TRIP

by T. Torrest

  Maybe I should have made a move on her that night. Kind of hard to execute with Captain America passed out only three feet away, but dammit, I shouldn’t have let that stop me. I saw how she was looking at me. How hard would it have been to go find an empty bedroom, for godsakes?

  I was plagued by my inaction. I kinda didn’t think about anything else the entire weekend. By Monday, I was half out of my mind.

  After lunch, we stopped at her locker before heading down the hallway. She pulled a sheaf of papers from her stack of books and asked, “Have you checked out this report we have to do for Mason’s class?”

  “Not really,” I said. “I think that booklet spent the weekend at the bottom of my locker, actually. I’m not exactly looking forward to it.”

  “Why not?” she asked, wrinkling her nose in bewilderment.

  “I don’t know... Shakespeare? I don’t get the appeal.”

  Layla looked at me like I was nuts. “Trip, it’s Shakespeare for godsakes! He’s only like the most famous writer ever.”

  “Most famous doesn’t always mean best. I mean, look at how popular Growing Pains is. That show sucks.” I didn’t add that I referred to it as Boner Pains.

  She put a hand over her heart, faking a chest pain. “Ouch. You don’t dig the pure cheesy awesomeness of Growing Pains? I don’t know if we can be friends anymore.”

  I laughed while realizing she’d just set me up with the perfect opening. “Well, friend, you’re obviously the brains of this operation. Maybe we can work on that Shakespeare thing together and you can explain all the numerous ways that I’m wrong—which I know you’re just dying to do. Whaddya say?”

  Her eyes lit up as she smiled. “Yeah, sure.”

  “Cool.”

  I started to think there may have been a chance for us, even though the window of opportunity was only cracked a sliver. But when I saw her get into Cooper’s car after school, it slammed shut.

  Dammit.

  I had to get this girl out of my mind once and for all. It was just too painful to constantly get my hopes up only to have them crushed at every turn.

  Screw this.

  As soon as I got to my father’s office, I called Tess.

  She answered on the third ring, and I didn’t even say hello before launching in with, “What are you doing tonight?”

  I heard the snicker on her end before she purred, “Hanging out with you.”

  A smile spread across my face. “That’s what I was hoping. I get off work in a couple hours. Why don’t you give me your address and I’ll swing by when I get through here?”

  As it turned out, she lived right in my neighborhood, so I was able to find her house easily enough. I picked her up at six, then headed to the mall.

  I pulled into a spot, but before I could even cut the engine, Tess asked, “Is this our date tonight? Hanging out at the mall?”

  “No,” I chuckled. “I thought we could get a movie and watch it at my place.”

  “We’re here to rent a movie? Why bother with the video place at the mall? We could’ve gone to the one right in town.”

  “Nah. The one here is way bigger. It has everything.”

  “Okaaay... Then why are you parking in the lot furthest away?” I played dumb and answered her with a shrug which was met with her exasperated sigh. “Pull back out and take a left around Stern’s. I’ll show you the best lot for Totally Videos.”

  “Yeah, sure, okay. Sorry. Still learning my way around, I guess.”

  That may have been a lie. The thing was, as much as I was trying to keep Layla out of my mind, I wasn’t having much success. In all honesty, I’d been curious to see if she’d gotten that job she was trying for last week, and I’m pretty sure my brain subliminally directed me to park in a spot that would give the best starting point to scour the whole mall.

  Subconscious or no, I readily admit that it was a stupid idea.

  I mean, even if I happened to spy her in one of the many stores in this place, what the hell did I expect to do about it? I was on a date with another girl, for godsakes.

  Brilliant plan, Wilmington.

  Just as I was feeling all grateful that I was being denied the chance to carry out my dumb plan, I saw Layla. There she was, right there in Totally Videos. She was sitting in the middle of the floor putting a cardboard display of Pretty Woman together, so she didn’t see us as we bypassed the New Releases and headed right for the Comedy section.

  As much as I didn’t want it to, my heart sorta pinged around in my chest at the sight of her. I couldn’t help it. It was completely involuntary.

  Tess and I were on opposite ends of the same aisle, scanning the various selections. She let out with an enthusiastic, “Oooh!” as she held up the box for Mannequin. “How about this one?”

  I lowered a brow. “Not a chance.” I spotted a better option almost immediately, and held up the box for Spinal Tap. “Now this...” I suggested, tapping the cover. “This is a masterpiece. Have you ever seen it?”

  “No.”

  “It’s funny. You’ll like it.”

  She gave a shrug, capitulating. It didn’t seem like she felt too strongly about it one way or another, which didn’t earn her any extra points in my book; I was a total movie guy.

  As we walked toward the front of the store, I faked a look of surprise. “Hey! Layla!”

  Her teased hair was pulled into a weird ponytail that made her head look like a Trojan war helmet. She still looked gorgeous, though.

  “Hi Trip. Hey Tess.”

  Tess offered a hello before wandering off to flip through a display of movie posters.

  “So,” I said to Layla. “I guess you got the job. Cool.”

  Her nose crinkled to answer, “It’s really not, but thanks.”

  “No, it’s cool. It’s gotta be better than working at my father’s office.” Before my brain could fully form the thought, my mouth was asking, “Hey, are you guys hiring?”

  “Here?” she asked, incredulously.

  “Yeah, why not?”

  Stop it, Wilmington. What the hell are you doing?

  She brushed a loose strand of hair back into her clip. “Okay. Let me check.” She unfurled herself from her seated position and headed through a curtain near the back of the store.

  “Hey, Tess. I’m gonna be a few more minutes,” I explained, making my way to the front register. “Why don’t you pick out some candy and I’ll meet you over here when you’re done?”

  She gave a shrug. “Okay.”

  I put Spinal Tap on the counter as Layla emerged from the back room waving a single sheet of paper. “My manager didn’t say whether they were looking for help, but he gave me an application. Good sign, I guess?”

  She stepped behind the counter and placed the paper in front of me.

  “Got a pen?” I asked.

  “Oh yeah. Sure,” she answered, rummaging around in the top drawer. “Here.”

  The application was pretty straightforward. No surprises here. Name, date, social security... The same old boring questions.

  Have you ever been convicted of a felony?

  No.

  When would you be able to start?

  Immediately.

  Would you be open to taking a delivery position?

  Yes.

  I pulled my driver’s license out of my wallet to copy the numbers. I still needed to get a New Jersey I.D. issued, but I was pretty sure my Indiana one would suffice for now.

  Layla was busying herself at the register as I filled out the last questions on the form. But she took a break from checking out my movie to ask, “Are you sure you want to work here? I’ve only been here a few hours and I’m ready to quit.”

  I didn’t look up from my writing as I grinned and busted her chops, “Baby, that’s half the reason I’m applying here. You need me.”

  She snort-laughed before offering, “I’d run if I were you. You can still save yourself.”

  “Too late now, sweetheart. Here you go.” I scribble
d my signature at the bottom of the paper and handed it over.

  She scanned over the page before her eyes met mine. “You’re sealing your fate, here. You realize that, don’t you?”

  My lids tightened as I shot her a fake dirty look. “What do I owe you?”

  She told me, I paid, she counted out my change.

  “So,” I started in. “I was thinking... You want to get together sometime?”

  Layla’s eyes immediately shot to Tess, making me feel like a humongous jerk. Did she actually think I was such an ass that I’d ask her out in front of another date?

  It was bad enough that yeah, I had been kind of flirting with her, and I readily acknowledge that it was a pretty stupid and rude thing to do. But I couldn’t control it. Hell, I didn’t even realize I was doing it. Layla was playful and cute with a fun sense of humor. Conscious or no, I couldn’t help but get sucked into her charms. She was just so goddamned flirtworthy.

  However, with my date standing a mere twenty feet away, I figured I’d better make it clear that my intentions were strictly aboveboard. “For our report,” I blurted out guiltily, like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

  I couldn’t discern whether the look on her face was relief or disappointment. I hoped it was the latter. “Oh, yeah. Sure. How’s tomorrow for you?”

  “You don’t have to work?”

  “No...” she trailed off, biting her lip. “But there’s a problem. I don’t have my license yet. Can we do it at my house?”

  Heh heh.

  I bypassed pouncing on her easy setup, and instead answered casually, “Sounds good. I’ll grab you after school and just drive you home.” I started to walk out, then remembered I was with someone. “Hey Tess. How’s that candy search going?”

  Tess pursed her lips and shook her head. “Nothing’s jumping out at me. We all set?”

  “Yep.”

  We exchanged goodbyes and made our way out of the store.

  As we walked out the exit doors to the parking lot, Tess asked, “What took so long?”

  “I filled out a job application.”

  “There?”

  “Yeah, why not?” I shrugged, digging out my keys. “Hang out and watch movies all day? It’ll be fun.”

  I unlocked her door and held it open while she climbed into the passenger seat. “It’s a high school job.”

  I leaned against the open doorway, my eyes tightening, challenging her. “I’m in high school.”

  She picked an invisible piece of lint off her jean skirt as she answered in the flattest tone imaginable, “Yeah. I know.”

  Chapter 7

  ...ALMOST

  Layla didn’t talk to me most of that Tuesday. She wasn’t at lunch, so I didn’t see her until English class. I slipped into my desk behind her and gave a tug to her hair. “Hey. You got a pencil I could borrow?”

  She scrounged around in her humongous purse and came up with one as I looked on, amazed. “What the hell do you have in there?”

  “Everything.”

  I didn’t doubt it. The bag was huge—and full—and I could only assume she carried around her every last worldly possession in the thing on a daily basis.

  I shook my head and snickered, “We’re still on for today, right?”

  She nodded silently, which was weird. It was almost like she was avoiding talking to me, which wasn’t our style.

  It wasn’t until after the final bell that she started acting like her old self again. I’d dumped my stuff in my locker and grabbed my English notebook before heading outside. There was a swarm of kids out front but I was able to spot Layla pretty easily.

  Waiting for me.

  I cut through the throng of people and met her at the top step. “Hey, Lay. You ready?”

  Her eyes lit up causing an ache to zap straight through my chest. To make matters worse, she aimed a dazzling grin at me to answer, “Yep.”

  As we started walking away, I put my hand at the small of her back to usher her through the crowd. Even after we made it into the open air, I purposely waited an extra few steps before dropping my hand.

  Fine, you caught me. I was trying to claim her. I wanted people to see us together. Sue me.

  Once we got to my Bronco, I unlocked her door and helped her up into my truck.

  Jesus. She was in my truck. Again.

  Be cool, you idiot.

  I started the engine as the radio kicked on at full blast, blaring some bullshit boy band into my ears. “Jesus!” I said, turning down the volume. “What the hell is this crap?”

  “Not a New Kids on the Block fan?” Layla asked, barely able to contain her glee as she sang a few oh oh oh oh ohs of “The Right Stuff.”

  “Yeah, no.”

  She giggled as I popped a cassette into the deck, causing “Paradise City” to boom throughout the cabin. Much better.

  The day had been a scorcher, so I was anxious to get out of my stuffy school clothes. I loosened my tie over my head and unbuttoned my Oxford, allowing my skin to breathe through the cotton T-shirt underneath. I went to check my hair in the rearview mirror, and as I leaned over the center console, my bare arm pressed against Layla’s. I pretended not to notice that we were skin to skin, and had to make a conscious effort not to slide my hand up her thigh to see what she was wearing underneath that skirt.

  I was hot before, but I was sweating bullets now.

  Layla must have seen my face go white. “Not a Guns N’ Roses fan either?” she asked.

  “No, I like them just fine. It’s just... It’s hot out today.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  We shared a knowing pause as our eyes met in mutual understanding. Hell, maybe she was feeling as worked up as me. Or maybe she was just looking to cool off. I put the truck in gear in an attempt to get some air circulating through the space.

  I needed it.

  Before we even made our way out of the parking lot, I noticed her knees bouncing up and down as she picked at a buckle on her pocketbook. I thought I was nervous, but Layla was over there practically bouncing out of her skin. “Damn, you’re fidgety.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t think you’ve stopped bopping around once since you got in my truck.”

  She immediately diverted her attention toward her purse, rummaging through it with abandon. “I was just, um, looking for some gum. Here it is! Want a slice?”

  “Slice?”

  “Yeah. It’s Juicy Fruit.” She held up a piece and waved it at me. “See? It’s a slice. Want one?”

  The girl just cracked me up. “Yeah, sure.”

  I gotta say, it helped to have something to chomp out my anxieties, allowing me to concentrate on the bigger picture: Fact was, it was a gorgeous, sunny day outside. The wind was whipping through my hair, cooling off my heated skin. I had Guns blaring on the radio... and a beautiful girl riding shotgun, tapping her toes to the beat.

  Life was good.

  As I pulled in front of her house and cut the engine, I turned to find Layla looking at me curiously. “I just realized I never told you where I lived. How did you know this was my house?”

  Fact was, I’d done some recon earlier in the day. “Rymer gave me the address. I knew right where it was. I actually run through this neighborhood sometimes.” I checked out the beige split-level with its burgundy front door and black shutters. It didn’t necessarily look familiar even though I must have run by the place a half a dozen times by then.

  “Oh yeah?” she teased, hopping out of my truck. “I may have to alert the neighborhood watch. They don’t appreciate riff raff roaming around their streets.”

  I met her on the sidewalk, busting, “Yeah, just try it, dummy.”

  She smacked my arm for that, then jumped up to grab a leaf off the tree at the curb. She immediately looked embarrassed, and I didn’t understand why. I mean, it’s not like her skirt flew up or anything.

  “Sorry. Superstition,” she explained.

  “You do that often?” I asked. “Maul
trees in your spare time?”

  “Just that one,” she laughed out uncomfortably. “Every single day, actually!”

  I had some weird habits of my own, so it’s not like I could judge her for hers. So, I didn’t bother saying anything about it as she led me into the house. She dumped her purse onto a bench by the front door, then we both ditched our shoes underneath it. She grabbed her notebook and led me half a flight upstairs to her kitchen, directing me to sit at the wooden table.

  My palms were all sweaty and I was too keyed up to take a seat just yet. “Hey where’s your bathroom?”

  “Up the stairs, first door on the right.”

  Yeah, I had to take a piss, but I had an ulterior motive for gaining entrance to her bathroom. I was more on a mission to suss out the source of her scent, and started with the bottle of shampoo on the ledge of the tub. I gave it a good whiff, but it didn’t give me the same high. It was close, though. Just not exactly right. I moved on to the decorative soaps in a little glass dish on the counter. A quick sniff proved a no go. There was a basket next to the soap dish filled with gels and hairsprays and stuff, the contents of which furthered my scientific research. No luck there either.

  Maybe it was her perfume.

  I snuck down the hall and slipped into her bedroom. The bed was made, her comforter a replica of Monet’s Water Lilies. Framed posters of The Outsiders, Sixteen Candles, and the 1978 Yankees hung on her walls; a few Nagel prints and some shirtless Soloflex guys decorated the spaces in between. What little wallpaper I could see was a pattern of tiny pink and purple flowers against a background of white, no doubt a remnant from her younger, more innocent years.

  On her white dresser was a collection of glass bottles and various girly things, a perfectly aligned row of artfully arranged knickknacks. Everything in that room was exactly where it was supposed to be. No dirty clothes on the floor or sports equipment stacked on every surface like in mine.

  I’d just set my sights on her bottle of perfume when Layla appeared in my peripheral vision. “What are you doing?”

  I barely glanced over my shoulder to answer, “Just checking out your room. It’s the best way to get to know someone, don’t you think?”