Tripp Read Online Free Page A

out.
    “Things change,” she says, her voice sharp enough I understand she’s telling me to back off.
    I want to tell her no , but because I can’t tell her what I was thinking a moment ago—I can’t tell her the minute she mentioned going on a date, the only recall I had was the one time I took her home and she was mine—I nod and pick up Gracie and her bag. “Guess so.”
    That’s the last thing I’ve learned to compartmentalize in my relationship with Rachel: those feelings that sneak up every now and then, the ones I have no right to feel. I call them lapses, little memories sneaking in to blindside me. When a lapse occurs, like right now—when all I can think about is the night we were together and everything was right—I remind myself that she’s my best friend. When that doesn’t work, I remind myself she’s a mom. That usually brings me back from the ledge, not because I don’t love Gracie; when Rachel got pregnant and her life became about so much more, I promised myself I would do everything I could to make her life easier, not harder. Part of that meant just being her friend, the one stable thing in her life she could count on.
    I remind myself that a date is just that, a date. I’ll still be here—the one helping her and supporting her, long after her date is just a memory.
    I comfort myself with this knowledge as I take Gracie out to the car and click her into her car seat. When she looks up at me and smiles, my heart breaks a little, and another lapse occurs. No matter how many times I tell myself Rachel isn’t mine, I can’t help remember just how good it felt to be with her the one and only time we ever crossed the friendship line into something more.
     

3
Past
    I’m drunk—there’s no getting around it, but rather than the celebration buzz I had going an hour ago, I’m now the drunk of someone who’s been drinking because facing the reality I live isn’t all that awesome.
    Lauren showed up sixty-five minutes ago. Coincidence? God, I hope so.
    My tongue is a little thick, my speech a little slow, but no other major effects. Which means I’m only really buzzed, so the rest of this exhaustion is coming solely from the fact that the girl I’m trying to please is constantly displeased.
    One more time , I think, and stand to go find her. It’s my night and my celebration, because goddamn we won—more than that, I played out of my mind and earned myself a starting position for next year. A sophomore with a state championship under his belt— that’s a big deal, but to Lauren, the party was bigger, and being drunk before she arrived was a violation of our boyfriend-girlfriend pact to do these things together.
    Shit. I just wanted a night. One night.
    But since she’s right—I broke the code of changing plans the night of—I walk to the dance floor and try to find her, ready to make amends so this feeling will go away and I can return to my celebration. I’m looking around, wondering if she got mad enough she left, when I see her.
    She’s got her strawberry-blonde hair pulled over one pale, bare shoulder, and her back pressed against the front of Henry—a second-string JV guard whose greatest skill is taking a charge, which is not as tough as it sounds. You plant your feet and let someone ram into you—enough said. I smile for a second at that thought, and then I watch Henry’s hands slide to Lauren’s hips and my amusement fades.
    Anger is a familiar sensation, but the reason for it right now makes no sense. Henry is grinding with a girl who should be mine—but instead of being pissed at him, I’m pissed that Lauren’s allowing it; she won’t man up and fight with me.
    Walking toward them, I grab Henry by the neck of the shirt, which isn’t difficult since I’m an easy four inches taller than he is, and yank him back with enough force to have him stumbling a bit. I barely acknowledge him as I face off with Lauren, and though I feel more tired than angry, I cross my arms