my head untill I saw BRAYDEN surrounded by hearts on the screen. Hitting the Ignore button I dropped it back into the purse, picking up the cup of water instead.

Trevor, looking oddly smug pulled a pack of cigarets from his jacket. Rolling my eyes I picked up the small sign on the table and flashed the words 'No Smoking' to him. After lighting his smoke he tossed the lighter on the table, took the sign from my fingers and tossed it onto a table near by.

I settled for shooting him an annoyed expression as I sat back again, praying we wouldn't get kicked out. Something I was certain would happen to him one day. His bad boy attitude was something that had developed since his fathers death. Call it a coping mechanism or whatever you will, it could be damn annoying at times. But Trevor wasn't always this way, he could be incredibly sweet.. when he wanted too.

“So you and Brayden fighting?” I looked back at him startled, and instantly flushed. “I'll take that as a yes,” he smiled exhaling away from me.

“It's a little more complicated then that,” I murmured too distracted by the restaurant staff talking and pointing in our direction to be angry. 'Perfect'

“All relationships are complicated, Tiffy,” he returned with that annoying 'know it all' tone. “Need me to rough him up for you?”

“Always the Big Brother, huh?” I laughed nervously, eyes confirming our fate. 'Yup, two waitresses were headed our way.'

“So what did he do? Confess he loves you for your money? Forget to send flowers? Cheat on you?”

I imagined him boiling in oil as the waitresses stood on either side of our table. The nice looking blond picked up the 'No Smoking' sign from the other table, while the older red head with glasses held out an ash tray.

“Mr. Blunt, if you could refrain from smoking inside the restaurant,” the red head spoke civilly placing the ash tray in front of him. The blonde handed her the sign which she dropped pointedly by the ash tray. Trevor took his eyes off me to examine them both, he smothered the cigarette in the ash tray giving the blonde a wink. “Thank you, Mr. Blunt,” the red head picked up the tray and walked away. The blonde, after flashing Trevor a smile, followed her.

“So which is it?” Trevor asked after watching the blonde's rear walk away. “The flowers or cheating?”

“Not everyone is an Alice,” I snapped flicking the swan across the table at him. He tensed at the mention of his Ex. 'Strike. Good, you deserve it for being an Ass.' I thought sliding my purse up my shoulder as I stood. “Want some more free advise? Go for the red head, she'll have more to offer you then a cup size and a nice piece of ass.”

I caught the taxi home. Dropped by father's study for a good night kiss and took a long shower. After 30 minutes under hot water I still didn't have an answer.

Why do all men become assholes around women?