TRIP

by T. Torrest

  The metal shutters had been raised on a bunch of the booths, the thwapthwapthwap of their prize wheels spinning away. Bells and whistles and blaring music provided a background track to the carnival barkers who called us over to try our luck.

  When I spotted the jewelry booth, I directed our group over to try and win a mood ring for Layla. But after five dollars’ worth of quarters, I was no closer to my goal than when I started. Cooper won one for Becca instead. It would’ve been infuriating if he wasn’t so damned cool.

  I ended up buying a candy necklace for her from the confectionary next door.

  Rymer, however, had no interest in trying to win anything other than the girl working the candy stand. He was really giving it his all, and rather than call him out, we all sat back and watched the show. It was pure entertainment. After crashing and burning with a few cheesy pickup lines, he finally went for broke and told her to come to the house after her shift.

  Like that was going to happen.

  But sure as shit, about two hours later, there we were back at the house, listening to music, playing Quarters at the kitchen table... and what do you know. She showed up.

  Rymer didn’t even offer her a drink before he escorted her into the next room, and within minutes, we were subjected to the sound of those two making out on the couch.

  After a half hour of their exhibitionism, Cooper couldn’t take it, finally pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Jesus Christ, Rymer! Just take my room for fucksake!”

  We all laughed our asses off as Pick asked, “What was that thing he said before? His ‘expert’ advice?”

  “That thing about dealing with girls after sex?” Coop asked as he bounced a quarter into the glass. “He said, and I quote... Anything a chick says post-orgasm doesn’t count.”

  I thought about how I’d reacted after Layla’s I’m in love with you, and had already come to the same conclusion myself. It didn’t really make me feel too great to find that I was in agreement with Rymer about something, but I was glad for the seconded opinion just the same. “Hate to admit it, but the guy has a point.”

  Sarge snorted. “You actually believe that shit?”

  “It’s true!” I said, looking to the girls for confirmation. Heather refused to meet my eyes, Becca was too busy stifling her giggles to offer commentary, but Lisa shrugged and nodded in reluctant accord.

  Sarge’s brows furrowed as he asked, “Does it still count if I’m the only one that had an orgasm?”

  We were already snickering at his question when Lisa piped in. “What I don’t believe is Rymer was actually capable of giving anyone an orgasm. Himself included.”

  We all sputtered out a laugh as Pick threw an arm around Lisa and chuckled into her hair. Lay had said they were fighting but they both seemed to be in a pretty damn good mood. Maybe they made up.

  Becca leaned into Coop. “Hey. If Rymer is taking over our room, where are we going to sleep?”

  Our room? We? I guessed the guys must have changed up the room assignments at some point. Huh.

  Coop leaned back in his chair and threw an arm around Becca’s shoulders. He let out with a sympathetic sigh as he offered, “Sofa City, sweetheart.”

  Chapter 30

  FUNNY ABOUT LOVE

  I woke up early, staring up at the ceiling, my brain racing too fast to even think about going back to sleep. Layla had consumed my thoughts for the past ten months, but never so much as she had in the past ten hours. We’d gone from merely makeout buddies to sort-of sexual partners inside of a single evening, and I really needed to sort it all out with her, to make sure she was okay. I’d checked on her before heading to bed but she was still out like a light. I let her sleep and passed out soon enough myself.

  But now, here it was, five-eighteen in the morning, and I knew there was no way I was getting back to sleep.

  Layla either, if the shadow passing by my door was who I thought it was.

  “Layla?” I asked in a near-whisper.

  She stepped into the open doorway of my room. I could barely make out her form from the dim gray backlight, but she still looked gorgeous.

  She picked at her nails to say, “I can’t sleep. I thought I’d go for a run on the beach.”

  “Oh, cool,” I said, whipping off the covers. “Hey, give me a minute and I’ll join you.”

  I got dressed and used the bathroom, brushed my teeth, and met up with her in the kitchen.

  She was being quiet. Maybe it was just too early in the morning for her usual bubbly personality to make its appearance, but I was pretty sure she was feeling awkward about our crazy hookup last night. It’s not like we banged on the floor or anything, but a handjob in the bathroom wasn’t exactly the classiest hookup going. A girl like Layla deserved a more romantic setting than some crappy bathroom in some crappy house.

  She headed out the back door and I followed her silently up the street toward the beach. It was still fairly dark out; the streetlights were still on and the roads were deserted. The only things awake were some lazy seagulls and the two of us.

  I took a deep breath once we hit the sand. I couldn’t get enough of that Jersey salt air into my lungs. L.A. had phenomenal beaches, but they were different from this. Different sounds, different smells, different texture to the sand between my toes.

  We abandoned our run and settled ourselves down near the edge of the water just as the sun made its first appearance along the horizon, shooting flecks of neon pink and orange across the gray sky. We sat next to each other in utter quiet, neither one of us wanting to break the spell of the gorgeous sight before us by offering clumsy commentary.

  That was until Layla’s voice interrupted the silence. “So, is everything going to be all weird between us now?”

  I was startled to hear her think that. We’d hooked up before, but I guessed she was having second thoughts now that things had been taken a little further yesterday. “Why? Because we...?”

  “No. Because of what I said after.”

  She was acting embarrassed and awkward about what she said, which pretty much confirmed my suspicions about why she said it. Hell, I knew she didn’t mean it. The girl was probably freaked out all morning thinking I’d taken her seriously, but it was time to let her off the hook. “C’mon, Lay. You think I never blurted out something crazy in the middle of having sex?”

  Her bottom lip dipped open slightly, taken aback by my confession. “Like what?” she asked. “Tell me.”

  My brain flashed back to the night I lost my virginity to Anna Carlisle freshman year. I called her my moon goddess. Ugh. One of the most embarrassing moments of my life. I smirked uncomfortably to answer, “Nuh uh. No way. Not happening.”

  She bit her lip and aimed imploring eyes at me. “Pleeease?”

  “A gentleman never kisses and tells.”

  “Oh please. You’re no gentleman.”

  “True. But nobody knows that.”

  “Tell me, Chester!”

  That was it. I’d had enough.

  I pounced on her, laying her flat-out on her back with her arms pinned to the sand. Kneeling over her body, I nudged my hips against hers, trying to distract her from the subject. “Drop it, Warren.”

  Her eyes went wide as she laughed out, “Warren? What are you Rymer now?”

  “That may be the worst thing anyone’s ever said to me ever.”

  Her chest rose and fell in a painful laugh. “Ow. I can’t breathe. Trip, you gotta get off.”

  Done and done.

  I rolled off her, but she went for a surprise tackle. Too bad I was ready for it. I braced for the attack, caught her around her waist, and used the momentum of her flying body to roll myself on top of her, pinning her down on the sand once again.

  I was practically sitting on her chest this time, using my knees to immobilize her arms at her elbows as I grabbed her wrists and slapped her hands against her face. “Why are you hitting yourself? Why are you hitting yourself?”

  Her hair had come loose fr
om her ponytail and was strewn messily across her face as she laughed and sputtered out, “No fair! You’re bigger than I am!”

  “Yep. Stronger, too. Don’t ever forget it.”

  “Fine! You win! Now let me up. I have sand in my eye.”

  “Yeah right, you big faker.”

  “No! Really! I think I have sand in my eye.”

  I took mercy on her so she could stand up, the phony.

  Sure enough, she went to dive-bomb me. I freaking knew it! I rolled out of the way while she was airborne, and she wound up face-down on the beach.

  We were both dying laughing. Somehow, I managed to get to my feet and stand over her, holding my sides as she lay in the sand, fully breaded from head to toe. I was concentrating on catching my breath, so I wasn’t prepared when she gave a sharp tug to my ankle, sending me sprawling into the sand next to her.

  My mouth gaped in shock, unsure of how she’d been able to ambush me so effectively. But then I turned toward her and growled, “Oh, you are so dead.”

  She got up to run, but she didn’t get very far. I grabbed her from behind, spun her in a circle, and threw her down onto the ground again. Instead of making another break for it, she mirrored my pose as I laid out on my side and propped my head in my hand. The girl was a fighter. “You just don’t give up, do you, Warren?”

  “Never, Rymer.”

  Once we were through cracking up, we realized there was a beautiful sunrise taking place over the ocean. I sat her between my knees and rested my chin on her shoulder so we could catch the rest of the show.

  The view in front of us was more fitting than if I’d arranged it myself. It was the dawn of a new day; a new era for us. We’d been hooking up all week, but I got the impression that this weekend had just set everything in stone. Layla Warren was officially my girlfriend. Finally.

  I wanted to tell her something big, something to solidify the occasion, but she spoke before I could. “This was fun.”

  “What?” I asked. “Getting tackled in the sand?”

  She giggled. “Yes, actually. But I meant the whole trip down here. I liked being with you like this.”

  “Me too,” I whispered against her hair. “I kinda don’t ever want to leave. What time do we have to clear out today?”

  “Eleven.”

  “Crap.”

  Okay, not exactly Kit Marlowe-level discourse, but then again, I was hardly ever confused with the guy.

  It was sad to think that our beach trip was coming to an end. It had been fun playing house all weekend. “Well, it’s not even seven yet. I think we’ll have enough time to throw our stuff in the car and get out of here.”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “We’ve got a lot of cleaning to do. You slobs destroyed the place.”

  True. Rymer’s clothes were all over the living room, and the bedrooms were a disaster. Plus, the kitchen actually looked worse than when we found it. I know that seems impossible, but it was the truth.

  I stood and hauled her to her feet so we could brush ourselves off and head back to the house. We walked in the door to find that everyone was already awake, which was surprising. They were all stripping the house of any evidence that we were ever there. I grabbed a big black contractor bag from under the sink to gather up all our garbage, figuring it was as good a place as any to start; the can in the kitchen was overflowing. I recruited Sarge for the task before stealing his girlfriend to help me out upstairs.

  While Heather and I stripped the beds, she cleared her throat and said, “You know... I really like Layla.”

  A smile slipped out. I couldn’t help it. “Yeah, me too.”

  “You make a great couple.”

  I stopped shoving the fitted sheet into the laundry bag to look at her in astonishment. “You know about that? That we’re a couple?”

  Heather rolled her eyes. “Trip, please. You two have been spending every minute together, huddled in private conversation, all those stolen looks and inside jokes... I’m surprised the whole house doesn’t know.” I let that info sink in as she added, “How long since you two have been a thing?”

  “All year,” I chuckled, running a hand through my hair. “But we ignored each other for a good chunk of it. We didn’t start speaking to each other again until the night of the play.”

  “Ah. That explains it. That’s about the same time that you stopped being so mopey.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Please don’t get offended. I didn’t mean to insult you.”

  I shrugged and pulled a ratty pillow from its case. “You didn’t.”

  “It’s just... as much fun as we had with the play, you always had a wall up. I didn’t know you before then so I couldn’t compare, but you’ve been... well, you’ve been happier the past couple of months. I can only assume it’s because of Layla.”

  We moved into my bedroom and continued our busywork. I thought about the road Heather and I had travelled together, what an awesome friend she’d been to me over those long and miserable months. I was glad she’d found someone to make her happy, too.

  “Sarge is pretty great too, you know.”

  “Yes. Yes he is.” Her cheeks immediately flushed with the admission, but her eyes managed to meet mine in a knowing smile. “I don’t know how to thank you for introducing us.”

  I gave her a wink and said, “Easy. Just marry the guy and name your first twelve kids after me.”

  Her jaw dropped as she stared at me aghast. But soon enough, the corners of her mouth turned upwards as she laughed and threw a pillow at my head.

  * * *

  The guys had been carrying everything out to the cars all morning which somehow left me to be the last man standing. I took a last look in every room to make sure we didn’t forget anything, grabbed my duffel, and headed downstairs. The house was officially empty.

  As I bounded out the kitchen door, I saw everyone milling about in the driveway, attempting to cram all our worldly goods into their respective vehicles. Layla was leaning against her car, the sunlight bouncing off her dark brown hair, and I swear to God, the world around her disappeared. I had tunnel vision as I walked straight toward her, dropped my bag on the ground, and pulled her to me for a kiss. I was pretty sure all our friends were watching and I didn’t care. I always knew this girl was created to be in my arms. It was about time everyone else realized it, too.

  In my mind, the entire crowd broke into applause, punctuating this movie-moment worthy of a slow-clap. But in actuality, I had no idea what they were doing. Probably making fun of us for getting all shmoopy in their presence. I didn’t care. The only thing I was aware of was Layla.

  When I finally pulled back, Layla was smiling from ear to ear. “Wow.”

  I couldn’t stop grinning either. “Will I see you later today?”

  “Sure,” she sighed out breathlessly. “Why don’t you come over once you get back?”

  Of course Rymer took that as an open invitation. “Hell yes!” he shouted, clapping a hand on my shoulder. “I wanted to go swimming all week but the ocean was too damn cold. Yo! Who’s up for a pool party at Warren’s?”

  Our friends let out with some collective cheering as Layla pursed her lips at me. We were both looking forward to a little alone time, and having the whole crew breathing down our necks was hardly the romantic afternoon we had in mind.

  * * *

  Coop brought us straight to Layla’s house. We all had our bathing suits, so there was no reason to pit-stop home first. Upon our arrival, Mr. Warren immediately ran to the supermarket and came back with a ton of food. We told him we could cook it on our own, so he left us to fend for ourselves.

  Sarge took over grilling duties explaining that he was the only one who knew what he was doing, but I suspected he was just trying to show off for Heather.

  The pool was actually too warm, but that didn’t stop us from spending the entire day in the thing. I hadn’t been in it since last September, back when Layla and I were just friends.

  B
ut even then, I knew better. I knew we’d end up together eventually.

  And now, here we were, wrapped up in each other’s arms. I don’t think a five minute block of time passed where I wasn’t kissing her. I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t keep my hands off her.

  Needless to say, I was grateful that no one busted our balls about it.

  It was fun punctuating our time away with an impromptu pool party, but I can’t say that I was sad when it was time for everyone to go home. I wanted to be alone with my girl.

  Soon enough, it was just Layla and me on the pool stairs. I was sitting on the second step as she straddled my lap. Jesus. I was pretty sure I’d be spending the next months in a state of permanent arousal, and I offered up a quick, silent prayer to the Patron Saint of Perpetual Boner to save me.

  Lay peppered wet kisses along my neck, her voice reverberating against my skin as she asked, “What are we?”

  I pulled back to look at her, to try and make sense of what she just asked me. “Like... to each other?”

  “Yeah.”

  I was kind of caught off guard by the spontaneous inquisition. I’d never been expected to have The Relationship Talk with anyone. “I don’t know, Lay.”

  She didn’t look too happy as she slid off my lap and floated a few feet away from me. “Well, make sure to let me know when you figure it out.”

  If she thought that was the end of our conversation, she was dead wrong. “Hey, hey, don’t be like that.” I grasped her wrist and pulled her toward me, situating her across my lap again. “I only meant that I’ve never been here before. This is uncharted territory for me, Lay.” I ran my nose along her cheek and nuzzled my face into her wet hair. “We like each other and we like to hang out. If you want me to put a label on it, if you’re asking me if we’re a couple... yeah, I think of you as my girlfriend. I’m not seeing anyone else and I don’t want to see anyone else.”