The Bad Boys of Summer Anthology(328)

He was still grinning that gorgeous, white, elated grin as he said appreciatively, “You’re right. Thank you.”

I started to say, “You’re welcome,” but Trip had reached down to remove a little something from under the blanket, a little something that currently, was sheathing my new favorite thing about him. Before he even pulled his hand out from under the covers, he said, “Uh, Babe? Don’t know how to break this to you, but...”

My first thought was, Ohmygod! The condom broke! For one horrifying second I was sure that I was pregnant, that I’d never go to NYU and that I’d have to tell my father, who would immediately drop dead of a heart attack upon hearing the news.

So, it was almost an odd relief that all Trip was trying to tell me was that there was “a little bit of blood” down there.

Oh, God, how embarrassing! I was pretty mortified, but immediately grabbed my purse and dug out some Wet-Naps and tissues, thanking the good Lord up above that I at least had something we could use to clean ourselves up.

Trip grabbed a few of the towelette packets, slipped into his boxers and exited the tent, affording me some privacy.

I lifted the covers and peeked with one eye closed... and saw the small stain that was spotting the blanket under me, along with the mess of my inner thighs. Gross! Why does loss of virginity have to be so undignified?

I did a quick cleanup, found a pad in my purse and put my clothes back on, then rolled the stained blanket into a ball, which I shoved in the corner of the tent before going outside.

Trip was just inside the edge of the trees, naked except for his undies. Seeing him hanging out in the woods in just a pair of boxers was so out-of-place that it was comical. It broke the tension enough for me to laugh out, “Well, that was pretty horrifying,” trying to make light of the disgusting situation. I mean, what was I supposed to say? I was humiliated. And Trip was probably completely grossed out.

“Oh, so sex with me is horrifying? Nice, Lay.”

I took the opportunity he offered to dismiss the Texas Chainsaw Massacre back there in the tent and asked, “Did you just call me a nice lay, you perv?”

Trip did a double-take, realizing how I’d twisted his words around and started laughing. He leapt toward me and threw me over his shoulder, smacking my butt, telling me to cry uncle. I couldn’t twist out of his iron grip and I was not letting him win, so I reached down and grabbed the waistband of his boxers and gave a good tug.

“Wedgie defense!” I yelled as he put me down post haste.

“A wedgie? Really?” which cracked us both up as he adjusted himself in his shorts.

It was a downright shame that Trip had to eventually put his clothes back on. I thought he should forget about travelling or hockey or college and just set up a booth on some beach somewhere, selling tickets to random girls who’d gladly pay good money to see him shirtless. His chest should rank right up alongside the Grand Canyon as one of the Lord’s most miraculous creations.

We packed everything up and trekked back to my car. Neither one of us said much, and I knew we were both thinking the same thing. My impending departure loomed over us, that actuality suddenly very real and very imminent. In just a few hours, I’d be in New York; no more Norman, no more Trip. I knew he was waiting for me to skip town before getting on with his travels, and since we never discussed either of those things at length, I wondered where he’d be heading first.

We loaded up my car, and as I slammed the trunk, I saw that Trip was just standing there looking at me. I met his eyes, trying to commit every detail of his beautiful face to memory, not so easy to do considering my vision was starting to blur from unshed tears.

Without hesitation, he put his arms around me, holding me tight against his chest. “We’re not doing this now, okay? I’ll come over in the morning, but I. Can’t. Do. This. Now.” I could hear his teeth clenched together as he said that last part, which gave me the strength to clamp down on the waterworks as well. Tears had been threatening for weeks, never more so than in the past few minutes, but I was determined not to ruin our last night by bawling.

I pulled back to let him know it was okay, I understood, that we could postpone our big theatrical scene for a few more hours.

And then I saw the look on his face.

I almost fainted dead away. There was Trip, his expression telling me everything I ever needed to know. Back in the tent, I was fairly certain that he’d fallen in love with me. Looking into his eyes, that thought was confirmed, right there on his face. He was looking at me with such adoration; those broken, blue eyes offering a window into his heartache, dying inside as he watched me slipping through his grasp.

He may as well have been screaming “I love you”.

I’d won our school science fair in the fourth grade, my “Phases of an Egg” presentation eclipsing the dozen or so baking-soda-and-vinegar volcanoes presented by the rest of our class. I’d taken gold in our town’s Junior Olympics when I was ten, and got to stand up on the top of a three-tiered pedestal after placing first in the Fifty Yard Dash. One time, when I was fourteen, I’d received a Presidential Physical Fitness certificate from Ronald Reagan, when I logged a record-breaking eighty-two situps in the span of a minute.

But nothing compared to the sense of accomplishment I felt- no award, no ribbon, no trophy- no achievement lived up to the unfathomable triumph of having won the heart of Terrence C. Wilmington III.





Chapter 39

THE HARD WAY



I took a last look around my room, knowing it would never be the same again. Sure, my Water Lilies comforter would still be where I left it on my mattress, my furniture would remain in its rightful place. But the next time I would walk through that door, I’d just be a visitor.

I ran my fingers over the pictures around my mirror, taking in the images of my life from over the years. Yesterday, I was a little girl riding a bike; in a few short hours I’d be riding out the rest of my life.

Doesn’t it just go by in a blink.

Dad had packed all my stuff into the car hours before: The movie posters I’d bought on my last day at Totally Videos, the bedding set I’d picked out with Lisa. The mini-fridge Bruce had gotten me at graduation, the computer from Dad, the bags upon bags of clothes, a box of my favorite books. I stood out in the driveway looking at all of it: My New Life, crammed into every spare inch of our family car.

Trip’s truck pulled in just then, and he looked almost beaten as he got out and made his way toward me. No kiss hello, no hug. Just his hands jammed in his pockets as he offered a nod of his head and a formal “’Morning” at me.

In the old days, I would have freaked out by his lack of emotion, especially considering how we’d spent the previous night. But I knew that he was being standoffish purely out of self-preservation. What else could he be expected to do?

“Hey, uh,” he started in, not quite sure what to say. “You, uh, you okay?” referring to my near-fatal hemorrhaging the night before.

Some of my embarrassment had left me by then. I mean, I’d come to the conclusion that if something like that was going to have to happen someday regardless, I’m glad it had happened with him instead of some random guy. “I’m fine. A little mortified, but I’ll live.”

“You know, that was a first for me, too.”

I looked at him, ready to call him out for being a rotten liar when he clarified, “I’ve never been anyone’s First before.”

I forced a laugh and said, “Well, I can only imagine you never will be again after that horror show.”

His eyes met mine then, the broken look on his face almost tearing my heart out, the sad, sad realization that our minutes together were numbered. After all the months of postponing the inevitable, there we were, left with mere seconds to spend with one another.

He came over to me, grabbed my hands in his and planted a sweet kiss on my lips. “No, probably not. But only because I can’t imagine ever wanting to be with anyone else ever again.”

My stomach wrenched, actually causing me physical pain. How could he say something like that to me? My heart was already shattering into a million pieces and I was already doing all I could not to break down in tears.

“Trip... don’t.”

Oh God, please don’t say it. Please, please-

“I’m in love with you, Layla.”

I dropped my head as the tears came rolling down my cheeks; despite my resolve, I was completely incapable of stopping them. You’d think that I would have been bursting at the seams with joy, finally hearing him say the words I could only dream about for the better part of an entire year. But I was too crushed to feel any sort of elation at his admission. And the truth was, I already knew how he felt.

“Trip. Stop!”

“No, Layla. I won’t stop.” He moved closer, cradling my head to his chest before continuing. “I know you’re leaving and I would never try to keep you from going, and I guess I have my own path to follow as well. But don’t ever ask me to stop loving you, because I can’t. Don’t ever think I’ll be able to forget you, because I won’t.”

I was actually sobbing against him then, my shoulders heaving, my tears dampening the front of his T-shirt, causing tiny, dark blue spots to appear across his chest.