Trip looked at me with a quirked brow. Dammit, he was hot. “Me neither.”
“What? I mean, I know why I couldn’t watch it, but it’s your movie. You won an academy award for it! And you never even saw the ending?”
“No. I only saw it that one time with you. Just that once.”
“Twice.”
“Once. I didn’t stay that night at the premiere. I had to leave early because I was sure I was coming down with the flu.”
“The flu.”
“Je—My date for the evening went to hold my hand, and for some reason, my stomach decided to object. I got all sweaty and my head started pounding. We had to leave.”
“That may be the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
We cracked open our menus as Trip tried to contain a smile. I was zeroing in on the chicken fajitas, but I still couldn’t shake the Paul Newman thing from my mind. “So. You think Paul will be at the Oscars?” I asked.
His smile broke out full-force at that. “Nah. He doesn’t go to those things anymore.”
“Darn. Now I won’t get a chance to hit on him. I might have to slip my phone number in the glovebox or something when we get back in his car. You’re okay with that, right?”
Trip didn’t even raise his eyes from the menu as he shot back, “Sweetheart, he might be the only guy I’d let you dump me for.”
Chapter 14
HEIGHTS
After dinner, Trip was intent on showing me his favorite place in Hollywood, so we took the scenic route up Western Canyon and found ourselves at Griffith Observatory. It was after hours, so it’s not like we could have gone inside, but Trip only wanted to wander around the grounds anyway.
He took my hand and excitedly pulled me in the direction of the domed building, explaining how, “Parts of Rebel Without a Cause were filmed here. ‘I’ve got the bullets’? Yeah right there by the front doors. C’mon. I’ll show you where they filmed the knife fight. And there’s a statue here somewhere of Dean, but I don’t remember exactly where it is. We’ll find it.”
We made our way up the white concrete ramp to a walled patio on the second floor. Trip peeked over the side and pointed. “Knife fight. Right there.”
I took a look and was surprised that the spot actually looked familiar. “Oh yeah! You’re right. It looks smaller than I thought it would be.”
“Everything looks bigger on the screen. Except me. I’m just as huge in real life. So’s my dick.”
I rolled my eyes on that one.
He hopped up to walk along the concrete knee-wall, gave a scan across the grounds, and changed the subject. “I haven’t been here in a while, but I came here a lot back in the old days.”
He was making me nervous, balancing up on that partition like a Flying Wallenda. I hauled myself up to sit on the edge, waving my hand out to him to get down. “Trip, you’re causing me to panic, here. Please come sit with me so I don’t have to worry about your brains splattering out all over the concrete.”
He chuckled as he jumped down, then sprawled out along the top of the wall with his head in my lap.
I ran my fingers through his golden hair, saying, “You need a haircut.”
He closed his eyes and just gave a contented, “Hmmm,” smiling and practically purring at my touch.
I breathed in the night air, registered its balmy warmth. Even at night, everything in southern California seemed so green. I was happy to have escaped the winter doldrums of Jersey for a little while. Happier still because I had Trip at my fingertips. I looked down at the smiling, contented man in my lap and nearly sighed. He always looked so young with his eyes closed like that. Always looked like the boy I had fallen in love with all those many years ago. The boy who never stopped loving me.
I tore my gaze from the god within my grasp and checked out the view. From our vantage point, I could see the Hollywood sign lit off in the distance, and wished I’d thought to bring my camera. It really was a beautiful place. The domes of the planetarium were illuminated by flood lamps, the white, concrete walls surrounding it virtually glowing from the deflection. The grounds of the observatory were abandoned at such a late hour, the flat, green lawns quietly breathing in the faint moonlight. It was peaceful, there. I could see why Trip chose the place as his sanctuary.
I ran a fingertip along his temple, saying, “I get why you come here to escape. It’s… quiet.” I’d lived in New York for nine years. Trip had been in L.A. for eleven. Quiet was a luxury.