As the boy alternated between eyeing Gisele and looking back at the counter-table, he began to scratch the skin of his left thumb with the index finger next to it. Trent didn't have many friends. He didn't bother with them. His acquaintances were made up mostly of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and almost solely of the Gryffindor population. These were simple evidence that he simply didn't step out of his comfort zone. He was possibly too lazy, and perhaps just a tad awkward around strangers. More significantly was how most of his friends were really Millie's friends first. He warmed easily as long as he was approached with some conversation, and if they were Millie's choice of people. It was as if he trusted the girl for some sort of friend assessment task.
Whatever it is, Gisele had become a friend in that same manner as the few others too. She was, however, far more friendly to him. There was, too, something odd about the girl; possibly in a good way. But as much as Trent had come to accept Gisele as more than the casual acquaintance, he was also curiously nervous about her. And then there was that one time of sheer confusion. She had gotten too close, and Trent, he almost ...
The boy shook his head. He was almost certain it was some sort of desire that couldn't be associated with love. He didn't understand it. Then again, no one talked to him about those sort of things. No one really would look at Trent and think to talk to him about such intimate shenanigans of life. Well, no one besides Millie. After all, she had become a sort of best friend to him, didn't she? That is, besides being more than that, of course.
Still, ever since that close encounter with Gisele in school, the boy had become a little more skittish about her. He tried to avert his eyes as soon as he realised that she didn't take her eyes off him. What a turn of events. Sort of. His mind was almost blank and bored to death a moment ago. Now, it was filled with too many thoughts for him to handle again.
"Well," he started, and swallowed, before tearing his eyes off Gisele to look at the brooms. "Like I always tell everyone, the Nimbus, in my opinion, is the most trustworthy of brooms. If you're looking for one that's properly done well, overall, then I'll say you still have to go for the Nimbus." Trent stole a look at the girl, found his eyes stray to her legs, before returning to the broom in one swift guilty look. "And, urm, but." He scratched harder against the skin of his thumb, then walked out from behind the counter to stand closer to the girl.
"If you like them fast, though ..." He paused. "Then the Thunderbolt is unbeatable in picking up the speed, especially in the initial moments of acceleration." He nodded. "Usually, I'd tell people that the Firebolt is sufficient in doing that. It's still the best in that area, after the Thunderbolt. I mean, the Thunderbolt is almost impossible to afford. Well, for most ..." People like me, he thought. "But you might be interested in it if you enjoy really fast speeds, even in turns. The reaction time is seconds faster than the Nimbus and the Firebolt even." He pointed to the shiny, sleek boy of the Thunderbolt. "Personally, if I had all the galleons in the world, I'd have already owned that amazing thing. I like the speed of it, even if the Nimbuses always outshine this line of brooms in terms of safety features."
Then a long pause. Trent swallowed again as he fought to keep his nerves calm against the quiet buzz of the back light and the presence of the girl. It was funny how she had such a strange effect on him. There was certainly word going around, especially talked about among other boys of the same year, about Gisele Delacour. It was almost always about her desirability. No doubt, there was the Veela blood in her that was to be blamed for all the buzz around her. But her looks helped, too. There was, too, no doubt that Trent loved Millie, with all his heart. It was precisely because of that, that he was confuddled by the presence of her friend. He looked at her now, uncertain and waiting.