Forever Layla: A Time Travel Romance

by Melissa Turner Lee

  I grabbed a beach towel from my bag, and my notebook, of course. I filled my cooler with Cheerwines and got ice from the machine on my way out the door to the pool. Layla was still there, sunning herself. She’d pulled off the bandages from her knees.

  “Are your legs better?” I pointed at the scabs forming.

  She sat up. “Some. Mainly I didn’t want the bandages making a tan line.”

  I sat down on the lounger beside her and leaned back.

  Layla turned toward me. “Need some sunscreen?” She grabbed the bottle from beside her and handed it out to me.

  I shook my head. “No, thanks, I don’t usually burn.”

  She sat up and pulled her glasses down again to look at me. “Oh my gosh! I had no idea.”

  “What?” I glanced down at myself to see if I had a spider or something on my chest.

  “You are ripped.”

  I spun around to check my trunks, feeling my face grow warmer. “Where?”

  Layla laughed. “No, I’m talking about your chest. You are solid muscle.”

  “Oh.” I felt my face flush. “The guys and I have been working out. Travis is trying to get signed by a college for athletics next year, so his coach has him lifting weights and eating peanut butter sandwiches every few hours. He started bulking up, so we all joined in. I used to be a stick until this year.”

  “Well you are far from a stick now. I like a nice toned body on a guy way better than the overly bulky kind.” She watched me a little longer and bit her lip and leaned back, but I thought I heard her mumble, “He’s eighteen. Too young, too young, too young.”

  I grabbed my notebook from beside me and wrote the date and then under that wrote a quick note. I couldn’t let myself forget anything about meeting Layla. Her ride could show up, or the gag come to an end any moment. But today, I had a beautiful older woman reminding herself that I was too young for her. It might not be directions for time travel, but for an eighteen-year-old guy, it was up there in important things to always remember.

  Layla

  UP UNTIL HE TOOK HIS shirt off, this David was a harmless kid. He wasn’t the manly David of my dreams, but I could see glimpses of that David. It was like checking in the oven on a pan of cookies. They might still be warm dough, but the senses could appreciate the process. Besides, cookie dough could be nice too while waiting on the cookies. I turned my head and was trying to get a hold on my breathing. Maybe I needed a puff off of his inhaler. I glanced back over at him as he jotted something down in his notebook. I realized at that moment he didn’t know he was hot. He’d been the gangly, asthmatic geek all his life and probably hadn’t noticed he was beginning to grow into himself. I glanced at his biceps and forearms that flexed as he gripped his pen. He was far from gangly now, and although he was not the man I had always dreamed of, he certainly wasn’t the boy I had mistaken him to be.

  My heart sped up, and my breathing deepened as I watched him. I looked away again when I saw him about to look at me. It was one thing staying in a room with a little boy overnight. It would be another staying with a hot guy. I pushed the thought from my mind. Maybe my ride would show up before then. Until that moment, I would relax and catch some rays. I glanced at the people walking by on the beach and let the worries fade as I got to be a kid myself for the first time ever.

  Chapter 5

  David

  AROUND LUNCHTIME WE ALL LEFT the pool to go across the street to eat. Layla used my t-shirt and boxers as her bathing suit cover up, and I had to use my inhaler. Did I pack my other one? I sure hoped so, or she needed to go home before I succumbed to the attacks. I’m not sure why it was affecting me so much. She showed more skin in the bathing suit. I guess it was because her skin was wrapped up in something of mine. I’m not really sure. She had piled her hair up in a sloppy bun, and to be honest, she was just as breathtaking as she had been all dressed up the night before. There was this new electricity bouncing off the both of us, and I think she felt it too. She was acting more awkward around me, sort of the way I generally acted around her.

  The guys walked across the street while I walked with Layla. They got to a table first, and we followed. I quickly pulled a chair out for her, and she finally seemed willing to look at me directly and smiled as she said, “Thank you.”

  I sat beside her. We grabbed up menus and gave the waitress our orders.

  The guys discussed what songs to perform.

  “'Smells Like Teen Spirit' is a must,” Michael grabbed a napkin and asked if anyone had a pen. I loaned him mine from my notebook. He knew better than to ask for paper. I never tore anything out of my notebooks.

  “Too bad about him dying so young. His daughter won’t even remember him and her train wreck of a mother…” Layla rolled her eyes and then sipped her water.

  “Too bad about who dying?” I asked.

  “The singer for Nirvana.”

  Michael leaned forward and held up his hand. “Hold up. What do you mean Kurt Cobain died? He’s not dead.”

  “Yeah, he is.”

  Michael turned his head and rolled his eyes and then looked back at Layla, making a two-fingered point at her. “I don’t know what you’ve been smoking, but Kurt Cobain is alive.”

  She threw up her hands and shook her head. “Hey, didn’t mean to start anything. Maybe I was thinking of someone else.”

  “We’ve gotten Pear Jam’s ‘Black’ down pat now,” Travis added, to ease the tension.

  We were all passing out ideas when Layla added, “I went to a concert once where they passed around a hat for requests and performed what they drew between their regular set. It was lots of fun.”

  Michael’s face lit up. “I like it. We should try that tonight.”

  We ate lunch and then headed back to the motel. I opened the door to the room and let Layla go in first. Michael eyed me, and I shrugged as he made his way into the room shared by the other three guys. “Can I help it if the girl staying with me wants to stay again?”

  I walked into the room shaking my head and laughing. Layla stood there, looking at me.

  “I’m sorry. I just made it sound like…” I stopped. I hadn’t thought about my joke.

  She shook her head. “It’s fine. You were giving Michael a hard time. That’s what you guys do. And really, where I’m from, no one thinks that way about things anymore. It’s sweet that you do. My grandma would approve.”

  “Your grandma? I thought you were an orphan?” Had I caught her?

  “I was. But not always.”

  I moved toward the bathroom. “I’m going to shower and take a nap to get ready for tonight. If you want to shower, you can go first.”

  She shook her head. “No, I’m going to go ask the manager if they have internet here. I need to get my bearings straight. I think I misspoke with Michael. I’m really going to mess things up if I don’t watch it.”

  My forehead dipped. “I doubt this place has it. Besides, don’t worry about Michael.”

  “Are you sure they won’t have it? Maybe a fast food place will have it.”

  “Why would a fast food place have internet? We don’t eat it.”

  “WiFi is pretty standard almost everywhere back home. People don’t want to ever be disconnected from the internet for a moment. I’ve been having the shakes from lack of cell phone.”

  “What’s why fie?”

  “Wireless internet. Places provide it for cell phones and tablets people carry with them.”

  “I’m the only one of my friends who has internet at the house. The library has a couple of computers hooked up to it. And my dad’s a dentist and always on-call and even he doesn’t have a cell phone yet. He’s been talking about getting one but right now still carries a beeper.”

  She scrunched her nose. “What’s a beeper?”

  “It beeps and gives you a number to call when you get to a phone.”

  She shook her head. “I guess I’ll just shower and take a nap, too.”

  “So are you saying in the future,
almost everyone is connected to the internet and carries a phone around?”

  “That or I’m a big fat fake. I’m going to shower.” She grabbed her bags from the drugstore and some things from a drawer and headed to the bathroom.

  I plopped down in a chair to wait my turn and listened to the shower curtain whisk as it was wrenched to the side. I shook her image from my head and forced my mind away from visions of a naked girl in my shower.

  I grabbed a Cheerwine and chugged the cold drink down. If it didn’t work, I was running out and doing a cannonball into the pool. Who was Layla? I closed my eyes and thought about it. She could be a prank or she could be my future. I grabbed my notebook and started writing out lists of possibilities. The shower knob made that squeak, and the water splatter sound started. “She’s the death of me is who she is.” I threw down the notebook and ran out the door to the pool.

  *

  LAYLA SAT BESIDE ME AT the soundboard and bounced her crossed leg with the music. Her thrift-store wedged sandals were out of style, but I didn’t look at them long. I watched the top leg bounce to the music, the way a subject watches the fob watch of a hypnotist—mesmerized. My gaze trailed up the length of her tanned legs to the cut off denim shorts and then the white button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up and the bottom tied at her waist. I caught myself and glanced up at her and smiled. Her hair was back to a big bouffant, and she’d replaced her lashes at the drugstore. She was watching the band and smiling, not even aware that I was looking. She was so beautiful I could hardly believe she was real.

  I glanced out at the crowd of girls pushing their way to the platform where the guys played. The other girls had loose, untamed hair, flannel shirts, and Keds. Layla stood out from all of them. She didn’t belong. I could easily believe she was from the future.

  The music stopped and I cut the mics from the guys so people could hear Michael speak.

  “Time for another request from the hat.” He made that smoldering gaze at the girls. “I love my fans. Anything for you.” The girls squealed as he lowered his voice and gaze.

  Michael kneeled down and drew a piece of paper from the bowl and stood. He unfolded the square, flipped the paper around, and then lowered his head. “You have got to be kidding me.”

  He showed the paper to the guys and they all started shaking their heads and groaned.

  A voice from the audience shouted, “What is it?”

  Michael leaned into the mic. “Proof that I love my fans. I promise, I wouldn’t sing this otherwise.”

  Then music started playing the opening of Achy Breaky Heart and the crowd started forming rows of lines to do the dance that went with it.

  I threw my head back and slapped my leg as I guffawed. “I wonder who put that in. Michael hates country music.”

  Layla turned and smirked. “I remembered the story.” Then she bit her lip and stopped herself.

  “Did you put it in there?”

  “Maybe.” She bit her lips again.

  I couldn’t take my eyes off her lips. I blinked and reminded myself to breathe. “Are you really from the future?”

  “I’m not allowed to say. Maybe I am, or maybe I’m a gag the guys are pulling on you.”

  The breeze off the ocean stirred her hair and brought the fragrance closer to me. I wasn’t thinking any longer about the future or a prank, the band, the soundboard, or even where I was. My mind was on the beautiful blonde inches away from me, leaning in to speak over the loud music. I leaned in, my eyes fixated on her glossy pink lips, and then my own lips were brushing gently against hers. Her darks eyes closed and then so did mine as I tasted her. She was sweet and her lips were cherry, like my favorite drink but better. My hands were in her hair as I kissed her more deeply. Her lips parted. I’d only kissed one other girl and that was a game of spin-the-bottle in eighth grade. I’d been so nervous, I kissed the girl’s chin by accident.

  Layla pulled back from me, her eyes dark circles, and then she turned away and stared at the band. I turned my attention back to the soundboard and started flipping switches that connected to nothing really. I just needed to look busy.

  She and I didn’t speak the rest of the night. There was the awkward avoiding eye contact and each other’s space. The set ended, and it was time to clean up. Layla made her way to the tables and started picking up cups and trash.

  “Hey, we don’t have to clean that stuff,” I called to her. Wow, what a great first sentence after kissing someone.

  Tony, the bartender, called out, “Go ahead, and I’ll tip out from my cup.”

  Layla smiled at him and headed for the bar. “You’re on. Hand me one of your garbage bags.”

  The clean up took about twenty minutes, with the guys again abandoning me the last five minutes of it. Layla was still around, picking up and straightening chairs. She took the garbage bag to Tony, and he reached in his tip jar and handed her $20.

  She took it and walked over to me. “Here’s payment toward my debt.”

  I shook my head. “There is no debt. Just hold onto it.”

  She shoved the money toward me. “Here, I don’t like being indebted to people.”

  I pushed it away. “Why don’t you hold onto it… for now. Pay me at the end of the week.”

  She kept it and stuck it in her pocket. “Fine, I’ll use it for my dinner tonight.” She pulled back and stared at me with those giant doe eyes and then quickly looked away. “I can’t risk getting any deeper with you.”

  I wasn’t sure that statement was all about the money. We walked across the street together to the diner. The guys were already scarfing down their meals. Layla and I were about to take a seat with them, when all of a sudden, they all got up.

  “Where are you guys going?” I felt my brows furrow as I looked at Michael for an answer.

  “We met some girls, and they asked us to join them at Club 317. Later, bro,” he said as he patted me on the back and headed out the door.

  I watched them all leave and then turned my attention back to Layla. “Okay then.”

  We started to sit where the guys had just gotten up, but the waitress came out and asked us to move to a smaller table. So there we were, just the two of us at the table.

  We ordered, and the waitress left.

  Layla stared to her left, then to her right. She picked up the dessert menu and looked at it. She was obviously avoiding me.

  “I’m sorry.” I wasn’t sure it was the right thing to say, but I said it anyway.

  Layla turned to face me. “For what?”

  “I’m sorry that the kiss made you uncomfortable. I guess I shouldn’t have done it.” I couldn’t bring myself to say I was sorry for the kiss itself because I wasn’t.

  She leaned forward and placed her hand on mine. “I kissed you back. I’m just… not the type who goes around kissing every guy I meet. Some of my friends do that and more, but that’s not me. It’s not how I was raised.”

  “Well I don’t kiss every girl I meet either. Michael’s my best friend, but I’m not like him. My mom has always drilled into me how I’m to treat a woman. Open doors for ladies and treat them with respect. She told me to wait for the right one rather than fool around and get mixed up with the wrong girl.”

  Layla smiled as she lifted her head. She got a thoughtful expression before turning her attention back to me. “She sounds a lot like my grandma. She drilled her morals into me. Made me swear to wait and not get in trouble like she and my mom both did. I’m the first in my family to finish high school instead of dropping out to have a baby.”

  I stopped and watched her as I leaned back. Had I caught her in a lie? “I thought you said you were an orphan. That you were raised in a girl’s home?” Maybe she was part of a hoax after all.

  “Both are true. I lived with…” She stopped as if she’d just realized something and looked at me. “I need to quit answering your questions before I say too much…again.”

  The waitress brought out our food. I had a plate of pancakes and baco
n. Layla had another salad with the dressing on the side. I spread butter on the pancakes and poured syrup all over them. She stared at my plate and said, “That’s a lot of carbs and pure sugar.”

  “And that’s a lot of rabbit food you are eating.” I pointed at her plate.

  She shrugged. “Tell me about you, David. You have all these questions about me. It’s your turn.”

  “I’m a senior at Chesnee High School. I will be turning eighteen this Sunday.”

  Layla held up her hand, “Hold up. You told me you were already eighteen.”

  “I figured I was close enough. Besides, I never imagined you’d be staying the week with me to find out any different. It was just supposed to be one dance.”

  “Yeah, and this was just supposed to be a quick trip back in time and then right back home.”

  I sighed and continued. “Anyway, I’m graduating next month. I’m starting at Wofford College for pre-dentistry in the fall. I’m supposed to join my dad at his practice when I finish dental school.”

  Layla smiled and shook her head. She gave me that look, like she knew me already. “Do you want to be a dentist?”

  “My mom and dad are always pointing out the perks. Work office hours Monday through Thursday with Friday off to golf. Good pay and nothing life and death like a doctor deals with.”

  “But do you want to be a dentist?” she asked again. Her dark eyes pierced into me.

  “I…I don’t know. I’ve always been told that’s what I would do.”

  “What would you chose to study if no one was pushing you toward dentistry? What do you really want to be when you grow up?”

  I leaned back in my chair and ran my fingers through my hair, and then pushed my glasses back on my nose. Layla took them from me, folded them up, and put them in my shirt pocket like she did the time before.

  “I can’t wait until you get Lasik. I’m not used to your eyes all covered. They’re too beautiful to be covered up. Now, what would you chose to study if you weren’t concerned with your parents or potential income or anything else practical?”

  “Probably physics or chemistry.”