But I didn’t open up that can of worms and just said, “Thanks.”
“Huh. Wow. So how long have you-”
Beep!
“Crap. Hey, Coop, I’m sorry. I gotta wrap this up. I’m pretty sure that’s Trip calling back. I already blew him off to talk to you. I’d better get that before he-”
Beep!
“Okay, but call me back later in the week. I want to get the whole story about this Devin character.”
“You got it. Love you! Bye!”
“Love you, too. Bye.”
Click!
“Hello?”
“Cocky. Cocky? Really, Layla?”
I couldn’t stop myself from giggling. “Trip, I’m sorry, but this can’t actually be coming as a surprise now, can it?”
“You make it sound like I was an asshole.”
“No, I didn’t. I made you sound confident. Noticed. Desired. Only slightly arrogant. Which, you know, sometimes you are.”
I’d meant to say “were”. I didn’t have any claim on who he was presently. After years of growing apart, I’d essentially only known the adult version of Trip for a couple days.
“Now I’m arrogant? Layla, you’re killing me here.”
I knew he was just busting my chops, so I bypassed another apology and asked, “Ever hear of artistic license? Sometimes a reporter is required to use a bit of exaggeration in her writing. It makes for a more interesting story. But okay, cockiness aside, what did you think of the rest of the article, Mr. Hollywood’s Hottest Rising Star?”
He conceded. “Well, I liked when you called me that.” We laughed. “And I really liked the part where you hinted at all the sexual energy in the room during the interview. Was that just for the story, too?”
I’d specifically chosen the word energy over tension. The latter implied it was something between us as opposed to just something he was giving off. But he knew better. And so did I.
The safety of the handset between us allowed me to toss out, “Sometimes a reporter is required to be brutally honest as well.”
I could hear his shock over the phone. Seriously. It sounded like he’d just gotten punched in the gut. It was staggering.
His breath expelled as he pulled himself together. “Hey, uh. It’s my last full day in town. I was going to swing by my mother’s house and say goodbye. You want to come?”
Bad idea.
“I can’t. Lisa’s coming into the city. We have a lunch date.”
I explicitly didn’t invite him. And he could tell that I didn’t.
“How about tonight? You can meet me at the hotel.”
NO!
“Probably not the best idea, Trip.”
“Look. I really want to see you before I go. Can’t we... I mean, isn’t there any way...”
“Probably not,” I answered, despondently.
I was aching. Like, literally freaking aching about it. But I knew that if we spent any more time together, the temptation would be too strong. After our near miss on the roof on Friday and my reaction to his phone message the night before… there was just no way.
He finally broke the awkward silence, finally decided to wrap it up. “Well, thanks for the article. I really loved reading it.”
“You’re welcome. I enjoyed writing it.”
“Look me up if you’re ever in Cali.”
“You got it.”
There was a silent pause between us, an uncomfortable space in our exchange as I waited for him to say something even remotely resembling a goodbye. Of course it’s not how I wanted to end things, but there just wasn’t any other way.
“Yeah. Here’s the thing. I’m not leaving without seeing you.”
Chapter 22
HIGH FIDELITY
Six hours later, I watched from my doorway as Trip bounded up the stairs to my apartment. He’d buzzed. I’d let him in. My heart lurched at the sight of him.
I was sure I was going to Hell.
I’d spent the earlier part of the day at an Asian-fusion place on Bleecker under the guise of having lunch with Lisa, but basically using the time for a debriefing of the events from Friday night. She kept waiting for the big sex scene, and I knew she was disappointed when it didn’t come. Or when I didn’t. I wasn’t quite sure.
Trip gave me a quick peck on the cheek before scanning his eyes around the entryway. I thought he was doing his perimeter-check thing again, but he was clearly looking for something in particular. “It’s not here yet? It was supposed to be here today.”
I had no idea what he was talking about. “What was supposed to be here?”
He smirked and looped his arms around my waist as if it were the most natural thing to do in the world. “I guess not, then. Don’t worry. You’ll know when it gets here.”
He knew it was my birthday in a few days, and God only knew what ridiculousness that boy had planned. I tried unsuccessfully to disentangle myself from his grasp and said, “If you sent a freaking singing telegram or something, you’re dead meat, Wilmington.”