It’s because of you.
The person you are. The incredibly generous, and fun, and hardworking, and incredibly beautiful person that you are.
Do you even know how beautiful you are?
I wanted this gift to take us back to the beginning, to where it all started.
The start of US.
Here’s to looking back… But more importantly… Here’s to what’s yet to come.
Happy birthday, Chester.
I love you.
Lay-Lay
Trip sat there staring at the sheet of paper in his hands for way longer than necessary, and I knew he must have read my letter at least twice during that time. When he finally raised his head, his eyes met mine in gratitude. “God. Is this what you felt like when you read mine?”
I smiled and asked, “I don’t know. What do you feel like right now?”
He gave a shake to his skull, slid a palm over my hair and answered, “Like I could fly.”
“Well, then, yep. Same feels,” I confirmed.
He laughed at that, gave me a lingering kiss on the corner of my mouth.
Just to thwart any further corniness, I pulled back and joked, “If that’s the reaction I get for your card, I can’t wait to see what I’ll get for your present!”
He snickered, then turned his focus back toward the gift bag. Inside, there were three wrapped packages of varying sizes. In true Trip fashion, he unwrapped the biggest one first. When he did, his lips pursed into a smile and his shoulders slumped as he viewed the Dukes of Hazzard lunchbox in his hands. “You kept it.”
“Of course I kept it. Hidden in a wad of beach towels and shoved to the back of my closet… But I kept it.”
He ran a palm over the front as I said, “Well, open it, dummy! There’s more inside.”
He broke out of his daze to flip the latch, cracking up as he did so. “Holy shit. It’s us!”
His hands dove into the treasure trove, pulling out the bag of Skittles, the package of Twinkies. The pack of Juicy Fruit, the snack-sized bag of Cool Ranch Doritos, the scattered pieces of saltwater taffy.
Underneath all the junk food, he unearthed his nametag from Totally Videos that I’d saved as if it were a voodoo talisman. “Oh my God! I can’t believe you have this, you stalker!”
I laughed and admitted, “I slept with it under my pillow that whole winter.”
“Loser.”
The last item was a broken piece of cork. He held it up and asked, “Our wine from the tent?”
“Yep,” I smiled back.
He shook his head in disbelief. “You are just the best, you know that?” he asked, before his lips came down sweetly on mine.
It was hard to tear away, but I was too excited to concentrate on kissing him when there were still unopened presents. “There’s still more! Keep opening.”
He grabbed the small, square package out of the bag and ripped off the paper. He was smiling like a loon at the Guns N’ Roses Greatest Hits CD in his hands as I explained, “You don’t know this, but ‘Paradise City’ is our song.”
He didn’t even miss a beat as he asked, “Why? Because it’s the first one we listened to together?”
My mouth gaped open. “Tell me you don’t actually remember that.”
“We were in my truck—God, I miss that Bronco—and I was driving us back to your house after school. Of course I remember. I was the one who put it on.”
“But… But…”
“All I wanted to do was pull over and see what you had on under that skirt. I had an uncontrollable hard-on the whole ride home.”
“Shut up! You did not!”
“The song still drives me insane whenever I hear it.”
“Where’s your CD player!?”
He laughed at that, but noted, “Cool your jets there, horndog. I still have another present to unwrap.”
He took the last, small package out and tore off the paper. He was holding a disc in a clear jewel case. He looked it over, asking, “R and J? Who’s that?”
I must have confused him with the G N’ R. I bit my lip and hinted, “I had it burned from video to DVD.”
Understanding dawned across his face. “Get out. Our movie? I can’t believe you did this!”
He immediately hopped off the couch to throw it in the DVD player when I stopped him. “No! Popcorn first. I haven’t watched this in fifteen years either. Let’s do this right.”
So, it was a few minutes later when we were situated on his couch, wrapped up in a fuzzy tan blanket, the coffee table strewn with a junk food buffet. I settled into his side with a Twinkie in one hand and a Coke in the other, delaying my worries, yet again, about the calories until a more convenient time. Trip had one hand around the bowl of popcorn and the other on the remote control.
“You ready?” he asked, his smile infectious.
“Just promise me something.”
Trip paused in the act of pressing play, a wrinkle appearing between his brows. “What?”
“Please don’t analyze it. Just watch. Okay?”