Kiss and Tell

Prologue

UCLA, 1999

Christmas party

Jeff

“You’d think they’d have realized by now he isn’t interested,” I muttered. Fuck, there were some real assholes out there. Still, it was none of my business, so I went back to people-watching.

The frat house party was in full swing, the music loud, the chatter louder. The pizza and hot dogs were disappearing as fast as they appeared, which was no bad thing because my roommates seemed to survive on a diet of pizza, and I was craving anything that wasn’t junk food.

What came to mind was my mom’s meatloaf. Fuck, what I wouldn’t have given for a thick slice right then, smothered in gravy, along with my sister’s mashed potatoes, creamy as sin because she always added a dollop of cream, and Dad’s green beans he grew out in the back yard, that tasted way better than the ones from the store.

There was also the siren call of the Italian delis in Brooklyn, where just the smell was enough to have me drooling.

Yeah, I was ready to go home for the holidays. More than ready for the avenue of glass angels leading the way to the Rockefeller center, the hustle and bustle of New York, and a house full to bursting with relatives.

But before I got to that part, there was this party to endure—and the jerks in the corner who seemed hell-bent on proving they were at UCLA to study for a degree in Assholery. I’d only gone there because Doug wanted to, and then for added weight he’d brought in Randy whose vocabulary didn’t contain the word no .

And speaking of Randy, he was giving me confused glances.

“What are you mumbling about?” He cocked his head. “Isn’t talking to yourself the first sign of insanity?” He followed my gaze to the Christmas tree, where a group of seven or eight students had gathered. Randy frowned. “Okay, I’m none the wiser. Spill.”

“See the guy in the corner? Tall, slim, but kinda toned at the same time? He’s wearing a white T-shirt and jeans. Scraggy hair.”

“I got him. Now what about him?” Randy’s eyes twinkled. “You got your eye on him? Is that it?”

I rolled my eyes. “No, that isn’t it at all. Do you know who he is?”

Randy shrugged. “Nope.” Then he frowned. “Wait—maybe? He does look kinda familiar, now you mention it.”

“You don’t say.” I scowled. “All the guys with him have been offering him weed since they arrived.”

Doug grinned. “Lucky him. I wouldn’t say no.” He flushed. “Only because I never have. Color me curious.”

“But that’s my point. He is saying no, repeatedly, and they still keep on at him.” And from what I knew about Travis Beckham, weed was the last thing he needed.

Randy nudged me with his elbow. “Then eventually they’ll get tired and give up. More for them, right?”

I was about to tell him why this particular scenario had me hot under the collar, when I saw one of the crowd tip something into Travis’s drink. I froze. “Aw fuck.” I lurched across the room, just as the guy handed the paper cup to Travis. “Don’t!” I yelled.

Travis blinked, the cup midway to his lips. “Excuse me?”

I fed him a full-on stare. “I don’t think you wanna drink that. Not unless you want to ruin your chances for Sydney.”

Travis widened his eyes, then glanced at the cup. “Why? What’s in it?”

“Ask your friends,” I fired back. I pointed to the guy who’d spiked his drink. “What did you put in it? And why?”

“Relax, dude,” he drawled. “Travis needs a little loosening up, is all.”

“Yeah, chill,” another guy piped up. “All he does is study, swim, and dive. A little trip’ll do him good.”

I poured as much scorn into my gaze as I could. “And if that little trip fucks up his chances of getting a medal? You do know he’s been picked for the Olympics next year? I mean, even I know that and I’ve never spoken to him.”

Travis glared at the guy. “Pete, what the fuck?”

Pete’s face took on a bored expression. “Lighten up, will ya?”

I didn’t wait to hear any more. “Jeez, with friends like you guys, who needs enemies?” I grabbed Travis by the arm. “Come meet my friends. I guarantee you’ll be going to bed with a clear head tonight, and you’ll be in the pool bright and early.”

Travis frowned at the guys standing around him. “Next time you want to invite me to a party? Don’t waste your breath.”

There were murmurs of “goody two shoes” and “where do you keep your halo?”

“Ignore them.” I led him over to where Randy and Doug stood, their eyes bright with amusement.

“I wish you’d told me there was gonna be entertainment,” Randy said with a chuckle. “I’d have brought popcorn.”

Doug stared at Travis. “Wait a minute. Aren’t you the guy who’s going to the Olympics?”

Travis glanced at me, his lips twitching.

I shrugged. “You’ll have to make allowances for Doug. He’s always the last to know.” I met Doug’s stare. “Yes, this is Travis Beckham. Why do you think I stopped him from drinking the spiked punch or whatever it was? That’d really kill his chances of being on the squad.”

“Thanks for that,” Travis murmured. “I had no idea. I mean, when they offered me a joint, I thought that was pretty dumb.”

I smiled. “I think we need to keep an eye on you.” I gestured to the others. “Okay, these are my best friends. We all met during the first semester, and I’ve been stuck with them ever since.”

Doug gaped. “ Stuck with us?”

Randy snickered. “Yeah. You were like a stray puppy who followed us home one night.” He gave Travis a nod. “I’m Randy Bowman.”

“Who wants to be the next Frank Lloyd Wright,” I added.

Randy snorted. “My ambitions are not so lofty.” He held out his hand, and Travis shook it.

“And this is Doug Wilding, who’s following in his family’s footsteps to become a lawyer.”

Doug’s face fell. “Yeah, let’s not mention that part, okay?”

He’d been making similar comments all semester. I could see a Conversation coming up fast after New Year’s. And yeah, that was how I saw it in my head, capitalized, because it was going to be a Big Fucking Deal.

If he isn’t happy, then he needs to change lanes. Life was too short to be following someone else’s dream.

“And who are you?” Travis asked.

Before I could say a word, Randy got in first. “This is Jeff Ridgeway, our tech whizz. He’s gonna be the next Bill Gates. And in case you’re finding it difficult to understand a word he says, let me explain. He comes from a little place on the east coast called NYC.” His eyes sparkled. “They talk funny over there.”

I gave him a mock glare.

Travis smiled. “It’s good to meet you. I’m going to study medicine, and I’m here on a diving scholarship.”

Randy gave him a searching glance. “How are you managing to study and get ready for the Olympics?”

Travis sighed. “That’s the problem. I’m finding it a little tough to do both right now. Which means I’ve been rethinking the medicine part.” His face brightened. “But I got talking to this great physio who works with the diving team. He says I should think about becoming a physio instead.”

“And are you gonna win gold?” Randy asked with a grin.

Travis smiled. “In my head, that medal is already hanging around my neck.”

Doug beamed. “That’s as it should be.”

Someone turned the volume up, and I rolled my eyes again. “Want to go someplace quieter and eat some decent food?”

Three wide smiles gave me my answer.

Randy, Doug and I had hit it off right from the start.

It seemed three had now become four.