11. Natasha
11
NATASHA
“ W atch out for that pothole!”
“I see it,” I said, gritting my teeth as I steered the U-Haul around the hole, wincing until I was sure we’d cleared it. Every little bump in the road could be enough to make this thing combust. This particular U-Haul was a temperamental beast. Frankly, I had no idea how we’d made it this far without breaking down, but I never wanted to drive anything like it again. “I don’t know why you agreed to rent this hunk of junk.”
“The guy told me it was fine!” Trent said for the fifth time since we’d set off. I’d been complaining about it a lot . “And I was under a little bit of a time crunch.”
“You could have rescheduled the drop-off with me.”
“You’d already spent half your weekend waiting around.”
“I just don’t understand how you even got it out of the parking lot,” I said.
“With some finesse and a prayer.”
“I hope you got liability insurance.” He snorted. I glanced over at him. Oh, right . The guy could buy an entire fleet of U-Hauls if he wanted. Actually, he’d probably thank me for running this one off the road. “Which dorm is Jimmy’s again?”
“Whitman College.” Trent gestured ahead of us. “Southwest side of campus. Look for Elm Drive.”
“Right,” I said. This campus was freaking huge, but luckily Trent had been here before to drop Jimmy off, so he knew exactly where he was going.
“That’s it there,” he said, pointing out a residential complex designed in that signature collegiate Gothic style—a style I adored. It was all arched windows and spires that reminded me a little of a castle. Furniture ideas spiraled through my mind. I wondered if Dee wanted a throne.
“Stop,” Trent said suddenly.
I shoved my foot down on the brake, pulling over to the side of the road, giving a little cheer when I managed to stop the truck without it imploding. I looked out Trent’s window. There was a kid sitting on the curb. He stood as Trent opened his door. I assumed this was Jimmy. He had the same dark hair as Trent, but was shorter and lankier, like he hadn’t quite grown into himself yet.
Trent left his door open as Jimmy threw himself into his arms, sobbing on his shoulder. Man, this kid was taking this poor grade really hard.
“I…I don’t know what I did wrong,” he cried, his breathing choppy. “I even went in for office hours to make sure I understood the assignment.”
“It’s okay, Jimmy,” Trent said. “One bad grade isn’t going to derail your entire college career. Trust me. You’ve heard about the things the guys and I got up to in college. I had my fair share of bad grades. It didn’t stop me from doing anything I wanted to do.”
Jimmy sniffled. “What if it does though? What if this is how it starts falling apart? What if I’m not smart enough for this school?”
“Hey,” Trent said, giving his shoulders a little shake. “Hey! You’re plenty smart enough for this place. In fact, you might be too smart.”
Jimmy snorted. “That’s not what my professor thinks.”
“That’s one man with an opinion,” Trent said.
“One man who matters.”
Trent waved him off. Jimmy dabbed at his eyes with his sleeves. “I’m sorry for being so much trouble.”
“You’re not any trouble at all,” Trent said, his voice almost a growl. “I will always be here for you whenever you need me. Now. At two in the morning. Whenever. You know that. Right?”
Jimmy nodded. “Right.”
The conviction with which Trent spoke made my heart clench. Whatever his relationship was with his parents, he was clearly a very devoted brother.
“Wait…” Jimmy said, glancing up at the truck. “Why the hell’d you come to campus in a U-Haul?”
Trent grimaced. “I, uh…was in the middle of a supply delivery. To Natasha.” He gestured to me, and Jimmy blinked like he’d only just noticed I was there.
I got out of the truck, walking around the front of it.
Jimmy straightened up, fluffing his hair. He looked a little embarrassed.
“Hi,” I said, smiling at the poor kid.
“Jimmy, this is Natasha, a new designer at the company,” Trent explained. “She’s also the one who’s making the new pieces of furniture for Nana Dee. Remember I told you?”
“Yeah. Nice to meet you,” Jimmy said. “I still don’t get why you made her drive this hunk of metal all the way here, though.”
“I hurt my hand,” Trent grumbled, lifting the bandage. “Natasha was kind enough to offer to drive.”
“I have my license but not a car to offer, which is why we’ve both been trapped in this death machine,” I said to Jimmy.
He laughed a bit. “You didn’t see me crying, did you?”
I opened my mouth, closed it. Gave him a wry smile.
“Nice,” he muttered, his cheeks flushing.
Aww, he was adorable. “Don’t worry about it. Your brother was almost in tears when I had to bandage him up.”
“I was not!” Trent shot me a dirty look.
Jimmy snickered.
“How about we all go for dinner?” Trent suggested. “And Natasha stops making up lies?”
“As long as we’re walking,” Jimmy said, eyeing the U-Haul suspiciously. “I can’t be seen with the two of you in that.”
We settled on La Casa Del Taco, a small, brightly decorated Mexican restaurant near campus. It was bustling with students, but we managed to snag a table in the corner of the room. A giant jaguar was painted along the wall.
“The beer here is great,” Jimmy said, picking up his menu.
“Been here before?” Trent asked.
“A couple times.” His gaze snapped in Trent’s direction, and he ducked his head sheepishly. “I mean, not that I’ve tried the beer. Some of my friends have. The ones old enough to drink. It comes highly recommended.”
“We’ve all been there, Jimmy,” Trent said. “I’m not gonna lecture you. Just be careful, like we talked about.”
I agreed it was better not to pretend Jimmy wasn’t drinking with his friends on campus. He was underage, but when had that stopped college kids? The waitress came and dropped off some tortilla chips and salsa before taking our orders.
“Anyway, I also took a girl on a date here,” Jimmy said.
“You’ve already been on a date?” Trent said, his eyebrows arching. “How? You’re only a month into term.”
“Because some of us actually have game,” Jimmy insisted, laughing when Trent’s jaw dropped in mock indignation.
“Oh, is that how it is?” Trent swatted at him, but Jimmy was quick and dodged.
“That’s how it is,” he taunted.
Trent flicked a piece of tortilla chip at him as Jimmy snickered.
I couldn’t help but laugh. Jimmy was sweet and funny and fun, bringing out another side of Trent. It was similar to the way Trent was with his friends, but there was more sweetness to it. More tenderness and protectiveness.
“Where’d you meet this girl?” Trent asked.
Jimmy waggled his brows. “Study hall.”
“As if.”
“No, like we actually met in the library.”
Trent snorted.
“Seriously. I’m in there every day. One night, I was studying late, headphones in, and I didn’t realize they’d started to lock up. She was there too, both of us running for the door. That’s how we started talking.”
“In the library every day?” I asked. “That’s a lot of studying.”
“I need to,” Jimmy said. “If I fall behind, I won’t be able to catch up. You know we started the term and immediately had readings due? And assignments that first week.” He shook his head like he still couldn’t believe it. “There was no time to settle in or anything.” He started drumming his fingers on the table, cycling between that and picking apart the wrapper his drink straw came in. He tore it up into tiny pieces without noticing. “It’s just go, go, go with the work, and some of the readings are so long, man.”
“I mean…I think it’s okay to take a night off every now and then,” I said, glancing at Trent, worried. No wonder Jimmy had been crying when we’d gotten here, if this was the kind of pressure he was under.
Jimmy sighed. “There’s no way I could do that. I knew there was gonna be a jump from high school to college, I just didn’t realize how big of one. It’s almost impossible to get ahead. It used to be so easy for me.”
I wanted to reach across the table and squeeze his hand. As sweet as Jimmy was, it was clear he was a little bit of a mess too.
“Well, tell me what else you’ve been up to,” Trent said, obviously trying to take his mind off the intense academic expectations.
Jimmy shrugged. “That’s literally it. Just classes and the library on repeat. Unless I’m out with friends. But I’ve got to cut that down.”
“Been out more than usual lately?” Trent asked.
Jimmy’s smile flattened into a thin line.
Ah . Now we were getting somewhere.
“I’m just so stressed all the time. Hanging with the guys helps take the edge off.”
“So you’re partying more than normal?” Trent said.
Jimmy slumped against the table, propping his head up with his hand. “I guess. It’s just…more fun than trying to make sense of some of the readings or trying to pay attention in class when I don’t get what’s happening anyway.”
“Are your classes not interesting?” I asked, wondering if that was the problem.
“No,” he said, frustrated. “I guess…It’s more that I never had to work this hard at anything before.”
Okay, so he was frustrated with himself for not picking up course material as quickly as he did in high school. My heart went out to him. “Do you think maybe it’s time to update your learning style?”
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Maybe there’s a student resource center where they could give you some tips.”
Trent looked over at me, his eyebrows raised. I didn’t know if he was impressed or thought I was overstepping, but I plowed on anyway.
“You know, I struggled with school a lot,” I said to Jimmy. “Book learning was never my thing. Put a math problem down in front of me and I was all over that. But English or history or anything with long passages of text and essays totally wasn’t my jam. I had to figure out strategies to help me succeed at those subjects. I had a guidance counselor who really helped. I bet there are people here who could give you some ideas.”
“That’s a great idea,” Trent said. “You could try that, Jimmy. Get all the help you can to make life easier, huh?”
I couldn’t help being moved by how great Trent was with his brother, mixing praise and advice without being overbearing.
“You’ve always succeeded at what you set your mind to,” Trent continued. “So I have no doubt you’ll figure this out too.” He reached across the table, squeezing Jimmy’s shoulder. “But regardless of what marks you get, I’m so freaking proud of you. You got into Princeton , man. That was all you, Jimmy. And no grade, no professor, can change that.”
Jimmy flushed at Trent’s praise.
Our food arrived, and as we ate, Trent and Jimmy chatted about Nana Dee and sports and all the rest of the things brothers talked about.
A soft feeling of nostalgia washed over me, and it took a while to realize that it was because Trent’s reassurances to his brother were exactly the kind of support my parents used to give me. When I was struggling in school, they’d point out all the things I was great at and tell me I was going to do amazing things one day with my talents. Hearing that same sort of encouragement made me miss them a lot—but strangely, it felt good to miss them, to remember their warmth and belief in me. There was softness attached to those memories, and I savored the moment.
As much as I wished I’d had more time with my parents, I could only be grateful for the time we did have. After we were done with dinner, Trent and I walked Jimmy back to his dorm. When we reached Whitman College, Trent and Jimmy stopped to say goodbye, doing a complicated handshake that I’m sure they’d spent years perfecting.
“It was good to meet you, Natasha,” Jimmy said, turning to me.
“Nice to meet you too.” I pulled him into a hug. After all we’d shared this evening, I wanted us to stay in touch, so I slipped Jimmy my number on the back of the receipt paper from the restaurant.
“Just in case you ever need someone to talk to,” I explained. “And can’t get a hold of your brother.”
Jimmy nodded in thanks, then shot Trent a look. He snapped the paper between his hands. “Told you I’ve got game.”
I laughed and Trent rolled his eyes as Jimmy sauntered off, looking much more positive than when we’d arrived.
“Shall we head back?” I asked.
“Yeah,” Trent said. “Now that you’ve tried to pick up my brother.”
“Ugh,” I complained. “I was not trying to pick him up. He’s a literal child.”
“I know.” He gave me a rare, teasing grin. “I’m kidding. But seriously, thanks for doing that.” He reached out to take my hand, squeezing it gently. “Jimmy doesn’t have a lot of people in his life he can count on. It’s nice to know he has one more.”
“Of course,” I said, trying not to shiver at his touch. He’s just holding your hand, you ninny. Pull it together. I turned and climbed into the driver’s seat. “Ready?”
Trent climbed up beside me. “Let’s get this death trap back to New York.”