Remember When (Remember Trilogy #1) (14 page)

   I watched as his eyelids relaxed and his mouth curled into that lazy grin of his which never failed to kill me. Then he nodded his head almost imperceptibly as he breathed out one, remarkable, little word.

   “Yes.”

   There was no misreading the way he was looking at me, or his words, or his intent. I was pretty sure that this was the night when
everything
was about to change between us.

   It figures that there I was without makeup on, dressed in sweatpants and my hair all tied up in a ponytail. But none of that was about to stop me from finding out what promises awaited behind that look in his eyes.

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

   I closed my window and started to turn toward the hallway, but just then,
at that exact freaking moment
, I saw the headlights of Dad’s car coming down the street.

   I thought, “Dear God, really, are you kidding me? Now?
Really
?”

   It was positively shattering to realize that my life-altering night was being crushed.

   After my initial devastation, I was able to recognize a bit of humor in the moment, however. As Dad’s car had been pulling into the driveway, Trip had been diving for the bushes.

   Even through my despair, I found it funny the way he felt the need to hide away like some fugitive just because my father had come home. Dad had already met him a handful of times and
he knew that we weren’t a couple or anything, but Trip was acting like he’d just been caught with his hand up my shirt and his pants around his ankles.

   Maybe I should have let him in a few minutes earlier.

Chapter 17

AWAKENINGS

   I knew that Trip and I had crossed over into some exciting new territory that night and I was just dying to find out where it was leading. I mean, a guy doesn’t just show up outside his
buddy’s
window late on a Saturday night to tell them how much they were missed at some school dance, right?

   The minutes felt like an eternity, waiting for the phone to ring. I spent my wait trying to decide if I should play it cool when he called, maybe a little hard-to-get. But then I realized that was probably pretty stupid and he wouldn’t buy it anyway. He knew me too well. And really, here was everything I’d wanted for so long unexpectedly dropping into my lap. I’d have to be an idiot to go and play games with it.

   I figured I’d played it cool long enough. If Trip wanted to be my boyfriend, then I was going to let it happen, ecstatically, without toying with his head.

   I stayed awake until midnight that night waiting for the phone to ring.

   It didn’t.

   I stuck close to home all day on Sunday, because I wanted to be there when he finally decided to call, or better yet, maybe stop by. I’d made a point to shower and put on a decent-yet-casual outfit in case he made another appearance on my doorstep. I wanted to look a little nicer than I did the night before when he caught me without makeup and wearing a pair of sweats. I wasn’t going to let him catch me looking like such a frump the next time he decided to spill his heart out.

   By dinnertime on Sunday, I still hadn’t heard from him and I started to wonder if I’d only imagined what was going on between us. I started to wonder if maybe there wasn’t even an “
us”
to begin with at all.

   I began kicking myself for being such an idiot, “panting after Trip like a stray puppy”, just like Lisa had said. She said that everyone knew about my crush on him, and at the time, I thought she was just trying to be hurtful. But
did
everyone know? Was I the butt of some cruel joke, people whispering behind my back for being some pathetic, love-struck loser who was way out of Trip Wilmington’s league? Is that why everyone voted for us at homecoming, as a big setup to put me in my place? Was there a bucket of undumped pig’s blood hovering above the stage at that very moment? I mean, he was dating Tess Valletti for godsakes. Did I really think I stood a chance of stealing him away from a girl like that? Me. Layla Warren.  Semi-converted wallflower and longtime tomboy.  

   Yeah. That’s what a guy like Trip wanted. A fraudulently popular, obsessive-compulsive dork with a wicked jump shot.

   I washed the makeup off my face and went to bed.

* * *

   The next morning, I woke up late as the phone was ringing and nearly fell out of bed when I went to answer it. My head was dazed from sleep, but my heart was beating out of my chest as I fumbled for the receiver and choked out, “Hello?”

   At first, there was a deafening silence as the clock ticked off the seconds, the
hours
. The anticipation was killing me. “Hello?” I said again.

   And then at last, I was met with, “I’m sorry.”

   Lisa.

   I sank back into my pillows and let out the breath of air I hadn’t realized I was even holding in.

   “Yeah, I know.”

   I could hear Lisa fiddling with the cord on her end as she laughed out, “You
know
? What the hell is that?”

   I laughed, too.

   It was great to have a best friend that didn’t need to have the upper hand all the time. A lesser person could have used my blundering words to prolong the fight.

   “I’m sorry. You’re right. I want to apologize, too. It’s just that
I know
you weren’t trying to be hurtful when you said all that stuff to me the other day.”

   “Well, at least you got that right.”

   “But it did hurt, you know.”

   “I know, I know. That’s why I’m sorry. I could have said things better.”

   “Yeah, maybe you could have. But it wouldn’t have changed the fact that everything you said was true.”

   Lis gave a big sigh on her end. “Look. What the hell do I know? Maybe you’re not wasting your time like I said. I was thinking about what you told me and maybe it’s not so horrible that you and Trip are just friends.”

   Hearing his name out loud only compounded my humiliation.

   “No. You were right. This thing between him and me is disturbing.”

   “Yeah, but maybe you only started spending so much time with him because I’ve been a bad friend. Maybe you were only put in this weird position because Pickford and me have been up each other’s butts for the past two months.”

   “He’s your
boyfriend
.”

   “Yeah, but you’re my
best
friend.”

   Lisa and I didn’t normally wear our hearts on our sleeves, mushing up and telling each other how important we were to one another. Aside from the half-pendants we used to wear in fifth grade- she was BEFRI and I was STENDS- there weren’t too many declarations of our BFF status. It wasn’t something we felt the need to reaffirm all the time. It was just who we were.

   “I know. You’re mine, too.”

   “Pick you up in about an hour?”

   “Yep. Oh, and hey- Congratulations, Homecoming Queen!”

   “Oh, sweet Jesus, if you ever call me that again, I will strangle you with my satin sash.”

   By the time Lisa and I finally got off the phone, I had to rush to get myself ready for school, rallying my way through my morning ritual. I was really freaked out at the thought of having to see Trip. He’d officially left me hanging all weekend and I still hadn’t figured out why. My stomach was in knots as I stepped out my front door to wait for Lisa in the driveway.

   The weather had turned colder overnight, depositing a layer of frost over every surface and blade of grass on that Monday morning. It was the time of year when most girls would wear a pair of sweatpants under their uniform skirt for the commute to school. I tried it once, but stripping the pants off upon arrival left me feeling naked the whole rest of the day. It was better to just deal with icy legs for the few minutes every morning, so as not to feel self-conscious all day long.

   Frozen nerve-endings aside, I always loved that time of year, right before the season turns into winter. Summer is always the best by far, but late Fall always runs a close second. I love the smell of the cold- crisp and brisk and smoky- crunchy, wet leaves under my feet and the scent of a wood-burning fireplace in the air. I loved the promise of wool sweaters, leather boots and corduroy jackets, knit scarves and fur-lined gloves. I loved seeing my breath as I talked and writing on frosty windows with my finger.

   It’s awesome to live in a place where the seasons change. Sure, a year-round warm climate might seem like a blessing at first, but after a winter or two floating around a pool, doesn’t all that green just eventually become downright boring? I couldn’t imagine looking up at Norman Hills that time of year and still seeing all the trees dressed in their summer greens. It would be a crime to miss out on such a fireworks show, oranges and yellows and the occasional red, splashing across the Earth in one last magnificent blaze of glory before succumbing to the inevitable, albeit temporary, Brown Blah.

   By the time I made it to Lisa’s car, I was feeling pretty nervous and pissy about having to see Trip, because I still didn’t quite know how I was going to act toward him. I relayed all that to Lisa, after filling her in with a few of the highlights from Saturday night.

   “Wait. So he just came over after the dance? Just showed up at your window?”

   “Well, yeah.” Lisa didn’t realize that that wasn’t so out of the ordinary. He came by all the time. We hung out a lot. And we talked on the phone all the time.

   Well,
almost
all the time.

   “But why is it such a big deal that he didn’t call you after? You didn’t... you know...”

   “Nope. Well, it’s not like we weren’t headed in that direction. He just... never made it inside the house is all.”

   “But you think he wanted to?”

   That was the part that had me so confused. How was I supposed to describe not just what he said, but the way he said it? How was I supposed to describe the look in his eyes? The hope that I saw there? I thought he’d said all those awesome things in the expectation that it would ultimately lead us together, but then he just left me hanging all weekend waiting for confirmation which never came.

   Lisa summed up my latest thoughts on the matter. “You think maybe he was just making a booty call?”

   I’d started to come to the same conclusion, but just hadn’t wanted to admit it to myself. But there it was.

   I finally conceded. “Yeah. I don’t know. Maybe. Probably.”

   “Well, screw him! What the hell is that?”

   “Your guess is as good as mine.”

   “All the time you two spend together and he takes advantage of that to pay you a latenight? You’re better than that! God, you must be so relieved that nothing happened.”

   I don’t think “relieved” was even in the ballpark of what I was feeling. All morning, I’d been fighting the thought that Trip was possibly a big, fat user. I had spent almost three whole months completely infatuated with him, jumping at his every beck and call, wasting countless hours hoping for any sort of return on my investment.

    And what had he offered? Nothing.

    I was his buddy, his
pal
, someone whom he got a kick out of on occasion. He probably only came over after the dance to make sure I was still going to be his adoring little mascot. The one time I don’t show up and fawn all over him, he has to swing by to test the waters. It was worse than a latenight! He was probably only stroking his ego, making sure that I was still in love with him. 

   The inescapable epiphany hit me like a Mack truck.

   I finally realized just how completely pathetic I truly was over him. I saw myself from Trip’s perspective and grasped what a truly wretched, ridiculous idiot I’d been all along. The revelation fueled my insecurities; but in an unexpected way, it also obliged me take stock of my assets, too.

   I mean, maybe I wasn’t Tess Valletti, but I sure as hell wasn’t some complete loser that deserved to be treated like a runner-up, backburner consolation prize to be utilized at his convenience! 

   From then on, I made the conscious decision to stop being the butt of everyone’s joke, stop making myself so available and most importantly, stop being so completely obsessed over Trip Wilmington.  

   I cracked the window and was met with an icy chill, snickering to myself at the thought that Trip’s first winter in Jersey was going to be even colder than he could have imagined.

   Bye bye, drooling puppy.

Chapter 18

THE RIFT

   I readied myself all morning for The Big Production I was going to be putting on; the one-woman show entitled, “
Fuck You, Trip Wilmington
.”