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  Today that title belonged to me.

  As I was stepping off the rink, Coach Bennett was waiting for me in the doorway.

  “Hey Coach!”

  “Wilmington.” He clapped me on the shoulder as I took a seat on the bench. “Looking good out there. Just don’t hurt yourself. The season starts in less than a week.”

  “No, yeah, I know. I’m just pumped up today, I guess.”

  I untied my skates as he said, “I’ve been meaning to talk to you. Why don’t you get yourself cleaned up and then meet me at the snack bar?”

  “Yeah, sure,” I said casually. But in reality, I was wondering if everything was alright.

  I raced through a shower and got dressed in record time, grabbed my bag and booked to the snack bar. Coach was already there, sitting in a Formica booth with a cup of coffee. I slipped into the bench seat across from him and ran a hand over my wet hair.

  “You want anything?” he asked.

  My stomach was too tied up in knots to even think about it. “No, no thanks. I’m good.”

  “Okay, then. A man who likes to get right down to business. I like that.”

  “Thanks,” I chuckled.

  He leaned across the table between us. “So. I’ll cut right to the chase. I was wondering if you’d be willing to join the travelling team.”

  I’d tried out on a whim. Prior to meeting Coach, I was perfectly content to just hang around the rink, playing the occasional pickup game with any other stragglers that showed up. I figured once the league season started, I’d be happy enough playing for the town.

  But now instead, here was Coach, asking me to join up with the best players in the area. The all-stars. The big league. It was flattering that he thought I could be one of them.

  I couldn’t stop the cheesy grin that broke across my face. “You serious?”

  “Sure am. Think you can make yourself available?”

  “Yeah. Yes, of course.”

  “Six days a week, you understand.”

  “That’s not going to be a problem.” I leaned back in my seat and let out with a huge exhale. “Thank you, Coach. This is...” I couldn’t even find the words.

  Coach smirked a knowing smile. “Welcome to the team.”

  * * *

  We had the rest of the week off of school for Thanksgiving, so I didn’t see Layla until our Friday shift the following night. There weren’t too many customers, so Martin had put me on stockroom duty to organize the shelves before disappearing into his office.

  Lay made periodic trips to check on me, saying she felt guilty that she was spending her time watching movies in a nice warm room while I was stuck back there in a refrigerator.

  “I know a way to warm up,” I teased, waggling my eyebrows at her. The poor girl turned white until I pulled a miniature bottle of champagne from my jacket pocket.

  “What’s that?”

  I checked the label. “Apparently, it’s a party favor my parents got from Bebe and Eric’s Wedding Extravaganza.” She put a hand over her mouth to hide a snicker. “Wanna crack it open?”

  “Oh, hell yes.”

  Lay scrounged up some Dixie cups from the breakroom and checked to make sure Martin was otherwise occupied. “He’s on the phone with his mother. We’re free for at least an hour.”

  I pulled a couple of boxes together so we could sit down, and unscrewed the bottle which just threw Layla into an uncontrollable laughing fit. “A screw top?” she asked in between cackles.

  “Only the best for you, Miss Warren.”

  I filled our cups before Layla held hers out toward me. “Umm, I don’t know what we’re toasting to. What’s the occasion?”

  “I just figured we should celebrate the success of our award-winning film.”

  “Yeah, Trip? We haven’t won any awards.”

  “Yet.”

  I laughed before downing my drink in one shot, immediately regretting that decision. “Oof, that’s bad.” I shook my head, trying to rid myself of the awful aftertaste.

  And then I poured another cup.

  “And,” I added, “I also wanted to give myself a proper sendoff.”

  “What do you mean? Where are you going?” she asked, a slight panic in her voice.

  I tried to hold back a grin and look properly humble. “Well, I made the team.”

  Her eyes went wide as her mouth dipped open. She knew how much it meant to me. I’d been talking her ear off about the travel league pretty much nonstop since I first heard about it. “You made the team! Wow! Congratulations. When did you find out?

  “Wednesday afternoon. The coach sat me down after practice and asked me if I was available. Can you believe that? Am I available, like I’m Wayne Gretzky or something and might not be able to fit his team into my busy schedule.”

  “Wow. That’s awesome.”

  “Yeah, yeah it is. I’m pretty psyched. Although...” and my expression turned shamefaced as I tried to break the next news gently, “Tonight’s my last night working here. I already talked to Martin.”

  I tried not to show any joy as she deflated, but it was kinda nice to see that she’d miss me. “Geez, Trip. We’re hardly going to see each other at all anymore. No more Tuesday filming, no more Mondays and Fridays at work... This sucks!”

  I couldn’t help but smirk. “We’ll always have English class.”

  “Yeah,” she laughed. “I suppose we will. And you’re taking me to the game tomorrow, yes?”

  It had become standard practice for me to drive Layla, Pick, and Lisa to the football games on most Saturdays, but tomorrow was homecoming. End of the line. “Last one of the season. Wouldn’t miss it.”

  Chapter 12

  CROSSING THE LINE

  Our Lions had pretty much annihilated the Pequannock Panthers that afternoon, so everyone was in one helluva good mood at the homecoming dance later that night.

  I expected to see Layla with Cooper Benedict, but she wasn’t there with him. In fact, she wasn’t there at all. I didn’t know what to make of that at first, and mentioned it to Rymer.

  “Yeah,” he said. “I asked him the same thing. He looked at me like I was nuts.”

  “So? What does that mean?”

  “It means they’re off, dude.” He shrugged. “Who knew? I’d still steer clear, though. It’s only a matter of time before they’ll be back on again.” He elbowed me to add, “What about Caputo? I hear she likes you.”

  Caputo was Margie Caputo, the annoying redhead from Computer class. “Yeah, no thanks.”

  He surprised me when he asked, “Mind if I take a crack at her?”

  “Be my fucking guest.”

  He chuckled. “Nah. You’re right. That girl is a pain in the ass.”

  I wasn’t paying much attention to his opinion. I didn’t hear too much of anything after his newsflash about Layla and Benedict being “off” at the moment.

  Good.

  I debated whether or not to go for it, but it was only about three seconds before I decided screw it. I’ve waited long enough. Wait too long, and those two might end up back “on” again. I was a patient guy and all, but I wasn’t gonna wait forever.

  So, that’s why I went straight from the dance to Layla’s house.

  Her dad’s car wasn’t in the driveway, so I decided to have a little fun with her. I parked my truck a few houses away and walked the last half-block to her front door. The light was on in her bedroom, and I figured she was up there reading another damned book or something.

  I grabbed a handful of pebbles from the landscaping along the walkway and tossed them one at a time against her window. It was an eternity before she threw open the pane and yelled down, “You dick! You just scared the hell out of me!”

  Well, good evening to you, too. She was feisty. I had to give her that. “Hey there, Lay-Lay. Whatcha doin’?”

  “Ummm... trying not to have a heart attack? What are you doing?”

  I ditched the rest of the rocks into the shrubs and swiped my dirty hands off o
n my pants. “Just dropping by to say hi.”

  “Hey psycho,” she laughed out. “Instead of throwing boulders at my house, why didn’t you just knock on the front door like a normal human?”

  “There’s no fun in ‘normal,’ Lay. Haven’t you figured that out yet?” She shook her head in exasperation as a wide grin spread across my face. I was just happy to see her. She had her hair all tied up in a knot on the top of her head and no makeup on. She looked beautiful. “So hey. How come you didn’t go to the dance?”

  “I don’t know. I guess I wasn’t into it. Why? Did I miss anything?”

  “I’ll say.”

  Even from a floor away, I could see her eyes light up at the prospect of gossip. “Oh my God, what happened? Trip! Spill it!”

  She could barely contain her excitement, and it cracked me right the hell up. “Well, for starters, you weren’t there to accept your crown.”

  Her brows furrowed together, trying to comprehend what I was telling her. But then, her face turned bored as her head tipped to the side. “You are so full of shit.”

  Ha! “Yeah, you’re right. I am. But I am your homecoming king, so you’d better show a little more respect to me from now on.”

  “Oh wow! You got king? Really?”

  Man, she was just way too easy. “No. Not really. Jesus, Layla, you’re oh-for-two tonight. But hey—on a totally different subject—did you know that the word ‘gullible’ isn’t in the dictionary?”

  Her face scrunched up into a wiseassy pout. “You are just soooo funny. So, who really won?”

  “Lisa and Pickford.”

  “Holy crap! No way!”

  I snickered. “Yeah, well, you and me came in a close second. I swear to God about that. I’m not bullshitting you this time.”

  “What? Really? That’s weird.”

  “What’s so weird about it?” To be honest, when Carolee Simcox announced our names together, I was shocked to hear it, too. I mean, we’d been spending a ton of time together; obviously people noticed. But the fact was, she’d been with Benedict for years prior to my arrival. I would think that they noticed that, too. It gave me an overinflated sense of pride to find out that I’d gotten more votes than he did.

  “I don’t know,” she answered. “You and me as finalists for Homecoming? It just seems so... perky!”

  That made me chuckle. “Oh, hey. Speaking of perky... Lisa gave a speech.”

  Layla’s face twisted into a mask of horror. “Trip, shut up, she did not!”

  “She did,” I answered, barely able to contain myself.

  “Oh my God. No one actually speaks after being crowned, for godsakes! Oh, I’m so embarrassed for her!”

  “No, don’t be,” I chuckled out. “It wasn’t that bad. Just a quick thank you, not much else. It was fine.”

  Layla took in the new information before sighing. “Well, in any case, I’m glad she won. I can’t believe I wasn’t there to see it! She must be pretty happy right about now.”

  I jammed my hands into my pockets and tapped one of the shrubs with my toe. “But you wouldn’t have been?”

  “To win homecoming queen? You’re joking, right?”

  I couldn’t hide the look of amazement on my face as I stared at her in awe. This girl never failed to find new ways to kill me. “You know that’s my favorite thing about you, right?”

  She swallowed hard before asking, “What is?”

  It was hard to meet her eyes while laying my soul bare, but somehow, I managed to do it. “Layla, you are completely different from any other person I’ve ever met in my entire life.”

  It was the truth. She was—hands down—the coolest chick I’ve ever known.

  Layla was speechless, staring down at me as her bottom lip tipped open. I’d meant it as a compliment and I was glad she’d taken it as one, but it didn’t stop her from looking completely blown away. To tell you the truth, I was feeling pretty stunned myself.

  Before my brain was able to stop the words tumbling from my mouth, I went for broke. “I missed you tonight. The dance wasn’t as much fun without you there.”

  I wanted to tell her how I probably should’ve asked her to be my date. How I’d hung back, assuming she was still with Benedict when in actuality, she’d left me wide open to take the damn shot.

  But before I could blurt out all the things running through my mind, Layla found her voice and asked, “Trip... Do you want to come inside?”

  Holy shit. It wasn’t a question. It was an invitation. And the way she offered it with those aching brown eyes staring down at me in pure longing? I had to stop myself from doing backflips across her front yard.

  Just one little word would change everything, here. All I had to do was say it. My throat had closed up and my lungs were in the process of betraying me, but I managed to meet her gaze with a smile. “Yes.”

  This was it. This was our moment.

  And I was ready.

  “Okay, Lemme just come down and unlock the door.”

  In the split second before she turned from the window, a montage of imagery played out behind my eyes. My face buried in her hair. Her hands on my chest. My mouth against the curve of her neck. Her lips on mine.

  I had half a boner already just thinking about it...

  Which, I guess is what made me dive for the bushes on the side of her house when I saw Mr. Warren’s car coming down the street.

  Dammit!

  Mr. Warren seemed like a nice enough guy, but I was pretty sure he didn’t trust me. It was like he could see all the ideas I had running around in my head about his daughter. Most of my thoughts were pretty tame. But some of them… Hell, I wouldn’t have trusted me either.

  Chapter 13

  CRAZY PEOPLE

  I left Layla’s house and drove home with the intention of calling her the minute I got in the door. My head was swimming with all the things I didn’t say, and I spent my drive time preparing a script for when I finally got her on the phone.

  There were so many things I wanted to tell her. How I should’ve asked her to the dance tonight. How I’d been sitting on the sidelines, waiting for her to want me. How I shouldn’t have waited at all.

  I spent way too much time keeping her at arms’ length. And I definitely regretted it.

  There was no way I was going to ask her out over the phone or anything, but at least I could’ve made plans to see her the next day. At least I could’ve lain the groundwork.

  I should’ve just done it right then. I had the perfect opportunity. There I was, standing under her window like an idiot, trying to find a way to tell her how I felt. I was all set to do it. Right then.

  And then she invited me inside.

  It was nice to see that we were on the same page for once. I knew what she was thinking by the look on her face. Hell, I was thinking the same damn thing. I knew she wanted me. We were both dying, staring into each other’s eyes. It was obvious that we wanted each other. Bad.

  Woulda been nice if her father hadn’t come home. I was kinda looking forward to finally getting my lips on her. Too bad I had to bolt before I even got my foot in the door.

  I could call her as soon as I got home, though. We could straighten everything out.

  My mind was set on doing just that, but when I walked into the foyer, I saw that the old man was up. Just sitting there in his fucking chair in the den, a goddamn glass of scotch in his hand.

  Shit.

  I didn’t know how many drinks he had in him, and to tell you the truth, I didn’t really want to know. I didn’t even bother to say hello. No way was I going to give him an opening. I knew from experience that the best move I could make was to just get the hell out of there.

  Sorry for not getting into this before now; I really don’t like to constantly spill all the gory details about the whole situation, but you should know that seeing him like that—slumped in a fucking chair, falling asleep with a glass in his hand—wasn’t an uncommon occurrence.

  Passing out was the least of h
is offenses, however.

  I could relay a lifetime of stories to you, like that time he threw a dish of sweet potatoes against the dining room wall one Easter. Or that time when he got thrown out of the arena during one of my games. I could fill an entire book with the bullshit I’ve witnessed over the years, but I’m not going to take the time to hash all that crap out right now. Just know that the guy tends to drink himself into a stupor most nights, and I’ve learned over time that it was best to just steer clear of him when he did. Asshole.

  Sometimes, though, there was no avoiding him. Like tonight, apparently.

  His garbled voice was just dripping with pointed venom and inflated sarcasm as he chortled, “Well, well, well. If it isn’t the pride of the family.”

  After years of encountering this same scenario, I knew better than to engage with his drunken ass. Like always, I should have just blown him off, headed upstairs to my room, locked the door, and waited for him to pass out.

  But God. I was so fucking sick of ignoring his slurry jabs. That night, I didn’t slink away. The guy really pissed me off when he was like that, and I’d just about had enough.

  Fuck him.

  He wanted a fight? Screw it. I was going to give it to him.

  “Yeah, well, I figure at least one of us should make this family proud.”

  I hoped that would be the end of it, and had just placed one foot on the stairs when he hauled himself off the chair and staggered into the foyer.

  Okay, then. Here we go.

  I pulled my shoulders back and crossed my arms over my inflated chest—an attempt to make my six foot frame look bigger than it really was—but I always felt small compared to him regardless. I sized him up as he stationed himself inches away from me, towering over me like he’d done my whole life.

  But then I noticed something.