“Hellooo!” she called out as she scurried into the room. She came right over to me with an outstretched hand leading her way. I always found it strange when two women shook hands. It seemed like a necessary act in a roomful of men, but when it was just two ladies, a kiss on the cheek almost seemed more appropriate. I got up out of my chair to greet her as she stated, “Ms. Warren from Now! Magazine. Pleasure to meet you. I’m Sandy Carron.”
I shook her hand and couldn’t help but peek over her shoulder for Trip. Sandy definitely caught my wandering eyes, but was nice enough not to call me out for it. I guessed she was used to the many females coming and going through Trip’s life who made complete cakes out of themselves on a regular basis.
“Mr. Wiley is just finishing up the junket. He’ll be in momentarily. Can I get you anything? Would you care for some coffee or a cold drink? Something to eat, perhaps?”
Oh, right. Like after waiting a whole hour, I was going to risk getting food caught in my teeth or get busted wolfing down a bacon cheeseburger at the zero hour with Trip Wiley on his way into the room.
“No, thank you.”
She gave a quick glance over her shoulder. “Well, I’m going to have some bottled water sent over, just in case Mr. Wiley decides he wants some, if that’s all right.” When I didn’t protest, she spoke into her headset. “Hunter, could you bring some water to forty-one-sixteen? Great, thanks.”
Sandy started to go over the protocol for the interview when a call interrupted her instructions. A hand went to her headset and she said, “Okay, wonderful. I’ll be right there.” She turned her attentions back to me and said, “Mr. Wiley is ready for you now. I’m just going to pop down the hall and escort him here.”
Just then, Hunter (Trip’s assistant’s assistant, apparently) came in with an ice bucket filled with four bottles of some kind of water I’d never seen before, and Sandy offered on her way out the door, “Please feel free to help yourself. I’ll be back in just a moment.”
Sandy the whirling dervish was gone, taking Hunter the Assistant with her and leaving me alone in my room once again. I decided to bust open one of the bottles of VOSS water, which was ice cold and would undoubtedly have me racing for the bathroom all over again. But I was grateful to have something new in that room to occupy myself during my wait.
I didn’t have to wait long.
Within minutes, I could hear voices coming down the hall and my stomach did an anxious somersault. Before I knew it, Sandy was back at my door, holding it open for her charge...
...and there was Trip, once again, walking back into my life.
*
There was a tangible shift in the air of the room, a gripping, electrical aura that stimulated the space surrounding his presence like a gravitational pull. I’d noticed this phenomenon when watching his movies, seeing the man that had emerged from the boy I once knew; but actually being in the same room with him was an entirely different animal. Trip Wilmington had been a gorgeous teenaged boy, no question. But Trip Wiley was a gorgeous young man just exuding raw, unabashed sex at every turn.
It was only slightly impossible to remember how to breathe.
I registered the jeans and black T-shirt Trip was wearing, along with the backwards jeffcap ineffectively attempting to contain his overgrown hair, which kicked out around his ears and behind his neck regardless. He was scratching the stubble at his chin and was five steps inside the room before he finally looked up, saw me... and froze.
He literally did a double take, shaking his head in a futile attempt to rid himself of the sight of his old friend standing before him. I guessed he remembered me after all.
I bit my lip to keep from grinning, and broke the silence with, “Hey Chester. How’s it hangin’?”
His mouth went slack, but the corners of his lips were turned up into a smile. His eyes went wide as he said incredulously, “Layla. Effing. Warren.”
I started to giggle. “Hi.”
He came at me, arms outstretched, and wrapped me in a tight bear hug, as if not one single day had gone by.
Still smelled like soap and sugar, the bastard.
“Layla Warren! No way! How the hell are ya?” He swung me around and I almost caught a shin on the coffee table before he set me back down on my feet. He pulled back slightly, still keeping his hands on my arms. “Jesus! Look at you. Still as beautiful as ever.”
I smirked a “yeah right” look at him, but didn’t call him out on his bullshit. Instead, the smile remained plastered to my face, as I was completely unable to stop beaming at him like a lunatic. But he was looking down at me with absolute euphoria and grinning ecstatically himself, so I didn’t bother trying to keep my enthusiasm in check either. That familiar electric current was passing between us like lightning, that indescribable, all-consuming thing that he and I have always shared.