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I went back out onto the deck, giving Trip the excuse to wrap up his conversation with Nathan, who
departed without incident. He headed back inside, leaving Trip and me truly alone for the first time in
five months.
I leaned against the railing, took another swig of wine and tipped my head back to take in the night
air. It was a gorgeously balmy night and I was with a gorgeously elated companion. Trip was
practically floating all evening, high on his performance. I hoped that maybe at least some of that
euphoria could also be attributed to the fact that he was there with me.
He leaned into me, gave me a nudge, smirked, and asked, So... how are you liking your first theatre
party?
I laughed, knowing he was teasing me with one of the first things I d ever said to him, back in
September, waiting in line for the bathroom at Rymer s party.
I put my glass on a nearby table and mugged his same pose from that night; hands in my pockets and
rocking back on my heels, and saying in a deep, midwesterner s accent, It s cool. Ever-one s bein
reeeally cooool.
Jesus, do I really sound like that?
Yes. That s what you sound like exactly.
That made him laugh, and in spite of my better judgment, it felt great to know that I still had the
power to crack him up.
I was starting to feel the effects of the wine, but I probably would have been just as drunk off of my
present company. After months of avoiding him, I d almost forgotten what a drug Trip Wilmington
could be. I d almost forgotten how his grin made this great dimple appear in his left cheek, how his
smile reached all the way up to his beautiful, blue eyes. I d almost forgotten what it felt like to have
him all to myself, the comfort of having him there to talk to, the way we didn t need to talk at all.
I was curious to ask him about a million things: I didn t know why he d suddenly started talking to
me again, I was interested to know when he d decided to be in the play. I wanted to hear about the
rehearsals, and what he possibly did in order to play his part so incredibly. But I didn t want to rock an
already unsteady boat. We were hanging out for the first time in months. I didn t think hitting him
with the Spanish Inquisition would go over too well.
So, I asked, Hey! How d hockey season go?
He grinned that lazy, half-lidded-eyes smile at me, making my stomach do a little flip. Pretty well,
actually. We kicked ass all over the state and almost clinched a spot in the nationals, but blew it at the
last minute.
Aww, man.
Yeah, tell me about it. It sucked. He tossed his empty beer bottle into the garbage pail and added,
But the coach was awesome. He actually asked me to be a part of his MVP team in the fall. If I join,
I ll get to travel all over, meet pro players and stuff.
Wow. Are you going to do it?
Trip gave a shrug and shot a sham dirty look at me from the corner of his eye, which always
managed to turn my insides to mush. Still thinking about it.
I downed the last sip in my glass, and Trip offered to go get us another round.
I stood and looked out over the back yard, smelling the sweet, night air and feeling the tingly,
numbing warmth of the wine taking effect in my legs. It was surreal, being there with Trip, picking up
right where we had left off, wherever that was. I decided that whatever was happening, I wasn t going
to rack my slightly alcohol-impaired brain trying to figure it out right at that minute.
It was hard to concentrate on anything other than watching Trip walk out of the house anyway-
dressed sharply in a tan Henley and black slacks and grinning in my direction- because the sight was
even more intoxicating than the drinks he was holding in his hands.
He placed them on the table, and gave a check over his shoulder before offering, I just saw
Vreeland trying to hit on Shelly Markham.
No way!
He came over to me, leaning his face close to mine. I shuddered at his nearness, feeling the delicious
sensation of his breath at my ear as he added, She turned him down flat.
Lucky guy.
We both cracked up, then Trip grabbed my glass and handed it over to me. I took it, saying out the
side of my mouth, Whatrya trying to get me drunk tonight, Chester?
I took a sip through a giggle and then realized he wasn t laughing, just standing there staring at me,
holding his beer frozen in midair halfway to his lips. My brain did an automatic rewind, and when I hit
play, I realized what I d just said.
I looked at him wide-eyed, until the most obnoxious PPPPHHHFFFFFTT! escaped from my
mouth and I doubled over laughing, Trip still looking at me thunderstruck.
He finally lowered the beer bottle and laughed out, Are you kidding me? How the- How did you...
Wha- Are you freaking kidding me?
I didn t think I was going to be able to take my next breath; I was laughing so hard my stomach hurt.
Oh my God! Trip! I can t believe I just called you that. I-
How in the hell did you know that?
I managed to get my breathing under control, fanned myself with my hand and then steadied myself
against the table. Okay, lemme just... Whoo! Okay. I m okay now. I took a sip from my drink (as if I
really needed one at that point) and confessed how I d seen it on his driver s license way back on the
day he filled out his application to work at Totally Videos.
Are you serious? He asked, looking at me like I d just found the cure for cancer. Do you know
that I ve managed to keep that under wraps in every school in every city I ve ever lived in?
Yeah. I figured as much. Am I the only one who knows?
He shook his head, still in disbelief that I had managed to sleuth him out. Ho. Ly. God. Layla
Effing Warren! Unbelievable. You know I have to kill you now to keep you silent, right? I mean,
seriously. I have to end you now. So what will it be? Death by Manilow?
I put the glass back on the table and found it took a little more concentration than necessary to stand
back upright. I hoped Trip didn t notice, but I was definitely getting a tad tipsy off of the wine.
Firthst of all, Shit. Was I slurring? my middle name is not Effing .
Trip totally sniffed me out, realizing that I was definitely feeling the sauce. Ya okay there, Lay-
Lay?
I dismissed his question with a wave of my hand. And B... I continued, I kep that little tidbit of
information to myself for... I started counting on my fingers, Trip smirking at my impaired math
skills. ...eight whole months! I didn t tell anyone. Not even you. At that, I poked a finger into his
chest, adding, So there, pal.
Jesus. I was definitely drunk. How the hell did that happen? I guessed my immunity was only built
up against cheap beer. Either that, or homemade wine packs more of a punch than storebought. I was
only on my third glass!
But there was no stopping me now. Thirdly... Oh, hey! Doritos! I spotted the bowl of chips on the
very table I d been using to prop myself up and popped like three or four into my mouth before
continuing. I happen to wike Bawwy Maniwow- (tortilla chips spraying from my mouth) -and
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