TRIP (Remember When Book 1)

by T. Torrest

  While I was debating the best way to talk to Hot Blonde, she made the first move. She walked right up to me, took a sip of her water, and slithered, “And who might you be?”

  She was cute as hell. Shoulder-length blonde hair that she wore curly and haphazard. Oversized, colorful earrings that dangled past her shoulders. A sexy, inviting smile. A devilish flicker in her dark blue eyes.

  I grinned and shot back, “Well, if I had to guess, I’d say I might just be your date for the evening. Trip Wilmington. Nice to meet you.”

  I held out my hand which she met on a sly smile. “Tess Valletti. Wanna grab a drink?”

  With a request like that, I assumed she was in her twenties, and I guessed she’d already decided that I was of-age, too. At the very least, I knew she didn’t go to St. Nicetius. I definitely would have noticed a girl like her roaming the halls. “Sorry,” I said. “I left my fake ID at home. But I’m on my way to a party. We can grab a drink there.”

  She crossed her arms and perched a hip against the orange Formica counter, tilting her head to the side as she asked, “Frat party?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Wellll,” she drawled, tapping a blood-red fingertip against the hot dog case. “I’m supposed to be meeting some friends out tonight. But I suppose I could just call and let them know I might be a little late.”

  “Yes. You could.”

  Her brow raised as I ushered her to the front counter, and, like a totally chivalrous bastard, covered the cost of all our stuff. She smirked as she turned on her heel, silently summoning me to follow her outside where I tossed her a quarter for the payphone.

  “Hey, Liv,” she said, staring into my eyes as she ran her hand along the phone cord. “I’m going to be a little late tonight. The band isn’t going on until ten anyway, right?”

  She rolled her eyes at me as she added, “I don’t know. About an hour? Maybe more.” My hands were braced on the doorframe, boxing her in the booth as she stared me up and down, looking like she wanted to devour me. Nice. “Actually, I’m not entirely sure. Let me just check one thing.”

  Before I knew what was happening, Tess grabbed a fistful of my shirt, pulled me toward her, and slammed our mouths together. The kiss was quick but thorough, and caught me completely off guard. Even though I was surprised, I was able to recognize an opportunity when it presented itself. Just as I opened my mouth and leaned into her, she pushed me off with a satisfied smile and continued her conversation. “Yep. I’m definitely gonna be a little late tonight. See you later.”

  The sly grin was still decorating her pretty face as she hung up the phone. “So, Trip Wilmington... where are we headed?”

  I met her mischievous smile with my own as I answered, “For trouble.”

  Tess arranged to follow behind my truck in her own car. According to her, I was, after all, a perfect stranger, and “a girl can never be too careful.” I wasn’t a very threatening-looking guy, but I shut up and indulged her request.

  Whatever. I needed to eat my burrito anyway.

  We headed back up toward Norman Hills and checked in at the gatehouse before pulling into Rymer’s driveway and parking on the front lawn. I pulled a thing of Tic-Tacs out of my glove compartment and downed about a hundred of them before getting out.

  I offered some to Tess as she asked, “Is this... Are we at Greg Rymer’s?”

  Huh. I didn’t even know the guy had a first name. “Yeah. You know him?”

  She seemed a little irritated as she answered, “We used to go to school together.” She cocked her head to the side, assessing me. “How old are you?”

  “Seventeen,” I shrugged, trying to seem unaffected. “Why? How old are you?”

  “Almost nineteen.”

  Hmm. Younger than I thought, but then again, I was way younger than she’d originally thought. “Is that going to be a problem?”

  Tess’s eyes tightened as she scrutinized me, her lips pursing on a repressed grin. “If that kiss you planted on me before was any indication, I’d have to say not at all.”

  She planted that kiss on me. But I wasn’t about to argue.

  We went inside to find the party was already in full swing. Tess got caught up talking to someone, so I pointed outside letting her know I’d meet her out on the deck when she was through.

  The whole crew was out there, already fully embroiled in their ballbusting.

  As I walked outside, I got the impression that I had just missed a pretty heated discussion between Rymer and a couple of the girls. His hands went to his buttonfly, looking rather amused with himself as he threatened, “Oh you want to see it?’

  I didn’t know what the hell had just happened to threaten a striptease, but something told me Lisa DeSanto definitely did not want to see whatever the hell was in Rymer’s jeans.

  I interrupted him before he could drop his drawers. “Jesus, Rymer, can’t you ever keep your damn pants on?”

  Everyone laughed as I made the rounds, high-fiving the guys hello. Rymer greeted me with a red Solo cup, so I started to fill it at the keg. But Lisa reamed him out. “Oh, so you charge the girls five bucks but your buddies get to drink for free?”

  I shot Rymer a disapproving look to say, “Dude. You can’t charge the girls for beer, man. That’s just stupid.”

  Lisa smacked my arm in solidarity as she concurred, “I know, right?”

  When I looked up to agree, I did a double-take when I realized the girl next to her was Layla. I didn’t recognize her right away because she didn’t have her normal poofy hair going on. It was poker straight, one side tucked behind her ear, the rest hanging halfway down her back. She looked natural. Even more beautiful than usual.

  Dammit.

  I pulled a twenty from my pocket and slapped it on the railing next to Rymer, handed my full beer to Layla, and plucked three more cups off the stack. I had two of them clamped in my teeth while I filled a third for Lisa as Rymer tried to protest. “No way, man. It’s your first time hanging with us. I’m not letting you pay.”

  I handed the beer to Lisa and resumed tap duty on the last two cups. “Too late, dude. Just take it off my tab the next time.”

  “Here,” Layla said, rummaging through her purse. “Let me give you some money You don’t need to pay for us.”

  “Not a chance,” I said, standing from the keg. I clinked one of my cups against Layla’s, gave her a wink, and took a sip.

  Coop nodded toward my two beers and asked, “What’s with the double fisting?”

  I debated the wisdom of going for the killshot on Benedict, but dammit, he’d just set me up with a perfect target. “Double fisting? What, is your sister here?”

  Every person on that deck just lost their minds cracking up.

  I was just about to ask Layla what was up with her new look when Tess came sauntering outside.

  Shit. I almost forgot I was on a date.

  I hoped she didn’t see me out there getting ready to chat up another girl. That would just be bad form. I handed over her beer and threw an arm around her shoulders.

  “Hey, Layla!” she said.

  “Hi, Tess. How’s it going?”

  They know each other?

  Perfect.

  Not.

  “It’s going great. You know, aside from the fact that I’m here at Rymer’s and all.”

  Her comment prompted a few chuckles as Rymer put his hands up in defense.

  Lisa asked, “How the heck did you wind up here tonight?”

  Tess gave me a flirty smile as she explained, “Well, I was on my way out to meet up with my girlfriends when I got hit on by some random guy at the convenience store.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Last time I was at the Seven-Eleven, all I picked up was a Slurpee.”

  That had everyone cracking up.

  Benedict chose that moment to whisk Layla inside the house, whispering godonlyknowswhat into her ear. I tried really hard not to give a shit, but my brain refused to cooperate with my good sense.

  *
* *

  I spent the bulk of my night hanging on the deck with the guys. Not exactly the greatest way to make a good impression on Tess, but she seemed like a girl who enjoyed attention, and those idiots were more than happy to comply. And good thing, because after I was introduced to Pickford Redy, I spent more time talking to him than my date.

  Pick was the school’s basketball star. The season hadn’t even started yet, but I’d heard his name tossed around all week, so I knew he was a pretty big deal. “Big” being the operative word, here. The dude was six-five if he was an inch.

  Coming from Indiana, basketball was a sport I knew a lot about, so he and I bonded pretty instantaneously.

  He was currently raving about Michael Jordan. “My boy will bring us to a championship soon enough. Can’t believe it hasn’t happened already, actually.”

  “What do you mean ‘us’?” I asked incredulously. “I thought all you Jersey boys would be Nets fans.”

  The whole group broke into collective chuckles as Pick said, “Around here? Nah. Knicks, maybe. But I’m Chicago all the way.”

  “I was born there,” I said. “My family goes back to visit every now and again, so I saw Jordan play on his home turf last year.”

  “Lucky. I’ve seen him, too, but here at The Garden or The Meadowlands.”

  Rymer nodded his head toward Pick’s feet. “Hey, speaking of Jordan... Nice kicks. They new?”

  “Yeah,” Pick said, as we all looked down at his Fire Red Jordan Fives. “Just got them.”

  “Oh yeah?” Rymer asked, before slamming his foot down on top of Pick’s, leaving a brown scuff on the toe of the pristine white leather.

  “Asshole!”

  The two of them got into a playful shoving match as I pulled Tess a little closer, protecting her from the melee.

  She huffed before giving my chest a pat, saying, “Trip, this has been fun and all, but I really gotta get going.” She handed me her beer cup, and while both of my hands were occupied, she put hers at my jaw and kissed me full on the lips. “But you’ll call me, yes?”

  I answered with an enthusiastic, “Yeah. Sure.”

  Her eyes tightened into a sham dirty look as she turned away slowly. “See you around, Trip Wilmington.”

  The guys all watched appreciatively as she headed down the deck stairs and disappeared around the side of the house.

  Pick released Rymer’s neck from a headlock and said, “Damn. Tess is fucking hot. You lucky bastard.”

  I downed the rest of Tess’s beer in a single gulp, then slipped her empty cup under my full one. “No luck necessary. That’s just pure skill, gentlemen.”

  I excused myself to use the bathroom, and of course the first person I saw inside was Layla. I’d just caught a glimpse of her rounding the corner, and followed her down the hall with all intentions of striking up a conversation... only to see Benedict sandwiching her against the wall with his tongue buried in her ear. Maybe Rymer didn’t know for certain, but those two sure as hell looked “on” enough to me.

  Shit.

  Coop finally went in the bathroom and I made my presence known. “Hey.”

  She seemed surprised to see me, answering with an overenthusiastic, “Hey!”

  “This the line?”

  “Yep.”

  I could hear singing coming from the other side of the door, and pretended not to know who it was. “Who’s the songbird in the can?”

  “That would be Cooper Benedict.”

  His voice became exponentially louder, enabling me to recognize his tune as a mangled version of “Layla,” which, I gotta admit, was pretty funny. “How many times has someone sung that to you?”

  She rolled her eyes. “If I had a nickel.”

  I took a sip from my beer, utilizing the few seconds of silence to check her out. She was wearing this fantastic floral shirt with wide sleeves that were so flimsy, the fabric was almost see-through. With the straightened hair, she looked just like an escaped hippie transported straight from Woodstock.

  A hot one.

  I crossed my arms and leaned against the wall, nodding my head in her direction. “You know, I didn’t recognize you at first out there. You look really different with your hair like that.”

  “Like what? Flat?” Her nose wrinkled up as she spoke, making her look so damned cute that it caused me physical pain.

  “Yeah. I’m used to seeing you with...” I wiggled my fingers about a foot above her head, causing the both of us to laugh.

  “So?” she asked, switching topics. “How are you liking your first Norman party?”

  I tried to play it casual as I jammed a fist in my jeans pocket and replied, “It’s cool. Everyone’s being really cool.”

  “It must be hard to make new friends all the time just to have to up and leave them every few years.”

  I shrugged. “Sometimes it is and sometimes it’s not. I keep in touch with a few of them. I’m a good pen pal.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Oh you are, are you?”

  I couldn’t help but grin. “I am. Besides, sometimes I’ll tag along with my father when he goes to check out his properties and I get to see some of the friends I left behind.”

  “Girl friends, too, I presume?”

  Hmmm. Hinting around to see if I had a girlfriend? Interesting. “Oh sure. I’ve got entire cities of women marking their calendars, pining away for the day I return.”

  She knew I was only kidding. “I’ll bet.”

  A slightly awkward silence ensued as I checked my watch. “Hey what the hell is taking him so damn long?” I banged on the door, three good thwacks. “Yo, Coop! Whadja drown in there?”

  When he didn’t answer, I banged again. And then again.

  Nothing.

  Shit. Layla and I met each other’s eyes, the both of us thinking the same damn thing. Did he pass out? Hit his head? In any case, something was definitely wrong.

  I tried the doorknob but of course it was locked, causing my concern to escalate. We have to get in there. As I stepped back to kick the door in, I saw the “key” on the top of the molding, so I snatched it off the ledge and jammed it into the knob. Thankfully, that move enabled us to get in the door without destroying it... only to find Coop hunched over the bowl, puking his guts out.

  We both let out with a sigh of relief. “Dude! We thought you were dying in here!”

  He didn’t even lift his head to groan, “I am. I’m dyyyyinggg.”

  Layla and I started laughing, which, I admit, wasn’t exactly the kindest thing to do under the circumstances. I crossed my arms over my chest and looked down at Boy Wonder, shaking my head at his pitiable state. Regardless of my pleasure at seeing him reduced to mere mortal status, I knew we couldn’t leave him like that. “Alright, so what are we supposed to do about this sorry bastard?”

  “Maybe we can lay him down in one of the back bedrooms and then find out who his ride is?”

  “Good idea. Let’s go for it.”

  I crouched down behind Coop and hauled him to his feet. The guy was a bag of potatoes. Total dead weight. I thought I was going to wretch from the smell of vomit, and Layla went so far as to pinch her nose before reaching over and flushing the toilet.

  “I hope he’s empty,” she said. “I don’t want him puking in bed.”

  I was pretty sure his stomach had purged every last shred of its contents. Hurling more chunks was not in this guy’s future. “Yeah. From the looks of it, the only thing he’s got left in here is his kidneys.”

  “Oh nooo man. I puked out my kinees. Ohhh...”

  I had to keep myself from laughing so I wouldn’t drop him flat on his face.

  Layla and I managed to get Coop’s feet moving, and we walked him awkwardly down the hall, all the while trying to keep him from bouncing off the walls. She opened the door to the master bedroom, then helped me wrangle him onto the bed. He flopped onto his back and immediately passed out, his snoring cutting through the silence of the room. The dude was in pretty bad shape, but n
othing a good night’s sleep wouldn’t cure.

  I ran a hand through my hair and turned to my partner in crime. I kinda liked the idea of being “alone” with her, even if there wasn’t much I could do about it.

  She stood there biting her lip, almost fearful as she met my eyes. “You know what?” she blurted out. “I still need to use the bathroom.”

  And then, before I could stop her, she ran off into the adjoining master bath.

  I found myself standing there looking down at Cooper. How’d you do it, you magnificent bastard? How’d you get a girl like Layla to fall for an altar boy like you?

  My eyes landed on a felt-tip pen lying on top of a crossword puzzle book on the nightstand... and inspiration struck. In a total dick move, I drew a handlebar mustache above his lip, then scribbled a unibrow across his forehead for good measure.

  Just as I was finishing my masterpiece, the door creaked behind me as Layla made her way out of the bathroom. I heard her shoes clacking against the wood floor as she stepped closer, leaving only a one inch strip of space between her body and mine. I could smell her damn hair whenever she was this close.

  She peeked over my shoulder to take in my handiwork, and giggled, “You’re awful.”

  “Nah,” I argued. “I’m funny. Awful would’ve been if I used the razor.” I turned to face her before nodding my head toward our comatose third wheel. “So, he’s your boyfriend, right?”

  Her face scrunched up in confusion. Adorable. “Not exactly. Why would you...?”

  “Well, I just saw him tonsils-deep in your ear a few minutes ago...”

  “No,” she answered, embarrassed. “We just... We’re just friends.”

  “Friends with benefits, you mean,” I shot back, raising a suggestive brow.

  Her eyes tightened, staring me down. “I don’t really see how that concerns you.”

  “It doesn’t,” I shrugged unconvincingly, shooting her a lethal grin. “I guess I’m just glad that you and I are friends, too.”

  I admit I took a smug sense of pride at the spark I saw in her eyes when I said that. It was nice to know she wasn’t as completely immune to my charms as I thought.