“How’d you manage to do this?” I ask, grabbing a pork dumpling. I bite it in half, devouring the chewy and savory goodness. I hold up the other half for Tripp. He eats it from my fingers.
“Honestly?” He grins that goofy smile he only lets out for me, it seems. At least that’s what his father said to me. “I did most of it, but a few of them, I had one of the staff members run around town for me when I was at practice.”
“You have a game tomorrow, right?” I ask.
“Yeah, but I don’t expect you to go, if it’s going to be too weird for you.”
“Do you not want me to go?”
“I’d love nothing more than to look up in the stands and see you there.” He heads towards my kitchenette and grabs two plates, handing one to me. “You make that decision, and either way, I’ll respect it.”
I grab his plate and set it on the table. Tripp’s eyes widen while he waits to see what I’ll do next. I grab his face and bring him towards my lips, pausing before I take it further.
“Thank you for being understanding,” I whisper, pressing my lips against his.
The kiss deepens quicker than I expect. His hands find comfort in my hair, holding on tight as if this will end as quickly as it’s begun. He’s been respectful of my apprehension to get physical. My therapist thinks I’ll know when the time is right, when I feel my most safe.
“What was that for?” Tripp asks as I separate us.
“Kissing you feels safe,” I admit.
“I don’t want to be the safe choice, Laney. I want to be the only choice,” he says, grabbing his plate.
He’s right to feel like I’m choosing him for a designated set of reasons. Most of them circle around to the fact that he’s not a tattooed bad boy.
“That’s not what I meant,” I try to clarify. “It doesn’t scare me to be close to you.”
“Well, that’s a start now, isn’t it?” He winks, handing me my plate.
We spend the evening talking, shifting from the table to my bed after we eat. At some point, a movie is turned on the television. Not recognizing the film, I lay on Tripp’s chest. The warmth of his skin heats my cheek through his shirt. I snuggle closer. He drapes his arm over my shoulder, tickling the skin on my lower back with an odd design he traces over and over again.
Being alone in the dorms is an everyday struggle. Loneliness has a way of playing games with our heads. Alone is where the monsters find you.
“You won’t ever hurt me, will you?” I whisper the insecurity through a lump in my throat, as if my body is trying to stop me from thinking the worst.
“The quicker you realize I’m here for the right reasons, the better off we’ll be. I’m not like him.” The mention of Breaker nearly jerks me out of the moment with Tripp, sending me on a tailspin through my own memories.
“I’d prefer it if you didn’t mention Breaker.” I clench my eyes shut, trying to make my brain stay in my dorm room, wrapped in Tripp’s arms. It’s no use. My eyes focus on the wall, the television completely forgotten.
“Trust me, a world without Breaker Davenport is one worth living in.” The sternness in his voice is enough indication of the jealousy and hatred Tripp holds for Breaker.
“What happened between you two?” I ask, my curiosity getting the better of me.
“I thought you didn’t want to mention him?”
“Humor me.” I lift up on my forearm to gauge his reaction. His lips are flat, a distant look in his eyes that should warn me not to let this pass. I’ve never been good at staying away from the fire, though.
“We’ve never seen eye-to-eye. My guess is that will hold true with you, too. Your history with him irritates me because that’s a competition I’ll never be able to win,” Tripp explains.
“There it is.” I run my fingers through the hair behind his ear, caressing my thumb over his cheek.
“What?” He glances away, uncomfortable.
“Your stone-cold mask is gone.”
“Just for a minute”— Tripp flips me onto my back, hovering above me and catching me off guard— “and only for you.”
When I wake up, I’m alone in my bed. A note perched on a hot cup of coffee tells me he hasn’t been gone for long. I grab them and savor my first sip while reading his message and admiring his perfect handwriting.
I lied. I want you to be there.
The remainder of my day is spent avoiding everyone. Tripp has a special talent of reminding me why he’s not the right one for me. He also has a knack for grounding me.
Nothing feels truly right. Every aspect of my being is off-kilter, kicked onto its side, struggling for stability, and searching for it in anyone but myself.
How does one get to this place? Is it a series of choices that add up over time, proving to some silent, invisible goddess that we aren’t worthy of safety and normalcy? If there is some hot female floating above my head, choosing doom for me, then I’d give anything to wrap my hands around her throat and steal the same thing she’s stolen from me.
Life.
“You should try not scowling so much,” Palmer says at the lacrosse field after school.
“It’s cold as Siberia out here,” I deadpan, moving my feet to allow her to pass. When she sits beside me, the heat of her stare is a welcome warmth. “Go ahead, bitch. Spit it out.”
“I’m surprised to see you here.” She presses her bony elbow into my side with a forced but hopeful smile plastered on her face.
I purse my lips, prolonging the inevitable. Once she realizes the real reason I’m here, she’ll be disappointed. Palmer Weston is good at almost everything, except
