Forever Layla: A Time Travel Romance

by Melissa Turner Lee

  She grabbed shampoo bottles and soaps off the cart and headed back into the room as I continue to follow her and talk. “You really don’t need to do this.”

  She stopped and turned to face me. She pursed her lips and glanced away for a moment before looking back at me. Her brown eyes were big chocolate circles. “Yes, I do need to do this. I’m not good at being a charity case. Been there, done that, and burned the t-shirt. Secondly, I just needed to get my own room after last night.” Her expression turned grim on the last part as she turned away from me again.

  “What do you mean? You said you weren’t mad.” I stop following her and stood still, thinking about what had happened, trying to figure out what I’d done to offend her. “I thought you were into the kissing and all. If you feel like I forced myself on you, I’m sorry.”

  She was busy placing soaps and shampoo bottles out. “I was into it. That’s the problem. Until last night you were a harmless kid to me. A cute kid, but just a kid. I started seeing you as more and…” She exited the bathroom and placed her hands on her hips. “Look, I made promises to my grandma on her deathbed. She wanted me to wait for the right guy. Do you understand? And it’s important that I keep all my promises. If I stay in your room now, I won’t be able to wait.”

  I stepped closer to her. “But…I am the guy. I thought you sort of accepted that last night.”

  “But you’re still in high school. We just met.” She looked around the room and stepped over to a trash can and straightened it by the nightstand before training her eyes on me again. “My grandma and my mom were both young single mothers. Nanna got religion in her later years, and she raised me with her new set of values. She wanted me to turn out different. She made me promise her that I’d…” She glanced around and whispered. “Stay a virgin until I got married. You have no idea how out of fashion that is where I’m from, but I promised her, and I…have to keep all my promises. I have to do what I was told or it will all fall apart. If I stay with you, feeling the way I feel for you, I’m going to fail. It’s all on me to get it right, and I have to obey all the instructions. That’s what I was told.” She got a distant look on her face like she was remembering something as she whispered, “It’s all on me.”

  I stepped out of her way as she walked back out to the landing and then followed her.

  “If you’re sure,” I said and tried not to pout, reminding myself that pouting was not manly.

  She moved the chair back to the table and let the door close. “I am. Besides, I only work until two each day so we can still hang out on the beach and all after.”

  I nodded. “Okay.”

  “I stuck some breakfast in the mini-fridge in the room for you.”

  “Thanks. Want me to save you something?”

  “No, thanks. I ate this morning before I started. I’ll see you later.”

  “Yeah, sure,” I said, trying to hide my disappointment.

  She pushed the cart down to the next door, and I made my way to the stairs.

  I must have dozed off watching TV because the next thing I knew, Michael was in the room, yelling.

  “This has to be a hoax. Did you set this up? Some kind of fake broadcast coming to my motel room?”

  I sat up and rubbed my eyes. “What are you talking about?”

  Michael grabbed the remote from me and switched the channel. “Kurt Cobain is dead. He shot himself. First your crazy chick said it, and then it happened. You kept acting like I had planted her in your life as a hoax, now I’m wondering if you didn’t set this up.”

  “What do you think I did?”

  “You hired some blonde girl to be all into you, make me live with my own rule about staying out of our room and sleeping with the guys, and get me to freak out about some fake news story you got the motel to play.”

  “That would be a whole lot of work to set up. How did I know you’d be watching at the right time?” I looked at the television and tried to focus before reaching for my glasses.

  “This can’t be true. He can’t be dead. Nirvana is the greatest band since the Beatles and the Stones. This is bull, man. Your Layla is either a psychic or this is total bull you’ve been pulling on me.”

  I stared at the television and took the remote back from Michael. I switched to one of the local channels, and they were running the same story.

  “I think he’s really dead.” I changed the channel again and found Geraldo standing in front of a hotel giving a live broadcast.

  “Then how did Layla know before it happened?”

  I flopped back onto my pillow and covered my eyes with my arms as he picked a pillow off the other bed and slammed me with it.

  “How did she know before it happened?”

  “I can’t say how she knew.” That was true.

  Michael turned and headed for the door.

  “She’s gotten her own room so I guess you can move back in here.”

  “Crap like that doesn’t matter anymore. Nothing matters anymore.” He pulled open the door and stormed out, letting it slam behind him.

  I got up and made my way to the motel office to look for Layla, but didn’t make it that far when I saw her lying out by the pool. I marched to her and stood beside her. Her eyes were closed so she didn’t know I was there.

  “Hey, can we talk?”

  She opened her eyes and shaded them with one hand. “Hey, sure. Pull up a seat.”

  “No, this needs to be in private.”

  “What’s wrong?” She sat up to get a better look at me. Concern etched in the lines of her forehead.

  “Kurt Cobain died, and Michael is flipping out about it and…” I looked around to make sure no one was close by. “He wants to know how you knew it was going to happen.”

  She leaned back and relaxed. “That’s easy. Just tell him I got him confused with some other dead rocker. Don’t most of them end up dying of overdoses?”

  “Wasn’t an overdose. He shot himself.”

  “There you go. I didn’t even know the details.”

  “But it means it’s true. It means it’s all true.”

  “I thought we had already established that.”

  “Yeah, but now I know it’s true. I don’t think it’s true. I don’t believe it’s true. I know it is.”

  I started pacing, not caring how strange I looked to the others out by the pool. “We have to figure things out. Make plans. This means you definitely will be riding home with me to Chesnee. Where will you stay there? I can’t sneak you into the house in a suitcase.”

  The babbling got her attention. She got up and wrapped a towel around her. “Maybe we should talk about this someplace else. You’re looking like a scary person who talks to himself. People are staring.”

  I glanced up to see that what she spoke was the truth. She dragged me back to my room where I let us in.

  I held the door open for her, and then let it close behind me. Layla spun around to face me.

  “I’ve thought of that. What I’m going to have to do is get paperwork for here and now. Assume someone’s identity. Use their social security number and all that so I can get a job.”

  “Do we need to go to the library to scan obituaries?”

  She shook her head. “Maybe. When we get to Chesnee, I’m going to have to start all over. Get my insurance license again, find a job. But I’m sure I can do it. I started with nothing. I can do it again.”

  “What do I need to do?” I asked, sitting down with my pen and notebook, ready to take notes.

  She sat down on the bed across from me, leaned in, and got a sympathetic look on her face. “Grow up. Finish high school and college. I’m an adult, and this week playing the kid I never got to be has been fun, but I can’t live the life of a kid’s girlfriend. I can’t get involved with you while you are a high school kid. I just can’t.”

  Ouch. I felt my face droop as I swallowed the lump in my throat. “But… we’re supposed to end up together.”

  “And if I’m Layla, we will. But I have s
tandards, and I’m pretty rigid with them.”

  “Like?” I needed to know what was keeping us apart still, now that she had accepted our future.

  Layla crossed her arms over her chest and looked me square in the eye. “I don’t date guys who still live with their parents.”

  Ouch again. I tried not to flinch at the reminder that I was just a kid to her. “I have plans about that already.” They involved living in a dorm, but I was pretty sure that didn’t count. “Is that all?” I felt a new distance between us. “But you’re not trying to ditch this?”

  She shook her head. “No…well, not really. Whenever I’ve felt attracted to a guy who didn’t meet my standard, I’ve always backed off.”

  “Like you’re doing now?”

  She stood and sighed. “I guess so. But you have to understand, I’ve always known it was all on me to get it right the first time. There’s no one to pick up the pieces for me.”

  “That’s a lot of pressure to put on yourself.”

  “It’s how it’s always been. I think it might be even more true now.”

  “Then I’ll do it. I’ll grow up. I’ll become the man you’ve been dreaming of.”

  She smiled and leaned in. “I’m counting on it.” Layla gave me a quick kiss on the cheek before she strode to the door and left.

  Chapter 8

  LAYLA SAT IN THE PASSENGER side of my truck while the guys and I stuffed the rest of the band equipment into the travel trailer we’d rented. Michael and Joey helped me pull it to the towing bar on my truck to hook it up.

  “Did you make sure you got everything out of the rooms and the storage closet?” I grilled Michael as he walked toward me. He pulled out my share of the money the band made that week and handed it to me.

  “Yeah, we got it all. Hey, what’s that on the back of your truck?”

  I followed him to the place he was pointing at when the guys jumped out from behind the trailer and grabbed my arms. Michael’s hand came toward my face coated in black grease.

  “Happy birthday, geek boy,” he shouted and smeared the goop all over my cheeks.

  The rest of the guys jumped me. I wrestled with them all just before putting my knee in Michael’s groin. He crumpled on the ground, grabbing at his crotch.

  I stood over him, watching him writhe in pain. “Consider that my contribution to the future of mankind and your future bank account. No groupie will be showing up with Mike Jr.”

  I glanced over at Travis, who had let go of my arm. I grabbed the hem of his shirt and wiped my face on it.

  “Hey!”

  I ignored his protest and continued cleaning my face. “I thought you guys had forgotten.”

  “That’s what Michael wanted you to think.” He grabbed his shirt and pulled it over his head. “It created the element of surprise.”

  I yanked the shirt from him and continued rubbing my face. “A card would have worked.” I extended my hand to Michael, helped him up, and patted him on the shoulder. “You should put some ice on that.”

  “You were more fun back when you were too scrawny to fight back.” He winced as he said it.

  I made my way to the truck and climbed in, pulling the visor down to use the mirror.

  “What was that all about?” Layla asked, as she took the shirt from me and rubbed a spot on my neck I’d missed.

  “The guys’ version of wishing me a happy birthday.”

  Layla sat up and looked at me. “Today’s your birthday? You did mention that. I should have done something for you.”

  “It’s okay. Just consider it my first step to fulfilling your requirements.”

  “What?” Her brows dipped over her eyes.

  “You told me I needed to grow up. I’m now a legal adult. In one more month, I will no longer be a high school student. Somewhere in there, I will find a place to live and get a job and learn to pay bills and talk politics, smoke cigars, or whatever else I need to do for you to see me as an adult.”

  Layla bit back a smile.

  “You know you already like me. You know we’re going to end up together. You might as well give in now.”

  “Since when are you so cocky? You sound like Michael.”

  “Hey, when a guy finds out all his dreams will come true and he ends up with the super hot girl, he gets a little confident.”

  Layla bent down, drew a bag up from the floor, and pulled out a box. She opened it to show me a cupcake with a candle in it. She pulled out a book of matches from the motel and lit the candle. “Make a wish and blow out the candle.”

  I smiled. That was pretty easy since I had an insider. I leaned over and blew out the candle, and then gave Layla a quick kiss on the cheek.

  Layla

  I LEANED FORWARD AND PUSHED the buttons on the truck’s radio, trying to find something familiar to listen to. The radio had a dial like the one my grandma used to have as a kid. I twisted it to the left and got a squeal and a bad static noise before the faint sound of music.

  “Just pick a station already,” David said as he hit the steering wheel with his hand for emphasis. “You’ve been twirling the knob for an hour now.”

  “What is it with all the butt songs? Big butts. Donkey butts. Shake your rump. There it is, butts. I don’t think boobs have ever had so many odes sang to them.”

  He chuckled. “I guess the 90s will be known as the decade of the butt.”

  “I guess so.”

  I settled back in my seat and left it on a station. “This sounds a little familiar. Who sings it?”

  “It’s called "Dream Lover" by Mariah Carey.”

  “I don’t think I realized she was a singer. She’s the one with the much younger husband.”

  “No, she’s married to an old guy. What do you know her for if she doesn’t’ sing in the future?”

  “She might still sing, but I know her from television.”

  When the song ended another song came on, and I started to turn it but David reached out and touched my hand. The electricity of just his touch was more than I was used to.

  “Don’t turn it. Don’t you remember this song?” He smiled at me.

  I felt my forehead scrunch as I tried to understand. “No, should I?”

  “The night we met, the first song we danced to, "Creep." It was actually quite perfect for the situation.”

  “Was I the creep or were you the creep?”

  He shook his head. “Neither, but he’s talking about how she looks like an angel, and she doesn’t belong there. He knows she is out of his league. It was exactly how I felt at that moment.”

  I tried to remember. “I guess I didn’t pay attention to the words. It was just slow guitar music to me.”

  “You like more pop sounding music than grunge, don’t you?”

  “I guess so. It’s what I’m used to.”

  David threw his head back in horror. “Don’t tell me pop is what everyone is listening to in the future? We just got the good music back after all the 80’s pop crap.”

  “Actually, all things 80’s are in too.”

  “Ugh. So that’s why you went for all the 80’s stuff at the thrift store?”

  “Afraid so. We dress up more. To me, everyone walking around the beach looked like they’d just rolled out of bed and grabbed the first thing they found in the back of the closet… in the dark. The guys all look like they forgot to shave and to get a haircut and the girls look like they just washed their hair and ran out the door without bothering to blow it out. Girls don’t have wild no-style hair where I’m from. We have it cut into a style and use products. Lots and lots of products.” I pulled down the visor and took a look at my hair to make sure the cheap hairspray was working.

  “Sounds like the future is a bit more formal.”

  I glanced down at my wedge sandals. “And the only time people wear tennis shoes in the future is to exercise. There are shows and websites dedicated on how to put together an outfit.”

  “So the future has bad music and stuffy, uncomfortable fa
shion. Got it.”

  I shook my head at him and bit my lip. His grip on the steering wheel emphasized the muscles in his forearms and reminded me of the ones that were covered up. He’d gotten a nice tan that went well with the black hair that hung in long bangs over his blue eyes. He must have realized that I was looking because he turned his head for a second to say, “What?” before turning his attention back to the road.

  “Nothing.”

  “Then why are you looking at me like that?”

  “Because you’re hot.”

  He shook his head before running his fingers through his hair and laughed nervously. “I think only to you.”

  “So what do you plan to do with me in Chesnee? You gonna sneak me into your house in a suitcase? Hide me in the attic?”

  “No, actually. I’m going to sneak you into my dad’s old dental office to stay for the moment.”

  “I’m going to stay in an old office?”

  “Yeah, my dad built a new one last year. Before that he used an old house converted into a dental office. It’s still shaped like a house for the most part. It’s got a working tub. No shower, sorry. It still has his old sofa, and there’s even a kitchen they used for breaks. Oh, and mom stores some boxes of old clothes there from before she had my sister. She swears she will get in them again. It’s been eight years, so I doubt it. You can see if some of it fits.”

  “You want me to dress like your mother?” I felt my eyes bulge as I spoke the words clearly and slowly.

  “No… not dress like my mom.” He knocked at his head like he was trying to dislodge the image out of it. “You need clothes, and you seem to like the 80’s stuff and, well, they are clothes and they are from the 80’s. I thought you could make them work until we get things settled. And you’ll look way hotter in them than my mom ever did.” He stopped himself just as the words came out and shook his head again and sighed. “Not… that… I ever thought she looked hot in them.” He trailed off. “I’m saying everything wrong, and I think I’m going to be sick from this conversation.”

  “And when one of your parents walks in and finds me asleep on the couch, what do I say? I got confused about where I was supposed to be for my cleaning?”