TRIPPED

by Jacob Chance

  Pushing back my chair, I stand. “I’m gonna grab another beer. Anyone want anything?”

  The three of them shake their heads before continuing the conversation I haven’t been paying attention to.

  Opening the french door, I enter the kitchen, nodding at a few people I don’t know. Moving onward, I continue to search throughout the rooms for Piper, but she isn’t anywhere in sight. I’m just about to give up when I see Oliver and Ava welcoming some more guests at the door. I catch a flash of red hair passing by before Ava ushers the new arrivals inside.

  Should I go out there and talk to Piper? I know she won’t be happy about speaking to me, no matter where our first real interaction takes place. But it’s better to make it happen while we’re in a semi-private location than while we’re at school. I suppose we could both ignore each other indefinitely, but that’s not really my style.

  Closing my hand around the knob, I open the door and find Piper sitting on a swing at the far end of the porch. With one leg tucked underneath the other, she slowly propels the wooden seat back and forth with the ball of her foot. Staring downward, she looks lost in thought.

  I’m having second thoughts about disturbing her when the click of the door closing catches her attention. She raises her head, and though the overhead lighting is soft, I swear I see a fleeting glimpse of sadness before her dark brown orbs appear emotionless in her oval face.

  Regret slices through my chest like a burning-hot poker. I wish I’d never caused her any pain.

  I trek forward, not knowing what her reaction will be but eager to ease the thick tension between us. Her lips press tightly together when I drop into the cushioned wicker chair that’s closest to the swing.

  “Hi, Piper.”

  “Hi.” A loud sigh expels from her lips, as if speaking to me is the last thing she wants to do. And it probably is. She’s as adorable as I remember, and my mouth twitches with the urge to smile.

  I knew she wasn’t going to be eager to talk to me.

  “I heard you’re at B.U. now. How’s it going?”

  “It was going well until tonight,” she snarks.

  “What happened tonight?” I ask, straight-faced.

  “I bumped into my asshole ex who I haven’t seen since high school.”

  “I bet he was happy to see you.”

  She snorts. “I don’t see why he would be. If he cared, he would’ve kept in touch.”

  “Maybe he wanted to but it was easier for him to make a clean break.”

  Her eyes narrow with anger and lock on mine. “What the hell kind of cop-out is that supposed to be?”

  I don’t look away. “It’s not a cop-out at all. It’s the truth. I never lied to you about anything.”

  “Except loving me,” she spits out.

  “I did love you. But we were two eighteen-year-old kids who had spent one week together.” I hold my finger up. “One week.”

  “That was long enough to take my virginity.”

  I scowl. “I didn’t take anything that wasn’t freely given.” I’m not going to let her paint me as some villain who stole her innocence. She wanted me as much as I wanted her.

  “If you didn’t want anything serious, you should’ve kept your distance.”

  “I didn’t plan on falling for you, Piper. But we were living in different states—how were we going to make a relationship work? School and hockey had to be our priorities.”

  “You didn’t even give us a chance to see if what we’d started could survive. You just made the decision to end things for the both of us.” She pops to her feet. “I’m finished with this conversation, just like you were finished with me at the end of hockey camp.” She strides toward the door.

  “We’re going to bump into each other, Piper. We might as well be civil.”

  “How’s this for civil?” She holds her middle finger up and stretches her arm back so it’s the last thing I see before she disappears inside the house.

  Leaning my head back on the chair, I stare at the ceiling. If she’s angry after all this time, she must still care about me. At least a little bit. The thought of her having any feelings for me makes me happy. God knows, no matter how hard I’ve tried to forget her, I couldn’t.

  I remain outside on the porch, enjoying the breeze and solitude. Living at the frat house is awesome, but the biggest drawback is the lack of alone time. It seems like someone is always around. More often than not someone stops by to see what’s going on.

  It’s ironic that what I dislike most about the house now is what I loved about it freshman year. After months of pining over Piper, moving in there was the perfect distraction for me. Between my classes, hockey practices, games, and the plethora of girls attending our parties, my mind should’ve been too busy to think about Piper. But somehow I still did.

  Jeremy straightens to his full height, looking over the fire pit we’re building in the frat house backyard. “Dude, this is coming out so good.”

  Placing another stone down, I take a couple of steps back for a clearer perspective. My gaze scans the circular structure as I walk around the perimeter and I give a satisfied nod. All our free time this week has been spent working on this. Jeremy’s right, we’re doing a kickass job. “So far, so good. Let’s get this sucker finished.”

  We continue placing layers of stones, jockeying each one into place. “You’re not gonna believe who I bumped into last night at the party.”

  “Rachel?” he asks.

  “Nope.” I shake my head. “Piper.”

  His eyebrows leap upward. “Are you fucking with me?”

  “No, she was there.”

  “Why?”

  “She goes to B.U. and plays on the women’s hockey team.”

  “Get the fuck out.”

  “Rachel never mentioned this to you?” She and Jeremy have remained close friends since they met at hockey camp.

  “No, she didn’t. I wonder what’s up with that?”

  “I’m sure she didn’t want me to know and figured you’d fill me in if you knew.”

  “Damn right I would’ve.”

  We return to stacking the stones, and before we know it, there are only a couple more rows to go before it’s complete. Jeremy breaks the silence. “So, what did Piper say to you? Was it weird to see her?”

  “She wasn’t pleased, that’s for sure. She made it clear that she’s still angry with me for ending things.”

  “Jesus. You guys were still in high school at the time. She sounds bitter to me,” Jeremy says.

  “I don’t think she’s bitter. I think she’s still hurt, and I gotta be honest with you, I feel bad that she is.”

  “You didn’t want to cut the relationship off either, but you were thinking of the big picture,” Jeremy offers.

  “I thought I was doing the right thing.” It sounds like an excuse, but at that time in my life, I really thought ending things was the best choice.

  “Dude, you did. How would you have stayed together going to two different schools? And all the women who throw themselves at you? How long would you have been able to resist the temptation?” Jeremy justifies like any best friend should. I’m so glad he transferred to B.U.

  One Piper is worth more than all those girls combined.

  “We never really talked about the future. We only had that one week, and by the end of it we were busy doing other things.” I can still remember what it felt like to slide inside her the first time. I clench my teeth together and pick up another stone.

  “She should move on like you have. You didn’t let the breakup affect you at all. From what you told me, you just jumped into frat life and embraced all it had to offer.” He winks.

  I did exactly that. With every girl I buried myself in, I convinced myself I was one step closer to forgetting about Piper. Now that I’ve seen her, I realize it was all a facade. I fooled everyone with the illusion that I was having a good time—but mostly I fooled myself. Because Piper isn’t the type of girl you ever get over.

>   Once we finish with the actual construction of the fire pit, I make sure the stones on top are situated securely before Jeremy dumps two bags of sand inside. Grabbing a shovel, I level the grainy mixture until the surface is even.

  Jeremy tugs off his gloves and shoves them into his pocket. “Looks like our work here is done.”

  I swipe my forearm over the sweat running down my forehead. “Not quite. We need to clean up and put everything away, then set out the chairs we picked up.” Marshall and Shaw gave us shit when we turned up with a stack of grimy, plastic chairs in the back of Jeremy’s truck. We found them for free on the side of the road. They said no one else would want them. But with a little elbow grease they almost look brand new. And there’s enough for all of us.

  After we finish cleaning up and everything is put away, we set the chairs around the fire pit. Marshall and Shaw step onto the back deck and make their way down to us carrying a small cooler.

  “That better be beer and not water,” I call out before they head down the stairs.

  “Come on, would we do that to you?” Marshall grins. Setting the cooler down, he opens the top and pulls a bottle opener from the front pocket on his shorts. He pops the caps off, handing beers out all around. Groaning, I collapse into a chair and take a long, deep pull of the ice-cold liquid. I’m so overheated and dehydrated from working in the sun, I swear it tastes better than anything I’ve ever drunk. My three friends sit down and sip from their beers too.

  “You guys did an awesome job on this fire pit,” Shaw compliments.

  “Thanks,” Jeremy says, and I nod.

  “It’ll be great once the nights cool off more. We’ll have a reason to be outside when it’s cold,” I add. Growing up in Vermont, we always had the fire pit going, even during the coldest months. Sitting around a blazing fire and drinking hot chocolate on a winter’s night is surprisingly enjoyable.

  “What was up with you and Piper last night?” Shaw asks.

  “What are you talking about?” I’m curious what he picked up on.

  “There seemed to be some tension going on. Do you guys know each other?”

  Jeremy barks out a laugh. “Do they know each other? You could say that.” He continues to laugh until I catch his eye and then he abruptly stops.

  “Who’s Piper?” Marshall asks.

  “She’s a recent transfer student and a friend of Maddie and Clover,” Shaw explains.

  “Piper and I met at hockey camp a few years ago,” I say.

  “Did you guys fuck around or something?” Shaw presses.

  “What’s with the fifty questions? I feel like you’re interviewing me.”

  He shrugs. “I’m just curious. You guys both acted weird last night.”

  “We dated briefly and it ended. We haven’t spoken since,” I say.

  “So I wasn’t imagining the weirdness. I was gonna ask Maddie, but we got busy and didn’t have time to talk.” Shaw grins.

  “Don’t start,” Marshall cautions him. “That’s my sister you’re speaking about.”

  “I didn’t go into detail,” Shaw replies.

  Marshall shakes his head slowly. “I don’t even want to know that your dick gets within six feet of her.”

  Lost in thoughts of Piper, I sip my beer and let the conversation continue around me. I wonder when I’ll see her again. And if I don't, what am I going to do about it?

  Chapter Twelve

  Piper

  Clover drops into her seat and smiles at me. “Hey, you.”

  “I was wondering if today would be the day you wouldn’t make it on time.”

  “Nah. I would've been even earlier, but I bumped into someone.” She takes a sip of her coffee and moans. “This almost makes my shitty morning better.” Breaking off a piece of her donut, she shoves it between her lips. “Oh God, this definitely helps.” She holds the donut out to me. “Want a piece?”

  Clover never comes to this class without bringing something to eat and it’s usually unhealthy. I’m not sure how she stays so in shape.

  I shake my head. “You seem like you need it more than I do.”

  “Trust me, I do. This morning has been a disaster, but things are looking up now.” She bites off another chunk, licking the chocolate from her lips.

  “Hey, I have a hockey game tomorrow night, and if you’re not doing anything, you can come cheer us on,” I suggest.

  “I’d love to. I’ve never been to one of the women’s team games. I bet you guys kick ass.”

  Not wanting to appear arrogant, I shrug. “I’m biased, but we absolutely do. I wish we could play against the guys’ team. I’d love to show them what we’re made of.”

  “You seem like you have a personal reason for that,” Clover says.

  “Oh, I do. One of the players on that team and I have history—and not the good kind.”

  She blows out her breath in a sympathetic huff. “I know what that’s like. I have my own hockey player issues. In fact, they're what, or should I say who, almost made me late.”

  “What’s your hockey player’s name?”

  “He’s not mine,” she’s quick to reply.

  “Are you sure about that?” I ask, grateful I’m not the only one with guy problems.

  “As sure as I can be. And his name is Marshall.”

  “Marshall Winters?” I ask. He’s an extremely talented hockey player.

  “That’s the one. What about your hockey player’s name?”

  I grimace. I don’t want to answer, but I can’t really hold back now that she’s shared. “Donovan Archer.”

  “Oooh, I thought there was some weird vibes between you guys last night. You probably don’t want to hear this, but he’s actually really nice. Well, nice to me because Marshall is Maddie's brother.”

  “I didn’t realize they were related,” I reply.

  “Yep, and her boyfriend Shaw, who you’ve met, is on the team too. He also happens to be Marshall’s best friend.”

  “Dun dun dun. The plot thickens,” I joke.

  “Oh yeah, the plot is thick enough to drown in, and any hope we had of being together is past the point of resuscitation.”

  Our professor walks in and we both pull out our laptops. “I still want to hear about you and Donovan,” she whispers.

  “There’s not much to tell.”

  Clover smirks. “You probably wouldn’t dislike someone that much without a reason.”

  “Oh, I have a good reason. I just don’t think it’s all that interesting for others to hear about.”

  “Misery loves company. We can make voodoo dolls of them together.”

  I grin. “I like your style.”

  I drive into the empty space at the strip mall and park. I’ve barely stepped out of my car when my phone buzzes, alerting me I’ve got a text message.

  Mom: Don’t forget to pick up Chewy.

  I roll my eyes as I type my reply. My mom is the queen of micromanaging people. Actually, it’s not people in general, it’s just me she likes to control. Chewy is my dog and he lives with me and Rachel. It shouldn’t be her concern.

  Me: I’m already there.

  Jesus. As if I’d forget to pick up my favorite family member.

  I close the driver’s side door with more force than necessary and trek toward the building. Nothing can aggravate me more than my mom. All it takes is an unnecessary message or call from her and my mood plummets quicker than the stock market on Black Monday.

  Pushing my sunglasses to the top of my head, I enter the large chain pet store. I make my way toward the back where the grooming center is located. Stepping up to the counter, I wait for an employee. My gaze wanders, looking at the dogs currently being groomed. I’m surprised to find Chewy is one of them—and even more so when I realize Donovan is his groomer.

  What the hell?

  Have I stepped inside an alternate universe? This is the last place I’d expect to see Donovan working.

  My eyes pop wide open as I observe him carefully trimming the hai
r around Chewy’s eyes. He speaks in a soothing voice, too softly for me to hear what he’s saying. However, Chewy is gazing adoringly at him like he’s his favorite person in the world.

  So much for dogs being loyal.

  I guess I can’t blame him for falling for Donovan’s natural charm. I’ve been guilty of the same.

  An employee approaches from the other side of the counter. “Miss, can I help you?”

  “I’m here to pick up Chewy.” I hand over the appropriate money and my gaze wanders back to Donovan. He sprays something onto Chewy’s hair and continues brushing him. Being the attention hog he is, he falls to his back, offering up his belly for scratching. Donovan laughs and gives in to his demands. Placing the bottle and brush down, he vigorously scratches from his belly all the way up under his chin. Chewy goes limp like a wet noodle—except for his twitching back paw that lets me know how much he’s enjoying the attention.

  Oh God. I’m not going to think about the bizarre parallel of my dog and me both knowing how talented Donovan Archer’s hands are.

  The cashier hands me my receipt, and I smile. “Thank you.”

  Donovan hooks Chewy’s leash to his collar and fastens a blue bandana around his neck. Setting him down on the floor, he walks him toward the counter. I recognize the precise moment he notices me by the small hiccup in his pace. His blue eyes barely register his surprise before his usual confident expression is back in place.

  He bends down, picking Chewy up. My traitorous Lhasa Apso licks the length of Donovan’s cheek, drawing a chuckle from him. I’d be lying if I said that deep sound didn’t evoke memories of a happier time.

  He raises a small section of the counter and steps through before lowering Chewy to the laminate surface in front of me.

  “Look at my handsome boy,” I sing, wrapping my arms around his neck.

  “I didn’t think you’d noticed.” Donovan affects a cocky pose and rakes his fingers through his hair.

  My tongue clicks against the back of my teeth. “Wrong dog.”

  A hint of a grin quirks his lips. “I don’t remember you having a dog,” he says, edging closer until his arm brushes mine.