It was no Jake Ryan move, but it was damn near close enough for me. I exaggerated my reaction when I said, “Oh, Trip! You shouldn’t have.”
He grinned. “Oh, don’t pretend like Twinkies aren’t your favorite. I went to a lot of trouble to get those for you.”
I said, “Oh, I’ll bet,” but he was right. I freakin’ loved Twinkies. I opened the cellophane wrapper and handed him one. “My father always taught me it was bad luck to twink alone.”
“Oh, that was bad.”
I giggled, clinked my cake to his and took a bite. Heaven.
“So, you had nothing better to do with your evening than come in here on your night off and fatten up an old lady?” That was only funny because I was officially the youngest member of our entire class.
He polished off the last of his Twinkie in his second bite and said sheepishly, “I just thought it would suck that you had to work on your birthday. Does it?”
I don’t know how I managed to get the words out, but I leaned forward and replied, “Well, it did... until now.”
He gave me a smirk and drummed the counter before saying, “Hey, look. I gotta go, but I’ll see you at school tomorrow, okay?”
“Yep. I’ll be there.”
He stood there for an extra second, just locked onto my eyes, and before I could ask him what was up, I watched as he leaned across the counter toward me. I was a statue as his hand slipped around my neck, his rough fingers at my nape, his knuckles brushing under my hair. As if that weren’t thrilling enough, the next thing I saw was his face coming closer to mine before his lips offered a sweet, slow kiss on my cheek. Just that small contact was like a lightning bolt through my body, a splash of ice water in my veins. I couldn’t breathe very well at that second, but I managed to catch the warm scent of him, all sugary and soapy and sending shivers down my skin.
He pulled back, looking almost as stunned as I felt, and I knew I wasn’t imagining things when I heard him actually stammer the slightest bit as he said, “H-happy birthday, Layla”.
He regained his composure quickly enough, because in the blink of an eye, his wide grin returned as he offered, “See you tomorrow.”
I stared as he walked out the door, hating to see him go but loving the view as I watched him walk away.
*
The next night, Trip and I punched out at Totally Videos around ten and he offered to drive me home. I was exhausted-Fridays were a big night for movie rentals-and all I wanted to do was crash for the next twelve hours. Football season was well under way and I was looking forward to watching our Lions kick a little Butler Bulldog ass the following afternoon.
On the way out to the parking lot, I took a shot and asked, “Hey, can I drive?” but Trip just looked at me like I was nuts and replied, “Nobody drives Beverly but me.”
So, I was sitting in the passenger seat of Trip’s Bronco, flipping through the radio stations, almost missing the fact that he’d turned in the opposite direction from my street.
I looked up from the stereo controls and asked, “Umm, what’s going on?”
Trip just pasted a smile on his face and said, “Don’t worry about it. Just shut up and let me drive.”
Once he turned down Trestle Ave, I knew exactly where we were headed.
The Barrens was an old, abandoned field in an area of town known as The Mud Hole. The lot was formed in a large C shape from a bend in the river, abutted by the nearby railroad tracks. Supposedly, there was once an actual house on that godforsaken property, but it had long since been torn to the ground. All that remained was a concrete slab, fractured and uneven, weeds growing through the cracks and covered in four decades’ worth of graffiti. Everyone in Norman affectionately referred to the spot as “The Patio”, and it was the most popular destination at The Barrens for hanging out. For any underage kids who dared to cross the tracks, it was as good a place as any to sneak some beers or make out with their not-so-significant others.
Trip parked his truck amidst the trees behind the rusted-out cargo container, where I could see Coop’s Audi and Lisa’s LeBaron. I shot a look at Trip, who was grinning at me shamelessly before getting out. I walked around to the other side of the hold to The Patio, where Lisa, Pickford, Cooper, Rymer and Sargento were sitting in lawn chairs arranged in a circle. It was too early in autumn to need a fire, but they had one going anyway. It was just one of those things that you did at The Barrens.
Lisa spied me first, her eyes lighting up as she yelled, “Hey! Happy birthday!”