When I make it back to my truck, I try to call Lila but she doesn’t answer, so I make tire-ripping veer onto the road and floor the gas pedal, pushing the speed limit until I get back to the apartment. I’m worried about what I’ll find and feel guilty that I’ve bailed out on a girl again.
When I open the door, my nostrils are instantly flooded with the scent of paint thinner. Or nail polish anyway. Lila peers up at me from the couch, her damp hair a veil around her flushed face. She has her foot propped up on the coffee table and she’s painting her toenails as music plays in the background. My eyes instantly go to the half-empty beer on the table.
“It’s just a beer,” she quickly says as she swipes the paintbrush on her toenail.
“Is it the only thing?” I hate asking, but I need to know.
She blows out a breath, her bangs fluttering up from her face. “What do you think?”
I shut the door and toss the truck keys next to the lamp. “Whatever you tell me, I’ll think.” I hope though that, like me, she was able to stay away from the one thing that helps her numb the stuff she doesn’t want to feel. I hope she still feels her emotions right now like I am. Because seeing her sitting here makes me realize that even though I still have a lot of shit to work on, mainly with figuring out how to let London and my guilt for her go, walking away from that woman on the strip was the right thing to do.
She puts the brush into the tiny bottle and twists it on, screwing it tightly closed. Then she sits back in the sofa, staring at me with an unreadable expression. “I didn’t take anything, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
I lower myself down onto the armrest and I’m overwhelmed with the scent of nail polish and her shampoo. “I’m not getting at anything, Lila. I just walked into my apartment.”
“Yeah, but that’s why you came back, right?” She scoffs. “Because you thought I was going to do something stupid.”
I let out a stressed breath. “Look, I know things have been weird between us, but—”
“Weird,” she says, cutting me off and throwing her hands into the air exasperatedly. “Ethan, you almost kissed me in the truck and then that night… that night we refuse to talk about…” She shakes her head, discouraged. “I don’t even know where we stand anymore.”
“I don’t…” I struggle for words, surprised by how she tossed it out there so openly. It throws me off and I struggle to get my balance back, but I’m hopelessly falling to a place I’m unfamiliar with and I need to regain my footing before I do anything drastically life-altering. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“I don’t either,” she says. “And it’s been driving me crazy, because I have no idea what I want or what you’re thinking. I’m going so crazy that I seriously thought about using again. Every single thing is driving me crazy!” She balls her hands into fists, about to scream. “I can’t take it anymore. I’m going to lose it. I seriously think I’m losing my mind. I mean, maybe I need to be on pills. Maybe they were what was keeping me sane and now all of my insanity is out there for the whole world to see.”
She doesn’t have to explain. I know what she means. I thrum my fingers on the side of my leg, racking my brain for something that will make this situation better. I need to calm her down and make her understand that she’s not in this alone. “Did I ever tell you about the time I ran my truck into the ditch?” I have a vague idea of where I’m going with this, but honestly I just might be rambling.
“What?” She gapes at me, dumbfounded. “How does that have anything to do with what I just said?”
I slide off the armrest and down onto the cushion, leaving a little distance between us as I kick my feet up onto the coffee table. “It happened two days after I decided to clean up my act. I was pretty much insane and my mind was all over the place. I seriously thought I was going crazy.” I omit the fact that a major part of this had to do with London, because even though I’ve realized my issues with holding on to London, I’m still not ready to talk to Lila about her. “I ended up dozing off and ramming my truck into a ditch. I was completely sober, and that in and of itself can be even more complex than getting high. It’s distracting, you know. And hard.”
She taps her foot on the ground, refusing to look at me. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because”—I lean closer to her and start to shut my eyes when I get a whiff of her perfume, but quickly blink my eyes open—“I want to let you know that I understand how you’re feeling and that sometimes things do feel all crazy, but it’ll fade.”
She sighs begrudgingly. “How long?”
“Until what?”
“Until it goes away completely?”
I stare ahead at the wall in front of us. “I’m not sure it ever does go completely away. It’s always kind of there, you know. Like a sleeping beast or something, but the intensity of the cravings fades away.”
She turns her head toward me. “Did the beast ever wake up for you? I mean, have you ever slipped up?”
I nod. “Once. About a year after I stopped doing drugs.” The day I saw London again. It was too much to see her like that, a shell of her old self.
“And then what?” Lila asks. “You just fixed yourself again?”
“Pretty much,” I say, again omitting the truth. That I was afraid of myself when I do drugs. Afraid of what I might become. Afraid I’d lose my mind, too, and end up jumping out a window, following in London’s footsteps. The people at the house had said they had no idea she went upstairs. That they didn’t see her. That’s because they were out of it and I should have been there for her. And she shouldn’t have shot up the damn heroin in the first place. What really gets to me though, and I’ll always wonder, is why did she jump? Was it because of the drugs? Or was it for another reason? Did she want to jump? If I hadn’t left her, then I’d know. If I hadn’t left her, then she might have not jumped. But she still might have. I’ll never really know.
Lila bites on her lip, soaking my words in like a sponge and I pray to God I’ve said everything right. She looks at me, her eyes big and blue, and she frees her lip. “You’re seriously like Mr. Miyagi or something.”
My eyebrows shoot upward and the dark tone of the night flips to amusement. “Did you seriously just reference the Karate Kid?”
She shrugs. “What? It’s just an old movie about kicking ass.”
“Yeah, but…” I shake my head. “It doesn’t seem like something you’d watch.”
“Well, I’m full of surprises.” She rolls her eyes like she’s saying the most ridiculous thing that’s ever existed, but really, it’s the truth. Good and bad, Lila has been surprising me over and over again and I wonder just how many more surprises I’m in store for. Good and bad.
“Yes, you are,” I say, truthfully, remembering how different she was when I first met her. “You really are.”
Chapter Eleven
Lila
Ethan’s teaching me how to take care of myself, like how to shop cheap at the grocery store and pretty much spend as little money as possible wherever I go. It’s a little bizarre, not just because I need to be taught these things at the age of twenty, but because what he’s teaching me goes against everything I’ve been taught. I grew up in a home with maids, nannies, dry cleaners, chauffeurs, and money always on hand. Then while I lived with Ella, when I couldn’t pay someone to do these things for me, she’d do them. Looking back at it now, I feel guilty. I should have never let her be responsible for cleaning up after me. Now I’m broke and doing my own laundry. It’s weird and kind of sucks, yet at the same time there’s this strange gratification of being able to take care of myself, like I’m finally not completely worthless.
“I have a job interview tomorrow morning,” I announce as I walk into the apartment, shutting the door behind me, feeling a little proud of myself, despite what position the interview is for.
Ethan glances up from the book he’s writing in at the kitchen table. His hair is swept back out of his eyes and sticks up e
verywhere. “Oh, thank God. Finally. I was beginning to think I was going to have to kick you out on the streets.” He grins, amused with himself, but there’s an underlying pain in his expression, almost as if he’s forcing his humorous self to come out to disguise something else.
I’d ask him about it, but after the whole truck fiasco I’m deciding it’s better if we keep a little bit of distance between us, until I can figure out where we stand.
“Rude much?” I toss my purse on the couch and chuck the keys at him. He ducks, laughing, and the keys miss him and hit the wall behind him. “And I know you would never put me out on the streets.” I grin as I enter the kitchen. “You like me way too much.”
“Do I now?” He sits up straight and humor dances in his eyes. “But I’m glad you finally got an interview. You’ve seriously applied for, like, a hundred jobs.”
“I know.” I sigh and head to the kitchen, opening the fridge. “But apparently if you’re twenty and have never worked before, no one wants you to work for them.” I grab a can of soda out of the fridge and bump the door shut with my hip. “They all kept looking at me like I was worthless, and I’m not.” I tap the top of my finger against the can as I sink down into the chair. “I’ve got skills, you know.”
“Mad finger skills?” He laughs as he eyes my finger tapping insanely against the top of the can.
I flip him my middle finger. “You would be very surprised at what I can do with my fingers.”
He clenches his fist and places it in front of his mouth. “Oh, I’m sure I would.”
We both go silent. I can hear the loud roar of an engine outside and the clanking of the refrigerator. It’s an awkward silence, which is becoming more common the longer I live here with him. I’m not sure what’s causing it. Sexual tension? Probably from me, but I’m assuming Ethan’s managed to maintain his playboy lifestyle, bringing his women home late at night and sending them home as soon as he’s done with them, because that’s what he’s always done. I haven’t actually seen any of them, but none of them in the past have stuck around very long anyway. I’d be disgusted by his behavior, but I’ve done the same thing time and time again, only I’m usually the one leaving the house in the early hours of the morning.
Ethan clears his throat and then shuts his book, shoving back from the table. “So should we go celebrate?”
“Celebrate what?” I take a gulp of my soda to cool down my body.
He scoops up the keys without taking his eyes off me. “The job interview.” He stands up straight, closing his fingers around the keys. “By the way, where is it at?”
I set the soda can down on the table. “It’s at that bar.” I try not to go into the details on purpose because I’m not sure how he’s going to react.
“What bar?” He pushes the chair in and tucks the keys into the back pocket of his jeans.
“The one down on that street by the old section of Vegas,” I say evasively, pushing away from the table. I collect my can and head for the hallway. “I’m going to go to bed early, so I can get some rest for tomorrow.” I glance over my shoulder as I step through the doorway. “Rain check on the celebration? I only want to celebrate if I get the job.”
He scans me over quizzically. “Where’s the job interview, Lila?”
“Nowhere.” I walk quickly down the hall to avoid any more questioning. Once I make it to my room, I shut the door and breathe in the silence, but as soon as I step away from the door it opens and Ethan comes walking in.
“Where’s the interview, Lila?” he repeats, standing in the doorway, looking vexed.
I place the soda can down on one of the boxes I haven’t unpacked yet and then cross my arms. “Why is this bothering you so much? I thought you were just happy I finally had an interview.”
He shifts his weight and then sweeps his fingers through his hair, brushing it out of his eyes. “Because… you’re not…” He’s struggling and I’m twistedly finding it amusing. “You’re not applying to be a stripper, are you?” His gaze locks on me and fury burns in his eyes.
Without taking my eyes off him, I sit down on the foot of my bed. “Why would it matter if I was? I thought you loved strippers.”
He shrugs, casually leaning against the door. “It doesn’t matter, but it’s not the place for you. You’re too…” His gaze skims my entire body, making even the coolness of the air conditioning feel stifling.
“Too what?” I press.
His attention lingers on my chest and then he blinks, fixing his eyes on my face. “It’s nothing… you just don’t fit in a place like that.”
I bend my knee and unfasten my sandal, wiggling my foot out. “I think a lot of people would disagree with you.” I shake my chest and then roll my eyes. “What else am I good for?”
He remains by the doorway, grasping on to the doorknob. “You’re good for a lot of things, you just don’t see it.”
Okay, so that was a little bit sweet. “Like what exactly?” I toss my sandal into the closet without getting up. “I can’t do anything by myself. I mean, you had to teach me to work the dishwasher for crying out loud.”
He lets go of the doorknob and sits down beside me on the bed while I take off my other sandal. “So what? Everyone has to learn sometime. You’re just learning a little bit later than most people.”
“Because I’m a spoiled brat who had a maid.”
“You don’t any more, though. You’re becoming an independent, strong Lila.” He winks at me and gives me a lopsided grin. “And that Lila doesn’t belong in a strip club.”
I think I may have just fallen in love with him. No one has ever said something so nice to me or put that kind of confidence in my character. In fact, I’ve been told the opposite for as long as I can remember. Lila, you’ll never make it. Lila, you’re worthless. Lila, you’re messing up this family. No one will ever love you if you don’t change into something they can love. Be perfect. Be beautiful. Because no one will want you if you’re not.
“Even though I know you’re to going to get annoyed with me for saying it,” I begin, slipping my foot out of my sandal, “you’re seriously really sweet when you want to be.”
He frowns with annoyance. “I’m not sweet. I’m actually really, really mean.”
“You’re so full of it.” Once I get my shoe off, I flop back on the bed, not bothering to tug my shirt down when it rides up over my stomach. “I have to take more of my clothes down to that store tomorrow because I’m running out of money. Can you give me a ride? Or can I borrow your truck?”
He lies down beside me on the bed, surprising me, and turns his head toward me. “You say that like it’s the most tragic thing that’s ever happened to you.”
“It kind of is.” I pout with my arms overlapped on my stomach and my gaze fixed on the ceiling. “As shallow as it’s going to sound, I love my clothes.”
“You’ll get over it.” He runs his finger along my exposed stomach, right above the scar hidden behind the waistband of my shorts, and I fight back the urge to shiver and moan. “Besides, you’re not dressed up all fancy now.” He props up on his elbow, keeping his fingers on my stomach, although I’m not even sure he realizes they’re there. He peers down at my tight, purple T-shirt that Ella left behind and my denim shorts I’ve never worn until today. “And you look pretty fucking good.”
“I’m dressed this way because of where I applied.” I have to work to keep my lungs moving as he continues to trace his fingers back and forth across my stomach. The insides of my thighs are starting to shake, more than any other time a guy has touched me. “I had to play the part.”
“And what part is that?” He cocks an eyebrow and then playfully pinches my stomach right above my belly button and a hot sensation coils deep within me. “Come on, just tell me where you might be working because I’ll end up finding out anyway.”
I begrudgingly sigh. “Fine… at Danny’s Happenin’ Bar and Entertainment.”
His fingers stop moving and his eyebrows arch. “The one o
n the old strip?”
I nod, avoiding eye contact with him. “Yep, that’d be the one.”
His fingers stay on my stomach for what seems like forever, blinding me with heat and deafening me with desire. I’m so relieved by the time he pulls them away because I swear I’m seriously on the verge of having an orgasm. “You dance?”
I tilt my head toward him, finally encountering his gaze. “Why do you sound so surprised?”
He wavers, chewing on his lip. “It’s just hard to picture you dancing… like that.”
“What? Slutty? I don’t see why you’d be surprised about that.”
“It’s not slutty,” he says, still seeming puzzled as his eyes do a quick sweep of my body. “It’s… sexy and kind of erotic, at least from what I can remember. It’s been a while since I’ve been down there.”
“It’s not that sexy… I mean, I don’t take my clothes off or anything,” I explain. “It’s just dancing at a bar and sometimes on the bar, depending on what night. I get to wear normal clothes… well, normal tight clothes. And eventually they’ll teach me how to bartend.”
“I know what it is, Lila.” His hand lazily scrolls up my body again and I swear to God I’m going to melt from the heat emitting from his eyes. Then he catches sight of his fingers on my stomach and, blinking at them, he quickly pulls his hand away.
I sit up, no longer wanting to be on the bed with him because I’m seriously about ready to straddle his lap and force myself on him. “Look, I really need to get some rest.” I climb off the bed and backtrack to the door, opening it wider so he’ll get the hint to leave and let me be horny for him in peace.
He doesn’t get up, only pushes up on his elbows. “You want me to leave?” He fakes a sexy pout, trying to be mocking, but it comes off more mouthwatering than anything. “I thought you were going to show me the moves you used when you applied.”
I place my hand on my hip and give him an overdramatic look of aggravation. “Ethan, seriously, stop teasing me. I only had to fill out an application so far. Besides, you really don’t want to see me dance. You just want to try to make me blush or something.”
The Temptation of Lila and Ethan ts-3 Page 18
