Give Me You (8 page)

“Stop changing the subject,” I tell her, because I sense that there is so much more we should be discussing than this.

“He just… he just makes me so… ugh!”

“Horny?” I offer.

Layla looks legitimately appalled. “Oh my God, never say that word to me again. I hate that word. It’s so crude and not even a halfway decent way to describe what Landen O’Brien does to me.”

“Mmhm.” I look her over carefully. All the signs are there. Flushed skin, diallated pupils, and trembling hands. She’s definitely turned out just by talking about him. “You can clutch your pearls all you want, Georgia. But that boy twists you all up, and I don’t think kissing’s gonna get the job done.”

“Whatever. You basically said he was nuts. Now we share one kiss and I’m supposed to do him?”

Good point. “Ah, no, you’re probably right. Maybe hold off on that. But sometimes we have to let things happen to us, you know? Even uncontrollable things that might turn from bliss to shit before we can rein it in. Because that’s living. Things have to happen, you have to go on scary adventures, follow your heart, and let it lead you down dark alleys that may dead end in a pit of despair. Otherwise you’re just existing, and who the hell wants to settle for that?”

“But…” Layla gapes at me, but I’m not done. She’s sheltered and innocent and I get that. But I know from experience that what I saw tonight wasn’t just a hook up.

“But nothing. You need to decide if you’re ready for this, ‘cause it’s coming. He’s here, and I saw the look on his face, in his eyes, every time I interrupted you tonight. There’s a storm brewing between the two of you. Either hang on, let it pick you up, and risk letting it beat your heart to hell and back before setting you back down or you can batten down the hatch and tell him to leave you the fuck alone. And if he hurts you, I’ll be here to put a hit out on him with a few simple texts and a photo. But you have to know it’s a possibility. Which, judging from the condition you were in earlier… you do.”

My heart beats a little harder in my chest as memories I’ve tried to bury fight their way to the surface. Yeah, some bad things have happened to me but some pretty amazing things have happened too and I don’t think I’d trade them for the pain.

Layla looks torn and utterly lost. “What if I don’t know what I want yet?”

I shrug. It’s kind of a relief to know she doesn’t have her shit together any more than I do. “Then you need to tell him to back off till you figure it out. Good luck with that…And hey, whatever he was wanting you to tell me so bad… you can. I know it may not seem like it after tonight, but you can trust me.”

“I know,” Layla says softly.

“Boys,” I huff out to lighten the mood. “Can’t live with ‘em, can’t tie ‘em to your bed and use them as you see fit.” I shake my head to convey my disappointment in this. “Damn societal norms.” Layla laughs and I continue. “Maybe just take it one day at a time. Like, what do you want right now?”

She yawns, causing me to yawn right along with her “Right now, I want to eat those double-stuffed Oreos you’re hoarding behind your makeup bag and watch Pitch Perfect until I pass out on this futon.”

I get up to grab the cookies in question, and Layla’s phone vibrates on the desk beside mine.

“Can you grab that while you’re up please?” she asks, a quilt she brought with her to her chest. I hand over the Oreos and she opens them. “Why do they even bother to make regular Oreos when there’s double stuffed?”

I hand her the phone without answering. “You have one new message.”

She texts for several minutes before the movie starts and God love her, girlfriend is so transparent. Clearly Landen isn’t finished working her up for the evening. After stuffing my face with an Oreo and queuing up the movie, I wait for her to finish up. But four Oreos in and she’s still glued to her phone.

Rookie move. Skylar will text tomorrow and I’ll wait at least two days before answering.

“Layla, we watching a movie or what?”

“Um, yeah, I—” her phone buzzes, interrupting her response.

“Layla, pause or play?” I wait for her to look up but she doesn’t. “Layla?”

Dear Lord, girl. Make the boy sweat a little at least. I make a mental note to work with her on this.

“Play! Hit play!”

She sits her phone aside and I shake my head in the dark.

College is turning out to be a lot more interesting than I expected.

A
fter the mundane mind-fuck that is freshman seminar, Corin and Layla ask if they can use O’Brien’s truck to run to Target and buy a fan because their AC went out. I try to play it cool when they start talking about sleeping in the nude, but damn. The thought of Red naked nearly breaks me.

I keep giving Landen hell about being so focused on one girl when we’re surrounded my so many, but in a way, I’m starting to get it. Sometimes a certain one just appeals to you on a level beyond comprehension.

I’ve dated a lot of girls and I like to keep it casual. Dinners, movies, parties, hook ups. Easy peasy.

I don’t play games, don’t lie about wanting more, or even give off any false illusions of being boyfriend material. Did that once in high school and it was an epic fail. Soccer will always be my first love and my plan is to go pro as soon as possible.

Literally every girl I’ve ever hung out with has been cool with this.

But Corin Connelly confuses the hell out of me.

After practice, I decide to shower and wear cologne in hopes of at least attempting to prove I’m not the repulsive caveman she seems to think I am.

An hour later, we pick up the girls and they climb into the backseat of the truck cab. Neither of them say much, and Landen is his normal barely communicative self, so I fill the silence talking about practice and share my opinions on our teammates in hopes he’ll chime in. Mostly he just checks out Layla in the rear view and tosses her wounded please-take-me-home-from-the-pound puppy looks at her.

Target is full but the fan selection isn’t great. Apparently a lot of freshmen are without AC. Corin and Layla debate on what type of fan to get for fifteen minutes before I grab an oscillating floor fan from the shelf.

Seriously. Chicks. It’s a fan. Not like they have to marry it.

As we leave the store, it start to sprinkle a little. Corin and I argue about whether we should get Mexican food or run by the diner closer to campus where she’s planning to put in a job application.

By the time we reach O’Brien’s truck, the sprinkling has turned to an all out downpour. The poor fan is going to get soaked, or the cardboard box it’s in will

“I’ll run back in the store and buy a tarp,” I say just before running quickly through the parking lot.

I peruse the lawn and garden section before finding a blue one that should work fine. I pay for it then run back outside and grab the fan from the girl. Landen gets out to help me secure the tarp over the truck bed. He looks flustered and I wonder if it was safe to leave him alone in the enclosed space with Layla and Corin for that long.

We’ve just hit University Boulevard when break lights appear for miles in front of us. I’m starving but traffic looks pretty backed up.

“Is there another way? A side street or anything?” Landen asks. I assume he’s asking me since no one else is from here. But I haven’t exactly mapped out campus yet.

The rain begin coming down in sheets.

“Damn,” I mutter under my breath. “I’m thinking you could take Langston over to—”

I’m interrupted by the squeal of tires and a loud thundering sound of the impact of metal on metal.

“Fuck!” I call out as my neck jerks forward and then back. One of the girls screams and before I can blink, O’Brien damn near jumps over the seat, practically taking Corin’s head off in an attempt to get his arms around Layla.

I look back, confused at why he’s having another one of his major freak outs even though she seems fine despite a little shakiness.

“You’re okay. It’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re safe,” he says to her, rocking her gently while Corin and I meet each other’s confused gazes.

Before I can ask if they’re okay, I hear sirens. I look everyone over and O’Brien definitely got the worst of it. I have a small gash on my forehead and Corin is rubbing her neck but we’re okay. Landen is bleeding, maybe from the arm and maybe from the head, I can’t be sure with him all over Layla the way he is.

A beige Suburban hit us and is still connected to O’Brien’s tailgate.

“You need to get back in the driver’s seat,” Corin says softly, “before the cops think something majorly shady is going on.”

She’s right, and I make a noise of agreement but Landen doesn’t detach from Layla..

“Fuck it,” I say, sliding over into the driver’s seat. One little reckless op ticket won’t kill me or my soccer career. And clearly some major shit is happening between Layla and Landen at the moment so I take one for the team.

Without another word, Corin climbs over the center console and buckles herself into the passenger seat. I shrug in her direction and she gives me a half-smile that pretty much says ‘our roommates are insane. What can you do?’

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry,” we hear Landen murmuring over and over.

“Not your fault,” she responds.

I’m guessing the cops might have a different opinion, but now isn’t the time.

W
e give the police our licenses and proof that Landen has insurance on his truck before going to the university medical center to get checked out. Skylar gets two butterfly stitches over the tiny gash in his forehead. Layla and I are given prescriptions for what basically amounts to extra strength Tylenol for possible whiplash.