Give Me You (4 page)

“But it had the potential to be more. A lot more. And then he moved away.” She shrugs like this isn’t a big deal. But I can tell by the way she chews her lip that it is. “And now he’s here.”

I lean forward propping on my elbows. This is an interesting development and I’m not sure what to make of it. If I saw someone from my high school here, ex or no, I’d either hug them or flip them off—depending on who it was. Unless it was Eddie. If Eddie shows up I’ll run, kind of like my roommate did. God, I hope soccer boy isn’t a domineering asshole like Eddie.

I have to ask. No one ever asked about my bruises or the missed school or why I dropped out to get my GED.

“Layla, I have eyes. You were trembling with… rage or fear or something. Did he
hurt you
?”

I hold my breath while waiting for her answer.

“No,” she shakes her head, but her eyes are saying something different. Whatever happened between them, there was definitely some serious pain involved. Thankfully, she clarifies before I hunt his hot ass down. “Not like you mean, but yeah. Um, I thought it was more than it was… more than friendship. Turns out he had a girlfriend in Colorado, where he was from. And he went back to her and that was that.”

Whew. Okay, that sucks. But I know from experience that it could’ve been so much worse.

“What a dick,” I say, surprised by her immediate giggle. She has a sweet laugh and I realize in that moment that she really doesn’t laugh much.

“There’s maybe a little more to it than that. But I don’t even know all the details for certain, and it’s exhausting to think about. I just can’t believe he’s here.”

The bright red word
Stalker
appears bright behind my eyes.

“Oh shit. Do you think he might be stalking you or something?” I feel my chest constrict at the possibility. “Should we tell someone?”

Layla sighs and turns her eyes to the ceiling. “Um no, I don’t think so. I think he might have failed to apply to any other schools besides this one and UGA, where we were supposed to go together so…”

Hmm. That better be all it is. If soccer boy gives her any hell I’ll just have Tony come break his legs. Can’t play soccer with no kneecaps.

“So here you are, both of you.” Some stupid childish part of me, the one that still loves butterflies, breathes life into the possibility of this guy actually being like a real life Romeo or some shit. Maybe he’s here just for her—to win her back. Or maybe the universe just wants them to be together. “It’s like fate or something.”

“No.” Layla shakes her head frantically like I’ve suggested we kick a baby out the window. “Not fate.”

Well, so much for that little fantasy. “Fine. I don’t really believe in any of that anyway. But at the very least maybe you guys could talk, and he could explain why he went back with that other girl—”

“No.”

“Okay, well, it’s kind of a small campus and—”

“Corin.”

“Okay, okay,” I relent, ending the interrogation by holding my hands up in surrender. “But can I ask one more question?”

She huffs a little like a miffed kitten and leans back on her throw pillows. “If you must.”

I try to contemplate how to phrase this. I never had many female friends and the ones I did worked for Eddie so they were a little more crass on this particular topic than I think Layla is capable of handling.

“Did he, I mean… is he the one?”

Her face twists in confusion. “The one what?”

“You know, the one. The one who took your v-card.”

“Oh my God, no. I’m still carrying that particular card, thank you very much.” She rolls her eyes and I fight off a smile. She’s a virgin. An honest to God, live in the flesh virgin. It’s like someone paired us together as a joke. I lost my virginity at fifteen and never looked back…until this past summer.

“Well, was he like your first kiss or something? Cause I gotta tell you, the way you ran out of there…”

She doesn’t answer so I begin to fidget. If talking about kissing makes her blush like this, we really have absolutely nothing in common. Suddenly it feels like it’s going to be an extremely long year. And I feel…dirty in comparison.

“Layla?” Her eyes are closed, and I’m wondering if she’s trying to play dead. “Layla Flaherty, roommate of mine, at the very least you are going to give me some juicy details about making out with that beautiful hunk of man meat.”

She shakes her head. “Can’t.”

Whoa. “You guys never even kissed? Seriously?”

The man-child looked like he was going to bust out a machete and hack a bloody path to her if need be. Several marching band members likely have no idea how close to death they probably just were. How in the hell could he be so intense about someone he’d never even kissed?

“Wow. But he looked so—”

“I’ve never been kissed. By him or anyone.”

Okay, her blushing about sex made me feel a little dirty but knowing she’s never been kissed makes me feel like I was raised smack in the middle of Sodom and Gomorrah, which in a way, I guess I kind of was.

I can’t help it. I practically fly off the bed, slamming my head into a shelf above my bed and knocking several pictures down. Rubbing my wounded head, I glare at the shelf feeling like it snuck up and attacked me. Then I turn to Layla and assess how truly gorgeous she really is.

Petite facial features in perfect proportion, straight blond hair the color of spun gold, light smattering of freckles below her clear blue green eyes. She’s like a Ralph Lauren ad come to life. Stick her on a sailboat and she’s hired. And no one ever even kissed her in eighteen whole years? It doesn’t even make sense. I tell her so.

“You’re like a…” I struggle to think of something equally as rare. “Unicorn,”

Her eyebrows shoot up immediately. “What?”

“Layla, holy hell. You’re eighteen, gorgeous, and no guy has ever kissed you? It’s not even… I mean, it doesn’t even make logical sense. Especially since classes haven’t even started and a ridiculously hot guy looked more than ready to climb over an entire marching band to get to you.”

My words must remind her of him, because her gaze fades from the present and focuses on something far away.

She looks so…sad. My heart breaks a little for her. This girl deserves to be kissed. And I’ve intruded enough on her privacy. Knowing I wouldn’t be at all comfortable discussing my past the way I’ve pretty much forced her to, I sigh and stand to give her some space. “I am going to leave you be—for now. But tonight, there will be parties. We will be at these parties. You will be getting kissed at said parties if it’s the last thing I do.”

I’m about to head into the small common room attached to our bedroom when she calls after me. “Hey, um, thanks for leaving with me. I know I was kind of intense.”

I smile at the apology in her eyes. This girl couldn’t be intense if she tried. “No problem. That’s what friends do.”

I leave her, feeling extremely pleased to have realized that we are, in fact, friends.

A few hours later Layla stumbles out of the tiny closet we call a bedroom looking like a rumpled mess.

“I’m all done in the bathroom if you want to shower,” I tell her as she blinks her eyes into focus.

“Is that a hint?” She glances down at herself, and I grin.

“Um, actually it’s a direct order, but I thought I should phrase it nicely since we’ve only been living together a short time.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Layla, the goal is to get boys to want to kiss you. Though you could go as you are and pretend to be wasted and I’d probably have to fight them off you.”

She snorts out a laugh. “You’re hilarious.”

Thank goodness for social media. I’ve already found the goods on the best party closest to our dorm. “There’s a party within walking distance of campus. We’re going. A cute boy is going to kiss you before the night is over. Here.”

I toss her my favorite red dress and she eyes it cautiously. “I thought you wanted me to get kissed. Not raped.”

Oh wow. Poor thing. With the khaki shorts and cotton tops, she kind of dresses like an Amish housewife going on safari, a cute one, but still.

“Ugh, this is going to be harder than I thought.” I roll my eyes skyward. “Wear tights under it, if you must.”

A half-hour later, she’s showered and trying to cover the dress I loaned her with a cardigan sweater. Lord help this child. She has more sweater sets than any eighteen year- old girl should. So at least one.

We compromise and she wears leggings and flats. I can only work so many miracles at a time.

After we’ve both added makeup to our ensembles we stand side by side in the full-length mirror on my closet door. My legs are bare under my secondhand Versace white lace skirt. I paired it with a sheer tank and black leather jacket and boots. I like conflicting looks—soft and sweet plus biker chick badass.

“I doubt many guys will notice me with you around,” she says, nudging me gently.

I look at her reflection and frown. She’s gorgeous, naturally, in a way that I could never be. I need two layers of primer and foundation to hide my freckles and she could go out barefaced and stop traffic.

“Layla, I don’t know what you see when you look in the mirror, but I was just thinking that you look like the girl every guy wants to take home to Mom. And I look like the slut he hooks up with behind your back.”

She scoffs like I’m being ridiculous. “You don’t look slutty, Corin.” She shakes her blond head. “You look like a friggin’ supermodel. The only reason a guy might even talk to me tonight is to get your number. Makes me wonder what the person in charge of assigning roommates was thinking.”

I kind of wondered that too. But this girl seriously does not see herself. Maybe that’s what she needs me for. “They were thinking that you needed me,” I say, nudging her back. “And hey, I was thinking—”

“Oh no. She’s thinking again.” Layla rolls her eyes at me, and I can’t help but smile. Thank the good Lord, the girl actually has a sense of humor.

“Shut up. Seriously, I am all for getting you kissed tonight because honestly, you don’t know true bliss until someone has made the world spin around you. Made you dizzy and tingly with a deep, hot as hell kiss that goes on and on until you don’t care if you ever get to breathe again.” I sigh because damn, I do miss those kinds of kisses. But this isn’t about me. “But I can be kind of pushy, in case you haven’t noticed. If you don’t want to do this, say the word and I’ll drop it.”

Layla looks slightly stunned and I worry for a second that I’ve overloaded her virginal senses. “No, um, I mean, I’m in. It’s time. It’s way past time I think.”

Atta girl.
“Hells yeah.”

She tugs her skirt down lower, and I snicker. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”

I take her arm and we leave, setting out to get her kissed. God, I hope she really is ready and I’m not just corrupting some sweet innocent girl from Georgia.

You’re wasting your time, Corin. They won’t let a bargain basement hooker into college.

Layla looks over as if she’s noticed that I’ve tensed, and I force a smile.

Fuck you, Eddie.