15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Willow

There's nothing quite like waiting for something to go wrong. But nothing comes. Being with Tripp is easy. Easy in the way that I want to be closer, want to touch him. I don't think I'm the only one when I think about all the errant grazes and excuses to touch.

I'm thankful the cold is hiding my flushed cheeks.

While I'm laughing at something Tripp said, our server drops off a piece of tiramisu.

"This one's on us." He claps his hands and rubs them together before putting one on Tripp's shoulder. "Tripp, so good to see you. Thanks for swinging by."

Tripp's smile is familiar and warm, our server matches it with his own—a smile only friends would share.

I take one bite of the tiramisu, fall back in my chair, and groan. It's heavenly.

"Why do none of my friends work at an Italian spot like this? Amazing."

"I went to college with the owner's son." Tripp pulls up the sleeves of his shirt, his forearms strong and defined. Muscles move and flex as he reaches across the table for a bite of dessert. I can't help but think of those arms around my body.

"He walked on at our college team and probably could've gone to the NFL, but he wanted to take care of this place," Tripp continues as if he didn't show me some of the most delicious arm-candy I've encountered.

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 best friends 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 my driveway. The light illuminates my front steps.

"Let me walk you," he says, too fast, as he practically jumps out and opens my door.

He sweetly grabs my hand, and we walk to my door. The wind runs through the trees, rustling the branches and leaves. Night has completely fallen, and the stars are putting on a show. That's one of my favorite parts of being out of the SoHo apartment. Here, the stars have a chance.

Tonight feels new. There were never early dates with sweet hellos or goodbyes. It was dodging being seen or something else chaotic. Or finding somewhere "neutral" to meet.

I melt a little. Like I'm having an out-of-body experience and I'm a normal woman wrapping up a date with someone she randomly met. Almost like a fortunate fluke. I've been in the industry ever since I've been old enough to date. It's always been complicated.

This is easy.

"What's that smile for?" Tripp scoffs and nudges my shoulder with his. He matches my smile .

"This is all so… normal. Nice. It's refreshing."

"Nice?" Tripp teases. "Did you have a nice time?" He raises his eyebrows as he turns toward me.

"I did. Everything was lovely," I say as I look down at the hand he's still holding.

This man turns, scoffs, and bites his lip before turning back to me. A deadly combination. I'm no longer thinking about him holding my hand.

"I'm not that sweet…" His voice drifts as he takes a small step towards me.

"No?" I don't know if I've had too much wine or tiramisu, but I bait him. "Prove it." My words come out breathy, and Tripp's eyes go wide, just long enough for me to register. He takes the hand he was holding and pushes it up, near my head, hitting the back of my door while he moves my back to the same place.

His free hand comes to my chin, like it did at dinner. This time, he tilts it up and greets me with a deadly smirk—the type that could make me tell him all my secrets.

Tripp's mouth crashes to mine. His lips press in a way that screams hot hot hot, even though he tastes sweet from the tiramisu. I hear, and feel him, loud and clear. Consider the message delivered.

His body presses into mine. Muscles meet me and demand to be felt. He lets the arm above me go, and I run a hand over his chest, the soft shirt a stark contrast to his firm muscles. He nudges into me, and bites at my lip. I moan when I can't help it and that urges him on. I throw my arms around his neck doing all I can to get closer.

Tripp picks me up, my back up against the wall, and I wrap my legs around his waist.

Damn, I know he's a football player, but he picks me up and throws me around like I'm nothing. And I love it .

He envelops me. His skin smells like the forest after a rain. He tastes sweet thanks to the tiramisu.

All I can think of is his touch. Wanting more of it. How good it feels. Tripp's hands go from the sides of my face to the nape of my neck until they're in my hair. He peppers my neck with teasing licks and the lightest of bites. His lips are forceful but still soft.

Want builds and pulls, low in my core. The pulls rapidly turn to throbs.

He's careful not to leave a mark. His arms, muscular and determined, wrap around my back, pulling me even closer to him. I tip my head back, and he kisses the tops of my breasts.

A car door slams.

"Ugh, shit. Sorry, Willow. I had something to check in the house." Seth scrambles and has no idea what to do with himself.

Tripp sets me down, and my legs immediately miss his waist.

"All good, my man." Tripp turns and waves to my security team like he didn't have me pressed up against my front door. He's full of surprises. I like that he took control.

He tugs at the crotch of his jeans, and I cover a laugh with my hand.

"Goodnight, Lo," Tripp says as he tucks a piece of hair behind my ear and kisses my lips a final time.

Lo. It takes everything I have not to wrap myself up in him.

Tripp walks back to his car and waves to the security team before he pulls out of the driveway. Seth meets me at the door, and his cheeks are crimson.

"I can't believe that happened. And we're never talking about it again," I say, a finger in his chest, before opening the door and going inside.