Page 22 of Your Play to Call
Interesting. What it would be like to have two dreams to chase?I think to myself while taking my fair share of the lady fingers.
“What’d you study at college?”
“Public administration. When I thought football wouldn’t work out, I wanted to work for a non-profit. Find ways to support single-parent families and kids.” He bounces his leg under the table.
Meanwhile, I’m trying to put this puzzle together. Is it possible that he has all the pieces?
“That’s kind of amazing. Are you still friends?”
“Yeah. We’re still close,” he continues. “His family used to invite us over for the holidays. It’s nice to be in the same area again. We didn’t see much of each other when I was in Seattle.”
“That sounds lovely.” My silverware lightly clinks on the plate as I set it down.
“I bet you have tons of friends all over the world,” Tripp says while finishing his wine, his eyes still gazing into mine through the empty glass.
“Not really.” I laugh to make it sound less pathetic than it really is.
“What’s that mean?” Tripp presses.
“Friends are hard. They’ve always been hard for me, at least. When I was in high school, I had a group of friends, but we fell out, like girls do. We never fell back together.” I clasp my hands together to explain. “And I didn’t even consider going to college. It was always music. I know I’m lucky. I was talking with major labels when I was seventeen. Gosh, I sound like a brat.”
Embarrassment washes over me. Why did I say that?
“No, you don’t. I get it. Being successful at a young age, it’s hard. Being young is hard enough. I don’t know how you handled it.
Honestly, not well, but I don’t tell Tripp that. Sometimes I’m sad thinking about the friendships I had and how they fizzled. There are times when I dread going home. It’s either people acting like we were bestfriends when they were horrible to me or seeing people I was friends with at one time being completely content to never speaking to me again.
I might tour the world but that doesn’t leave much room for close friends. I’m thankful for Claire. And Emilie. They’re the closest I get to true girlfriends, but they’re on my payroll so I’m not sure they even count.
“I did my best. Sometimes it was good enough. A lot of times it wasn’t.”
“I think you could say that about anyone. Anything.” His voice is light but also commanding. Like I shouldn’t argue that my best wasn’t good enough. It catches me off guard. I have to swallow past the lump in my throat.
Tripp grins and leans across the table. He slowly takes my chin in his hand, and I lean into the touch. His eyes hold contact, piercing blue, but then they’re looking at my lip. He uses his thumb to lightly wipe something from the corner of my lip. Neither of us move.
It’s almost like the moment is paused. I can feel his chest, rising and falling. His hand stays on my chin and it tilts it up just enough for me to gaze up into him. My brain short-circuits, and my skin starts to itch in a way that makes me need to fidget. I want to lean further into him. I want my mouth on his. My breath halts in my lungs.
The door to the stairway closes, and Tripp sits back in his seat. Our server awkwardly leaves us our to-go boxes with some extras for “a good lunch tomorrow”.
I can’t help but be a little disappointed.
Before we leave, I grab a thank you note and pen from my purse.
“What’s that?” Tripp asks.
“It’s this thing I do. I try to leave a thank-you note whenever I’m out.”
“You carry those in your bag? At all times?”
“Pretty much.” I laugh as I write our server’s name at the top of the card. “I had a fan write me a thank-you note, and she handed it to me when I was walking by, when I was out for drinks. She chose a private moment, and it seems like nothing, but I’ll never forget the way I felt when I read it.” I place a hand on my chest, thinking back to that moment, how grateful I felt. “I’ve kept it, even after all this time.”
“That’s sort of amazing,” Tripp says, crossing his arms, grinning at me.
I smile back while I finish writing out the note.
Tripp pulls into mydriveway. The light illuminates my front steps.
“Let me walk you,” he says, too fast, as he practically jumps out and opens my door.