Trip seemed oblivious to my Martian status and ushered me toward the back of the house to say hello to our hostess, who was busily setting out some paper plates and napkins along her kitchen counter. Heather practically blushed when Trip kissed her hello, which was pretty funny, considering she’d just wrapped up months of rehearsal as his costar in order to play his love interest onstage.
Thankfully, she was a bit more gracious than her friends in her greeting toward me. I took the opportunity to let her know that I thought she’d done a great job as Sergeant Sarah Brown. She smiled prettily and asked me if I’d like a drink, her kindness enabling me to loosen up a little and start being myself. I was expecting a dry party, something along the lines of soda and chips, so I was surprised when Heather directed my attentions over to a table set up with bottles of beer, homemade wine and champagne.
Who says we were the only ones who knew how to party?
Trip grabbed a bottle of Bud, while I opted for some red wine. He clinked his bottle against my glass (I was dumbfounded to be at a high school party where I could use actual glassware) and we headed out onto the deck.
Nathan Detroit was on his way back into the house, but stopped to shake Trip’s hand and offer his congratulations. He proceeded to prattle on about the performance, hardly acknowledging my presence. Since I hadn’t taken part in the play, I didn’t have much to offer by way of conversation, and spent my time sipping from my glass. After a few minutes, I was surprised to find that it was empty and excused myself to go refill it.
I bumped into Roger Vreeland from the AV Club and I was grateful to see a somewhat familiar face. “Hey, Rog,” I said.
He gave a quick glance over his shoulder before answering, “Oh. Hey, Layla.”
I took a swig of my drink and asked, “What are you doing here? You weren’t in the play, were you? I’m pretty sure I didn’t see you up there.”
He kept shifting from one foot to the other, and it appeared that he was embarrassed to be seen speaking to me. “No. I, uh, I helped with the set.”
I started to get the impression that the whole theatre club had enjoyed having Trip all to themselves the past months, and the general attitude seemed to be that they didn’t appreciate having to share him with someone from his old crowd again. I was being nice enough to everyone, but apparently, only Trip was being treated like an actual human, probably because he had temporarily become one of them.
Even though I thought Roger was being uncharacteristically rude, I decided to let him off the hook. “Oh, that’s cool. Everything looked really great. Okay, see you later!”
I went back out onto the deck, giving Trip the excuse to wrap up his conversation with Nathan, who departed without incident. He headed back inside, leaving Trip and me truly alone for the first time in five months.
I leaned against the railing, took another swig of wine and tipped my head back to take in the night air. It was a gorgeously balmy night and I was with a gorgeously elated companion. Trip was practically floating all evening, high on his performance. I hoped that maybe at least some of that euphoria could also be attributed to the fact that he was there with me.
He leaned into me, gave me a nudge, smirked, and asked, “So... how are you liking your first theatre party?”
I laughed, knowing he was teasing me with one of the first things I’d ever said to him, back in September, waiting in line for the bathroom at Rymer’s party.
I put my glass on a nearby table and mugged his same pose from that night; hands in my pockets and rocking back on my heels, and saying in a deep, midwesterner’s accent, “It’s cool. Ever-one’s bein’ reeeally cooool.”
“Jesus, do I really sound like that?”
“Yes. That’s what you sound like exactly.”
That made him laugh, and in spite of my better judgment, it felt great to know that I still had the power to crack him up.
I was starting to feel the effects of the wine, but I probably would have been just as drunk off of my present company. After months of avoiding him, I’d almost forgotten what a drug Trip Wilmington could be. I’d almost forgotten how his grin made this great dimple appear in his left cheek, how his smile reached all the way up to his beautiful, blue eyes. I’d almost forgotten what it felt like to have him all to myself, the comfort of having him there to talk to, the way we didn’t need to talk at all.
I was curious to ask him about a million things: I didn’t know why he’d suddenly started talking to me again, I was interested to know when he’d decided to be in the play. I wanted to hear about the rehearsals, and what he possibly did in order to play his part so incredibly. But I didn’t want to rock an already unsteady boat. We were hanging out for the first time in months. I didn’t think hitting him with the Spanish Inquisition would go over too well.
So, I asked, “Hey! How’d hockey season go?”
He grinned that lazy, half-lidded-eyes smile at me, making my stomach do a little flip. “Pretty well, actually. We kicked ass all over the state and almost clinched a spot in the nationals, but blew it at the last minute.”