by Emily Snow
If anyone else had been in the room, I would have probably spent my time watching Pretty Woman by completely tearing it to shreds for being a great, big, steaming pile of crap.
But by myself, I hadn’t realized how mesmerized I’d been by the flipping movie until I was suddenly startled by a tapping noise outside. It had stopped raining hours before and it was still too early for Dad or Bruce to be home, and besides, I would have heard the car pulling into the driveway and the rattle of the garage door opening.
I grabbed the remote and hit mute so I could better listen. Sitting there in the silence of my empty house was pretty spooky. I could actually hear the sound of my own breathing and was acutely aware of my thumping heartbeat.
I sat there for no more than a few seconds, when bam! I heard it again!
That was all the excuse I needed to bolt up the stairs and lock myself in the relative safety of my dark room. I tried peeking outside just as the pattering sound hit again...
...and could just make out the dark, outlined figure of Trip throwing pebbles at Bruce’s window.
I threw open my window and yelled, “You dick! You just scared the hell out of me!”
Trip’s focus shifted from Bruce’s room to mine. “Hey there, Lay-Lay. Whatcha doin’?”
I clicked on my nightstand lamp. “What am I doing? I’m trying not to have a heart attack! What are you doing?”
Trip dropped the handful of pebbles he was still holding into the shrubs and wiped his hands off on his pants. “Hey, did I guess the wrong window? I thought that one was your room.”
“Hey Psycho,” I jeered, “Instead of throwing boulders at my house, why didn’t you just knock on the front door like a normal human?”
That made a wide grin spread across his face before he answered, “Now what would be the fun in that?”
I rolled my eyes and laughed at him. My sight was better adjusting to the dark and I could see that Trip was wearing a pair of khaki slacks and a navy blue sweater. He looked, as usual, incredibly handsome.
“So hey,” he started, “How come you weren’t at the dance?”
I could have given him the whole rundown of my fight with Lisa, but then I’d have to tell him the reason behind it. Instead of getting into all that, I just said, “I wasn’t really into it. Why? Did I miss anything?”
“I’ll say.”
Oooh. Gossip.
“Why? What happened? Trip, spill it!”
He laughed at my inability to control myself and then said, “Well, you weren’t there to accept your crown, for one.”
“My crown?” I asked, incredulously. I mean, there was no way he was saying what I thought he was saying. But then... rationality returned. “You are so full of shit.”
He laughed his ass off at that and said, “Yeah, you’re right. I am. But I am also your homecoming king, so you’d better show a little more respect to me from now on.”
That, at least, was a tad more believable. “You got king? Really?”
He was still grinning as he said, “Nah. Not really. Jesus, Layla, you’re oh-for-two tonight. But hey- on a totally different subject- did you know that the word ‘gullible’ isn’t in the dictionary?”
“Ha. Ha. Ha.”
I was so relieved when it turned out that he was only joking about my winning homecoming. I would have died if it were true. It’s not like I would have been there in person to endure the indignity, but even still, that’s the kind of title that sticks with a person for their whole life, and it just wasn’t really my thing. I’ll never forget how my dad once came home from the office one day, laughing about some poor idiot who’d filled out an application to work there, actually listing “Homecoming Queen” on her resume. God. Can you imagine? Homecoming Queen. It’s just so... perky!
I had a vision of head cheerleader Carolee Simcox, standing up on the stage crying, wearing her sparkly, plastic crown and princess-waving to the audience. “Hey, who really won?” I asked Trip.
“Lisa and Pickford.”
“Wow! No way.”
“Yeah, well, you and I came in a close second. I swear to God about that. I’m not bullshitting you this time.”
“What? Really? That’s weird.” It was kind of mind-boggling to find out that people had lumped Trip and me together on some ballot sheet. It’s not like we were some official couple or anything, despite my wishes to the contrary. I mean, Trip was born to be Prom King, but I couldn’t see how anyone would actually think to write down my name when it came time to submit their vote.
He asked, “What’s so weird about it?” but before I could explain, he got a wicked gleam in his eye and added, “Oh, hey. Lisa gave a speech.”
“Trip, shut up, she did not!”
He must have been putting me on. No one actually speaks after being crowned, for godsakes! Lisa herself had made fun of many a cheesy high school movie for just that very thing. What the hell was she thinking? “Oh, God. I’m so embarrassed for her!”
He laughed. “No, it wasn’t that bad. Just a quick thank you, not much else. It was fine.”
I started to feel kind of sad that I wasn’t there to share in my friend’s big night. “Well, I’m glad she won. I’m sure it means a lot to her. She’s got to be pretty happy right about now.”
Trip stuck his hands in his pockets and tapped his toe at one of the shrubs. “But you wouldn’t have been?”
“What? Happy to win Homecoming Queen?” I laughed. “You’re joking, right? I mean, I’m happy for Lisa and all, but I can’t imagine getting thrilled about something so... superficial.”
That made him stop fidgeting with the landscaping and stand stock still, looking up at me with an expression I can only describe as... amused shock.
He floored me by responding, “You know that’s my favorite thing about you, right?”
I couldn’t breathe. Trip had a favorite thing about me?
Somehow, I managed to squeak out, “What’s that?”
He grinned sheepishly and looked away for a second before raising his head and conceding, “Layla, you are completely different from any other person I’ve ever met in my entire life.”
I’d have been less blown away if a bomb had been detonated right there on my front yard.
I couldn’t speak. I was rendered defenseless, watching him standing there under my window, looking up at me with those beautiful, blue eyes filled with awe and hope as he added softly, “I missed you tonight. The dance wasn’t as much fun without you there. I don’t know. I thought, I mean, maybe I should’ve-”
“Trip?” I didn’t mean to cut him off mid-sentence, but I’d finally found my voice. There was no way I was going to let him say such amazing things to me without us being together in the same room. I took a deep breath and asked, “Do you want to come in?”
It was more of an invitation than a question, and my heart just about slammed into my stomach at having asked it aloud.
I watched as his eyelids relaxed and his mouth curled into that lazy grin of his which never failed to kill me. Then he nodded his head almost imperceptibly as he breathed out one, remarkable, little word.
“Yes.”
There was no misreading the way he was looking at me, or his words, or his intent. I was pretty sure that this was the night when everything was about to change between us.
It figures that there I was without makeup on, dressed in sweatpants and my hair all tied up in a ponytail. But none of that was about to stop me from finding out what promises awaited behind that look in his eyes.
“Okay, Lemme just come down and unlock the door.”
I closed my window and started to turn toward the hallway, but just then, at that exact freaking moment, I saw the headlights of Dad’s car coming down the street.
I thought, “Dear God, really, are you kidding me? Now? Really?”
It was positively shattering to realize that my life-altering night was being crushed.
After my initial devastation, I was able to recognize a bit of humor
in the moment, however. As Dad’s car had been pulling into the driveway, Trip had been diving for the bushes.
Even through my despair, I found it funny the way he felt the need to hide away like some fugitive just because my father had come home. Dad had already met him a handful of times and he knew that we weren’t a couple or anything, but Trip was acting like he’d just been caught with his hand up my shirt and his pants around his ankles.
Maybe I should have let him in a few minutes earlier.
Chapter 17
AWAKENINGS
I knew that Trip and I had crossed over into some exciting new territory that night and I was just dying to find out where it was leading. I mean, a guy doesn’t just show up outside his buddy’s window late on a Saturday night to tell them how much they were missed at some school dance, right?
The minutes felt like an eternity, waiting for the phone to ring. I spent my wait trying to decide if I should play it cool when he called, maybe a little hard-to-get. But then I realized that was probably pretty stupid and he wouldn’t buy it anyway. He knew me too well. And really, here was everything I’d wanted for so long unexpectedly dropping into my lap. I’d have to be an idiot to go and play games with it.
I figured I’d played it cool long enough. If Trip wanted to be my boyfriend, then I was going to let it happen, ecstatically, without toying with his head.
I stayed awake until midnight that night waiting for the phone to ring.
It didn’t.
I stuck close to home all day on Sunday, because I wanted to be there when he finally decided to call, or better yet, maybe stop by. I’d made a point to shower and put on a decent-yet-casual outfit in case he made another appearance on my doorstep. I wanted to look a little nicer than I did the night before when he caught me without makeup and wearing a pair of sweats. I wasn’t going to let him catch me looking like such a frump the next time he decided to spill his heart out.
By dinnertime on Sunday, I still hadn’t heard from him and I started to wonder if I’d only imagined what was going on between us. I started to wonder if maybe there wasn’t even an “us” to begin with at all.
I began kicking myself for being such an idiot, “panting after Trip like a stray puppy”, just like Lisa had said. She said that everyone knew about my crush on him, and at the time, I thought she was just trying to be hurtful. But did everyone know? Was I the butt of some cruel joke, people whispering behind my back for being some pathetic, love-struck loser who was way out of Trip Wilmington’s league? Is that why everyone voted for us at homecoming, as a big setup to put me in my place? Was there a bucket of undumped pig’s blood hovering above the stage at that very moment? I mean, he was dating Tess Valletti for godsakes. Did I really think I stood a chance of stealing him away from a girl like that? Me. Layla Warren. Semi-converted wallflower and longtime tomboy.
Yeah. That’s what a guy like Trip wanted. A fraudulently popular, obsessive-compulsive dork with a wicked jump shot.
I washed the makeup off my face and went to bed.
The next morning, I woke up late as the phone was ringing and nearly fell out of bed when I went to answer it. My head was dazed from sleep, but my heart was beating out of my chest as I fumbled for the receiver and choked out, “Hello?”
At first, there was a deafening silence as the clock ticked off the seconds, the hours. The anticipation was killing me. “Hello?” I said again.
And then at last, I was met with, “I’m sorry.”
Lisa.
I sank back into my pillows and let out the breath of air I hadn’t realized I was even holding in.
“Yeah, I know.”
I could hear Lisa fiddling with the cord on her end as she laughed out, “You know? What the hell is that?”
I laughed, too.
It was great to have a best friend that didn’t need to have the upper hand all the time. A lesser person could have used my blundering words to prolong the fight.
“I’m sorry. You’re right. I want to apologize, too. It’s just that I know you weren’t trying to be hurtful when you said all that stuff to me the other day.”
“Well, at least you got that right.”
“But it did hurt, you know.”
“I know, I know. That’s why I’m sorry. I could have said things better.”
“Yeah, maybe you could have. But it wouldn’t have changed the fact that everything you said was true.”
Lis gave a big sigh on her end. “Look. What the hell do I know? Maybe you’re not wasting your time like I said. I was thinking about what you told me and maybe it’s not so horrible that you and Trip are just friends.”
Hearing his name out loud only compounded my humiliation.
“No. You were right. This thing between him and me is disturbing.”
“Yeah, but maybe you only started spending so much time with him because I’ve been a bad friend. Maybe you were only put in this weird position because Pickford and me have been up each other’s butts for the past two months.”
“He’s your boyfriend.”
“Yeah, but you’re my best friend.”
Lisa and I didn’t normally wear our hearts on our sleeves, mushing up and telling each other how important we were to one another. Aside from the half-pendants we used to wear in fifth grade- she was BEFRI and I was STENDS- there weren’t too many declarations of our BFF status. It wasn’t something we felt the need to reaffirm all the time. It was just who we were.
“I know. You’re mine, too.”
“Pick you up in about an hour?”
“Yep. Oh, and hey- Congratulations, Homecoming Queen!”
“Oh, sweet Jesus, if you ever call me that again, I will strangle you with my satin sash.”
By the time Lisa and I finally got off the phone, I had to rush to get myself ready for school, rallying my way through my morning ritual. I was really freaked out at the thought of having to see Trip. He’d officially left me hanging all weekend and I still hadn’t figured out why. My stomach was in knots as I stepped out my front door to wait for Lisa in the driveway.
The weather had turned colder overnight, depositing a layer of frost over every surface and blade of grass on that Monday morning. It was the time of year when most girls would wear a pair of sweatpants under their uniform skirt for the commute to school. I tried it once, but stripping the pants off upon arrival left me feeling naked the whole rest of the day. It was better to just deal with icy legs for the few minutes every morning, so as not to feel self-conscious all day long.
Frozen nerve-endings aside, I always loved that time of year, right before the season turns into winter. Summer is always the best by far, but late Fall always runs a close second. I love the smell of the cold- crisp and brisk and smoky- crunchy, wet leaves under my feet and the scent of a wood-burning fireplace in the air. I loved the promise of wool sweaters, leather boots and corduroy jackets, knit scarves and fur-lined gloves. I loved seeing my breath as I talked and writing on frosty windows with my finger.
It’s awesome to live in a place where the seasons change. Sure, a year-round warm climate might seem like a blessing at first, but after a winter or two floating around a pool, doesn’t all that green just eventually become downright boring? I couldn’t imagine looking up at Norman Hills that time of year and still seeing all the trees dressed in their summer greens. It would be a crime to miss out on such a fireworks show, oranges and yellows and the occasional red, splashing across the Earth in one last magnificent blaze of glory before succumbing to the inevitable, albeit temporary, Brown Blah.
By the time I made it to Lisa’s car, I was feeling pretty nervous and pissy about having to see Trip, because I still didn’t quite know how I was going to act toward him. I relayed all that to Lisa, after filling her in with a few of the highlights from Saturday night.
“Wait. So he just came over after the dance? Just showed up at your window?”
“Well, yeah.” Lisa didn’t realize that that wasn’t so out of the ordinary. He
came by all the time. We hung out a lot. And we talked on the phone all the time.
Well, almost all the time.
“But why is it such a big deal that he didn’t call you after? You didn’t... you know...”
“Nope. Well, it’s not like we weren’t headed in that direction. He just... never made it inside the house is all.”
“But you think he wanted to?”
That was the part that had me so confused. How was I supposed to describe not just what he said, but the way he said it? How was I supposed to describe the look in his eyes? The hope that I saw there? I thought he’d said all those awesome things in the expectation that it would ultimately lead us together, but then he just left me hanging all weekend waiting for confirmation which never came.
Lisa summed up my latest thoughts on the matter. “You think maybe he was just making a booty call?”
I’d started to come to the same conclusion, but just hadn’t wanted to admit it to myself. But there it was.
I finally conceded. “Yeah. I don’t know. Maybe. Probably.”
“Well, screw him! What the hell is that?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
“All the time you two spend together and he takes advantage of that to pay you a latenight? You’re better than that! God, you must be so relieved that nothing happened.”
I don’t think “relieved” was even in the ballpark of what I was feeling. All morning, I’d been fighting the thought that Trip was possibly a big, fat user. I had spent almost three whole months completely infatuated with him, jumping at his every beck and call, wasting countless hours hoping for any sort of return on my investment.
And what had he offered? Nothing.
I was his buddy, his pal, someone whom he got a kick out of on occasion. He probably only came over after the dance to make sure I was still going to be his adoring little mascot. The one time I don’t show up and fawn all over him, he has to swing by to test the waters. It was worse than a latenight! He was probably only stroking his ego, making sure that I was still in love with him.