Remember When 2 (30 page)

It was originally an exclusive bit posted on Totally Booked Blog, but just in case you missed it, I’ve decided to include it here. Enjoy your Trip fix!

* * *

TRIP

Monday, November 26, 1990

   Finally, it’s almost lunchtime. I don’t think I can stand another minute in calculus, not only because Piven’s a boring tool, but because Margie Freakin’ Caputo never seems to be able to just shut the hell up.

   She’s chewing my ear off, wondering aloud about where the party’s gonna be this weekend. Yeah, okay, sweetheart. I can take the hint you’re throwing at me. No need to ram it home. And by the way, you and me? It’s never going to happen.

   When the bell rings, I have the excuse to ditch Margie. I grab my books and dump them in my locker on the way to the cafeteria.

   Layla is already there.

   I haven’t seen her since Saturday night, when I went to her house after Homecoming. I’d expected to see her at the dance with Cooper Benedict, but she wasn’t there with him. In fact, she wasn’t there at all. I didn’t know what to make of that at first. Word around school is that the two of them have been dating on and off for years. Which sucks for me, but the thing is, I actually like the dude. He’s a decent guy. We got off to a bit of a rocky start that first week I started here, but I think he finally saw he was being a little too territorial. He eventually backed off when he realized I wasn’t looking for a turf war.

   I didn’t realize until the dance that they obviously must be “off” right now, and figured
screw it
. I’ve waited long enough. Wait too long, and those two might end up back “on” again. I’m a patient guy and all, but I’m not gonna wait forever.

   So, that’s why I went straight from the dance to Layla’s house. There I was, standing under her window like an idiot, trying to find a way to ask her out. I was all set to do it. Right then.

   And then
she
invited
me
inside.

   Woulda been nice if her father hadn’t come home, however, because I had to ditch out before I even got my foot in the door. Mr. Warren seems like a nice enough guy, but I don’t think he trusts me. It’s like he can see all the ideas I have running around my head about his daughter. Most of my thoughts are pretty tame. But some of them… Hell, I wouldn’t trust me either.

   I left Layla’s house and went home, with the intention of calling her the minute I got in the door. There was no way I was going to ask her out over the phone or anything, but at least I could’ve made plans to see her the next day. At least I could’ve laid the groundwork.

   But when I walked into the foyer, I saw that the old man was up. Just sitting there in his fucking chair in the den, a goddamn glass of scotch in his hand. I started to turn, just wanting to get the hell out of there. I didn’t know how many drinks he had in him, and to tell you the truth, I didn’t really want to know.

   I really don’t want to get into all the gory details about the whole situation. Just know that the guy tends to drink himself into a stupor most nights, and I’ve learned over time that it’s best to just avoid him when he’s like that. Asshole.

   But then I heard him start in. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t the pride of the Wilmington family.”

   I probably should have ignored him and just headed upstairs to my room, locked the door, and waited for him to pass out. But that night, I didn’t do it. The guy just really pisses me off when he’s like that, and I thought,
fuck him
. He wanted a fight and I was going to give it to him. That night, I found myself talking back to him, so sick of just ignoring his slurry jabs. Next thing I knew, I was trading shoves with the drunken bastard. It almost got really ugly. My mother came down and managed to break us up, and I spent the rest of that night trying to make her feel better about the whole thing.

   The next day, my father apologized—he always does—but Mom made me take her to church and then lunch just to get the two of us separated from him for a few hours and  have The Talk about getting him some help. Again.

   So, the weekend kind of got away from me.

   But I just figure I can talk to Layla now that we’re both together here at school. I sit down next to her at the lunch table and say hi. Only, she’s so busy chatting up Cooper that she doesn’t hear me.

   “Layla. Hellooo. What? You don’t even say hi?” I’m busting her chops a little, but she knows I’m only joking. It’s what we do.

   But then I think maybe she gets it in her pretty head that I’m really taking a dig, because she kind of gives me the rolled eyes and barely says hi back.

  Shit. She must be pissed about Saturday night. I know I was standing there wondering how I’d possibly be able to stop myself from jumping her the second I got inside her house, so I can’t say as I blame her. But it’s not like she knew that. Wait. Did she?

   She’s completely giving me the cold shoulder, her full attentions lavished all over Cooper. She’s smiling and flirting at him, practically batting her damned eyelashes at her ex-boyfriend. And I know now that he is definitely her ex, at least according to Rymer. Has been for a long time, in fact.

   Jesus. What the heck was I thinking, listening to Rymer? ‘Cause right now, she’s trying to make it very clear that she’s way more interested in Coop than she is in me. She’s like,
fawning
all over him. What the hell is she doing? Playing games with me? Trying to make me jealous right now?

   Damn. It’s working.

   I hear the guys start laughing at something funny Rymer says just as the bell rings, and find myself following Layla across the hall to her locker. I need answers.

   I step in front of it, blocking her, and ask, “What the hell was that in there?”

   “What the hell was what?” she asks back. She’s got these amazing brown eyes that look at me all wide-eyed and innocent, and normally, seeing her look at me like that just about kills me. But right now, I’m not buying it. I know something’s up. But I step aside so she can squat down and grab her books.

   I find myself talking to the top of her head. “Come on Layla. You
know
what. Why are you treating me like I’m some piece of garbage all of a sudden?” She’s probably already written me off, thinking I’m like every other guy in this school, just trying to get in her pants. I am, of course, but honestly, that’s not all I’m in this for. I actually really like this girl. Enough that I actually stepped back for once and tried to take things slow with her. She had to know why I was there on Saturday, though. Had to know I was looking to step things up. Maybe she wasn’t ready for that. Maybe she’s not as into me as I thought. “Did I do something?”

   She gives a huff and tries to play innocent. “Trip, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just trying to get to class right now, okay?”

   I’m thinking she’s trying to be polite or something. Like she doesn’t want to just
say
that she’s not into me. God. She won’t even look at me. Did I blow it? Did I read her wrong? It’s not like she’s some inexperienced girl, here. I mean, look at her. The girl is drop-dead gorgeous, so I know she’s had boyfriends and all. Maybe she just doesn’t want
me
to be one of them. And the strangest thing is, I’d almost be okay with that. If she just wants to stay friends, I could deal with it. It would suck, but I don’t want to lose us over this. We’re really good at being friends.

   Like I said, I actually really like this girl.

   She stands up to leave, but I can’t let her go like this. I just want to know if we’re okay. I just want to know that she doesn’t freaking hate me right now. But Jesus. She still won’t even look at me.

   I slap a hand up on the wall to stop her from taking off, and have her backed up against her locker before I even realize what I’m doing. All I know is that I want to get to the bottom of this. Right here, right now. “Oh, really? You have no idea what I’m talking about? That’s just an ordinary day for you, then, huh. Hanging all over Coop Benedict, treating me like a disease… Obviously you’re pissed about something.”

   I know now that she’s probably angry that I’d abused our friendship or something, trying to make a move on her when we’ve spent the past three months all platonic. But I thought hanging all over Coop was a little much and told her so.

   I get distracted from her answer as I watch her lips try and deny it. There is no space between her body and mine, and I’m having a hard time trying to do anything other than stare at her mouth. Her eyes finally meet mine, and I think I’m gonna lose it, watching her look at me like this when I’ve got her body practically pinned to the wall. What would she do, I wonder, if I were to kiss her right now? Just slam her up against this locker and suck on that bottom lip of hers for the next hour or so?

   Fuck. Now I’m getting a semi.

   But Layla doesn’t look like she wants to kiss me. She looks like she wants to kill me. And seeing this look on her face makes me realize she’s done with me. Done playing with the new kid. The mystery’s worn off, and she’s already chewed me up, so now it’s time to spit me out and move on.

   And that’s what I get for taking a shot at the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met in my life. Fucking maneater. I thought she was different.

   Okay, Miss Popularity. I hope you and your dreamboat Coop will be perfectly happy together. Until then, “Fine. You want to play games, go right ahead. I don’t have time for this. You want to talk, you know how to find me.”

  And then I storm off, for
English class
of all places, wondering how the hell I’m going to spend the next forty minutes sitting in the desk behind her without smelling her hair. I punch a locker in frustration and just vow not to breathe for the rest of the day.

This is a work of fiction.

All names, characters and places in this book are the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance or similarity to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2012

Cover Design: Dana Gollance

www.ateliergollance.com

Some other reads you’ll want to check out:

Stagepass
by Stevie Kisner

CONTEMPORARY ROMANCE- You are invited to a private Meet & Greet with England’s hottest export ~ the iconic rock band Slanker Knox. Intro novella of the
Sex, Love, and Rock & Roll
series.

My Stupid Girl
by Aurora Smith

YOUNG ADULT- Sweet, thought-provoking, and witty teen romance between a snarky outcast and a popular, straight-laced girl.

Dirty Distractions
by Cari Quinn

ROMANTICA- She wants a fling, and he wants forever…

Holiday Sparks
by Taryn Elliott

CONTEMPORARY ROMANCE-
To tree, or not to tree? Ben shows Darcy that there's more to life than work, and that the season of hope is full of sexy possibilities.