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Ted wouldn’t have noticed the change except for the fact that it wasn’t subtle. There were two versions of Trent Crimm that existed, pre- and post-independence (play on words, there. Maybe Trent’s dad had made that joke, too.)
For two years Trent had been all aloof and leading questions, always seemed simultaneously surprised and not at the answers people (including Ted) gave him. Rarely was he shocked, rarely unperturbed. He always seemed to have a solid grasp of every situation he was in, at least around Ted. Maybe that’s why Ted like their outing at that Indian restaurant so much. He hadn’t meant to, but Ted managed to get Trent to drop some of the aloofness that night. Pink-cheeked and breathing perhaps more heavily, but more shocked at Ted’s honesty.
Ted didn’t think that was the real Trent, though. People are not at their best when eating food a few million Scoville units above their capacity.
How many times can Ted use “aloof” to describe Trent before it gets out of hand?
Every additional day they spend together proves the assumption otherwise. That’s what Ted gets for making assumptions, anyway. Old adages stand the test of time for a reason.
He keeps thinking about Trent’s eyes and wild expression hours after they leave the stadium. He’d practically leaped with excitement at his revelation, more excited than Henry on any gift-giving holiday, which is saying something. Trent had looked back at Ted before leaving (to where? Ted didn’t know, didn’t even think to ask. Although now that he’s thinking about it, Trent had ridden with them on the bus, how the heck did he think he was going to get back?).
It’s a far cry from Trent Crimm, The Independent. This man is excitable, impassioned.
People can change, Ted is proof of that. But he wonders all the same, on why Trent felt the need to hide the excitement for so many years.
He doesn’t get a chance to ask, because Trent brings it up before Ted can.
“I apologize for my behavior yesterday,” Trent says by way of good morning the next day. They’re outside Nelson Road, and neither of them should be there (day off) but Ted won’t question it just yet.
“I can’t rightly think of what you’re apologizing for. I didn’t hear you yelling any expletives in my general direction, but even if you had, I’m pretty used to it by this point.”
“I was...emotional. It must have been...” Ted wasn’t expecting a third version of Trent Crimm, embarrassed and self-conscious. The tension is making Ted nervous, but only because he can’t figure out where it’s coming from. “It wasn’t like me. I can imagine it was alarming.”
“Nah, I thought it was kinda cute.”
Fourth Trent Crimm. Brain thoroughly broken. “What?”
“I’d never seen you like that! Bopping around like...you know, I don’t have a metaphor currently, but I’ll have one for you post-caffeine, I assure you. Something about someone celebrating some massive scientific discovery or something.” Ted’s still thinking about it while Trent continues to look confused. “But, no, it was nice. You’ve always been very...well, you know. ‘I’m Trent Crimm. I’m intimidating in a scholarly way. I can relate anything to a book I read and make it not sound boring.’ That’s my impression of you, I’ll work on it. You know Roy called you a dork yesterday?”
Now Trent is blushing. “What?” he asks again.
“He was right, but it’s endearing. I like you all excitable. I like passionate people, you know. Nothing more attractive than someone gushing about something they’re hyped about.”
Trent looks like he wants to add a counter-argument to everything Ted has just said, but apparently settles on “I’ve been reliably informed that it’s off-putting when I lose my composure.”
“Well, I think you need to check your sources, Trent, cause I had a completely opposite experience. Not off-putting at all.”
With one bullet point addressed, Trent moves on to the next. “You think I’m cute?”
Ted grins and makes his way inside the stadium. “You’re a smart guy, Trent. I’ll let you puzzle that one out.”