Page 84 of Your Play to Call
“Tell me about this potential adventure,” she almost whispers into my ear.
“How about a little road trip? To my hometown. They do this fall carnival every year, and it’s next weekend. Lined up perfectly with the bye week. Take a break from the city and the press and mentions of Dexter and drunk fans.”
“A fall carnival? That sounds so fun. What do you mean take a break from the press?”
“Can you keep one of my secrets?”
She nods excitedly.
“Besides the people in my hometown, there are only a handful who know where it is. The real one. I transferred to a different school when I was a junior in high school, to try and get more visibility for football scouts. But that isn’t my hometown… it’s just what everyone thinks it is.”
Anticipation fills me when I think about taking her to my real hometown.
“How has this never come out?”
“Mostly because I don’t think many people care. Also, my town knows how to keep a secret.”
“That is… amazing. I’m in. A break sounds perfect. Plus, a whole weekend with you.” She plants a trail of kisses from the top of my neck to my collarbone.
Chapter 44
Willow
“You’re doing it!” Wendycheers as I do what is barely considered sewing. It’s a pattern with my first initial and a small heart.
She claps her hands in excitement, smiling wide, and I would do anything she asked me to if I knew she’d give me this reaction every time. We were out to lunch today when she had to leave to make it to her sewing club—which is different than her knitting club—she asked if I wanted to go and there was no way I could say no.
Here’s the thing, I know nothing about sewing. I didn’t dabble with any of this when I was younger. Wendy is the best cheerleader. She even clapped when I finished my first “W” pattern, even though it looked nothing like the actual letter.
Using my hands, the delicate manner of the needle, it’s refreshing. I tend to put the pattern and needle five inches in front of my face, paired with a mean scowl. I’m just trying to focus. I want to get it right.
Wendy’s sewing club is only a handful of women. They were not expecting me to join them, but they welcomed me with open arms. I’m pretty sure Wendy promised a photo at the end if they were all on their best behavior.
I finish my fourth W, and it finally looks like a letter. My hands are starting to cramp, so I set down my embroidery loop to take a break.
I pour a glass of lemonade and sit back in my chair as the women around me continue their conversations—a pleasantdistraction.
To be honest, I almost bailed on today’s lunch. I didn’t want to get into what happened with Dexter and Tripp. Or the press. Or anything. I’m exhausted thinking about it. My PR team has been working overtime on trying to keep ahead of the false headlines but it’s no use.
I needed a break.
Wendy is a lovely human because as soon as she saw me, she wrapped me in a hug and whispered in my ear, “We’re not going to talk about the dumb thing my son did or the dumber thing your ex-boyfriend did, unless you want to.” My shoulders sagged in relief.
She knows Tripp isn’t dumb, but his actions were.
I keep stacking these things together. The Champagne. Him asking me out. The new car. Confronting the press. The thing with the fans. By themselves, it might seem like spontaneity, but together, it’s a definite pattern, which makes me nervous.
I’m falling for Tripp. Like, all the way down. He knows me. I love how he asks questions he really wants the answers to or is focusing on my details.
Typically, when I’m dating, I end up in this cycle of self-loathing. I have a streak of horrible body image days where I curse the gods for making my legs as big as they are. I wish my muscles away.
This is the adult and controlled version of what this behavior started as. But, thanks to years of therapy and building a positive relationship with food and exercise, it’s much more contained.
I kind of forgot about this vicious cycle. It didn’t really cross my mind to pick myself apart because Tripp acted like he’s the lucky one. He makes me feel confident. Deserving. Like being with me is worthwhile. I know I shouldn’t need someone else’s validation on how my body looks, but he makes me feel like I’m the most beautiful person on the planet.
It’s not like he’s impulsive because he’s wishy-washy about his feelings. Sometimes it could be the opposite. He cares so much that his judgement is clouded.
Quite the combination with someone as impetuous as Tripp.