Life Interrupted (9 page)

             
“I’m not leaving her. I told you I didn’t want to go anyway.  Go with your friends.”  As inappropriate as the timing is, and as much as I should be grateful to Tripp for all he’s done rather than praying for the failure of his relationship, I can’t help the smug feeling that engulfs me as I hear him tell her he won’t leave me. 

             
“Lauren, I’m not having this conversation again,” he says in a low voice.  “Go to your party, I’ll call you later.”

A m
inute later he’s in the kitchen sitting down at the counter and I slide him over the two sandwiches along with a bag of chips and his glass of milk. He nods and takes a huge bite while I stand across from him and eat my own sandwich.  For a bit we’re comfortable with the silence, both of us content to eat our food and think our thoughts, both of us aware that we won’t agree when we start talking.

“Did you tell your mom?” he asks when he’s finished both sandwiches and most of his milk.  I shake my head.  His jaw clenches and
he looks down at the counter, his elbows resting on it when he leans forward.  I stare at his forearms, the muscles that seem to swirl and swim when he clenches his fists.  If I could see his hands, I would stare as always at his long fingers, the wide palms, the fluidity with which they move, more suited to a grown man than an eighteen-year-old.  I shake my head when thoughts of how he once used those hands pop into my head, looking now at his broad shoulders that are covered by a thin blue long sleeve, then to his beautiful face. 

             
There’s a slight scar through his left eyebrow from when he and Tanner got into it over a one-on-one basketball game a few years ago, but it only adds to the whole package, keeping his face from being too perfect.  His eyes are blue, framed by girly long lashes that served as a constant source of teasing when he was younger.  Now, their long spidery curl makes him look like an angel, a direct contrast to the hair he has always keeps short, no matter what’s in fashion.

             
When he pins me with those eyes, I meet his stare and wait.  “If you won’t press charges for harassment, then you need to at least tell her, tell Stacy, let me tell Tanner and Griff so that people can help you.”

             
“Help me with what, Tripp? Marcus wants to scare me.  By enlisting the help of everyone, aren’t we telling him he has?”

             
“Fuck what he
thinks
we’re telling him, I’m not waiting for him pin you to the side of a car or a bathroom wall and threaten you again.”  He stands up and comes around the counter until we’re face to face.  “You can’t fight everyone yourself, Rachel.  You have to ask for help.”

             
“Who’s fighting?” I ask and he groans.  “Marcus threatened me, but he didn’t hurt me, he didn’t leave a mark.  What am I going to say if I file a complaint? That he had the nerve to ask me not to spread rumors? Come on, Tripp, be realistic.  If I tell my mom and Stacy, all they’re going to do is exactly what you’ve already done, which is remind me that being around him isn’t in my best interest, or Gracie’s.  Those are both things I already know.”

             
He’s battling, fighting his anger and I know it’s because he sees my side.  “Compromise then,” he says and I tilt my head.  “You don’t walk out of practice alone, and if you see him anywhere that you are, you walk the other way and call someone and tell them.  He’s dangerous, Rachel, and tonight was just the tip of it.  If you don’t agree to that, you better get ready to be pissed because I’ll call everyone I know right now and have them watching out for you.”

             
“Oh Jesus Christ, you act like I can’t take care of myself.”

             
“Yes or no, Rachel.”

             
“Fine.”

             
“Fine what?”

             
“My god you irritate me.”

             
He smiles and leans back against the counter.  “The feeling’s mutual.”  Then he just waits, looking at me with his brows raised.

             
I roll my eyes.  “Fine, mommy Tripp, I’ll walk out in one of those packs most girls are fond of—though you realize I’m going to have to find more friends to make this possible—and if I see Marcus I’ll run the other way.”

             
He nods.  Then he tilts his head and his voice drops a few octaves.  “You okay?”

             
The question itself isn’t that odd, but the way he says it, as if it really matters.  And then I feel like a bitch because even if I don’t matter to him the way  I want, Tripp’s been my best friend since we were ten and I know my answer
does
matter.  So I work hard to slap on a smile and ease the tension.

             
“Please, this was nothing compared to childbirth.”

             
When he grimaces and mutters “Jesus,” the tension in my shoulders eases and I go back to eating my sandwich. 

              The day Katie turns eighteen is the last Saturday of spring break.  It’s also the day of Tanner’s fraternity’s charity mud-bowl volleyball game where beach volleyball teams from around the city pay a fee and compete.  Since all proceeds go to the Center for Abused Women and Children, the turnout is better than most fundraisers held by Greeks.  The only downfall is that because it’s Oregon, the volleyball pits are wet, and since it’s raining they’re only going to get more disgusting as people beat them down throughout the day. 

Last year I still refus
ed to touch a volleyball at this time, so Tripp and Katie played on a team together.  This year, Katie and I have signed up as a team and Tripp and Tanner are a team.  So far, it’s muddier than I expected, but Katie and I are holding our own—a byproduct of the fact that we’ve played together almost every day for the last seven years and our rhythm is natural.  We’ve beaten two of the three other teams in our bracket (fraternity teams more interested in adding to their already expanded beer bellies than competing) and are handily doling out an ass kicking to the third.  They started out strong, but it’s obvious they don’t know shit about volleyball or its mechanics because while they can jump high enough to hit the ball hard, they hit as many outside of the court as they do in and they can’t defend to save their lives.  Katie can dig just about anything hit at her, and though defense isn’t my strong suit, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out where these guys are going to hit it. 

At Katie’s insistence,
we’re wearing a matching outfit of black bikini bottoms and a black dry fit that doesn’t meet the top of my bottoms by a good four inches.  I was mortified at first, thinking we were underdressed and should be wearing our spandex at least.  And then I saw the other girls and realized a dry fit and bikini bottoms looked like a snow suit compared to the string bikinis and
less
that appeared.  Jesus, I don’t even want to think about how much sand they have in certain places.

             
When we win our bracket, Tanner and Tripp come to congratulate us.  Tanner gives me a once over and wiggles his eyebrows.  “Looking good, Rae.  Like the outfit.”  Tripp scowls at him but he grins good naturedly.  “What?”

             
“She has a kid,” Tripp says and I bark out a laugh.  He scowls at me.  “What? I just meant he shouldn’t ogle you when you know, you’re a mom.”

             
“Jesus, Tripp, it’s a baby, not a disease.”

             
“Rachel—”

             
“Bro, stop talking before you insult her again.”

             
“Are you guys coming to my birthday party tonight?” Katie asks and I’m grateful for the diversion.  “It’s at my house, nine o’clock.”

             
“Can’t, I work tonight,” Tanner says and Tripp glances at me. 

             
“Need a ride, Rachel?”

             
Before I can respond, Katie’s already talking, grinning from ear to ear.  “She and
Dean
are going out to dinner with me and Doug first.  It’s our first official date as a couple.”

             
“Who’s watching Gracie?” he asks and I groan.

             
“Christ on two crosses, Tripp, what’s with you and Gracie? She’s taken care of and spending the night with Stacy and Nick.  Is that okay or should I have checked with you first?”

             
“Rachel,” he starts but I hold up my hand. 

             
“Forget it.”

             
“We’re up,” Tanner says and pounds Tripp on the back.  “You ladies be ready.  We’re meeting you in the finals.”

             
“Better win while you can,” Katie shouts after them and we walk to find out our next opponent.  “Christ, why are his panties in a twist?”

             
“Right?” I scowl over at Tripp and try to ignore the flutters in my stomach when he takes his shirt off to reveal that gloriously broad back of his.  “I fucking know I have a daughter—and it’s okay for me to go out once a week.”

             
Because the words are more defensive than angry, Katie stops and puts her hand on my back.  “Hey, Flow, stop.  You’re a great mom.”  But I wasn’t always and she knows that’s what I’m thinking.  I didn’t talk to my daughter let alone touch her for the first six months of her life. Is it really out of line for someone to question whether or not I’ve thought about her?

             
“Yes,” Katie snaps when I verbalize this.  “Tripp can fuck off.  He’s just mad because you’re dating and he missed his chance, the bastard.”

             
“Katie, we both know that’s not it.”

             
“Whatever.  All I’m saying is don’t let that shithead make you doubt yourself because you’re learning to be a person not just a mommy.  You have a life, you give Gracie a good life.  Don’t you dare doubt it.”

             
I smile at her.  “That’s some pep talk, Dr. Phil.”

             
“Fucking A,” she answers and rolls her shoulders.  “Now let’s go beat some soro-whority ass and get our party on.  It’s my goddamn birthday.”

             
We do beat some sorority girl ass and meet Tripp and Tanner in the finals.  They aren’t seasoned players with great form, but it’s obvious from the first rally that they’re far more organized and knowledgeable than anyone else we’ve played (being sober was a big help, I think).  And gorgeous.  Tanner looks exactly like Tripp only slightly thicker through the chest.  When they take their shirts off, I think Katie actually licks her lips.

             
“Hey.”  I snap my fingers in front of her face.  “Pay attention.  Tripp doesn’t suck and Tanner hits hard.”

             
“I’ll bet that’s not all he does hard,” she says and I choke on a laugh.

             
“Aren’t you dating Doug?”

             
“Flow, dating Doug doesn’t mean I’ve been struck blind.  No wonder you’re stuck on him,” she says and motions to Tripp.  “He might be a prick but he’s
hot
.”

             
“I’m with Dean,” I tell her.

             
“With Dean, in love with Tripp.”

             
I ignore her and go to my position, looking over when I hear my name called.  When I spot the subject of our conversation, I smile.  Dean inclines his head and puts his hands in the pockets of his shorts as he stands on the sideline away from the crowd.  Looking at his adorably shaggy brown hair and his well-built frame that wears his hoodie and shorts so well, I wish I could produce something more than the comfortable feeling I get when I look at him.  Like the sparks that I feel igniting each time Tripp and I are in the same vicinity, let alone speaking.

When I turn back to the court, I see Tripp has followed my gaze and is scowling. 
Tanner says something I can’t hear, but it does the trick and has Tripp laughing as he holds out his middle finger before turning to crouch and receive my serve.

             
Throwing the ball up, I jump and meet it, placing it closer to Tanner, knowing he’s the slower of the two. Tanner is all power and force where Tripp knows how to use his angles, how to change up whether he dumps it or really hits it.  And he can play defense.  When he blocks me the second time, I think my head might explode from the frustration.  They take game one by three points and I scowl as Katie dances to the other side, stopping on her way to go over and kiss Doug (something she appears to do every twenty seconds now that she can).  Dean inclines his head and smiles, shrugging his shoulders. 

“Good job.”

“You know we lost, right?” I ask as I take his water and down some of it.

“Yeah, but
they hit pretty damn hard and you’re…” He trails off looking guilty and I raise my brows at him.

“Were you just about to say that we’re
girls
? As if that explains why losing is acceptable?” He swallows audibly as if realizing his misstep and shakes his head no.  “I didn’t think so.”

The next game is similar, only this time I block Tripp twice and Katie surprises them by sending two or three over the net instead of setting me up.  When Tanner takes his third digger and eats sand while missing the ball, I laugh.  We win by six and when we go under the net, Dean applauds.

“Tell your boyfriend you haven’t actually won yet.” 

“At least you’re able to admit that the win’s inevitable,” I say and brush by him.

              Tripp grins and it brings out one of my own as I take my side and get ready to serve.  As I bend down to get the ball, I notice Tripp’s stare and though it might be small of me, I take a few extra seconds, brushing sand off of my shins, my thighs, adjusting my shirt. 

             
“Are you done grooming yet?” he hollers and I smile before throwing the ball up and starting.  Almost forty minutes later, Katie and I are the winners and I can’t help my laughter when she launches herself into my arms. 

             
“Drinks are on you tonight, bitches,” she yells across the court and several heads turn.

             
“Shh, Katie, Jesus.”

             
“What? It’s my birthday.”

             
“You’re turning eighteen, not twenty-one.  You’re legal to date but still not to drink.  Do you need a refresher on that?”

             
“Relax, Flow,” she says as we walk toward the center to shake hands.  “Tonight’s going to be fun.”

             
“Goddamn, ladies, I don’t know whether to be embarrassed or proud,” Tanner says and I grin.

             
“Either works.  In fairness, I thought you had us when Tripp hit that last one.”

             
“Too bad I’m so fucking quick,” Katie says and mimes digging the ball.

             
Tanner’s watching her in a way that makes me wonder if he’s as enamored by her as she is by him.  I know Tripp’s thinking the same thing when he punches his brother again, bringing Tanner out of his trance.  When Doug comes and drops his arm around Katie, Tanner’s grin turns to a scowl.

             
I make introductions when Dean steps up and I ignore both Tripp and Tanner’s obvious assessment of him.  “You guys coming tonight?” Dean asks.

             
Tripp raises a brow.  “Are you coming tonight? No college party to go to?”

             
Dean seems slightly taken back but recovers in time to just laugh.  “Maybe I’ll see you there.”  And then he turns to me.  “Pick you up at seven?”

             
I nod.  “Yeah, I’m dropping Gracie off with Stacy at five.”

He leans in slightly, but w
hen his eyes slide to Tripp and Tanner, I huff out a breath before yanking on the front of his shirt and planting my lips on his.  It’s a toss-up whether he or Tripp is more shocked when I step back.

             
“See you at seven.  Come on, birthday girl, let’s go get you ready for your party.”             

~

              “You know I’m going to kill your cousin if he keeps touching her like that, don’t you?”

             
Dean smiles and looks over at Katie and Doug, who are currently wrapped together in an embrace that is far too intimate for public.  Even though I’ve softened slightly toward Doug and his douchiness in the past month, I’m still on high alert.  I mean, he actually has a pack of cigarettes rolled into his shirt sleeve.  When he took off his coat (a leather ensemble I’m guessing cost him an easy three hundred and makes him sweat and jingle like Santa), my eyes almost popped out of my head.  Dean hid behind his napkin and informed me that Doug doesn’t even smoke.

             
Now we’re at Katie’s party (one that’s being thrown by her mother who made a surprise appearance home two weeks ago), and Katie and Doug are wrapped around each other like vines on a trellis, limbs snaking everywhere, fingers crawling over body parts better not shown in public. 

             
Dean winces and looks down at his drink, his own face going red.  More from the idea that his cousin’s getting some and he’s not, I presume. 

             
After the day he realized I had a kid, our budding relationship took on the pace of an aging snail.  Though we’ve been seeing each other pretty regularly for over a month now, we’ve done little more than kiss and hold hands.  I can’t tell if this is because Dean’s a gentleman or because he’s afraid anything more will lead to me thinking he wants to be the father of my child and possibly a few more.  Since I’m not really sure what I want from him beyond the good time we’re having, I’ve let it be.  Watching Doug and Katie, I wonder if I’ll ever have that type of physical desire for someone, or if having a baby after the one and only time I had sex will affect me for the rest of my life.