Waves (Part 2)

Chapter 3


Tom turned to Trye. “What did you do to her?!” he demanded.

“Nothing!”

Looking doubtful, Tom snapped, “Well, you had to have done something.”

“We were just talking, and she…flipped out,” lied Trye. Of course, Tom didn’t pick up on it. How could he? He didn’t know about Trye and Trinity’s day. Trye could already tell that he and Trinity had one of those rare bonds, where it was a constant clash. How could it not be? Preppy Trinity versus Punk Rock Trye? Sweet Trinity versus Badass Trye? No way that they could get along in harmony. It was destiny for them to argue at all of the possible opportunities.

“That was weird. I mean, I know Trin can be a little…spazy, but not like that,” pondered Tom.

“Maybe she’s PMS-ing, or something,” Trye suggested.

Looking disgruntled, Tom pleaded, “Please don’t make me ever have to think about my sister’s menstruation cycle again.”

“Fine, you wuss.” Trye kicked his feet onto the couch. “When should I leave, anyway? I don’t want to get too comfortable when I shouldn’t be. Besides, you’re gonna have to drive me home. Andrew has my Duster. And there’s no way I’m going to let him drive back to get me. No way is he driving my car twice in one day.”

Tom laughed. “I get it. I’m the same way with my Audi. But I’ll probably drive you after dinner. You know, before my ‘rents get here. Not that they’d even notice, since they only observe visitors if they’re wearing a suit.”

“They can’t be that bad,” Trye insisted.

“Can and are. Trinity had one of her boyfriends spend the night in a guest room—that was right next to their room—and they didn’t say anything.”

“She had a boyfriend spend the night?” Trye panicked. So, maybe “sweet” and “innocent” weren’t two adjectives that best described Trinity. “How old was she?”

“Fifteen or something. I know she couldn’t drive, though. She was way too young for a lot of the crap that she got away with in Cali. Especially when it came to guys. She stayed at Sean’s house last summer, and Donovan’s over spring break.”

Fabulous. This just kept getting better and better. What—would Trinity fall for every other guy on the planet before him? Is there something wrong with me, or what?! Trye shouted in his mind. “Stop—this isn’t comforting.”

“Sorry.” Although Tom didn’t know about Trye and Trinity’s real relationship, he knew that Trye had it bad for Trinity, and Trinity despised Trye.

“What are we gonna eat?”

“Chinese, of course. I’m in the mood for a very large plate of egg rolls. Maybe some of Trinity’s beef and broccoli, too.” Tom’s stomach grumbled loudly. Tom checked his watch. “Hey, look! It’s six o’clock. Food time. What do you want? I’ll go get it right now.”

“Uhh…where are you getting it from?”

Tom thought. “Oh yeah. I don’t really know any restaurants around here. Um, where do you usually go?”

“The Hong Kong Star. It’s about twelve streets down from the beach. Wauregan Road. It’s hard to miss—it’s the only Chinese place in town. Obviously, Willaimson isn’t big on embracing non-seafood.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Obviously. So…orange chicken. Done. See you in twenty? And try to get Trinity back here, okay? Tell her…tell her I’m getting Chinese. That should get her back.” Then, Tom was gone.

“What the hell do I do now?” Trye thought. He suddenly remembered the perfume he had stashed in his bag. Now would be as good a time as any to leave it for Trinity. Trye found his way back to the kitchen, after getting lost twice. The bag was just where he had left it. His beat-up navy blue backpack looked extra-shabby next to Tom and Trinity’s brand new bags of the same classic L.L. Bean style. Trye’s was truly a monstrosity. The reflective strip was chipped and scuffed. The bag had graffiti all over it, courtesy of his boredom in detention, and enthusiastic girlfriends. For example, on one side there was a big red heart, around the words: "TRYE IS MY HOTTIE" scribbled by a past girlfriend. A metal zipper pull had broken off, and was replaced with a battered Ron Jon Surf Shop key chain.

In a word, a mess.

Of course, Trye reminded himself, they probably get new backpacks ever six months. Not just new bags—but probably a new car every year. That damn Audi looked brand-frigging-new. Trinity had a car like that in her access, and she was interested in his old Duster? Go figure.

He found the bottle, and grabbed a can of Pepsi from the fridge, maybe to share with Trin. He walked towards the main staircase. Then, he caught sight of a door in the distance. It was down a short hall. The bronze handle shone, and drew Trye to it.

The doors in front of him were the biggest Trye had ever seen inside someone’s house. They were glass…pure glass, with just a gold-looking frame around them. Inside, the floors were creamy marble. Trye’s Nike’s tapped quietly with each step. One-and-a-half story windows with heavy red drapes lined the walls. The rest of the walls were covered with off-white silk. That was what had been used instead of wallpaper in the 1900s, right? He wasn’t sure. A big fireplace sat unlit. The ceiling was slightly arched, with a large chandelier suspended in the middle of the room. A black grand piano occupied a corner.

“A ballroom,” breathed Trye. “They have a friggin’ ballroom!” Trye turned quickly, and went back upstairs. Quietly, he opened Trinity’s door, and poked his head in.

Her TV was on to an old Bogie movie. None of the other lights were on, so it took Trye a second to see the lump under the covers. Taking a step closer, he saw Trinity’s face, illuminated by the soft gray glow. Setting the perfume down, Trye turned to leave. He glanced one last time at Trinity. It seemed as if she was covered, but it was just her brother’s sweatshirt thrown over her. Underneath it, Trinity was scrunched into a little ball, and the blankets lay on the floor. Trye picked up the blue comforter, and laid it over the object of his affection. The sleeping muscles loosened, and Trinity looked much more peaceful.

Just then, one green eye opened. It focused on Trye, and closed again. “Oh, it’s you,” she muttered. “Get the hell out of my room.”

“Trinity…”

“You’re mad at me, remember?”

Trye sat down next to her. “Why would you think that?”

“Oh, I don’t know…maybe that little scene that went down in the Psycho Room?!” exclaimed Trinity. She was sitting up, and had thrown the blankets off of her.

“Trinity, Trinity, Trinity,” scoffed Trye. “I don’t get mad. At least, not at girls. I just play along. It seemed to make you feel better to scream at me.”

“Well, I’m not screaming now.” Her voice had gotten flirty. She was such a tease. Trye knew it, too. He didn’t fall for her tricks, but, like he said, just played along. Girls liked to think that they were in control. It was that simple. They were always happier when they got to call the shots. So, Trye let them. But, he already knew what they were doing, so he could throw in his opinions while still playing along.

“Yeah, you’re not.” Trye chewed on his tongue. “Thanks for today, Trin. You really did save my ass….sort of.” He handed her the soda. “Want it?”

Trinity took it, and opened it. She took a swig. “Why do you do that shit? You’re smarter than that. And it’s true, you are. But that….that’s just stupid. Why do it?”

Trye had known that this was coming. All girls asked him that. “I don’t do it a lot. It just…it’s like aromatherapy, or something. Calms me down. Keeps me occupied when I’m bored.”

“You kill yourself because you’re bored.”

“I’m not killing myself.”

“That disgusts me, Trye. I’m not gonna be around you when you do that. You smoke, too, I’ll bet.”

Trye shrugged. “Sometimes.” He rolled his eyes. “Let me guess; you won’t be around me when I do that, either?”

“I can’t. I’m an asthmatic,” she snapped.

“And you lived in L.A.? How did you manage?”
“By yanking cigarettes from many mouths as I walked by.”

Laughing, Trye said, “I don’t doubt that.” Changing the subject, Trye inquired, “What’s with your brother and you being so against your parents? I mean, you guys are seriously hostile.”

“Oh. That. We’re not really against them…they just kind of suck at being parents. They try, but sometimes, it’s like…they weren’t supposed to be parents. Like it was an accident. But neither Tom nor I were accidents. Our parents plan everything down to a tee. Except, they just don’t seem to have the parenting skills. Tom and I are probably too hard on them, but it’s so easy to criticize them.” Trinity let out a small laugh. “I’m so mean. They can’t help it; we should cut them some slack. But we don’t. They’ll live. Everyone’s gotta suck at something.”

Trye shook his head. “You really are something else.”

“I can live with being something else. Just as long as that “something else” isn’t a ditzy little cheerleader.” Trinity twisted her long blond hair into a knot. Tendrils of hair slipped out, and framed her face. God, she was gorgeous.

“What’s so awful about cheerleaders, anyway?” inquired Trye.

She sighed, rolling her eyes. “I just—they just…annoy me. It’s a sport, but barely. I get that they work hard, but come on. They get special privileges. They get to be snobs and respected—freaking worshiped for it.”

“That’s not cheerleading. That’s every sport in high school,” he pointed out.

“Ahh, not all.”

“Which one is passed over and spared the snobs and bad reputations?”

“The field hockey team.”

Dumbstruck, Trye asked, “Aren’t they all lesbians?”

“No!” Trinity was outraged. “I was on the field hockey team for past three years! Three-quarters of the girls had boyfriends!” Trinity stopped. “Are you calling me a lesbian?”

“What? No! I—Augh!” Annoyed, Trye buried his head in his hands. When he finally looked back up, he saw Trinity laughing her head off.

“That was great,” she wheezed.

Trye pushed her shoulder and she rolled back, laughing harder. Finally he gave up. Her laughter was too hard to resist. He smiled and laughed, too.

When they finally settled down, Trye observed Trinity. She was watching the Bogey movie, and the reflections danced off her pupils. He finally recognized it as To Have or Have Not—seeing as he knew most Bogey movies pretty well. Humphrey Bogart had charm and style, and he always got the girl.

Trye couldn’t help but stare at her lips, recalling their kiss just yesterday. It seemed like such a long time ago. He wanted her so badly.

“So, you have a date tonight?” Trinity asked out of the middle of nowhere.

Taken by surprise, Trye nodded. “Tiffany.”

Her eyes narrowed, but she was smiling slyly. “I’ve seen her. You were sucking her face off at lunch today, right?”

Trye was embarrassed that Trinity had seen that. “Yeah, that’s her.” Looking harder at her, he inquired, “Why? Do you have a date?”

Embarrassed—even more so than Trye—she looked away. He knew what that meant. It meant very bad for Trye. It meant “oh shit.” “Yeah, with, um, Andrew.”

Yep. That definitely called for an uttering of “oh shit.” But, he did it silently, because he didn’t want Trinity to know that he was panicking. Trye Foreman did not panic. Especially not about his little brother. But…maybe he should.

“Oh, no. You’re mad, aren’t you?’

“Mad? Why would I be mad?”

“Trye, you’re mad!”

“I am not mad!”

“You are too!” Trinity looped her hair around her finger. It was loose again. It was also driving Trye crazy. Again. When she spoke again, her voice was softer, and quieter. “Then why is it that you look so locked up that you can’t move?”

Realizing that his body was in fact tense with—you guessed it—anger, Trye took inventory of his choices. He could deny it. He could admit it. He could not answer. He could kiss her, use his charms, and make her forget all about Andrew. He could play his anger up to get Trinity to make a move. Decisions, decisions.

But, before he could even make a decision, Trinity took the last choice into her own hands. Literally. Her hands were on his neck, softly pushing on his muscles.

“I’m not mad,” he finally insisted.

“What is it? Is it because I’m going out with Andrew instead of you? Because you can’t seem to seduce me? I think you just don’t want me to go out with Andrew because he’ll have something that you don’t. Am I getting close?” Trye wasn’t sure if her last statement applied to previous comments, or the massage.

He went with the former. “Would I tell you if I were?”

“I don’t know,” Trinity thoughtfully said. “I hope you would.” Both of them contemplated this statement. “You seem a lot more relaxed; do you want me to stop?”

“No! I mean, keep going.” In truth, Trye had gotten a hell of a lot of massages in his life from girls. The massage Trinity was giving him made him want to slide onto the floor, he was so relaxed.

“Hey, isn’t the guy supposed to be the one giving the girl the massage?”

“Do you want me to?” The massage—and Trinity’s hands all over his body—had given Trye some ideas.

“Yes.” She switched places with him. It all started out relaxing enough. Trinity looked like she was dying of comfort. “Oh, my God, Trye. That feels so good.”

Trye knew. He moved down her back, away from her shoulders, just as Trinity had. Of course, his massage wasn’t going to be as innocent as Trinity’s. Not unless Trye’s plan was interrupted by Tom, but he doubted it. The Chinese place was slow. Slow enough, anyway.

Once he had his hands working her lower back, he started to inch them forward, until his arms encircled her tiny waist.

“Trye, what are you doing?” demanded Trinity.

Trye’s body was pressed against her back. He could hear her quick, shallow breaths. She seemed pissed, but excited and nervous at the same time. They were so close that Trye’s heartbeat thumped into her body.

Nose against Trinity’s cheek, he spoke into her neck. “Do you want me to stop?” He placed a soft kiss on her neck.

All of the tension had left her muscles, and Trinity was leaning back into Trye. After a while, she whispered, “What about…what about Andrew?”

Trye stopped mid-kiss. “What about him?”

Trinity pulled back a little. Very little. But enough to make Trye realize that she was actually acknowledging his brother’s existence. “He’s my boyfriend…” She still sounded resistant to stop him. “Trye, we can’t.”

“Yes, we can.” He moved to her ear. He did amazing things to ears. Trinity returned to her former stance, only to lean away again.

“Trye…”

“Relax, honey. I’m doing some of my best stuff here.” He lifted one hand off her waist to trace her lips. Then, he kissed them.


It was the same fire as before—maybe more. Trinity hated how she loved it in his arms, kissing him. But it felt so safe…no one could get her. Except Trye. But, maybe he was the one she should be worrying about. But still, the thought of before blazed in her mind. The word reminded her not to fall into the temptations of Trye Foreman. He was slime.

Ripping her mouth off of his, she shouted, “Trye, stop it!”

“You loved it, just like before.” Before. Why did he have to say that? Why?

“God! You don’t seem to be getting this! I HAVE A BOYFRIEND!”

This outburst had come at a pivotal moment in the movie where Lauren Becall was totally pissed off at Humphrey Bogart. Trye seemed to notice, too.

As Trinity left, he motioned to the Pepsi, he had brought her, and recited with Rick, “You forgot your drink.”

“I don’t want it!” Trinity yelled, halfway out the door, and speaking with Slim.

“Who’s sore now?”

Before she slammed the door, both women shouted in disgusted unison, “I am!”


Chapter 4


“Trye…what are you doing?” Tiffany asked. She was sitting on her bed, waiting for Trye, who was hovering at the door. He knew that she was expecting some more serious making out. Most likely sex, as well. All girls expected that from him. Just because his friends thought that he was some sex master. He didn’t know how he got his reputation. He didn’t talk big. He didn’t score with every girlfriend. On the contrary; Trye had only been with one girl, and that was a long, long time ago. Trye had no idea how his little reputation stayed the way it was. Trye did suspect, however, that the girls he dated would either lie, or just let people assume that he had slept with them. It was stupid. But, then again, Trye was stupid, too. He had never denied it.

“I’m just…nothing.” Trye went over to the bed and sat down with her. He was bored with Tiffany all through dinner, and soon got bored with her conversation, and attempts to be “sexy”. Soon, they were kissing much more intensely than even Trinity and Trye were. But, the fire and passion wasn’t there. It just—didn’t measure up.

Tiffany started to shed clothes. She removed Trye’s t-shirt. He moved away from her. She moved back to him. Trye moved back again. “I’ve gotta go.” Picking his black Clash t-shirt, he pulled it back over his sweaty muscles. He stood up, and moved to the door.

“Go where?”

“Home.”

“But Trye, don’t you want to—”

“No.”

Tiffany crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Why not?” she said, huffily.

Leaning forward, Trye gave her an unsatisfactory kiss on the mouth. Tiff seemed ready to continue.

“Sorry, babe, but this just isn’t working for me.”

Tiffany jumped off the bed in her underwear. “What do you mean, “it’s not working for you”?”

“Hate to leave you hangin’, baby doll, but I’m out.”

“What kind of answer is that?” Tiffany screamed.

“It’s my answer.”

“It’s a bullshit answer!”

“That’s not my problem.”

“Fuck that, and fuck you, too, Trye!” Tiffany screamed at the inch-wide gap between the door and the frame. Trye could still be seen through it, but barely.

Opening the door more, Trye stuck his head back in. “In case you didn’t figure it out already, you’ll never have the chance.” Her scream of rage could be heard all the way to his car.

***

On the other hand, Andrew and Trinity’s date went much more smoothly. Not as interesting, but enjoyable just the same. They sat on the blue couch in Andrew’s living room, watching an old Bond movie on their Plasma. Trinity was snuggled against Andrew, giving him tons of kisses. His arm was around her, and Trinity had the same warm, secure feeling that she did in Trye’s arms. She refrained from telling Andrew about that afternoon…even though she wasn’t so sure Trye would keep that same courtesy.

“Do you think Bond ever relaxes like this? I mean, with an actual girlfriend? I know he does the romantic thing, but—” Trinity was interrupted. Andrew kissed her, softly and warmly. It spread through her body.

When they finished, Andrew asked, “What makes you think about that?”

“I don’t’ know. Don’t you ever wonder about stuff like that?”

“Uhh…not really.” Andrew looked down at her.

Trinity settled in even closer to his warm body. “Oh.”

Kissing the top of her soft blond head, Andrew muttered, “You’re so cute.”

“Can you keep a secret?” whispered Trinity. At his nod, she continued, “I know.” They kissed again. It was even longer than all of the kisses that preceded it.

“Oh, shit.”

Andrew and Trinity broke apart, both startled. Trye stood there, jeans rumpled, hair mussed…lipstick on his neck.

Nervously, Trinity moved away from Andrew. She fussed with her hair, and pulled her shirt down over the strip of skin between her jeans and shirt.

“Sorry,” Trye mumbled.

“Go well?” Andrew asked.

Walking out, Trye shouted over his shoulder, “As well as to be expected!”


Dammit, dammit, dammit! Trye thought. Damn! Why did his brother get to make out with his Goddess? What sort of bull was that? Trye had half a mind to go out and beat the crap out of Andrew. He could, too—Andrew was big and scary, but Trye was bigger and scarier.

Soft, indistinguishable voices floated down the hall. Good. Nothing could happen if they were talking. And Trye knew he had to keep them talking. It was the only way he could take over.

***

A week later, Trinity was desperately avoiding Trye. It was hard, especially since she went over Andrew’s house a lot, and Trye came over Tom’s house a lot. Not to mention that they had almost the same schedule for school.

Still, he couldn’t shake their two encounters. They were so…and Trinity was so…damn. But how could he not recall every second in her bedroom? She was amazing.

But Trye couldn’t think about that, now. He had a new girlfriend. Samantha. They had gotten together only two days after Tiffany was dumped. She was almost prettier than Trinity. They were almost complete opposites. Samantha had long black hair, and almond-shaped blue eyes, framed with a think black fringe of lashes. Her body was to die for, and also opposite of Trinity’s—huge chest, short torso, long legs, and five foot nine. There was no fat on her at all, while Trinity had a little in various places, but it created little curves all over. Samantha’s whole wardrobe played out her top and legs. She wasn’t as smart as Trye, but she still made B’s.

Trye was working his magic, and they seemed equally infatuated with each other. Trye had poured all of his lost love for Trinity into Samantha, hoping for a distraction. Even Andrew admitted that he had only seen Trye that happy with a female one other time. When Trinity inquired after it, Andrew had refrained from answering, and Trye had to give him credit for that. Avoiding that question—and so many other questions about Trye’s past—must have been hard for Andrew.

After seeing Sam and Trye together several times, it was easy to see that Trinity was jealous. How could she help but be? One day, he was hanging all over her, and the next, he was all over some other girl. She must have been able to feel the electricity between them, and the insane passion. Or did he just imagine that she did?

On Thursday, Trinity heard about the party. It was at lunch, and Trye had crashed Andrew’s table. All of the guys were talking about it excitedly.

“What party?” asked Trinity.

David stared at Andrew. “She’s your girlfriend and you didn’t even tell her?”

“Well, I didn’t hide it from her! She just doesn’t know.” He turned to Trinity. “How is it possible that you don’t know?”

“Know what?!” she exclaimed. She was obviously sick of not knowing.

“Tomorrow night, our parents are going to my Aunt’s for three days. Andrew and I decided to hold a little soirée for whoever wants to come. It starts at eight.” Trye had intervened for Andrew, since he didn’t seem to be explaining things.

Shocked, Trinity asked, “An open party?”

“No. Well, sort of, but not really. We told a couple people, and whoever knows about it bye the time it happens can come. We’re not handing out fliers, or anything,” Andrew assured her.

“Jeez. You guys really do live in a tiny town. If you tried that in L.A. you know who would show up? Everyone and their cousin, and their cousin’s sister-in-law, and her husband, and his gang. Then, of course, their gang would attract a rival gang, and there’d be a nice, bloody massacre in the backyard,” she described.

“That could be cool,” Bryan thought aloud.

“No.”

“Oh. Okay.” Bryan was one of those glass-half-full-and-they’re-filling-it-back-up-with-tequila people.

“So, are you gonna come?” Andrew asked.

“Yeah. I’ll try.”

***

At seven forty-five, Trinity knocked on Tom’s door. It was Friday, and Trinity was ready. The two Flavin siblings were going, and planning to lie to their parents about their whereabouts when they returned from the party. Assuming that they even asked, of course.

Trinity’s hair was down, blond and straight. Her makeup was smoky, and the Powerpuff Girl pink lip gloss wasn’t going to stay on long in Andrew’s presence. She had even broken out the L.A. date wear. She looked pretty hot, in her opinion. Her jeans were low and stretch, as usual. Her top was sexy. It was dark purple glitter and gauze, clinging to every curve it covered.

Tom almost had a conniption when he saw his sister. “No way. No way are you going out like that, Trinity!”

Patting his arm in reassurance, she pulled him to the Audi. “Can I drive?” She took his shocked silence as a “yes” and peeled out of the driveway.

Tom didn’t snap out of his stupor until they reached the Foreman house. There were three dozen cars parked around the house. The house itself was a light green Victorian. People were on the veranda, and there were people on the beach, beyond the house. The warmth and laughter increased as they got closer to the house. Trinity opened the front door, and winked to two of Andrew’s friend’s from lunch, who were sitting on the veranda railing. Tom fallowed her inside. He, too, knew the layout of the house.

The party wasn’t supposed to start for another fifteen minutes, but the groups of people in the house didn’t care. There were about a hundred and fifty people inside, talking in clumps. And there were far more people outside.

“I’m going to go find Andrew!” announced Trinity over the music. It was punk, but she was sure that rap, classic rock, and metal would be played before the night ended. She just prayed that there would be no bubble-gum boy bands. The swarms of girls and guys danced closely. Nothing vulgar was happening yet, but after some more booze, it was certain to begin eventually.

Broad shoulders, strong arms, and incredible height finally came into Trinity’s vision. Trinity rushed over and rested her head on his shoulder. “Hiya,” she purred. Then, she saw faded-denim blue eyes instead of angry sky blue. Under her fingers, the muscles were too developed. “Dammit! Why do you two have to look so similar?” She had jumped back, and was standing with her hands on her hips. “You’re hair is supposed to be blue at the tips!”

Smirking, Trye murmured, “Hi.” Then he felt his hair. “Well, now it’s not.”

“It’s not funny, Trye!” Trinity yelled.

A full-blown smile sprung onto his face. “If you say so.”

“I say so!”

“Calm down, Trin. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she snapped. “Why on earth would you think that something is wrong?”

“Um, let’s think. You’re freaking out. Breathe. Calm down,” he repeated. Then he lowered his voice. “You look like you could use another massage.”

Trinity jumped away. “God, Trye! What’s your problem?! Get the hell away from me!” she spat.

“Defensive,” muttered Trye. “You came up and started falling all over me, remember?”

“You drive me crazy! Just—ugh!” She stomped away.

“Save me a dance!” Trye called.

“When hell freezes over!”

“Don’t worry, when it does then I’ll be here waiting!”

Clenching her jaw, Trinity muttered, “He makes me so mad!” Now cautious, she searched each room on the ground floor. No Andrew to be seen. What to do? Something to drink—Trinity needed something to occupy her hands.

In the green kitchen, there were no drinks, and hardly any people. Trinity drifted outside with the music onto the beach. A long strip of sand was behind the house, with people sitting, dancing, and kissing. There, she found four Igloo coolers. Digging through ice and beer, she surfaced with a Diet Pepsi.

Hands circled her waist from behind. Before she reacted to anything, Trinity looked back. Indeed, it was Andrew. She wanted to kiss him, but he began to interrogate her, instead.

“Where have you been? I saw Tom twenty minutes ago. Were you with Trye?” Anger tainted his sexy voice. Plus, it was obvious he knew that stuff had happened between Trye and Trinity.

“Why would I be with Trye? I hate Trye. And, I couldn’t find you. How was I supposed to know that you were out here?” Now, they both stood with their feet apart, ready to pounce. “And I’m so glad you’re so happy to see me,” she barked.

Andrew took two strides to her, and was against Trinity head to toe. Her heart was pounding. Andrew gave her a kiss that started out softly, but escalated to hard and demanding. “Hi.”

“Hi,” she squeaked.

A smile played on Andrew’s lips. “I’m that good, huh?”

Playfully, Trinity smacked his arm. Andrew put the assaulted arm around her, and they sat down on the beach. A murmured conversation started between kisses.

David came up to them. “Hey. Haven’t seen you much, Andrew,” he glanced at Trinity. “Ahh. Now I see why; you were too busy making out to find your friends.”

Somewhat hurt by the comment, Trinity shifted away from Andrew. He put his arm back around her waist and pulled her to him. “So what? My party, my girlfriend, my make-out session. Deal with it or leave.” Despite the harshness of his words, Andrew’s tone was light and joking. Proving his point, he pulled Trinity even closer and kissed her.

“Talk to you later, Andrew. Maybe when Trinity isn’t glued to your mouth.” David grabbed a drink from the cooler and left.

Andrew tried to kiss her again, but David’s remark stung her. She pushed his chest with her hand. “He hates me, doesn’t he? All of your friends do.”

“No, they don’t. David’s just freaking out. Forget about it,” he mumbled, kissing her neck. The brush of his lips against her skin made her anger flare.

Pushing him away again, her voice became more insistent. “I’m trying to talk, Andrew!”

“What—no kisses?”

Trinity growled in frustration. “What is it with you Foremans?! Is making out all you do?!”

“What do you mean, “us Foremans”? As in Trye? As in making out with Trye? You making out with Trye?”

“What? No! I meant—” Trinity tried desperately to save herself. “I just mean that he’s always making out with some girl, so obviously that’s what he thinks about…”

“Whatever.”

Defiantly, she broke from his grasp. She stood up. She planted her feet and bit her lip to keep from yelling. “The center of her forehead was puckered, her brow knit in a frown. “Fine! Whatever to you too! If you don’t believe me, then screw you! As if you could even be more insensitive?!”

“You’d be surprised,” he snapped. “Would you like me to try?”

For the second time that night, Trinity Flavin stalked away from a Foreman.


Trye had lain back on the sand. The sound of the party was distant, and the light of the house barely shone this far away. The sand was soft under his back, and the sounds of the ocean mixed with the faint music relaxed him even more. He stared up at the stars, and started to nod off.

Soft shuffling alerted Trye of the person standing near him. It was always easy to hear someone come on the beach. He opened his eyes, and saw Trinity in the amazing glittery shirt. It clung to her provocatively, only the twinkling sparkles showing. Without comment, she lay next to him, staring at the stars. Trye and Trinity said nothing for a long time. It was like they were making up, but silently.

“Look,” Trinity finally whispered. “Venus. Isn’t it beautiful?”

Looking at Trinity, Trye agreed, “Gorgeous.”

Meeting his gaze, Trinity sighed, “Don’t ruin it, Trye.”

“I’m not ruining it. This would be ruining it,” insisted Trye. Then, his mouth was on hers, and Trye was suddenly lost in strawberry lip gloss and warm hands. Trinity’s hands. On his back. Urging him on. ’t ruin it, Trye.”

“I’m not ruining it. This would be ruining it,” insisted Trye. Then, his mouth was on hers, and Trye was suddenly lost in strawberry lip gloss and warm hands. Trinity’s hands. On his back. Urging him on. Yes, his mind triumphed. Finally…

When they came up for air, Trinity suggested that they go somewhere else to continue. While saying it, she was nervously looking for people. Trye understood her position, and agreed. He put his arm around her waist, pulling her close. They walked down the beach in the dark, close to the cool water. Several hundred yards from the house, surrounded by light from the moon on water, they stood together.

Trye traced the low neckline of the shirt, which slipped into another position. It showed some of her black lacy bra. His eyes were glued on the prospect of seeing her underwear. “Pretty,” he murmured.

After some more intense kisses, he said, “You want me.” Two fingers traced up to her collarbone, and lingered behind her neck. Applying some pressure to the base, where his hand rested, Trye pulled her mouth to his. Again, Trye became demanding, maybe pushing too hard…but he didn’t care. He had Trinity right then, and if he’d asked to be with her, she wouldn’t have refused. He knew it. It was so convenient…they were all alone…she looked so sexy…but Trye stopped kissing. This was still Andrew’s girl. Sure, she was drop-dead gorgeous, but that was no excuse to screw Andrew over—no pun intended.

“Don’t stop,” Trinity pleaded. “Trye, I take it back—I take it all back. Just—don’t—stop.”

“I have to.”

“WHAT? Why?”

“You’re with Andrew, remember? But, trust me, sweetie-pie, once the time is right, you’ll be in trouble. I could make you forget Andrew—hell—I could make you forget them all. But I can’t. Not yet, anyway.”

“And what makes you think I would give in so easily?” demanded Trinity.

“You were just begging me to continue.”

Trinity let out a cry of frustration, and stomped back up to the house. But, that was nothing compared to what was going on in Trye’s brain. There was a scream of irritation, a pause, yelling, pause, swearing, a pause, and then the self-hated set in. Why did he have to be so goddamn nice to his brother? Okay, he had made out with her, and all, but he kept his pants on. Which was more than Andrew could say.

Trinity wouldn’t stay with Andrew forever, and Trye would be waiting as soon as she
wasn’t.


“How could you let yourself do that, Trinity?” she asked herself. “You’re going out with Andrew. Not Andrew and Trye.” Now, she was confused on where they stood. How were they supposed to act around each other? No, she corrected. How should you act? Trye’ll be totally cool, no matter what. Because he’s evil.

And that just pissed Trinity off more. That, and she remembered that she was in a fight with Andrew, already.

Well, then, go apologize! So, that’s what she went to do. Again, she searched the house, but actually found him this time.

Andrew was dancing with a brunette with incredibly oversized breasts. Her red halter top didn’t offer much coverage. Neither did her super-short denim skirt. This really irritated Trinity. Here she was, in her sexist—okay, one of the sexiest—shirts, looking cute, yet tasteful, and her boyfriend was dancing with a slut.

“Ah-hem!” growled Trinity. She placed her hands on her hips, hair tossed over her shoulder. Surprised, Andrew looked up. Skanky the Slutty Whore Queen looked Trinity up and down, sizing her up.

“Hi, Trin. Where’ve you been? Talking to a “sensitive” guy? Sick of him? Want me back?”

Clenching her fists, Trinity put her hands behind her back, and tried to put on a cheerful face. “Even though that could be the rudest thing you’ve ever said to me, I’ll ignore it, because I was looking for you for a reason.” She exhaled so she wouldn’t explode. “Listen, Andrew, I’m sorry I made what David said into a bigger deal than it really was. Do you forgive me?”

Andrew looked surprised more by her words than her appearance in the first place. Then, Trinity found traces of dimples appearing on his cheeks. Just like Trye’s, Trinity thought. Andrew was in front of her before she could think further. Yum, ran through her brain. He kisses just like—and then she stopped herself before she could finish.

“Well,” sniffed the brunette, and huffed off.

Andrew didn’t even seem to notice. His arms were wrapped around Trinity’s waist, body pressed against hers. Trinity nestled her head into Andrew’s shoulder. Ahh. Slow dancing was just an excuse for holding each other. And Trinity was so thankful for that. It was just what she needed to take her mind off of Mr. Jackass. The music was comforting after the fight, and the adrenaline-pumping…experience with Trye.

“Back off, man!” shouted a male in the other room.

Quizzically, Andrew and Trinity looked at each other. They walked into the other room, with their arms still around each other. They found Trye and Graham standing in fighting stance in the middle of a crowd of people. Both looked ready to kill at the wrong move of the opponent. Trinity moved farther forward. Male gorillas often did the same thing, except they grunted a lot less. More accurately, Graham was grunting. Trye was standing cool and relaxed.

“Chill, Graham.” Trye looked tense, but surprisingly, ready to leave.
“
Don’t tell me to chill! Just give me my friggin’ keys!” Graham made a grab for them, but didn’t reach. Trye pulled the keys even farther out of his reach. After a moment’s hesitation, he dropped them into the pocket of his jeans.

“You can hardly stand up, Graham. How the hell are you supposed to drive?” Trye’s tone was still low and calm. It made the drunken Graham leap forward.

Infuriated, Graham screamed, “Yeah, we wouldn’t want me to end up like Matt!”

There was complete silence in the room. Maybe the whole house.

“You fucking bastard,” hissed Trye.

A fist flew through the air, and connected with Trye’s jaw. He reeled back, and then stepped forward. Before he could think, his fist was in the center of Graham’s face. It turned pink from the force of the blow, and his nose started to bleed. It was then that it all seemed to sink into Trye’s brain.

“Damn you.” Trye turned, and was gone, leaving a room full of dumbfounded onlookers in confused silence.

Trinity was aghast, and sent a look at Andrew. “Go check on him!” Andrew just shook his head. “What do you mean, “no”?” she murmured, cautious about being to loud. Andrew just shook his head again. Trinity threw her hands up, and left Andrew alone. She went through rooms of people, until she found stairs. Quietly, she ascended them, calling Trye’s name. When she reached the top, Trinity looked left, then right. She had no idea which way to go.

There was a snap from the right side of the hallway.

“Trye?” No answer. One door was slightly ajar, and Trinity pushed it open.

Trye was in the middle of the room, pacing. He acknowledged Trinity’s presence, yet didn’t say anything, nor look up.

“Trye, are you okay?” She hesitated when she received no answer. “What’s wrong?”

“I-I can’t believe him—the bastard,” he rasped.

“What’s so bad about what he said?”

Trye looked up. He looked surprised that she was standing there, although she had spoken three times. “You wouldn’t get it.”

“Well…explain it to me,” she suggested.

“I can’t.” Trye hit the heel of his hand against his forehead. “He knew—he knew if he hit me, I’d hit back!”

“Trye, I don’t get it.”

“You’re not supposed to!”

Trinity was in front of Trye in the blink of an eye. Her hands rested on his gray Led Zepplin t-shirt. “Calm down.”

“Oh, honey, ignorance is bliss, trust me.”

“Trye—why are you so mad? It’s not like you’ve never hit anyone before—”

Jumping back, his anger returned. “You bitch. You have no idea what you’re talking about! Leave! Get out of here! Go back to Andrew.” He was bitter at the last suggestion.

“Resting her hand on his bicep, Trinity murmured, “Trye, if you’d just—”

“GET OFF!” Trye threw his arm out, and the unexpected momentum threw Trinity’s left shoulder into the wall. He saw the flash of pain, and heard the thud. Trinity angled her face from him, pain shooting down her arm like no pain she had ever felt before. She wanted to double over and scream herself hoarse.

Trye moved to her, shocked. His rage was forgotten as he reached for her.

“Don’t fucking touch me, Trye! Get away!” Held back tears alerted her to fight to recollect herself. “I don’t freaking get you, Trye! One minute you’re fine, the next you’re punching people, and throwing me into a wall! Well you’re getting your wish! I’m out of here!” Pivoting on her heel, Trinity stormed out of the room.

Trinity ran down the corridor to the next open door, three doors down. Still clutching her shoulder, Trinity marveled at the pain. She knew Trye hadn’t meant it, but it still hurt like hell. Examining her arm in the mirror over the dresser, she saw nothing. But, when she slipped the wide neck down to her elbow, she found a bruise already forming.

Trinity tried to move her attention away from the ache. Shutting herself in, she found herself in a boy’s room. Andrew’s? There wasn’t a sign that said, “Andrew’s Room” or anything. She looked around, and sat down on the barely made bed. Blue sheets poked out, and the comforter was rumpled. There were books and notebooks on the dresser, and a CD player in the corner. No TV. Computer on the desk in the corner. Book case next to the closet. Very sparse. Not imaginative. Trinity figured it was Trye’s room.

She walked to the bureau and looked at the books. They were all nerdy fantasy books with odd covers. Turning her attention to the stack of notebooks, Trinity took the one on top, and sat down with it. It had an empty black cover. Was this “the” notebook? The one Trye was always scribbling in? The one no one was allowed to read?

I wonder what he keeps in there... she wondered. Trinity Flavin! That’s not nice, her conscience argued. So? He threw you into a wall!

Good point.

Trinity opened it, and started flipping through the pages. What was there astounded her. There were ratings and comments about every girl Trye had ever dated…and according to the notebook’s pages, he had slept with all of them. Trinity didn’t recognize most of the names.

Until she found her page.

TRINITY FLAVIN

LOOKS: 10/10
BODY: 10/10
FUCKIBILITY: 15/10
OVERALL: 20/10

She’s so freaking hot! She’s smart too, which could actually prove to be a problem. She might figure out what’s going on. But, I doubt it. No one figures me out. She’s my latest goal, soon to be my latest conquer, because that’s all I do. I fuck and I fuck and I fuck and none of the girls will admit it, and the rest don’t put two and two together. Trinity won’t.

I can’t help but fantasize about her. It gets me horny just thinking about screwing her. Her bouncing around on me, her bouncing UNDER me. Oh yeah. Now I’m just getting hornier. We’ve even gone at it a couple times. Seriously, I mean. Tongue, groping, the whole enchilada. I’ll add more as things progress…


Trinity was absolutely appalled. She read after those paragraphs, and found some very graphic fantasies described about her. What a pig! She’d never read anything like this before, especially not about her! She had half a mind to go back and yell at him, but she was still mad about him hitting her. What she needed was to go snuggle with Andrew.

So she did.

But not before stashing the notebook in the Audi.

To be continued...

Waves (Part 3)  (13+) Classic (sorta) story of hate, love, and misunderstanding. (Continued) #718715 by JessB, Architect.