by Emily Snow
“He’s like, multiple personalities or something. One minute, he’s my dad, the guy that shows up to my hockey matches and is able to run a billion dollar company.”
The word “billion” almost made me choke, and I hoped Trip was just throwing it around to exaggerate his point.
“The next, he’s got a few scotches in him and he turns into the meanest, snarliest asshole you’d ever want to meet. I never know which guy is waiting for me when I get home.”
I took the confession as something hard for Trip to tell me. It sucked that he seemed so embarrassed about something he had so little to do with. I finally glanced over my shoulder to see him sitting sullenly at the edge of the yard. His shoulders were slumped as he picked at the blades of grass between his feet. My personal concerns left me as I realized I wasn’t the only one hurt and embarrassed back in the house.
I swung my legs around as modestly as possible, no easy feat while wearing a skirt and pivoting on my backside. Under normal circumstances, Trip would have reveled in the opportunity to catch a flash of girl panties, but he was a little preoccupied with his own thoughts at the time.
We sat in silence for a moment until Trip said, “I’m sorry about what my dad said in there. He had no right to talk to you like that.”
I gave a shrug, touched by his words, but not knowing what to say. I mean, it wasn’t his fault that his father said what he did. Why should Trip have to be the one to apologize?
I started picking grass along with him, arranging the occasional blade between my thumbs and blowing, trying to make it whistle. I always sucked at that. Trip decided to join me, with more success, showing off yet another of his innumerable skills. Always showing off. I rolled my eyes and flung my grass back from whence it came.
It was nice being there with him, sitting on the cool lawn in the dark; unspeaking and calm, sharing our secrets and trusting each other to keep them. Funny how our platonic status was bringing me comfort instead of anguish for once.
I leaned into Trip, nudging him off-balance in order to try and cheer us both up. I was thinking it was time to break the mood and get out of there, maybe grab some fries and gravy at The King Neptune.
“Hey Chester,” I said. “Ya wanna make out?” I raised my eyebrows a couple of times for added effect. Very Groucho Marx.
I was expecting him to laugh. I was expecting him to take my hand, haul me to my feet and bring me with him to hit the diner.
I wasn’t expecting him to turn his broken eyes to mine, skim a hand up my arm and whisper, “Yes.”
Before I knew what was happening, his palm was gliding up the side of my neck, slowly pulling my face to his. I was sure he could hear my heart beating out of my chest as he lowered his beautiful, full lips to mine and holy shit I was kissing Trip Wilmington.
My panic instantly gave way to the rush of pure heat his kiss instilled in me; all my wishful thinking, all my months of yearning, finally culminating in a moment I thought would never come. His lips were soft and insistent, his breath sugary and warm against my skin. I felt the pressure of his hand pulling my face tighter to his as he opened his mouth against mine, gently, allowing his tongue to make a brief exploration between my lips. He tasted so good, the heat of his sweet breath mingling with mine, my heart threatening to pound its way out of my chest.
I briefly considered the mortifying thought that it was only a pity kiss, but that idea was banished when Trip pulled back enough to whisper against my lips, “Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to do that?”
Not nearly as long as me, pal.
I slid my hands into the hair at his nape and his mouth opened fully over mine and the next thing I became aware of was his arms wrapping tightly around me as he lowered me onto the grass.
Lisa just about had a flipping heart attack on the phone when I told her about hooking up with Trip. I couldn’t bear to get into the events leading up to said hookup, however, and just relayed the highlights. “Oh my God, Layla! So, you guys are like, dating now, right?”
“Lis- The truth is, I don’t know and I don’t care.”
“Yeah, right.”
“No, seriously. Whatever this is, I’m totally fine with it. I swear.”
“Don’t you think you’re selling yourself a little short?”
“Actually, no. I’m happy enough just to have him back in my life. The hooking up is just a bonus. Seriously.”
“Well, if you’re happy, I’m happy for you.”
“Thanks. Hey- How’s Pick?”
“He’s great. I’m just trying to savor every day right now. I don’t know what I’m going to do when it’s time for him to leave!”
“He’s dead set on going, huh.”
“Yeah. I mean, it’s a really great opportunity for him. How can he turn down a full scholarship? Plus, he’ll get to play basketball.”
I felt like Lisa was trying to convince herself more than she was trying to convince me. But I simply said, “That’s great!”
When she didn’t elaborate, I knew her head had gone off in a daze just thinking about it. So, I tried to keep things cheery. “Hey, look on the bright side. We could maybe fly out there and visit him next winter! I’ve always wanted to go to L.A. and it would be nice to escape the freezing cold for a little while, don’t you think? Maybe he can hook me up with Johnny Depp or something. I’m sure they’ll be like best friends by then!”
Not like that was my best material or anything, but Lisa barely gave a chuckle. I figured she wasn’t in a cheering-up mood.
“Hey, so I’ll pick you up at nine-thirty tomorrow, right?”
She still had that far-off tone in her voice when she answered, “Yeah... Sure. See you then.”
I hung up and started packing some stuff into my duffel bag. The whole crew had rented a house down in Seaside for a post-grad celebration. It sucked that we had to pay for a whole week even though we were only going to be there for half of it, but the houses down the shore don’t rent by the day. Even the seediest places rented on a Saturday to Saturday basis. Since the rental arrangements had been made by Rymer and Sargento, I was pretty sure that our place was going to be the seediest of all.
Chapter 27
ANOTHER 48 HOURS
Lisa and I pulled up to the front curb of the rental house and almost died laughing. The place was a perfect, two-storied rectangle of brown. The roof and the siding were both covered in dark cedar shingles; the front door, the window frames and even the shutters were painted to match. The only bright spots on the entire façade were a ten foot, light blue smiling plastic whale over the front door and the row of pinwheels across the railing of the small brown balcony on the second floor.
Lisa got out of the car and stood on the sidewalk, nearly doubled over with laughter. “Holy Jesus, I can’t even imagine what’s waiting for us inside!”
But I had already decided I didn’t care about that, because I had just seen what was waiting for me outside.
Sprinting up the driveway, wearing nothing but his swim trunks and looking as delicious as ever, was Trip.
He waved me into the driveway, miming where I should park. Before I could even put the car in gear, Lisa gave me the raised eyebrows and laughed, “I think I’ll just meet you in the house.”
The drive ran straight through to a garage in the rear, where the blacktop fanned out and took over half of the small backyard. I squeezed my car between Coop’s Audi and Rymer’s truck and got out. I was feeling a tad cautious, not knowing how I should greet Trip. I mean, was grad night just a fluke? A one-time thing?
I watched as he bounded toward me with the most elated grin, not even trying to hide how excited he was to see me. One look at Trip’s face and I found myself vaulting the few steps that separated us and leaping into his arms. I wrapped my legs around his waist and landed a huge smooch against his smiling lips.
And then suddenly, the hello kiss took an entirely different turn.
He gave a brief look over his shoulder, before maneuve
ring us between the cars and backing me against Rymer’s truck. I started to put my feet on the ground, but he buried his head in my neck and whispered heavily, “No, don’t.”
He caught me under a knee with his hand and hitched my left leg back over his hip. His other hand was tangled in my hair and his mouth opened over mine as he pressed his body against me.
His breathing sounded ragged and I could hear a low hum stirring in his throat, the sound making me catch my breath as well.
I could feel his rising need through the thin bathing suit, hard and insistent, driving into the bikini bottoms under my skirt. Wow. I guessed he really was excited to see me. Had I known this was waiting for me, I’d have violated every traffic law known to man just to get down in record-breaking time.
I almost melted into him, my body turning as gooey as the steaming driveway blacktop as I returned his kiss, running my hands along his neck, his shoulders, his bare chest.
It felt so amazing, his lips open over mine, his exposed skin under my palms, his demanding body pressed so intimately against me. I was half in a trance by the time he pulled his face back slightly and whispered, “Hi.”
“Hi,” I said right back, breathless and smiling into those gorgeous, ocean eyes.
“Took you long enough to get here.”
Tell me about it. After an eternity of waiting, there I was, finally in the arms of Trip Effing Wilmington.
I laughed and said, “Yeah, it feels like it took forever.”
Once Trip adjusted himself in his shorts and grabbed my bag from the trunk, we headed for the house. Turned out, the inside wasn’t much better than the outside. Pickford was the first to greet us from his post in the kitchen, working an assembly line of sandwiches, apparently preparing lunch for the lot of us. Wow, that was pretty nice of him. Who knew he had a Betty Crocker streak?
“Hey, Pick,” I said in greeting, while my eyes scanned the horrors of the room. Earth-toned, flowered wallpaper served as a backdrop for the dark walnut cabinets; a yellow formica countertop and avocado refrigerator rounded out the décor quite fittingly. I noticed that Trip was watching me appraise the room, so I pursed my lips and looked at him wide-eyed. He shrugged his shoulders and said, “You haven’t seen the living room yet.” Pick’s head dropped and his shoulders shook as he laughed silently to himself.
I was ushered into a- yep, you guessed it- brown, paneled room, decorated in early Americana.
Make that very early Americana.
A thirteen-starred flag was strung up behind the brown leather recliner Lisa was sitting in. We exchanged a silent look of whatthehell? as I took notice of the bookshelves just crammed with every patriotic knickknack and memento ever created in the good ol’ U.S. of A. Tacky eagle statues, framed pictures of civil war soldiers, commemorative plates, shadowboxes of medals... Did the owners of this dive forget that it was a beach house?
I said hello to Rymer and Sargento, who were sitting on the brown and orange plaid tweed couch playing Sega, the only modern thing in the room. It was as though the place had been sealed up during a bicentennial celebration and we were the first brave souls to have walked back through the door.
Lisa must have waited for me before slamming on our friends. “Hey, nice digs, guys. What, you couldn’t find an older house? This place is much too fancy for us.”
Rymer didn’t bother looking up from the game he was playing. “Can it, DeSanto! What the hell do you expect for four hundred bucks a week?”
Lisa just rolled her eyes at me. I walked to the other side of the large living room and peeked my head down a small hallway. I scanned my eyes over the two bedrooms there, but decided I wasn’t brave enough to check out the bathroom just yet. I turned toward the east side of the living room and took note of the screened-in side porch. At least the place was pretty big. Plus, we were on a corner lot only a block from the boardwalk, so that was pretty cool. I did, however, pray that that wasn’t the only bathroom in the house.
Trip led the tour upstairs where there were three, slightly newer, slightly brighter bedrooms and, thank God, another full bath that looked somewhat clean.
He gestured toward the larger room, the one that faced the beach. I could see the pinwheeled balcony through the double sliders and figured it must be the master bedroom. Before I could even think of calling dibs, Trip said, “Forget it. Pick already won the coin toss.”
He dropped my bag in the middle room, and said, “This is you. And that-” he added, pointing to the room directly next to it, “-is me.”
I could see him fighting a smile, probably envisioning all the many ways he was planning on corrupting me throughout the weekend.
He gave a small bow and said, “I hope you’ll enjoy your stay with us, Miss Warren. Please feel free to utilize my services at any time, at any hour. I am available to attend to your, ah, every need twenty-four-seven. Even in the middle of the night.” He stepped closer and ran his hands down my arms, looking right through me with half-lidded eyes and smirked out, “Especially in the middle of the night...”
I just shook my head and kissed him lightly on the lips. I was mentally going over the room assignments when I realized our group was short by one. “Hey, where’s Cooper?”
Trip’s face took on a scowl. “Layla, seriously?”
“What?” I asked, even though I had suddenly realized how bad my question must have sounded to Trip’s ears. I guessed it was probably kind of weird and uncomfortable for him, having to spend the following days under the same roof as my ex. My sympathy was followed- I’m ashamed to admit- by the thrill of realizing that he was actually a little jealous about the whole thing.
It was almost comical, the way his shoulders drooped, making him look wholly deflated, and, I might add, completely adorable.
“I just offer you an invitation to basically steal my virtue, and while you’re kissing me, that’s when you decide it’s the best time to ask me about another guy? Jeez, Lay, talk about dejection.”
It was the “steal my virtue” line that let me know he wasn’t really upset. Otherwise, everything else from the look on his face to the tone in his voice would have made me think he was one-hundred-percent serious. Pulling a DeNiro on me.
I started to try and match his serious delivery, but I started laughing before I even got out one single word. Trip finally cracked, too, before I threw my arms around his shoulders and said, “Maybe you’d better try harder to keep me focused on you.” As if that was ever a problem.
He was still laughing as he said, “Oh, yeah?” and dropped his face to mine for a kiss.
I could tell it was gonna be one hell of a weekend.
Chapter 28
PRISONERS OF THE SUN
Cooper, as it turned out, had been on the beach with Becca Bradley all morning. As Trip, Lisa, Pick and I made our way down to them, Heather Ferrante was walking up from the water. Huh. I didn’t even know they were coming.
“Hey, everyone,” Coop yelled in greeting. “We saved you a spot.”
We laughed as we set up our chairs and blankets on the nearly vacant beach. There were only a few other people along our stretch of sand, and barely more than that walking the boards. Even though it was a sweltering hot, sun-shiny day, the official season didn’t really kick off until the first week of July. Most kids didn’t get out of school for another two weeks, so we practically had the whole town to ourselves. One of the very few perks of a Catholic education.
“Oh, hey, Coop!” I yelled three people down. “Pick made you guys some lunch.” I twisted around to grab the small cooler behind my chair and passed it over Trip to Heather. Trip, of course, used the opportunity to try and steal a peek down my coverup. When he finally raised his eyes, I gave him a look that let him know he’d been busted. He grinned shamelessly, but before he could offer commentary, I stood up, facing his chair.
Coop and the girls were busy rifling through the cooler while Lisa and Pick looked as though they were in the middle of some sort of heated argument. I unzip
ped my white, terrycloth coverup and let it fall into the sand.
Ha! Trip stopped grinning.
I was wearing a lethal turquoise bikini that was scarcely more than four triangles held together with string. It was barely swimming season, but I’d managed to get in the occasional lap over the past few weeks. I was pretty pleased with the way my toned bod remembered to come back after a winter of neglect. Plus, I was rockin’ some serious boobage in that bikini top.
Trip noticed.
I pretended to be oblivious as I sat back down on my chair, adjusted the armrests to recline and tipped my head toward the sun.
I heard Trip’s chair creak a mere second before I felt his breath near my face, but still I kept my eyes closed.
His low whisper against my ear caused a tingle along my skin as he spat out through clenched teeth, “Jesus Christ, Lay.”
I cracked one eye in his direction and saw a muscle twitching in his jaw and the wolfish look in his greedy eyes. I started to chuckle.
I was sitting there, stifling a giggle, so thrilled to have his full attentions as he whispered, “It’s not funny, Layla. Look at me! I’m not going to be able to get out of this chair for an hour!”
I looked down at his lap and took notice of the huge... towel folded across his legs. And then I cracked up.
Just then, Pick stood and hauled Lisa to her feet. “Hey. Anyone want to take a walk down to the water?”
Before I knew what I was doing, I yelled, “Trip does!”
And then I just lost it.
We’d all grabbed some dinner at Midway and polished off our cheesesteaks and sausage and pepper sandwiches on the walk back to the house. No easy accomplishment while lugging all our beach stuff at the same time.
By the time we got back, Rymer and Sargento had wrapped up their Sega marathon and were already hitting the beer. They were ecstatic when Cooper handed them the greasy brown paper bag from Midway and dove right in.