Second Chance for Romance полностью

From when they first lived together.”

“Ah, that’s right,” I said. “I forgot, they were lovers for a while.”

“More than a while. Till Wren and I got together.”

They raced toward us, shrieking like schoolgirls on the playground. Then Christy swung around a signpost to change direction. She dashed toward the library again.

“I think that’s part of what’s been bothering Wren,” Trip said as we watched them in the distance. “She misses her.”

“Christy?”

“Yeah. But… I don’t think it’s just, you know, the sex stuff.”

“Oh?”

“Uh-uh. I think it’s like… well… love, if that makes sense.”

I thought about Susan and my mother’s relationship.

“I know,” he added, “it’s crazy.”

“Not really. Love is love. Sometimes you can’t control who you have feelings for.”

“Yeah, well… I wish I could be as relaxed as you.”

I shrugged. “I’ve had more experience with it.”

Wren finally caught up with Christy and tumbled her to the ground. They landed on a patch of grass near the library doors. Christy struggled, but Wren outweighed her by twenty pounds. She straddled Christy and pinned her arms

to the ground.

People stopped and stared, although it was obvious the girls were only playing.

Trip and I eventually reached them.

“Bridge and dump her,” I suggested to Christy. Much to my surprise, she actually tried. She didn’t have the neck strength, and Wren was too high on her body, but that didn’t stop her from lifting her hips and trying to throw her.

More people started to gather and point.

“Come on,” Trip said to me. “Before someone calls the cops.”

We pulled the girls to their feet. Christy came up laughing, but Wren scowled.

“I almost did it,” Christy said as she brushed twigs from her hair. Her eyes shone with adrenaline.

“You did,” I said. “But… where’d you learn to do that?”

“Seriously? Rich and Laurence were wrestlers.” Her expression clouded before she managed a smile. “They used to teach me. I was always too small, though.”

“Still are, I’m afraid.”

“Hey, I can hold my own!”

I laughed. “I don’t doubt it.”

“Maybe not against Wren the Giant,” Trip said.

“What did you call me?”

“Calm down.” He tried to put an arm around her.

She ducked out of the way and planted her hands squarely on her hips, daring him to try again.

I laughed and cupped my hands around my mouth. “In this corner we have the challenger, Superfly Christy Snuka. And in that corner, the undisputed world cham- peen, Hulk Hilliard.”

“You too?” Wren accused.

I spread my hands. “What can I say? You’re my favorite wrestler.”

“What about me?” Christy said indignantly.

“You’re my favorite pint-sized wrestler.”

“I’m bigger than pint-sized, but okay.”

Wren laughed in spite of herself.

“See?” I said. “It’s impossible to stay mad at us.”

“I wasn’t mad at you,” she said. “I was mad at these two.”

“Me?” Christy bleated. “What’d I do?”

“You tried to cheer me up.”

“A capital offense,” I declared.

Christy nodded with mock gravity. “Off with my head.”

Trip bit a knuckle and shook with suppressed laughter.

“I don’t know why I put up with you all,” Wren huffed.

“Because you love us,” I said.

“That’s okay,” Christy added, “you can’t help it. It’s ’cause we’re so adorable.”

“Maybe you,” Wren said, “but not these two.”

Trip put his arm around her. She let him do it, and he relaxed a bit.

“Come on,” he said reasonably. “Let’s go home. I want a shower before dinner. After that I have forty pages to read, plus a management quiz to study for.”

“Ugh,” I said. “School. Don’t remind me.”

“Don’t get too busy,” Wren told Trip. “I was hoping we could… you know.”

“Uh-oh, make-up sex,” I said with a laugh. “Hey, Christy, care to join me in a not-so-soundproof studio?”

“You’re just jealous,” Wren accused.

“I’d love to,” Christy said. “We can start figure drawing.”

“Awesome. It’s a date!”

Christy closed her sketchbook in disgust. “This is getting ridiculous.”

The muted chords of Marvin Gaye twanged up the stairs. It was Trip’s make-out tape, for the third time.

“You wanna get out of here? Go do something?” I was more sanguine about it, but even I was growing annoyed.

“Like what?”

“I dunno. Anything.”

“Sure, I guess.”

I closed my own sketchbook. “Should I lock this up?”

“Ha ha. It’s not like it’s private, like a diary.”

I suddenly recalled her private sketchbook, the one full of penises. I chuckled.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“You aren’t really gonna lock it up, are you?” she said. “I promise I won’t do it again.”

“No, it’s okay. It’s… hard to explain. It’s private, but…”

“But…?”

“This is gonna sound crazy, but you’re an exception.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, you’re another artist. And…” I finally shrugged and shook my head. “I guess I don’t mind if you know what I’m thinking.”

Her eyes widened. They looked even brighter blue than usual.

I started to say something, but a thump from below beat me to it.

“Okay,” I said, “time to go.”

“Yes, please.”

We turned out the lights and headed downstairs. We didn’t stop until we reached the main level and the front door.

“Whoa,” I said. “Better grab a jacket.”