by Bailey B
Water splashes up by my hips with each step until I’m a little more than knee deep. I peel her off me, throwing her a few feet away and into the water. She comes up a few seconds later and wipes her face with both hands, pushing her hair out of her eyes which narrow on me.
Layla walks towards me at a snail’s pace. The water is up to her waist, making it difficult for her to move with any kind of speed. I hold my ground, waiting for her to enact her revenge.
She does.
She lunges at me. Her chest presses against mine, arms curling around my neck, and I allow myself to fall backward. My arms scrape against the ground, but there’s enough dirt over the rocks. I don’t think I’m bleeding.
“That was mean,” Layla says, wrapping her legs around my waist to sit in my lap.
“Never said I was nice.”
She laces her fingers around my neck and shakes her head. “You’re the nicest man I know, Josh, and I mean that in the best of ways.”
My phone vibrates in the cup holder when we’re almost back to the barn. I pull the side-by-side around the side of the barn and wash the mud off before checking the message.
I must frown because Layla asks, “Is it that chick again? The one from Cowboy’s?”
She tucks her hands in her back pockets and forces a smile, but I can feel it again. That tension from last night. It thickens with each millisecond I let hang between us and I want it gone.
“No.” I tilt my phone so she can see the screen. I have nothing to hide. She needs to know that. “Sam’s truck broke down again. He wants to know if I can come get him.”
“You should go,” she says, her shoulder’s not quite so tense.
“Are you sure?” I toss my phone onto the side-by-side's bench, then hook my finger through Layla’s belt loop. I pull her close, until we’re toe to toe.
Layla tucks her hair behind her ear and grins, that beautiful flush of pink covering her cheeks again. “I should be heading home anyway. I know you wanted me to stay the weekend, but I’ve got to get a hold of some donors for my event that’s in a few weeks.”
I don’t want her to go, but I get it. My job is my life. I respect that hers is, too. Most people our age don’t have a good work ethic. “I want to see you again.”
“Do you now?” She smirks and sets her hands on my chest.
I tilt my head down until our foreheads touch. Letting her go is too much, but not knowing if she’ll come back is damn near crippling. I don’t care what it takes, don’t care that an attraction this strong doesn’t make sense; I need Layla in my life. “I do.”
She presses a chase kiss to my lips then pushes my back, a playful grin in place. “I’m leaving before I give in to whatever this is.”
“Okay,” I say through a chuckle, not understanding what she means. “Let me walk you to the house to get your things.”
“No!” Layla holds her hand out to me. “You stay there.” I look at her curiously and she adds, “This is hard, Josh. I want to stay. I want to kiss you and…” Her cheeks flush red again and she bites her lip. “You make me want to do things I’ve only read about in books, and that scares me. So, you stay right where you are. That way, when I get into my car, I’ll stay there and not run back across this grass and rip your shirt off.”
Ding.
Josh: What are you doing Saturday?
My earbud reads the text message as I’m folding the linens from last week’s event. Even though I’ve been busting my ass to keep my grades up this semester, I’m still working for my aunt. Part time, of course, and for the same pathetic excuse of a salary, but money is money.
I never realized how expensive food is. Or gas for that matter. It’s forty dollars every time I visit Josh. And while I have only been there three times since school started, that’s almost a quarter of my allowance each month. I set the clean tablecloth in a Sterilite tub along with the others from last week's event and swipe my phone off the table.
Me: My brother and his buddies are flying into Orlando for a guy’s weekend. I was going to hang with them Saturday.
