I nodded. “Thanks.” Then I noticed the scratches on her legs. “What happened?” I pointed and stepped closer.
“Oh, I fell when I was on the beach. They sting a bit, but I’m fine.”
I made my way to the bag I’d packed for all possibilities. I dug through and found Pepto, headache medicines, laxatives, and spare cash hidden in a fake Coke can—from Mom. A box of condoms that came with a speech from Dad about respect and safety and hoping I would make the right choice and the box would come back sealed and full. First aid kit. I pulled out a tube of Neosporin and the bandages and headed back to her. “Have a seat on the bed.”
Instead, she took the items from me. “Thanks, but I’ll take care of it.”
I stood frozen, surprised by how quickly she snatched them from me.
“You go ahead and shower.” She motioned with her head toward the bathroom. “You’ve done enough for me.”
I guess I was still staring at her because she shrugged. Her brown eyes circled in their sockets, displaying her frustration as she spoke again. “I don’t like being needy. I don’t like asking for your help at all. I can put a bandage or two on my own legs, and if that is all I can do for myself, then I’m doing it.”
I stepped away and gathered my things and made my way to the bathroom. I got in the shower and turned the water to extra warm, just the way I liked it. But visions of Layla in my shirt and boxers in the other room kept running through my mind and then Dad’s speech. I switched the hot water off and opted for a cold shower instead. The ice water hit my back as I leaned my head against the shower wall and groaned.
I heard a hum out in the room and turned the water off. She had found Michael’s hair dryer. I dried off and dressed in my jogging pants and t-shirt. By then the dryer had stopped. I came out and found her sitting in the other bed with the blanket pulled up around her. Her hair was back to golden now that it was dry. I was glad she was covered up. It made conversation easier. She was flipping through the channels.
“Anything good?”
“Only old reruns.” She stopped when she got to Family Matters. “The Urkel Show. I always liked this one.”
I switched off the light and made my way to my bed. I put my glasses back on and pushed them back farther on my nose as I glanced over at Layla. I climbed into the other bed and stared at the TV, saying nothing at first. Finally, my curiosity got the best of me. “Why did you get so mad at me when I called you Layla? You also said it was all my fault before you ran off.”
She turned the volume down and put her head on her knees that were still under the blankets. She stayed that way for a few seconds before she looked back at me. “I can’t tell you.”
“Who says?”
“My friend. He said it could ruin everything.”
“Your friend who abandoned you here?”
She looked at me with her brown doe eyes and nodded.
“Why should you care what he said at this point? He just left you here. Abandoned you. You should assume he’s a stupid liar and stop covering for him.”
She shook her head. “No, he’s anything but stupid.” She let out a sigh. “And I’ve never known him to be a liar. I wish… I think I know why he told me that, and why he left me here, but he’s wrong. I’m not who he thinks I am. I can’t be. It’s impossible.”
I couldn’t follow her conversation. I sat quietly until I could think of something to say. “If you don’t want me to call you Layla, what do you want me to call you?” I was still trying to figure out the angle here. If this wasn’t some trick the guys were pulling on me, then what?
She shook her head. “I don’t know.”
She put her head back down inside her arms, still hugging her knees and rocking. I wanted to do something, but I didn’t know what to do or say. Her distress didn’t look fake. If she was acting, she was good. Too good for the guys to be able to afford if it was all a prank.
I hadn’t planned it, but I got up, walked over to her bed, sat down, and put my arms around her.
Her head shot up, and her eyes were large dark circles as she pulled away from me.
“Sorry, you just looked so scared. I promise I wasn’t trying anything.” I stood up and backed away.
She looked at the TV, but it was obvious she didn’t see it. “I’m terrified. I don’t know what this all means. I have no way to fix it.” She turned back to face me. “I always find a way. I always make a plan and end up on top. That’s who I am. I don’t ask for help, and I don’t cry in front of guys to get sympathy. I hate those kinds of girls.” She looked away again. “I refuse to be one.”
I sat down again on her bed, but farther from her. “I think everyone needs help sometimes. I mean, look at the band. They all do something different, and they are each great at what they do, but no one goes to hear a drum concert or a bass guitar concert. We all carry the equipment and set up. I think it would really suck to try to do everything alone. To think it’s all on you all the time.”
She still stared out into space. “It’s the only life I’ve ever known.”
I stopped and watched her. I didn’t know how to help her, and it was obvious that she didn’t want my help. I stood up to go, but she turned and took hold of my hand.
“Thank you for letting me stay here and loaning me clothes and the bandages. I may not like asking for help, but I really do appreciate it.”
“No problem.”
“Here,” she said and handed me the remote. “I don’t care what we watch.”
I took it from her before she rolled over to face the other wall. I got up and returned to my bed. If this was a joke, it was pretty elaborate for the guys. If she was crazy, how did she know so much about me? And why did being called Layla freak her out so much?
Chapter 3
IT TOOK ME FOREVER TO fall asleep. It was almost dawn when I was finally able to forget about the beautiful woman in the room with me and drift off.
A knock or something caused me to bolt up in bed. I didn’t hear it again so I fell back on my pillow, for just a moment forgetting Layla. But when I caught a glimpse of her blonde hair on the pillow, it all came rushing back to me. I swung my feet to the side of the bed, stood, and tiptoed to the bathroom on the other side of her. I didn’t turn on the light at the sink to wash my hands, choosing to use the light from the bathroom instead. I’d forgotten my glasses on the night stand and squinted in the direction of a black, fuzzy thing. It looked like the biggest, hairiest spider I’d ever seen, right there on the vanity by the cups holding our toothbrushes. An unmanly yell escaped my lips before I ran to the place I’d left my shoes the night before and grabbed one. By then, Layla had jumped up as well.
“What’s going on?” She came running up behind me, peering over my shoulder.
“A spider.” I brought the sole of my shoe down on the spider sitting by the sink as hard as I could. Layla reached over and switched on the vanity, causing the florescent light to blink and buzz as it came on. I lifted the shoe to look at the hairy strand stuck to it.
“What? Tsk.” Layla grabbed the shoe from me and peeled the strand off. “That’s not a spider. Those were my eyelashes. Man….tsk… those were my best pair of mink lashes. I special ordered those.”
I squinted at the hairy strand she was working to separate with her fingers. “Your eyelashes?”
“Yeah, I was wearing false lashes last night. I took them off when I showered.”
She held the squished hair out and shook her head. “Doesn’t matter–I don’t have any glue with me anyway.” She threw it in the trash can and then took a look at herself in the mirror. “I don’t have any makeup either, nor money to buy any. No job. Great. I’m now a bum.”
She made her way to the bed and plopped down on it with a bounce. “I’ve worked so hard at my job to be taken seriously. I’m the youngest agent at the office to have my kind of sales. And the least educated. I finally get to a place where I make good money and can buy myself the kinds of things I never had growing up.
Now I’m broke and homeless.”
I shook my head and took a seat beside her. “Your friend leaving you here is just a temporary setback. I will drive you to the airport and charge up my dad’s credit card to buy you a ticket. You can pay me back when you get home.”
“That won’t work. Believe me, if it was that simple, I’d be on it myself and it would be done.”
“I don’t understand.”
“And I can’t tell you any more about it.” She faced me and was motionless as she stared into my eyes. “You are so young.” She reached up and placed her palm on my cheek. “Your blue eyes with black bangs always falling into them—you were always brushing them out of your eyes. Combing your fingers through your hair when you were frustrated. I was always captivated. I’d never met anyone so determined before. And in your eyes, there was always this distant look. It’s not in your eyes now. And your shoulders don’t sag yet.” Her hand moved down to my shoulder and then rested on my bicep. It tensed under her touch.
The air between us grew thick as I took a deep breath.
“You were my very first crush. I would watch you from afar, but you never really noticed me.”
She leaned in close as she spoke, and the space between us became charged with energy. I could feel it as I breathed in her scent. I swallowed and placed my hand over the one she had resting on my arm as she grasped at the muscle. She was so close and smelled of sweet shampoo. Fruity, like apples. Her face was inches from mine. I found myself staring at her lips. They were a natural pink now, not the shimmering pink they were the night before. She really was beautiful just as she was, with messy bed hair and no makeup. I reached and brushed a tendril of hair from her eyes and lodged it behind her ear. It was one of those things I’d seen in movies and had always wanted to do.
Layla took my hand as I let go of her hair and held it and half smiled. “I hate being weak, and I hate needing to be rescued, but what’s funny is when I was a girl, I loved to read my friend’s comics because of those moments. The little boy next door loved them, and I would read them to him and watch Spider-Man movies. Like when Mary Jane was being held by Venom, and Spider-Man shows up to rescue her. After my Grandma died, I would find myself alone and scared as a kid, and I would imagine myself as Mary Jane waiting for Spider-Man. But when he pulled off the mask, it would be your face staring back at me. You’ve always been the hero in my dreams.”
I swallowed and tried to make sense of her words. “So did you used to live in Chesnee? Did we go to school together as kids?”
She jerked her hand back and covered her open mouth. He dark eyes were wide, and she looked away. “See, I’m going to break the rules and ruin everything. What was he thinking, leaving me here like this? I’m going to make a mess of your life. Then there won’t be…no, that can’t happen.” She shot up from the bed and started pacing. “I can’t be here. People will die and it will be my fault. I sell insurance for crying out loud. I have no business here.”
A loud bang on the door made us both jump.
“Breakfast is about to be taken up. Mark ran out there and threw himself on the table and begged the housekeeper to wait. Better come get some before they take it away. It’s getting close to lunch time,” Travis yelled from the other side of the door.
Layla grabbed her black dress from the hanger. “You go ahead, and I’ll join you all when I’m dressed.”
I took the dress from her and hung it back up. “We’re at the beach at a 2-star motel. Shorts and a t-shirt are fine.”
She sighed. “You’re right.” She looked down at herself and shrugged. “It’s not like I know anyone here anyway. Got any flip flops I can borrow?”
“Sure.” I grabbed an extra pair and set them on the floor. Then I opened the door and motioned for her to go first.
We made it out to the patio where the motel served a continental breakfast of juice, coffee, yogurt and pastries. Someone opened the door from the office behind the table and peeked out, probably seeing if we were done so they could clean it up.
Michael was waiting with the guys. White frosting and fruit gel dotted his blondish brown beard, from shoveling the pastries into his face as fast as he could. He and the guys were all in black t-shirts with various band names on them and faded jean shorts. When they saw Layla and me approaching, they all smirked at each other. I didn’t like them eyeing her up and down the way they did, especially the way Michael did it. He jumped up and walked toward us. I bumped up against him hard with my shoulder, trying not to let Layla see me do it. He grunted. “What’s that for?”
I glanced at Layla and back at him.
He threw up his hands in some mock show of innocence.
I continued to glare at him but said nothing.
I walked over to the buffet. “Layla would you like a bottle of juice?”
She was at the other end of the table, looking at the food choices. “No. Coffee, please. Do they have any of those flavored creamers?”
My forehead scrunched. “Flavored creamers?”
“Yeah, like hazelnut or vanilla?”
“They have dry powder.”
“I’ll use the milk for the cereal.” She made her way to the yogurts in the ice and turned it to read the back. “How many carbs does this have?”
We sat at the table with the guys. Layla and I were on one side and the guys on the other. “I don’t know, but the front says it’s low fat.” I knew that was a big deal to my mom.
She shrugged, pulled the flap off, and dug the plastic spoon in. Then she flipped the spoon over and licked it. Joey groaned when she did it, and I kicked him under the table. He groaned again, but louder and for a different reason.
“You okay?” Layla asked him.
He glared at me and answered, “I’m fine. Just bumped my leg on something.”
I ripped open my pastry and took a big bite when Travis tapped Joey on the shoulder and pointed at me. “Looks like he’s extra hungry this morning.” The guys all grinned at each other.
Michael answered him, “That’s what happens when a boy becomes a man. It makes him extra hungry.”
“Real mature guys. Let it go. Nothing happened.” I glared at them.
Michael smirked. “Let it go, guys. He’d be in a better mood if something had happened.”
I stood. “Shut up, morons.” I turned to face her. “I’m sorry, Layla. Let’s get out of here, and I’ll take you for a real breakfast.”
She stood and followed me. Once we got away from the guys, she stopped me and pulled me to face her. “You’re such a sweet guy to defend my honor and all, but I don’t care what your friends think. So don’t worry yourself about that, okay?”
I shrugged. “I didn’t want to hurt your reputation.”
“Okay, extra sweet that you even think like that. I don’t know any guys back home who do. Second, I told you not to call me Layla.”
I hadn’t realized that I had said it out loud. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know what else to call you since you won’t tell me your real name.”
She froze and her face went pale. “I can’t.”
I turned from her. “Then I’m calling you Layla.”
She shook her head, “But I’m not Layla. I can’t be. Layla was beautiful and glamorous. She was an inspiration. I’m just…playing like I’m somebody. I’m an insurance agent. I chit chat and flirt and sell car insurance.”
I shook my head. “I don’t understand what you’re talking about. The song doesn’t say anything like that about Layla.”
She walked away and put her hand out like she was saying stop. “You don’t understand and I can’t explain.”
When we got back to the room, she brushed her teeth, washed her face, and then grabbed up a handful of hair and wadded it into a bun. She looked around the room and then made her way to the night stand and grabbed a pen and stuck it in the bun.
“Where are we going?” she finally asked.
“The mall. You need some clothes, unless you want to wear my boxers
forever.” I didn’t really mind the idea, but saying it would not be gentlemanly.
“I can’t let you buy my clothes. You let me stay here last night and bought me dinner—that’s more than enough. Besides, I’m hoping my ride comes back for me today.”
I turned to face her. “But what if he doesn’t? I’ve got a little money with me. Don’t tell the guys. I like them to think I’m as broke as they are.”
She took a second to think about it but relented. “Fine, but I’m paying you back.”
She went to the bathroom with her dress while I put on jean shorts and a blue t-shirt with a horizontal stripe. When she came out, I drove us to the mall. We walked into one of the stores my mom and sister always shopped at and headed for a rack. Layla pushed back hanger after hanger making noises that sounded like, “Ugh…no way!”
Then she moved to the next rack and did the same thing.
“What’s wrong?” I asked by the fifth rack.
“These clothes are terrible. The jeans are all too pale, the waist is too high, the legs are too wide. Ugh… and the tops have no shape. The button ups are all boy cut. And what’s with all the flannel?”
We went to another store and she did the same. When we found ourselves in the lingerie section, I tried not to act as interested as I was. I glanced at what she was looking at, and then away and then back at the bra she was holding.
“Why are these bra’s so pointy and stiff?”
“Umm…I…don’t really know much about bras.”
“I can’t spend your money on any of this. I’m sorry. Do you think we could find a thrift store somewhere?”
“You mean used clothes?”
“Yeah, that’s how I used to shop when I first got out on my own. I still do it from time to time. The rich people send lots of great stuff there back in Cali.”
“I guess we can find one.”
I asked a lady in the mall, and she gave us directions to a thrift shop back off the main strip along the beach. There Layla finally found things she liked. I didn’t say anything, but what she picked out was all from the 80’s. Leggings and pointy heeled shoes and baggy shirts with giant belts, bangle bracelets. The girls at school were all into flannel and clunky shoes. They wouldn’t be caught dead in any of the things Layla picked out. But she was happy and excited, so I didn’t question it. Especially when she picked out a bikini. She held up the hot pink pieces of cloth and said, “For the pool.”
Forever Layla: A Time Travel Romance Page 3
