by Caisey Quinn
“Layla? Jesus,” I hear from somewhere far away. But I’m too far-gone to answer.
When I wake up, I’m in my bed feeling a little drained and whole lot out of it.
“Good morning, hon,” Aunt Kate says. She leans over and checks something on my forehead.
“Another one?” I ask, though I already know the answer.
“Yeah, scared me to death,” she says, lowering herself onto my bed. “You can stay home today.”
“No,” I answer, surprising us both as I throw the covers off. “I said I was going to get through this year and I meant it.” If I couldn’t make it through a year at Hope Springs High School, how the hell would I make it on my own in college?
I can see in her eyes that she wants to argue but she doesn’t. “Okay,” she says, standing to leave so I can get dressed. “Here.” She hands me two white pills and a glass of water. “Oh hey. I picked up a really cute dress at a boutique downtown yesterday. It’s hanging in your closet with the tags still on in case you don’t like it.”
“I’m sure I’ll love it,” I tell her as she steps out.
Just as I stand up and stretch, a pain shoots through my head and I feel the bandage with my hand. I should be used to this by now. Wincing, I make my way to the closet.
“Layla?” my aunt says, startling me as she pokes her head back in.
“Hm?” I find the maroon sweater dress and it is really cute.
“Your mom would be so sad to know that I’m letting you just ‘get through’ your life.”
“I know.” My head lowers at both the mention of my mother and the blatant, painful truth. “But it’s the best I can do right now.”
I’ve made it almost three full weeks into my senior year. Maybe I haven’t made any friends like Aunt Kate wanted, but I’m doing just fine on my own. I’m busy congratulating myself on my brazen independence and fortitude as I grab my Physics and English books out of my locker to take home. I’m the only senior that has to ride the bus, but that’s fine with me. I grab my iPod and earbuds for the ride, but just as I turn to leave, a large set of shoulders blocks my path.
“Excuse me,” I say, angling around the guy who obviously didn’t get the memo to avoid me.
“This is the weirdest school,” he mutters to himself, causing me to look up. And up, because he’s pretty freaking tall. Bright green eyes and a dimple smile down at me from under a mess of black hair. “Maybe you can tell me what’s going on, because I feel like I’m in the Twilight Zone.”
“What?” is all I can manage in reply.
“Look, I’m just going to say it because I’m new here and I have nothing to lose.” He smiles again and his perfect white teeth practically gleam. Ah, yes. New Guy from English and History class. Now I remember. Cocky, athletic, and moves around a lot.
“Please, unburden yourself,” I say, leaning against the locker and hugging my books to my chest, hoping he won’t cause me to miss the bus.
“What the hell is going on in this place?” He looks around at students brushing by us on their way out. His expression says he finds them lacking. Maybe New Guy isn’t so bad.
“Um, I’m not sure what you mean exactly.” Because I am the last person you should be asking. I have no idea what goes on around here, New Guy.
I step aside to get around him again, but he tilts his head in this way that makes me feel bad for him.
“I don’t really talk to many people, so I have no idea what’s going on around here.” There. Now that I’ve explained, I really need to get to my bus.
He lets me by but continues to follow. “School’s over. What’s the rush?”
“I have to catch the bus,” I say, knowing I probably won’t make it at this pace. He doesn’t say anything else but walks beside me until we get outside. Just in time to see the last bus pull out. Great.
Aunt Kate’s at the office today, and the last thing I want to do is call and make her leave work. I’m chewing on my lower lip and contemplating my options when New Guy speaks.
“Can I give you a ride?”
No.
“Yeah, um, that’d be great. It’s not far,” I tell him as I throw up a silent prayer that he’s not secretly a murderer or something.
“You really shouldn’t accept rides from strangers,” he informs me with a frown. My stomach tenses in fear that he’s mocking me. Retracting his offer. “Landen O’Brien,” he says offering me his hand and a mischievous grin.
Something about the gesture and his expression has a smile lifting the corners of my mouth as I look up into his light green eyes. They’re nearly crystal clear in the center but darker around the edges. “Layla Flaherty,” I say, taking his huge warm hand in mine. I’ve only shaken hands with doctors so I’m unprepared for the tingling sensation that hits me.
Despite the overwhelming surge of electricity flowing through me from his touch, I’m oddly relaxed as we walk to his truck. I feel like I can breathe. He’s new here. He doesn’t know what happened to my parents or that everyone in school treats me like a pariah. Or why.
Her southern drawl is so damn sexy it shoots straight from my ears to my dick. She needs help getting into the truck, and I am a gentleman, of course . But placing my hands on her waist to boost her in makes me realize how delicate she is. Fragile almost. And how much I don’t want to let go. I’m never going to be able to figure this girl out. Her eyes gave me a firm no when I asked if she needed a ride but her mouth said yes. Mmm, her mouth is amazing. Watching her bite her lip in frustration nearly killed me.
The whole ride I’m tripping over my tongue, trying to find something clever to say. The normal Landen O’Brien act probably won’t cut it with this girl since she obviously doesn’t give two shits what anyone else thinks. By the time she points me to her street, I’ve relaxed a little but I’m getting lightheaded from trying to inhale her warm peach and honey scent. Rich and sweet and enticing as all hell. To make matters worse, she’s wearing a dress that bares smooth, tan legs begging to be wrapped around me.
I shake my head to remove the inappropriate images assaulting my mind and clear my throat. “So you like classic rock?” I ask, hoping she does. She’s barely said a word and I’m struggling to fill the silence. There’s a bandage marring her forehead. I want to ask about it but it looks like she worked pretty hard on arranging her hair to cover it so I keep my mouth shut.
“I do,” is all she says. But I sense she’s smirking at me. “Why do you ask?”
“Uh, no reason.” But there is a reason, kind of a lame one, and I think she knows what it is.
“You have it, don’t you?” Her smile makes my heart speed up, and I’m nervous around a girl for the first time in my life.
“Have what?” I ask, still content to play dumb in case this is a sore subject. I’m probably like the millionth person to make the connection. I watch helplessly as she snatches my iPod off the dock in the dash. Shaking my head, I give her an apologetic grin when Layla , the rock version, comes through the speakers.
“Ah, and you have the ballad as well. Good for you.” She’s still smiling and it’s doing something to me. Either it’s because of me, or because of my iPod, whichever. I could seriously watch this girl smile forever. The thought kind of freaks me out but I shrug it off. When I pull into the driveway she says is hers, I want to think of a reason to keep her talking. And smiling. Like, maybe for the rest of her life. Because apparently this girl makes me lose my mind.
I’m tempted to walk her to her door and ask if I can drive her to and from school every day. But the coach told me I made the soccer team today so I know I won’t always be able to drive her home.
“So, um, thanks for the ride,” she tells me, unbuckling her seatbelt.
“No problem.” For a second our eyes meet and it looks like she’s about to say something else.
<
br /> Again, I scramble to fill the quiet. “Um, hey, what happened?” Gently, my hand brushes her hair to the side, and I’m off balance just from the realization that she’s letting me touch her.
“Oh, nothing. I’m clumsy,” she says with a shrug, but her hands are shaking. I know I need to go, to back off. I can sense it. But there’s something about her ocean-colored eyes that keeps me from looking away. Something’s up. I know. I’ve had bandages and casts and injuries I couldn’t tell anyone about either. But the tension is literally rolling off her so hard she’s nearly vibrating. Subject change needed.
“You don’t ever drive to school?” I ask, noticing there’s no car in the carport.
“Don’t have a car,” she answers shortly, and then she looks away and pushes her door open before I can ask any more questions. As much as I want to beg her to stay in the truck a little longer, tell me more about her name, her favorite music, the bandage on her head, I can tell she’s overwhelmed. So I let her leave.
She doesn’t look back once. My eyes are glued to the image of her walking away from me. It doesn’t make sense, but it bothers the hell out of me the whole way home.
As I turn onto my own street, I remember I was supposed to stay after school today for team workouts. I promised my dad I’d stop by the football field to try out for the open kicker position. Shit.
Mentally I make up an excuse about feeling sick and leaving school early to tell the coaches when I see them tomorrow. But when I pull up and the Colonel’s truck is in the driveway, I know I’m fucked.
“You’re home early,” Aunt Kate says when she comes home a few minutes after me.
“Yeah. I, um, got a ride.” Please don’t ask.
“From?” she asks, sorting through the mail she brought in as she tries to look less interested than she really is.
“Landen O’Brien.” And I can’t help it. Saying his name makes me smile. It also fills me with a warmth I’m not expecting. I have a friend. Sort of.
At that my aunt drops the mail and stares at me. “Is he cute?” She’s probably turning cartwheels in her mind at the possibility that I might stop being an antisocial loser after all. Keep the dream alive, Aunt Kate.
“No, he’s got this messed up grill and he walks like a hunchback actually.” Shuddering for emphasis, I bite my lip to keep from grinning.
“You’re hilarious, Layla,” she says with an eye roll.
“If I’m being honest, he’s way better than cute,” I say quietly, fully aware that my face is on fire. “And he’s new so…” So he doesn’t know what a complete freak show I am. But then, my aunt doesn’t know how bad it is for me at school so I just keep the rest of that sentence to myself.
“Lay, I know you don’t want to hear this, but if you do keep hanging out with him, you’re going to have to tell him about—”
“It was a ride home. Relax.”
But for the rest of the evening, I can’t relax. All I can think about is Landen O’Brien’s sweet smile and the way he blushed when I put on Layla in the truck. Maybe Aunt Kate was right. Maybe I can do more than just get through.
“Here, put this on it,” my mom says as she hands me a pack of frozen mixed vegetables for my jaw. Needless to say, when the Colonel called the Hope Springs High School athletic department to find out how my football tryout had gone and to get a game schedule, he was pretty pissed when the football coach mentioned that I was a no-show.
“He just has high expectations for you, Landen. You know that,” she reminds me. Making excuses for him has always been something she was good at it. But her eyes don’t meet mine. Believing her own excuses, however, she’s not so good at.
After I’d run the five miles for my punishment, I was stupid enough to make a comment about how it was my life, and with the Colonel already pissed, he jacked my jaw in response. I should know better by now. And I’m big enough to take him. But I just really don’t care anymore. And it would kill my mom to see us whaling on each other. So I suck it up like I’ve always done.
Landen’s mouth feels so good on mine, I almost feel sorry for any girl who’ll never get to kiss him. Almost. His hands are big and strong and warm on my hips, pulling me closer, as if that’s possible. My body molds into him, and a fleeting thought races past. What if someone sees us?
I glance around the parking lot to see if anyone else has arrived but we’re still alone.
Until a black Chevy Avalanche with tinted windows pulls up beside us. A man in a dark hooded sweatshirt jumps out and I recognize him but I don’t know from where.
“Landen,” I murmur against his lips but he’s lost in our kissing. His tongue presses into my mouth when I open it and I can’t breathe. “Landen. Landen, stop.” I shove my hands against his chest but he doesn’t budge. His hands wrap around me, clutching me closer, too close. The man’s coming closer but I can’t warn him.
“Landen!” I scream but it’s too late. The gunshots ring out and his body goes limp in my arms.
“Landen!”
I wake up grasping my comforter. It’s twisted and gripping me so tightly I can barely move to disentangle myself.
Well, that’s a new twist on an old nightmare. Sweat soaks my t-shirt and I try to shake the images on the way to the shower. And now, for reasons that aren’t his fault in any way, I don’t want to see Landen O’Brien ever again.
Which is unfortunate, because as soon as I step outside, he’s there. Waiting for me. Leaning up against his truck, looking like a magazine ad. Just like in my nightmare, I’m suddenly smothered and unable to breathe at the sight of him.
I’ve built walls around myself, carefully constructed them piece by painstaking piece to keep myself safe. Unseen, unaffected. And Landen’s grinning at me with a smile that might as well be a sledgehammer. When he opens the truck door for me and our eyes meet, his intentions are clear. He wants to tear down those walls, send them crashing all around me. Doesn’t he realize they’ll bury me? Us?
“What are you doing here?” Part of me is relieved. I was starting to think I’d dreamed him. But the thought of dreams reminds me of my nightmare last night, and my stomach tightens as bile rises in my throat.
“Thought you might like a ride,” he answers, smiling that tempting smile at me.
“This going to be a regular thing?” I ask out of curiosity as he helps me into the truck.
“Do you want it to be?” He arches an eyebrow and I can’t help but smile back.
“If you do.”
“I do,” he says and his grin widens. “I think we’re married now.”
“You don’t have to do this, you know. I can handle the bus.”
He’s still shaking his head when he gets in on his side. “Yeah, who doesn’t love a bus full of obnoxious freshmen who don’t shower after gym class?” He winks at me and my insides start to tingle. What is it about this guy? Why do I feel like he was sent here just for me?
“Actually I’m going to have soccer and football practice after school Monday through Thursday, but I can at least give you a ride to school and I can take you home on Fridays.”
“You play both?” I didn’t even know you could do that.
His jaw clenches, and it might be my imagination, but his knuckles are white on the steering wheel. “I play soccer but the football team needs a kicker so I’ll be doing that too, probably.”
Maybe he wasn’t just sent here for me after all. “I think maybe I’d like to see you play. Both, I mean.” I glance out the window so I don’t have to see his face when he tells me I can sit with his girlfriend. Or so he won’t see mine. He clears his throat and I turn back to him.
“Maybe some days you can stay after school and check out practice, maybe catch a few games? When I don’t say anything, he hurries on. “I could drive you home afterwards.”
“By the time games end I’m sure my Aunt Kate could come get me so you don’t have to go out of your way.”
“No, I meant, I want to take you home after. So you can give me the play-by-play on what you think of my skills,” he says with a wink.
“Hmm, I’ll think about it,” I say, doing my best to keep my voice even though all I’m thinking about are the “skills” of his I’ve already dreamt of.
“Hey, Landen?” Layla asks me as we head into school. I can sense her literally shrinking back against the looks we’re getting.
I fight the urge to put my arm around her. Barely. “Yeah?”
“What were you talking about yesterday when you said things were weird here?”
Oh yeah. That. My bombed pick up line. So glad she remembered. “Uh, well.” I run a hand through my hair and decide to just lay it out there. “I thought I was going to have to fight someone just to talk to you. I mean, you’re literally the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen in real life and I expected guys to be like, lined up. But you were always alone every time I saw you so…I’ve decided guys here must be blind and dumb.” There, that didn’t sound too bad. I watch her, waiting for her to tell me I don’t have a chance.
She smiles this tiny little smile with only one side of her mouth turning up. Then she bites her lip and her grin widens, lighting up her entire face. And I can’t breathe. No one has ever smiled at me like that. Like I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to them.
“That’s very sweet, minus the fighting part,” she says finally and I exhale.
“Yeah, well, sweet’s not something people usually call me, but from you I’ll take it.”
I watch her roll her eyes. “Gee thanks. And what do people usually call you?”
