Song: Polly-- Nirvana

Trent

"What do you think?" He asked. Juno whirled around ever so slowly. Trent could tell she had taken a liking to the house so far, even though there was so much more of it to see. He wanted to show her more of his recording studio and the equipment within, but it sat clear on the other end of the house— the end they had not yet explored.

"It's incredible."

Trent felt the corners of his mouth curve upwards. He was so happy she liked Le Pig. If she truly liked it as much as he had hoped, maybe she would stay.

It was rare to have a woman around. Trent's mother and sister Tera were back in Pennsylvania, so was his grandmother. Yeah, there was the occasional one night stand, but none of the girls hung around. The only women who ever really popped in to visit was Trent's band mate Danny Lohner's girlfriend Blythe, along with fellow musician and good friend of Trent's, Tori Amos. Blythe would typically stop in just to see if Danny was around, and Tori would come by to talk about her album in progress or to whip Trent up some dinner if he was having a rough day. It got pretty boring spending all his time with men. Having a new, strange woman in his house gave him an electrifying stimulation. It was as if a rush of adrenaline pumped into his blood stream whenever she spoke or even looked at him. Trent was a mess.

"Would you like a drink?" Trent flared, taking off his coat and draping it over his arm. Juno turned to look at him. The innocent tilt of her head made Trent want to giggle.

"What do you have?" She began to tear off her boots. Juno discarded her left one before beginning to peel off the right.

Trent rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. "Water, Diet Coke, or wine."

"Wine sounds amazing." Juno smiled softly, standing up straight and barefoot. The awkward man stumbled backward in an attempt to move toward the kitchen without taking his eyes from her.

"Alright, wine-- sounds great. White or red?"

"White, red dries out my mouth." Juno chuckled.

Trent let out a snicker. "Okay, white it is."

With that, Trent shuffled into the kitchen to fetch the wine. He threw his jacket down on the dinner table and drew out two glass flutes from an overhead cupboard. He withdrew a bottle of white wine he had gotten from a vineyard up north. As he poured the bubbly liquid into the flutes, a sudden bark followed by a shriek filled his ears. He let out a groan. He forgot to remind Juno about Maise.

The man picked up the tall glasses and scurried into the foyer. It was then that Trent saw a sight he couldn't believe. There was Juno, laughing in a heap on the floor, and Maise the golden retriever, licking the stranger's face as she towered over the human girl. Trent's lips stretched into a broad grin. Maise was usually such a guard dog; he was surprised the canine hadn't tried attacking his guest.

Trent set the flutes down on a nearby crystalline tabletop and walked closer to the two. "Maise! Get off!" He commanded with a giggle.

"Aww, Trent, we were having fun!" Juno whined like a child. Trent rolled his eyes before snapping his fingers at Maise sternly. The dog obeyed orders, abruptly ending her play with Juno and stalking off to another room.

Juno sat up, her trench coat pooled around her. She had on a gray sweatshirt with a faded Van Halen logo and a pair of acid washed jeans. Trent's breath hitched as he caught sight of the smooth curve of her breasts through her sweater. Juno gazed up at him from the floor. Her eyes were wistful and full of curiosity. Had she caught him? Trent blushed and turned away, bashful of where he had been looking.

The girl sat cross-legged in the middle of the room. It wasn't exactly the parlor with its comfy furniture and elegance, but Trent didn't mind. He joined her on the floor.

There they sat, sipping wine in comfortable silence in the anteroom. Trent couldn't tear his gaze from her. There was this magnetic force that kept pulling his attention to her. Maybe it was because of her being a woman; possibly it was because of her willingness to stay in his home. He wasn't for sure. There was something extremely remarkable—extremely irresistible—about her. And he couldn't get enough of it.

Juno

Trent was staring at her. Not a creepy stare: it was more of an attentive, interested stare. What was so intriguing about a girl like her?

More importantly, what was so intriguing about a guy like Trent? She couldn't help herself. She had repeatedly noticed herself gaping at him, mouth probably hanging open like a moron. Trent was flat-out weird, quiet, flighty, and oddly but greatly appreciative of the stranger in his home.

She liked it.