Remember When (Remember Trilogy #1) (22 page)

   Trip didn’t know what to say, I guess, but it’s not as though I was giving him a whole lot of air to respond, launching into a hysterical rant. “You don’t know what it’s like, to be a girl without a mother! Having to do things like go on your first date, or start high school or get ready for the prom, knowing she’s not going to be there. You don’t know what it’s like to stare down a random woman on the street, wondering if maybe this time, it could really be her.
You don’t know how impossible- how
completely freaking impossible
it is- to try and make sense of any of it, every single solitary day of your life, just wanting to know...
WHY
?”

   I took a huge shaky breath into my lungs, trying to calm myself down. I’d gotten my crying under control, but I’m sure I was a puffy, red mess. “You just can’t possibly know. I mean, your mom is so great!”

   “Yeah, you’re right, Lay. I
don’t
know. And she is. But I look at it like she’s the saving grace for the fact that my father’s a total dick.”

   “But he seems so...”

   “Nice?”

   “Yeah. The way he smiles and jokes around and stuff.”

   “Well, he is. Nice, I mean. When he’s not drinking.”

  
Drinking... Wait- what?

   I couldn’t make sense of it at first. Trip was trying to tell me that his father was... an
alcoholic
? But it was just too weird that someone I knew was actually dealing with a thing like that, something you normally only see on TV. Yet there it was.

   “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 maneuvering 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 god 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?