TRIP Read online

  I didn’t think “hurt less” was an option. The dude looked completely annihilated.

  He pressed his palms to his eyes and shook the last of his tears away. “Look at me crying like a fucking pussy. Don’t say anything about this, okay?”

  As if I would. My friend was already being torn apart. There was no way I’d ever betray his trust on top of it.

  “Never.”

  Chapter 19

  STEPPING OUT

  The cold weather finally broke, so I got back into my jogging routine. Every morning without fail, I’d wake up about an hour earlier than necessary in order to get a good run in before heading to school.

  I changed my route months ago, however, for obvious reasons that I don’t feel the need to rehash here.

  I still loved the path around Lenape Lake, though. There was an eerie beauty to the gray of winter as it faded away into spring. Changing out one season for another.

  Kind of a metaphor for the new life I’d made for myself.

  I’d been hanging with Pickford a lot more than usual. I’d drag him out of the house every now and again just to keep him from sulking around like a hermit. The rule was we weren’t allowed to discuss the girls. Or any girls. No actresses, no models, no random women on the street. The topic of females was strictly verboten. We had enough other stuff to talk about: Sports, the play... most of the time, we didn’t talk at all. We’d go for a drive or he’d tag along on one of my runs. He’d sit in the auditorium during rehearsals or I’d join him at the Y for a pickup game of b-ball.

  Even when we couldn’t get together, Penelope would fill me in on the daily goings-on in the Redy household. She and I had gotten pretty close, too, considering we spent every weekday together for the past four months. She, along with the rest of the cast and crew had been counting down the days until the debut performance of our Spring Musical.

  And now, here it was, Opening Night.

  The entire cast was pumped. The energy backstage was palpable. Tense. Keyed up. Crackling. Every one of us just wanted to get out there and strut our stuff. After the many, many hours of rehearsals, we knew that we were ready.

  If I’m going to be honest, I’ll say that aside from being excited, I was definitely a little nervous, too. I’d never performed before a live audience before, and this particular audience happened to be comprised of people who actually knew me in real life. I hoped I wouldn’t make a fool of myself.

  But once the curtains opened, I knew I was good to go. The lights went on, the actors assumed their places, and suddenly, the performance was underway.

  Showtime.

  From the first second I made my appearance onstage, there was an inexplicable buzz that consumed every inch of my skin. It coursed through my veins and electrified every cell in my body. The audience disappeared, and I became Sky Masterson.

  Every second spent on that stage felt like home to me. I really don’t know how else to explain it. When I had to sing, I hit the proper notes. When I had to move, I hit the right marks. When I had to speak, the words just spilled out of me with all the appropriate emotions to back them up. Every moment of the experience was simply... transcendent.

  I fucking loved it.

  And after two entire hours of nonstop adrenaline, I was pretty sure the rest of the cast loved it, too.

  After the show, everyone was rowdy, relieved, elated, you name it. We all hugged and high-fived and offered accolades to each other for pulling off a pretty damned good performance.

  Soon enough, we were joined by friends and family as they poured into the backstage area, cramming into any available square inch they could find in order to offer their congratulations.

  I stood on a chair to scope out my parents, spotting them as they filed through the crowd. I waved them over as Rymer yelled something obscene behind me.

  I laughed as I turned toward the sound of his voice... only to see her.

  My heart stopped. What the hell is she doing here?

  Pride flooded through me at the thought that Layla had seen my performance. I wondered if she liked it, if she thought I was good enough.

  Am I good enough for you now?

  I don’t know what came over me as I nodded my head at her in silent greeting, but it was worth the smile I saw on her face as she waved back. I took that as a good sign.

  God, what the fuck were we doing? The past months of our standoff seemed so stupid and pointless. She was here! That’s all that mattered.

  I hopped down off the chair to hug my parents hello. After a round of hearty congratulations, Mom cut right to the chase.

  “Who’s the girl?” she asked, obviously having spotted our exchange.

  “Layla Warren.” I knew my mother would recognize the name. I’d only mentioned it in her presence a million times. But Jesus. For the first time after all those months, I’d barely allowed my brain to even think her name, much less say it aloud. “Want to meet her?”

  “Layla Warren?” Dad asked. “She wouldn’t happen to be Kate Warren’s daughter, would she?”

  “Yeah, Kate. You know her?”

  “I knew her.”

  That wasn’t as surprising as you might think. Layla’s parents had lived here as teenagers, too.

  The three of us wove our way through the throng of chatty people until I found myself standing right behind Layla. Before I could talk myself out of it, I tapped her on the shoulder.

  She turned to face me, a look of surprise on her beautiful face. Those relentless brown eyes met mine in pure warmth, and it was enough to force me to catch my breath.

  “Mom, Dad,” I said casually, even while feeling anything but. “I want you to meet Layla. Layla, these are my parents.”

  She smiled and shook their hands, and I noticed my father was wearing a shit-eating grin as he greeted her hello. I pursed my lips and chuckled, shaking my head in mock irritation. It wasn’t the first time he’d flirted with one of my girlfriends.

  Wait. Girl friends.

  Mom immediately launched into a string of gushing accolades, teary-eyed and beaming at her “talented boy!” as she ran a hand over my hair.

  “Ma!” I laughed out uncomfortably, flinching my head out of her reach.

  Dad stepped in to save me. “Okay, Maddie. Don’t embarrass the boy in front of his friend.”

  He started to usher her out of the room when she turned to give me one last hug. “I’m just so proud of you!”

  Layla and I shared a chuckle as they made their way out... leaving the two of us alone, save for an entire roomful of people.

  A knowing silence passed between us as we acknowledged the awkwardness of coming face to face after so much time apart. I couldn’t quite believe we hadn’t spoken for five entire months.

  Layla broke the silence when she gushed, “Trip, my God... You were so good!”

  I grinned like a madman even though I wanted to appear humble. “Thanks. It wasn’t that big of a deal. I did okay, I guess.”

  She reached her hand toward me and knotted her fingers around mine. An unconscious gesture if ever there was one. I was pretty sure she hadn’t even realized she’d done it.

  I was very aware, however.

  “Trip, stop. You were amazing. Everyone loved you.”

  “Everyone?” I asked before my brain could stop my mouth from speaking.

  She knew damn well what I was asking. But she wasn’t going to give me an inch.

  “Truly, Trip. You could just feel how much the audience enjoyed themselves whenever you were on stage. I swear.”

  It was enough. I couldn’t contain my grin as I wrapped my arms around her. I didn’t even think about it. I just did it.

  And the second I did, I knew that I was fucked.

  I could feel her heart slamming against mine as I buried my face against her neck and breathed in, smelling her summery hair, sliding my palms against her spine. I pulled back slowly, afraid to see what I’d find in her eyes, but she met my stare willingly, if a bit terrified.


  My gaze dropped to her lips—those luscious, full lips—and I knew I had to get my mouth on her.

  Now.

  I became aware of that same buzzing feeling, the same electricity I’d had on stage only moments earlier. The world disappeared around us, and suddenly it was just she and I and the feel of her hands resting on my shoulders, that expectant look in her eyes. Her trembling bottom lip. The smell of her hair.

  And I leaned in to kiss her, world be damned.

  But before I could go through with it, a body slammed against my back, knocking my head into Layla’s face.

  “Heeey, Brando!”

  Fucking Rymer.

  “Warren, can you get a load of this guy? Our little man thinks he’s Brando over here!”

  Layla had a hand over her mouth, probably trying to hold her teeth in.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  She nodded her head in answer as Rymer threw an arm around my neck and gave me a noogie against the back of my hair.

  I shook him off and finally turned around to see Sarge and Benedict standing with him. They, at least, opted for a simple handshake.

  Cooper crammed his hands into his pockets and nodded his head toward me. “We were thinking of heading out to The Barrens. You two want to come?”

  It was weird to see Coop as just himself and not my competition. We hadn’t spent a whole helluva lot of time together over the past months, but the invitation was clearly offered in an attempt to change that. It kind of sucked that I had to decline.

  “Nah,” I answered. “Thanks, but I’ve got to hit the wrap party. You assholes are invited, too.”

  “Well, with an invitation like that...” Sarge busted.

  “Fuck that,” Rymer scathed. “Party with the theater fags? Yeah, thanks, but I think we’ll take a pass, dude.”

  Lay and I shared an eyeroll at that before they said their goodbyes and roughed their way out the door.

  Lisa and Pickford popped over just then—together—and I couldn’t help but notice the elated grin that was stretched across his proud face. It would seem tonight was full of reunions.

  Lisa tried to claim my girl to leave, but I stopped her with, “Hey Lis? Why don’t you let me drive Layla home.” I turned to Lay and asked, “If that’s alright with you, obviously.”

  Her bottom lip dropped just a fraction of an inch in surprise. Before she could respond, Lisa grabbed Pick’s hand and pulled him out the door, yelling, “Fine by me! Great job tonight, Trip! See you later!”

  The crowd had died down considerably, leaving only a handful of us still lingering backstage. But I still didn’t want anyone to hear our conversation.

  I grabbed her hand again and offered a barely-audible invitation. “Hey. Come to the party with me tonight, Lay.”

  She looked down at our intertwined hands before answering. “Isn’t the wrap party just for the cast and crew? I’d feel like I was crashing...”

  “You’re not crashing. I’m inviting you. C’mon. It’ll be fun.”

  She took an awfully long time to respond. A million thoughts raced through my brain in those seconds. Was she just being polite? Did she still hate me? Why the hell would I think I stood a chance?

  But then she raised her head, and I had my answer. She didn’t even attempt to hide her smile as her sparkling brown eyes met mine.

  “Okay.”

  Chapter 20

  THE INNER CIRCLE

  I had to hit the “dressing room” before we could cut out. I jockeyed for position at one of the locker room sinks to clean up, scrubbed the makeup off my face, then fixed my hair before changing into regular clothes.

  And then I went to get Layla.

  She was waiting at the payphones in the main lobby. I took an extra second to look her over, to assure myself that she was really and truly here with me tonight. I was determined to make it a great night.

  I claimed her with a hand at her back as we walked out the front doors and down to the parking lot just like I’d done all those months before for the very first time. I wished there was a crowd this time, too. But instead, I’d have to content myself with making an entrance at the party with the prettiest girl on my arm.

  I opened the door to my Bronco and helped Lay into the passenger seat before sliding behind the wheel and turning the ignition. Before I even had myself buckled in, she asked, “When did you get a CD player in this thing?”

  “Christmas.”

  She bounced up and down excitedly in her seat. “Oooh. I call DJ!”

  How could I deny her anything at this point? As if I would.

  I couldn’t help but smile as she navigated my CD changer, abusing the skip function until she landed on Bleach, and then flipped through the tracks to “About a Girl.”

  “Awesome. I love Nirvana!”

  My hand froze in the act of putting the truck in gear. “How do you know about Nirvana?”

  “I discovered them in December. I’m obsessed.”

  “And I’m impressed,” I shot back as I pulled out of the lot.

  The party was at Heather’s house. I’d gotten to know the theater kids pretty well over the past months, and truth be told, was grateful to them for being friends to me while I was MIA from my core crew. I hoped they’d be cool with the fact that I was bringing an “outsider” into their midst.

  But of course, the first person I saw when we walked through the door was Shelly Markham. She was a bit of a bitch, yet somehow always managed to have a few lemmings surrounding her.

  Like she did tonight.

  When she saw me walk in with Layla, she didn’t hesitate to put on her snottiest voice to say hello. Then she gave Layla the once-over before whispering something to her friends.

  Jesus. Sheathe the claws, Shelly.

  I squeezed Layla’s hand, trying to put her at ease. I was also hoping she wouldn’t retaliate. I didn’t need this night to come to an end before it ever had a chance to begin. We just needed to get past the front door, for godsakes. I knew the rest of the people at this party wouldn’t give her such a hard time.

  I hastily ushered Lay to the back of the house in my quest to find our hostess. My girl could’ve used a good dose of nice right about then, and Heather was the sweetest person I knew. I may have been a little too relieved to see her because I didn’t hesitate to kiss her hello. She flustered at my greeting and stammered in the simple act of welcoming us into her home.

  Layla bridged the awkwardness by complimenting my new friend on her performance. “Heather, I really enjoyed the show tonight! You were great as Sergeant Sarah Brown!”

  Heather blushed and answered, “Thank you.” She put a hand on my arm to add, “Trip was such a huge help to me—to everyone. We wouldn’t have been able to pull this thing off without him.” The two girls shared a smile before Heather asked, “Can I get you a drink?”

  Layla hemmed as she looked around the kitchen. “Sure. A Coke will be great.”

  Heather directed us over to the fully stocked bar in the dining room, causing Layla to change her order. “Or I guess wine will do!”

  I poured Layla a glass of red and grabbed myself a Bud before leading her out onto the deck, trying to carve out a few minutes of alone time. Lay and I hadn’t hung out in months, and I was looking forward to having her all to myself for a little while. We had a lot of shit to sort out.

  But of course, the deck was already occupied by David Beale, the guy who played Nathan Detroit. He was a decent guy, but come on dude, couldn’t he see I was with a gorgeous lady? Leave.

  As Dave and I made small talk about the play, Layla was left to do nothing more than smile politely and sip her drink. Once her glass was running low, she excused herself to go inside. I hoped she wasn’t rethinking her decision to come to this thing. But she returned quickly enough, giving me the excuse to wrap up my conversation with Dave, who thankfully took the hint and made himself scarce.

  And there we were.

  Trip and Layla. Together again.

  S
he leaned against the railing and took a huge breath, and no, I won’t lie and say I didn’t take advantage of the opportunity to check out her tits. I couldn’t help it. After so many months apart, she happened to me all over again.

  I leaned against the railing next to her in a deliberate attempt to stop staring at her chest, training my eyes on our surroundings instead. Being out on that deck reminded me of the first party we were at together back in September at Rymer’s.

  “So,” I started in, giving her a nudge. “How are you liking your first theater party?”

  That made her laugh. I knew she’d get the reference. Even more, she took the opportunity to bust my balls. She stuffed her hands in her pockets and slouched over to respond, “It’s cool. Ever-one’s bein’ reeeally cool.”

  Is that supposed to be me? “Jesus. Do I really sound like that?” I asked.

  “Yes. That’s what you sound like exactly.”

  Her comment had me barking out a laugh before I shook my head in mock disappointment.

  God. I really missed her.

  “So, hey!” she said eagerly. “Tell me how hockey went!”

  I grinned as I answered, “Pretty well, actually. We kicked ass all over the state and almost clinched a spot in the nationals, but blew it at the last minute.”

  Her bottom lip tipped out as she sympathized with my plight. “Aww. That sucks.”

  “Yeah. Tell me about it.” I tossed my empty bottle into the trash can before giving her some highlights from the season. “The coach was cool. He asked me to join his MVP team in the fall. If I do it, I’ll get to travel all over, meet pro players and stuff.”

  She looked impressed. “Wow! Are you going to do it?”

  I shot her a sidelong glance. “Still thinking about it.” I couldn’t breathe from the look of wonder and appreciation on her face, and ran a hand over my hair as I regained my bearings. “Hey, so what about you? Tell me what’s been going on in Warren World.”