Remember When (Remember Trilogy #1) (19 page)

   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
Mandy
is the best song in the history of music! So there!”

   Without thinking, I picked up my wine with a flourish, intending to punctuate my rebuttal with a dramatic final sip, when Trip intercepted my glass on the way to my lips with a, “Whoa there, pardner. I think it’s time to cash in our chips.”

   “I’m fine.”

   “Layla. You’re defending Barry Manilow with a vengeance. I wouldn’t exactly say you’re ‘fine’.”

   I resisted the urge to belt into “
I Write the Songs”
and instead let Trip lead me out of the party.

   On the way through the living room, I saw Shelly, still sitting on the sofa surrounded by her entourage. I broke from Trip’s grasp and walked right over to her, pointedly interrupting whatever lame conversation she was in the middle of.

   “Hey, Shelly,” I said, loudly enough to cause her to flinch. She looked surprised to see me there and I could practically see her feathers ruffle. I put a genuine smile on my face and said, “It was good to see you again. Thanks for letting me crash your party.”

   Shelly looked genuinely flummoxed by my friendliness, and was only able to stammer out, “Oh. Okay. Goodnight.”

  Then I addressed the rest of the group. “Bye, girls! Have a good night.”

  I could see the shock on their faces and realized my niceties had sent them into a tailspin even moreso than had I knocked their leader down a peg. Trip didn’t seem to notice as he put a hand under my arm and ushered me out the door.

   Once in his truck, I started to get the spins. Jeez, what the heck did the Ferrantes put in that wine?

   Trip barreled down the road and I thought I was going to toss my cookies. But we managed to make it back to my house without incident.

   He escorted me out of the truck, but I broke free from his grasp in order to make my ritualistic lunge for a leaf off my tree. I guessed drunkenness wasn’t even going to help cure my OCD. On the third try, I still hadn’t managed to nab one and almost lost my footing upon my landing. Trip laughed as he balanced me back on my feet, then jumped up and grabbed one for me, handing it over and saying, “You have problems.”

   Tell me about it.

   He walked me to the house, then asked, “You gonna be okay?”

   I laughed and answered, “Yeah. I’m sure I’ll be just fine.” I leaned against my front door, looking up at his cobalt eyes, watching him watch me with amusement, and just launched in. “Hey- so, I gotta ask you... What
was
this tonight? Why the sudden urge to play nice?”

   He dropped his head and answered, “Oh, I don’t know, Lay.”

   He plucked the leaf from my hand, turning it over in his own, inspecting it with rapt attention. He massaged the back of his neck with his free hand, saying, “You know what? That’s not true. I know exactly why.”

   He let out a deep breath, raised his head and said, “I was lying when I said my being on stage tonight was no big deal.” His eyes got this faraway look in them, like he was talking to someone floating over my left shoulder. “Lay, I never felt anything like that before. I can’t explain it. It was...
amazing
.” He ran a hand through his golden hair, then placed the leaf back in my hand, sandwiching it between his palms. “When I saw you backstage and realized you’d seen it, I was so...
grateful
. Grateful that you’d come there to share that with me. I knew I missed you, but I’d been so stubborn about it for so long... I don’t know. It... I guess it felt more real having you be a part of it. You know?”

   Actually, I did know. But Jesus, it felt awesome to hear him say something like that to me.

   “I have a confession to make,” I said, warily meeting his eyes, watching as he waited with baited breath for me to say something,
anything
that would validate him spilling his guts. “I didn’t know you were in the play until the curtains opened.”

   Trip looked crestfallen, so I quickly added, “No, no. I’m
so glad
I was there, too! It was... It was just such a... such an
unexpected surprise
.”

   I met his eyes just then, the months of anguish and separation just falling away.
He put a hand at my neck, leaned in and whispered, “Surprises are good,” before giving me a sweet, soft kiss on the corner of my mouth.

   Needless to say, my insides turned to mush and my heart threatened to escape from my ribcage, even just from that small contact of his lips against my skin. But even still, I headed inside disappointed. I’d thought there was the slightest chance he was going to actually kiss me, but I guessed my drunken state and Dorito breath weren’t really the biggest aphrodisiacs. 

   I leaned against the closed door and took a huge breath, trying to get some air back into my lungs. I grabbed a glass of water on my way up to my room, where there were five messages from Lisa on my machine.

IMPROMPTU

   I don’t think the sun could have been shining any brighter that next morning. At least my throbbing head didn’t think so. What a lightweight! Three stinking glasses of wine and I was actually suffering a bit of a hangover.

   So, when my phone started ringing, I grabbed it off the hook quickly before my ears could explode.

   “Hello?” My voice didn’t even sound like my own.

   “LAYLA! OH MY GOD!”

   I held the receiver away from my ear, cursing first into my pillow, then next at Lisa. “Christ, Lis! Why are you
yelling
?”

   Lisa didn’t even acknowledge my blasting head and proceeded to launch into the details of her night with Pickford. “He said he loved me, Layla! On our way backstage last night, he just grabbed my hand and whispered ‘I love you’ into my ear! I couldn’t believe it!”

   I removed the pillow from my head, sat up and checked my face in the mirror above my dresser. Not good.

   “Layla, are you listening?
Pickford told me he loved me
!”

   I gave my skull a good shake and finally tuned in to what my friend was saying. I’d known that Pick had held off saying those three little words throughout the entirety of their relationship. He always explained that he’d never said it to any girl before and he wasn’t planning on just throwing something like that around. I knew it infuriated Lisa, but she always made it seem like it was no big deal.

   I guess, of course, until he actually said it.

   “Lisa, that’s amazing. I’m so happy for you guys.” I fluffed up my pillows and sank back into them. “So, what, are you guys back together?”

   Lisa gave a dreamy sigh on her end. “Yeah. I guess so.”

   I didn’t want to rain on her parade, but it’s not like their situation had suddenly changed. “But what about, you know, California?”

   She was silent for a moment, then tried to sound chipper as she answered, “Well, we talked about it a lot last night and I mean, Pickford’s right. Why wouldn’t we at least make the most our time until he leaves for school? I mean, August is still three months away. Why wouldn’t we just stay together until then?”

   It was the first sensible thing she’d said in regards to her relationship with Pickford- a point of view I’d tried to convince her of myself during their seemingly premature breakup- but I wondered why she’d suddenly seen the light. “Why now, Lis? What’s so different this time?”

   She gave me an impatient, “Duh. I’ve been an idiot, okay? I admit it. I was an idiot. There. Are you happy?” She started laughing, and I couldn’t help but laugh along with her.

   I sure as hell wasn’t looking forward to part two of The Big Breakup all over again in August, however.

   Her tone changed, so I knew what was coming next. “So... On to more important business. WHAT HAPPENED WITH TRIP?”

   I didn’t even know where to start. We’re friends again? I know I’m still in love with him? It’s okay that he’s not in love with me?

   But I opted for the more evasive route. “We’re okay. We had a really great time last night. He took me to the wrap party and I got drunk off the Ferrantes’ homemade wine. I have the worst hangover!”

   She laughed at that, saying, “Jeez. The theatre fags throw one hell of a party, huh?”

   I reminded her that her boyfriend’s sister was a “theatre fag”, and could have just let the whole subject go at that. But something didn’t feel quite right about it. I laughed and said, “Actually, a few of them were really nice. Heather’s an absolute sweetheart.”

   Lisa surprised the hell out of me when she said, “Oh, yeah. Blond girl, right? Kind of Mary Ingalls? Oh my God! We should set her up with Sargento! Wouldn’t they look so cute together?”

   Definitely not the reaction I was expecting. But her suggestion wasn’t completely off the mark.

   Before I could respond, she blurted out, “Oh, hey. I’ve gotta go. I told Pickford I’d go to church with him this morning. I’ll call you back later, okay?”

   Church? Who was this person and what had she done with my best friend?

   I stuttered, “Uh, o-okay. I’ll talk to you later. Bye.”

   I checked the clock on my nightstand and saw that it was past ten. I knew it was my God-given right as a teenager to sleep the day away, but I’d always been an early riser, and ten was actually a pretty late wakeup hour for me. I got out of bed, deciding that a shower would make me feel a little more like myself again.

   I was lathering up my hair, belting out
“
Weekend in New England”
, psychically willing Trip to call. It was like five months ago all over again, but this time... Well... this time, I wasn’t planning on being a complete moron.

   I was, however, only wearing a towel when I walked out of the bathroom and saw Trip at the bottom of the stairs talking to my father.

   Our eyes met for only a second before I darted into my bedroom and slammed the door. I heard Dad say, “Well, I guess she was awake after all!” Then he laughed and yelled up to me, “Layla! Trip’s here. Please put some clothes on before coming down.”

   Oh my God I could have just killed the man.

   I stubbed my toe on my bed in my haste to get dressed, but managed to throw on a khaki miniskort and black tanktop through the pain. I toweled off my hair and finger-combed it, hoping I didn’t look like a drowned rat on my way down the stairs to see Trip.