I don't own anything. I'm on a Sky High Kick, and this plot bunny just came to me.
I figured if they were freshmen in 2005, then they would have graduated in 2009. I think Warren is two years older, so I figured he would have graduated in 2007.
Reminiscing
She buried her head in the crook of his neck, taking in his scent deeply as if to commit it to memory. He threaded his fingers through her hair gingerly, holding her close. She wasn't quite sure how long they stayed like that, but they did. An amazing summer was coming to a close, and she had no intention of plunging back into the real world.
"I'm going to miss you," she croaked, attempting not to cry.
"Hey," he stepped back, lifting her chin, "we'll see each other on weekends."
She chuckled lowly, feeling ridiculous.
"Who would've thought?" she teased.
"What, the hothead and the hippie?" he smirked, kissing her softly.
"Yeah, that," she grinned.
Early June
She paced around her room, back and forth. She had just graduated and was ready to go to university to become a botanist/environmentalist. So, why was she feeling so restless? Her palms were itching and she let out a disgruntled growl. Huh, she sounded like Warren, she thought wryly. She dug out her phone from her jean pocket, flipping it open. She scrolled through her contacts and rested on her bed.
"Hello," he grunted.
"Hi," she greeted, twitching.
"What's wrong, hippie?" Warren asked, sounding concerned. He could just tell something was bothering her. She had seemed dazed at graduation, and he was all the way in the audience. She wasn't even the fun dazed, like in Dazed and Confused, she just seemed lost.
She sighed, "I don't know. I feel like I'm in a cage or something. I can't spend my entire summer just sitting here!"
For a second, she thought he hung up until she heard his steady breathing on the other end. She calmed down slightly, waiting for his response.
"Roadtrip," he said.
"What?" Layla asked incredulously.
"I'm dead serious. You, me, my car, and California," he clarified.
Layla's heart began to beat erratically as found her escape. She nodded enthusiastically before realizing that he couldn't see her.
"Yeah," she agreed readily.
"When?" he asked lazily, adjusting his phone.
"Tomorrow?" she suggested.
He groaned, "Don't you want to talk to your mom?"
"Fine," she said, "I'll call you back."
"Bye," he said, hanging up.
She tossed her phone on her bed and dug through her closet for her small suitcase. She threw some clothes onto her bed, grinning. A summer on the road was just what she needed. There was so much to see in California, and she was determined to see it all. LA, San Francisco, San Diego, everything. She had been in California her whole life, but never ventured away from her small suburban town.
She began to sort through her clothes. A few pairs of jeans, some shorts, tee-shirts, two tank tops, and light sweaters fit snugly into her suitcase. She bit her lip, forgetting what she had done with her bathing suit. She hadn't seen it since last summer. She heard a knock at her door and her mother entered without waiting for an answer.
"Packing for university so soon?" she asked her daughter.
Layla winced minutely, "Something like that."
"I know that look, Lalya. Care to clue me in?" Ms. W asked.
"I'm going to California," she answered decidedly.
"Alone?" the older woman raised a brow.
"With Warren," Layla sighed, sinking onto her bed, crossing her arms over her chest. She knew that her mother would oppose her precious daughter spending two months alone with Warren. After all, he wasn't Will. Layla inwardly cringed. Will broke her heart one too many times. It was over for good. She needed to get away, and Warren was the perfect person to get away with. He wouldn't bombard her with questions or judge her.
"Judging by the look on your face, I think you know how I feel," Ms. W said, eyeing her daughter.
"Mom, please," Layla looked up at her.
"I can't stop you," she held up her hands.
Layla jumped to her feet, wrapping her arms around her neck.
"Thank you."
Warren tossed Layla's bag into the trunk next to his bag. He pulled down the hood, slamming it. He yawned. What in the world possessed her to want to leave at dawn? And like the whipped friend he was, he showed up as requested.
Layla waved to her mom as she got into the car, grinning softly. In a few hours they would be in San Diego.
Warren hopped into the driver's seat, plugged in the GPS and started the engine.
"Ready?" he asked her sleepily.
"As I'll ever be," she replied. She watched as her childhood neighborhood disappeared into the distance, and she felt lighter as if a load had been lifted from her shoulders.
She fiddled with the radio stations, nodding along to Muse. She glanced at Warren, glad that he seemed to be humming along under his breath. She was surprised to find out that they liked many of the same musicians during their time at Sky High. Obviously, Warren graduated two years prior seeing as he was a junior when she was a freshman.
Oh, high school. Layla just wanted to leave it in the past. She rested her head against the window, watching her town blur into nothingness. She had been so excited upon entering Sky High, but her hopes had been dashed. Sure, she was on air the few months she and Will were a couple, but they didn't click. Once again by sophomore year, Will was too consumed with being popular and living up to expectations. Needless to say, she and their mutual friends had been left in the dust. She remembers how Warren found her in the girls bathroom, crying. He had been minding his own business walking through the hallways when he heard sobs coming from the bathroom. Of course, he cringed when he realized it was Layla who was crying.
'Go away," she pushed him without much force.
'Layla,' he called her by her name, not Hippie, for once.
'Why?' she asked simply, allowing him to hold her as she let the tears flow freely.
'He's an idiot,' he replied, letting her hug him. She clung onto him as if he were her last lifeline.
She let out a bitter laugh and attempted to smile. Warren wiped the tears from her face, offering a grin. His look hardened suddenly.
'You better not tell anyone I was nice," he pointed, looking dead serious.
Layla laughed, "Promise."
Layla kept her promise. No one knew why she was in a suddenly brighter mood despite Will being distant and cold. She began to avoid the cafeteria like the plague in an attempt to distance herself from Will. Instead, she found herself on the back lawn of the campus with Warren. They never spoke much. Layla ate her lunch in silence while Warren read. He too, had been avoid the cafeteria because Zach and Ethan seemed to think that they were cooler when seen eating with him. Despite the silence, it was comfortable. They didn't need to say anything. Soon enough, Warren began to read aloud while Layla let the words of Tolstoy take over her.
'If I'm boring you,' Warren noticed Layla had closed her eyes as she leaned against him.
'No, keep reading. I'm imagining everything.'
'"The French fashion-of the parents arranging their children's future-was not accepted; it was condemned. The English fashion of the complete independence of girls was also not accepted, and not possible in Russian society. The Russian fashion of matchmaking by the officer of intermediate persons was for some reason considered disgraceful; it was ridiculed by everyone, and by the princess herself. But how girls were to be married, and how parents were to marry them, no one knew...'"
That was the year Warren graduated. She tried to keep up appearances the next year, her junior year. She smiled and was polite, but never wanted to do anything with her friends. She had stopped eating her lunch, but always went to the back lawn with a book in hand. She read the margins more eagerly than the actual text. Who knew that Warren was so insightful? Analyzing the scribbles in the margins consumed her. They had made a deal to trade books at least once a month. So, on the third Friday of each month, she went to the Paper Lantern with her books, passing him Austen while he passed her Hemmingway or Tolstoy.
One day, Will came up to her in an attempt to make amends. Like the fool she was, she accepted the offer of being his girlfriend. She turned green at the very thought of people gawking at them while they walked through the school, holding hands. Part of her wished she was a pyro like Warren so she could burn Will's hand. It was sweaty and she wasn't fond of public displays of affection. Being his girlfriend was far less enjoyable the second time around. It was as if she were some trophy that Will would brag about to his more popular friends. She broke things off two months later and found herself at the Paper Lantern.
'Hippie,' he greeted casually, sliding into the booth across from her, 'Long time no see.'
She bit her lip. She knew she had been an awful friend, ignoring Warren like that. She just assumed he was too busy to spend time with her. He had to work full time and go to school. She didn't want to impose. Their book trade had been postponed. She fiddled with the copy of Anna Karenina she had. She remembered how he had read it to her the year before.
'I'm sorry,' she blurted out, 'I've been a grade A jerkface and I miss you.'
He smirked, 'Fair enough.'
'I finished Anna Karenina,' she pushed it across the table, not missing the broad grin on his face when he flipped through and saw that she had made her own notes in the margins.
Senior year was quite possibly even lonelier than her junior year. The only person she spoke to at school was Magenta. The only thing she had to look forward to were the Saturdays she spent with Warren, at least, when he didn't have to work. She started to come home later and later, making her mother worry.
'Layla,' she rubbed her temples as she saw her daughter look like a deer caught in the headlights.
'Hey, mom,' Layla greeted nervously as she moved away from the stairs she was about to attempt to sneak up.
'Do you have any idea what time it is?' Ms. W asked.
'Yes,' she replied defeatedly.
'And?'
'I lost track of time, mom. Sorry.'
'You've been losing track of time,' she sighed, cringing at the thought that her daughter was off somewhere with Baron Battle's son for hours on end. She knew about their friendship, and the book trading. That had been fine. But Layla coming home at three in the morning was something she couldn't handle.
'Mom,' she threw her hands up, 'I'm sorry, what else can I say?'
'Where were you?' she asked, afraid to know the answer.
Layla smiled, as if in a trance, 'A concert.'
"Wake up," Warren said quietly, rubbing her shoulder.
"Wha...?" she cracked open an eye.
"I stopped for food. I figured you might be hungry."
"Oh," Layla said, getting out of the car.
They walked into the diner in companionable silence. Layla let out a yawn and Warren smirked at her.
"And you wanted to leave at dawn," he told her as they sat down in a booth.
"Oh, shut up. This trip was your idea," she scoffed.
"Like you didn't jump at the chance," he raised a brow, taking a menu.
A waitress came to their table, popping her gum.
"Hi, what can I get for you?" she asked, looking pointedly at Warren.
"A burger and fries," he said, sending Lalya an apologetic look. He tried to not eat meat around her, but there was only so much soy he could handle.
"And you?"
"A caesar salad. Dressing on the side. Not ranch, though. And can you use baby tomatoes instead of regular? No crutons, either. But a bread basked would be nice," she babbled, looking at the menu.
"Coming right up," the waitress said.
Lalya looked up to see Warren smirking at her.
"What?"
"You totally pulled a Sally," he joked.
"Oh, really, do tell, Harry," she spat. Why she was possessed to make him watch that movie, she didn't know.
Warren shook his head.
"We should be in San Diego within the hour," he said.
"Good," Lalya nodded decidedly, glancing through the menu to see if there was any dessert she wanted.
Warren took out a book from his pocket. Layla rolled her eyes, smiling.
'I give it to you not that you may remember time, but that you might forget it now and then for a moment and not spend all your breath trying to conquer it. Because no battle is ever won he said. They are not even fought. The field only reveals to man his own folly and despair, and victory is an illusion of philosophers and fools...' Warren began to read, from the middle of the book.
"You just skipped over Benjy's section," Lalya interrupted.
"You've read it," Warren shrugged.
"Go back to the beginning," she insisted.
"Technically, this is the beginning," Warren countered, looking up from the book.
Their argument was set on pause when the waitress returned with their food. She glanced at the book and made a face. Warren looked mildly offended and pulled the book closer to him. The waitress looked at him as if he was insane and went on with her business.
"Start with Benjy," Layla insisted between mouthfuls of salad.
"There's no right place to start this book unless you go through and number everything in chronological order," Warren glared at the girl in front of him.
"Yeah, yeah, and that ruins the fun of stream of conscious, got it," Layla conceded.
Warren grunted in response, taking a bite of his burger. Layla wrinkled her nose, but made no response at the animal slaughter that gave Warren that burger. She snatched a fry from his plate. He shook his head and ignored her.
"Do we need to take the 8?" Layla inquired about the freeways.
"Yeah. And after leaving San Diego the 5 will get us to LA," he replied monotonously.
Layla dug a map out of her bag, ignoring Warren's cries of "We have a GPS." She scanned it and frowned.
"No Hunington Beach? No Anaheim? What about Disneyland?" she pouted.
Warren rolled his eyes and sighed. He couldn't resist the pout.
"No 'It's a Small World'," he pointed at her.
"I knew you'd see it my way."
They resumed their meal in silence, much like they had spent many lunches together in high school, and the many dinners together at the Paper Lantern. They didn't have to talk, just enjoy each other's company.
"It is so nice when you can sit with someone and not have to talk."-Harry Burns, When Harry Met Sally
Please Review.
I know that their relationship is kind of ambiguous, but it's supposed to be. Like in When Harry Met Sally, they're in the realm of somewhere between friends and dating.