TRIP Page 9

  And then, to reward ourselves, we abandoned the project altogether in order to bake some chocolate chip cookies. It was about that time that Mr. Warren came home. He insisted I stay for dinner, took one look at what was doing in the oven, then promptly decided we should eat dessert first.

  I liked the guy immediately.

  * * *

  Two days later was Layla’s birthday.

  She’d been completely freaked out about taking her driving test, and I spent most of the week chilling her out.

  I was freaked out for a completely different reason.

  The thing was, I wanted to do something special for her, but I didn’t know what. Send her flowers? Bake her a cake? Something else? As much as I wanted to do something to knock her socks off, I kept coming back to the fact that it was Benedict’s show, not mine.

  In the end, I opted for a twin-pack of Twinkies and a card.

  Oh, but the card was a killer. I made sure to pick one that had daisies on it because daisies were her favorite flower. There was a baby duck sitting in the middle of the garden, which inspired me to customize the image with some ice cubes cut from a magazine ad.

  But even better than the picture on the front was the words I’d written inside. I worked my ass off trying to strike the right note, going through about five different drafts in my notebook before settling on the final text. Check it out:

  Layla-

  Thanks for making this town feel like home to me.

  I don’t think I could’ve made it here if it wasn’t for your smiling face every day.

  Happy birthday to the coolest chick I know.

  Yours,

  Trip

  Pretty good, right?

  I also bought her this mini Rubik’s Cube keychain that I wrapped up myself in metallic pink paper. But at the last minute, I decided to stash it in my desk drawer until I knew for certain that she’d passed her driving test. If she didn’t, a keychain would’ve been the worst gift I could give her. It was bad enough that New Jerseyans had to wait until seventeen to get their license as it was. It would suck to fail the test and have to wait an extra two weeks on top of it.

  I went to play hockey right after school, so it wasn’t until almost closing that I stopped by the mall to see her. The store was empty, and she was looking pretty bored at the front register—chin in her hands, staring at the air in front of her face.

  “Hey you,” I said, jogging her out of her trance. She aimed a huge elated grin toward me which did weird things to my stomach.

  “Who, me?” she asked, feigning innocence.

  “Yeah, you.” I met her at the register, propping an elbow on its surface. “Of course you. You see any other birthday girls around here?”

  She leaned over the counter toward me, smiling ear to ear. “I knew you’d come.” Her enthusiastic greeting made me feel like I made the right call showing up like this.

  “So...” I asked, tentatively. “You got some good news to share?”

  She ducked behind the counter for a second before coming up with a set of keys which she jangled in front of my face in answer.

  I held up my hand for a high-five as I commended, “Awesome! You passed! I knew you would.”

  She couldn’t hide the grin on her face as she replied, “Thanks. Even aced parallel parking.”

  “Thatta girl.”

  “Now I just need a car of my own. I’m thinking Ferrari.”

  “Sure, why not?” I snickered. She was obviously only kidding, but with our piddly hourly salary from Totally Videos, she’d be lucky enough to save up for any car within this century. “Oh, hey. I got you something.” I reached into my jacket pocket to pull out the card, but suddenly thought better of it.

  Okay, fine. I wimped out.

  Tossing the Twinkies onto the counter, I teased, “I baked you a cake.”

  She exaggerated her reaction when she clasped her hands together and said, “Oh, Trip! You shouldn’t have.”

  “Ha! Don’t pretend like Twinkies aren’t your favorite. I slaved over a hot stove all day to make those for you.”

  “Oh, I’ll bet.”

  She promptly opened the cellophane wrapper and handed one to me.

  “Aw, Lay, you don’t have to share. I bought those for you.”

  She smirked and cocked her head to the side. “You don’t expect me to polish off an entire birthday cake by myself, do you?”

  I reluctantly took her offering and chuckled as I clinked it to hers in a toast.

  “So,” she said, tearing off a miniscule piece of cake and popping it into her mouth. “You had nothing better to do with your night off than come in here and feed me junk food?”

  I snickered through my mouthful of Twinkie. “I just thought it would suck that you had to work on your birthday. Does it?”

  She gave a shrug, met my eyes, and replied, “Well, it did... until now.”

  Holy shit.

  It wasn’t often that Layla blatantly flirted with me. Teasing? Busting my chops? Sure, yeah, all the time. But outright flirting?

  I almost couldn’t take it.

  I drummed my fingers against the counter before saying, “Hey, look. I gotta go, but I’ll see you at school tomorrow, okay?”

  “Yep. I’ll be there.”

  I stood there debating the wisdom of what I was about to do, but my hand moved on its own before my brain could tell it not to. Layla froze in place as my fingers slipped around her neck and rested on the soft skin of her nape. I chanced a glimpse at her eyes, and saw her pupils dilate as I leaned across the counter and pulled her face closer to mine.

  And then...

  at the last possible second...

  I totally fucking choked and kissed her cheek.

  My lips rested against her skin as my eyes closed in anguish, cursing myself for holding out. Even still, her sweet summery scent assaulted my senses, tainting the oxygen that was fighting to make its way into my lungs. What was it about this girl that had me second-guessing every instinct I’ve ever possessed?

  I pulled back, stunned by the recent turn of events, and stammered out, “H-happy birthday, Layla.” I managed to regain some semblance of cool enough to grin casually as I added, “See you tomorrow.”

  And then I got the hell out of there.

  * * *

  Friday nights at Totally Videos were always a madhouse. Lay and I were wiped by the time we punched out. But little did she know, our night was just beginning.

  We locked up and settled into my truck, Layla letting out with a big, stretching yawn. Girls are so goddamn sexy when they yawn. Sultry half-lidded eyes, sleepy just-fucked look on their faces... Yeah. You’re right. Let’s go to bed.

  She was flipping through the radio stations as my truck barreled down the road, ferrying us through the crisp, promising, autumn night as if we had miles of open road ahead of us and all the time in the world. There was a small part of me that wanted to carry out that fantasy, empty us onto Route 80 and drive as fast and as far as I could, just the two of us, away from everything and everyone we’d ever known.

  But in reality, I had a specific destination in mind. And once I turned down Trestle Ave., I was pretty sure Layla knew it, too. The jig was up.

  “Where are we going?”

  I pasted a smile on my face and said, “Don’t worry about it. Just shut up and let me drive.”

  Fact was, we were headed for The Barrens, and I was pretty sure she’d already figured it out. The place was nothing more than a desolate field in a bad neighborhood, but it served as the perfect hangout. Supposedly, it flooded frequently, as did most of the land that bordered the river. But on dry days when the roads were passable, you could cross the tracks with your buddies and some beers and make a night of it.

  Rymer’d told me that it was a popular makeout place, a fact which I was quite sure wasn’t lost on Layla. She didn’t protest, however, and merely bit her lip as I pulled into the dirt lot behind a rusted-out shipping container and parked next to Lisa’s LeBa
ron.

  “Wait,” Layla said. “That’s Lisa’s car.”

  “Yes.”

  “And Coop’s Audi.”

  “Very observant, Lay.”

  She deflated a bit before trying to explain. “Oh, I just thought...”

  “Thought what?”

  “Nothing.” She shook her head down at her lap. “It’s not important.”

  Did she... Did she think I brought her here to... hook up? And she looked disappointed that we weren’t?

  No fucking way. No fucking way was that possible.

  I couldn’t contain the shit-eating grin that spread across my face at the revelation. I practically launched out of the car to open her door, escorting her around the cargo container to “the patio,” a cracked slab of concrete in the middle of the field.

  Our friends were all sitting calmly around a small fire, but they perked up once they saw the guest of honor arrive. Lisa had arranged the impromptu surprise party, and coordinated with me to get Layla there.

  Mission accomplished.

  Lisa jumped up to run over. “Happy birthday!” she squealed, throwing a sparkly pink hat and feather boa on her best friend.

  While those two yukked it up, I went over by the guys to say hello. The usual suspects were all lounged out in lawn chairs—Rymer, Sargento, Benedict... and Pickford Redy.

  Lisa settled herself down in the chair next to Pick’s, and the way she was looking at him all googly-eyed told me that they were either an item or were about to be.

  Huh. Interesting.

  “Hey, Pick,” I said, shaking his hand. “What are you up to?”

  “Not much, man. How you been?”

  “Good.”

  I took a seat across from him as Rymer handed me a can of Meister Bräu. “Drink ‘em while they’re cold, dude.”

  “How much of a head start do you guys have on me?” I asked.

  “This is the second case.”

  “Shit. I’d better catch up.” I was only busting balls. After all, I brought Layla there and if I had any chance of bringing her home, I figured I’d better stay sober. Then again, I guessed it made more sense to assume Benedict would be the one to take the honors.

  “Check you guys out!” Layla said animatedly as she made the rounds to kiss the guys hello. “Beer in actual cans? What, is the Pope coming to this party or what?

  “You didn’t even see your cake yet!” Lisa gushed.

  “You got me a cake?”

  “Bitch, I made you a cake.” Lisa pulled the foil off a pan of brownies, proudly proclaiming, “Ta-da!”

  “Get out of here!” Layla exclaimed. “Thank you, guys. Really. This is so cool.”

  Her vibrant face was glowing from more than just the firelight as she sat down in the last unoccupied chair next to Lisa, two people away from me.

  Kind of the perfect metaphor that Cooper Benedict was sitting between us.

  Lisa lit the candles and held the pan toward Layla who didn’t wait for anyone to sing before blowing them out.

  Amidst the swirling smoke, I asked, “Whadja wish for?”

  Her eyes met mine briefly as she offered a mischievous smile. “Won’t come true if I tell, right?”

  Just then, everyone’s attentions were diverted toward Rymer as he shotgunned his Budweiser, prompting Sarge to reprimand him. “Dude. Take it easy. We’ve got a game tomorrow.”

  Rymer tossed the empty can over his shoulder. “Look. If Coach won’t let me get laid during the season, drinking’s all I have to look forward to.”

  Layla’s eyes went wide. “What do you mean ‘won’t let you get laid’?”

  Coop smirked. “Coach has made it pretty clear he’d rather we save all that aggression for the field.”

  She was entirely skeptical, probably because she’d been screwing Benedict this whole time. “You never told me that!”

  Pick piped in with, “And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why I play basketball!”

  I laughed and added, “And that’s why I play hockey!”

  We high-fived as Layla said, “Holy crap, I can’t even imagine.”

  I bet you can’t.

  I pounced on the setup she’d just provided as I raised my eyebrows at her. “You just heard me say that I play hockey, right?”

  Everyone cracked up, but the thing was, I was entirely serious. It’s amazing what you can get away with under the guise of joking around.

  Chapter 11

  REVERSAL OF FORTUNE

  Lay and I had settled into a weekly routine, and I was surprised by how intertwined our lives had become so quickly. We spent so much time together that it was ridiculous. It made me wonder if she and Benedict were over or what. I mean, if we were together practically twenty-four-seven, when did she find the time to go out with him?

  But whenever I started thinking like that, something would always happen to keep me at arms’ length. I’d see her get into his car after school or watch her walk into a party on his arm. Not all the time, but enough that it made me hesitant to make a move.

  Not enough to keep me away, however.

  We saw each other at school every day and talked on the phone almost every night. We bumped into each other over the weekend at football games and parties, we worked together on Monday and Friday nights, and we had a standing date for our Shakespeare thing every Tuesday afternoon.

  Shooting a movie turned out to be way more fun than it had any right to be. We spent more time laughing our asses off than we did making headway on our film.

  It was cool getting to know not only Layla, but her family during that time. Her brother Bruce would sometimes act as our cameraman, and more often than not, her father would invite me to stay for dinner once filming was through. Needless to say, I spent a lot of time at the Warren house.

  We were scheduled to show our film on the day before Thanksgiving. I readily admit that I drove Layla insane with the thing, reshooting scenes we’d already filmed only to obsess over the editing afterward. But I wanted to make sure that all our hard work paid off. We’d spent a lot of time on this project and I didn’t see the harm in wanting it to be perfect.

  Layla kept insisting that Mason would be impressed no matter what we did. We were the only ones who’d made a movie for our presentation, so a good grade was practically a given. But it wasn’t the grade I was worried about. I mean, this was it. I poured so much energy and expectation into that movie, and now here it was, time to present it to the world.

  That Wednesday, I skipped lunch in order to set everything up. I was too nervous to eat anything anyway. I’d gotten a TV cart from the audio/visual center in the library, and arranged with Mason to let me into her room a period early to plug everything in. I’d already watched the finished product a million times, but I gave it one last viewing, finally deciding that there was nothing I could do at that point anyway and that the thing was as good as it was going to get.

  I still had about fifteen minutes before class started, so I spent my time freaking out while watching the clock.

  Finally, finally, finally, the bell rang and people started trickling into the room.

  I’d been sitting at my desk, working myself into a frenzy, bouncing my knees up and down and chewing on a thumbnail when Layla came in. She took one look at me and asked, “Why do you look like a heroin addict?”

  “I know. The real question is, why don’t you?”

  “Why don’t I what?”

  “Why don’t you look nervous? How can you be so calm about this?”

  She shrugged as she took her seat. “I’m not, actually. I mean, I fully expect to be made fun of for my terrible acting, but other than that, I know we’ll get a good grade.”

  “Who cares about the grade, Layla? What if everyone thinks it sucks? What if we put ourselves out there and it turns out to be absolute shit? What if—”

  “Trip! Chill. It’s not going to suck. You made sure of that. I would have been happy enough just to turn in something passable. You’re the one that trea
ted it like Citizen Kane for godsakes. It’s gonna be great, you’ll see.” Her warm smile put me at ease as she held up her hand for a high five. “Trust me. We’ve got this in the bag.”

  “Okay, you’re right. I need to calm the hell down.”

  Easier said than done. I tried to concentrate on steadying my breathing as all the kids filed into the room and took their seats. Soon enough, the bell rang, Mason announced us to the front of the classroom, and it was time to press play.

  For all my anxiety leading up to that moment, I found myself unexpectedly freaking out for an entirely different reason. I’d seen our film a dozen times leading into today, but that time, for whatever reason, I suddenly noticed something I hadn’t before.

  Do you ever feel like you’re outside your body looking down on yourself? That’s what it was for me, watching that movie. Well, I know I was literally watching myself, but it felt more surreal than before.

  Because my focus during that viewing was entirely on Layla.

  Her face lit up every time we were in the same frame. Her smile brightened at every word of dialogue I spoke to her. The two of us together on that screen... Holy crap. I mean, I always thought there was a chance that she was into me, but man, in that moment, I was struck with the craziest revelation: She might actually really be into me.

  Our eyes met for a quick second before we both devolved into a quiet spurt of nervous laughter. I didn’t know if it was purely stage fright or if she was seeing exactly what I was seeing.

  Or maybe it was just wishful thinking.

  * * *

  Because of the half-day of school, I was freed up for a couple hours to hit the arena before work. That afternoon, my ego fueled by my filmmaking expertise, I killed it on the ice. I’d met up with the usual suspects who hung around the rink, guys as restless as me to get our season underway. We’d normally throw a game together, work out a little bit, size each other up as we battled for Top Goon status.