The Bad Boys of Summer Anthology(308)

Mr. Wilmington finally cut in, saying, “Okay, Maddie. You’re going to embarrass the boy in front of his friend.” He was almost laughing, sliding an arm around her shoulders and trying to get her to make with the farewells. At last, she gave Trip a final hug and they said goodbye to the both of us.

There we were, alone in the middle of a roomful of people. I wasn’t quite sure why Trip had broken our silent treatment, but he looked so elated that I figured he’d have been busting with excitement toward anyone he encountered that night, even me.

I was glad to have been given the chance to tell him in person, “Trip, I gotta say... You were... so good!”

That made him grin even wider than he already was, and I could tell he was puffing up with pride even as he tried to downplay my compliment. “Thanks. But I think you’re being too kind. It was no big deal, I was just okay.”

I wasn’t going to gush all over him, but he deserved to know what a great job he’d done. He deserved to know how he’d mesmerized the audience. How he’d mesmerized me. “Trip, stop. You blew the roof off this place tonight. Everyone loved you.”

“Everyone?” he asked, without even missing a beat, looking at me like he expected me to answer him with unconditional adulation, answer him like the old Layla who idolized him and harbored a big, fat crush on him.

But New Layla wasn’t biting.

“Truly, Trip. You could just feel how much the audience enjoyed themselves whenever you were on stage. I swear.”

That seemed to please him immensely. He grinned ear to ear and immediately wrapped his arms around me for a hug. I’m sure he had only been trying to thank me for the nice words, but the gesture was startling enough on its own.

But then suddenly, the embrace turned into something much more.

Before I knew it, I was hugging him back, my heart leaping out of my chest, the electricity passing between us like lightning. Trip felt it, too, because the hug went on for much longer than necessary. I could feel his hands smoothing against my back almost imperceptively, his lips turning toward my neck ever so slightly, breathing me in, sending shockwaves through my veins. He pulled back slowly to look me in the eyes and I’m sure I must’ve looked as stunned as a deer in the headlights. His smile was gone, replaced with a seriousness I’d never seen on his face before, his heavy lids focused on my lips... and as he leaned in...

...Rymer jumped on his back, almost knocking my teeth out.

“Heeey, Brando! You believe this guy, huh? Warren, can you get a load of this guy or what?”

Rymer noogied Trip’s head quickly before releasing him from a full-nelson and giving him a high-five. It was as though he were going for gold in the Cliché Eighties Jock Triathlon. Coop and Sargento opted for a simple handshake instead, announcing that they were splitting for the Barrens.

“You gonna make it over there later?” Cooper asked, and I didn’t know if the question was being put to me or Trip.

Trip answered, “Nah. Probably not. I have to hit the wrap party tonight. Hey, you guys wanna come?”

Rymer looked at him like he’d grown a second head as he laughed out, “Party with the Theatre Fags? Thanks, but I think we’ll take a pass, dude.”

Coop and I just rolled our eyes at each other as I leaned in to kiss him goodbye.

Lisa popped over just then, letting me know that she and Pickford were ready to leave. She gave me the bug-eyes, silently willing me not to offer commentary while whispering, “Can you believe this?”

No. No, I couldn’t. But she seemed happy, so I shut up and figured I’d get the whole story once we were alone.

Before I could say my goodbyes to Trip, he piped up and said, “Lis- I’ll drive Layla home.” He looked at me and added, “If that’s all right with you, obviously.”

I was stunned and confused and didn’t know what to say. Lisa wasn’t waiting for me to make my own decision on the matter and cut in with, “Yeah. That’s fine. Hey, Trip, you were great tonight!” Before I knew it, she was kissing me on the cheek and chirping, “Okay, guys, see you later!” Then she grabbed Pick’s arm and led him out the door.

That just left Trip and me standing there by ourselves again, recovering from our near miss. Trip took my hand and said softly, “Hey. Come to the party with me tonight, Lay.”

I looked down at his fingers threaded through mine, not quite believing what I was seeing. “I don’t know, Trip... I don’t want to crash...”

“You’re not crashing, I’m inviting you. C’mon, it’ll be fun.”

I didn’t know what brought about the change in him, but the last time I’d seen that look on his face, he was standing under my bedroom window after the homecoming dance.

That was the last good night between us, the unofficial end of our affiliation. I’d spent months after that trying to maintain my distance from him, convince myself that I was better off without him. It seemed impossible, but I had done it. I had purged Trip Wilmington out of my system and gone on with my life. After all that, would I really even consider putting myself in a position to go down that same road all over again?

You’d fucking better believe it.





Chapter 23

THE INNER CIRCLE



The party was at Heather Ferrante’s house. I think I can count on one hand the number of times she and I had ever been in the same room together, much less held a conversation. I felt like a complete intruder walking through the front door of her home.

Obviously, everyone else at the party felt so, too.

I’d been hanging with the “in-crowd” for so long, I’d forgotten what it felt like to be an outsider. Two steps inside the living room, I was reminded.

I couldn’t help but notice the unwelcoming looks I was receiving from the Preppy Girls, who didn’t even have the social grace to hide their disbelief at my presence. One of them (they all looked alike to me and I couldn’t remember anyone’s specific name) went so far as to singsong, “Hiii, Trip!” in a misguided, possessive sort of way, while completely bypassing even a polite hello to me. She was obviously the alpha female in her clan- her ballsy attitude instantly reminded me of Lisa- and I figured the rules of hierarchy held true for every clique; nerdy, cool, preppy or otherwise.

“Hey, Shelly. Hey, girls,” he remarked in their direction. “You know Layla, right?”

Shelly just gave me the once over and turned back toward her group of lemmings.

I couldn’t believe it. Was that loser nobody seriously snubbing me? Where did she get off? I didn’t even know her name until a minute ago, and she was acting like I was the social disease?

It was times like these when I wished I were more like Lisa. She would have instantaneously come up with the perfect zinger to put that little Ally Sheedy right in her place. But because I’m me, I knew I wouldn’t come up with something until thirty seconds after I’d walked away, then have to wait for the chance to use it in retaliation at a more opportune moment. Until then, I could just ignore her.

Kind of like I’d done for the past seventeen-and-a-half years, I guess.

I’d been about to write her off as just another jealous nobody with a self-imposed chip on her shoulder...

...when I realized that maybe her only problem was that she was just tired of being ignored for so long.

The rest of her little entourage stifled their giggles after my public snubbing, and I decided coming up with the perfect comeback was unnecessary. I was taken aback by why she would have even cared enough to bother trying to get one over on me- I mean, seriously, who the hell was I?- but it obviously meant a lot to her to have gotten the best of Layla Warren, so I let her have her triumphant moment. If she was going to live such a small life, it wasn’t my problem to deal with.

Trip seemed oblivious to my Martian status and ushered me toward the back of the house to say hello to our hostess, who was busily setting out some paper plates and napkins along her kitchen counter. Heather practically blushed when Trip kissed her hello, which was pretty funny, considering she’d just wrapped up months of rehearsal as his costar in order to play his love interest onstage.

Thankfully, she was a bit more gracious than her friends in her greeting toward me. I took the opportunity to let her know that I thought she’d done a great job as Sergeant Sarah Brown. She smiled prettily and asked me if I’d like a drink, her kindness enabling me to loosen up a little and start being myself. I was expecting a dry party, something along the lines of soda and chips, so I was surprised when Heather directed my attentions over to a table set up with bottles of beer, homemade wine and champagne.

Who says we were the only ones who knew how to party?

Trip grabbed a bottle of Bud, while I opted for some red wine. He clinked his bottle against my glass (I was dumbfounded to be at a high school party where I could use actual glassware) and we headed out onto the deck.

Nathan Detroit was on his way back into the house, but stopped to shake Trip’s hand and offer his congratulations. He proceeded to prattle on about the performance, hardly acknowledging my presence. Since I hadn’t taken part in the play, I didn’t have much to offer by way of conversation, and spent my time sipping from my glass. After a few minutes, I was surprised to find that it was empty and excused myself to go refill it.