Page 25 of The Playboy's Playbook

I put my feet on the ground and bring the swing to a stop. I reach forward and place my hands on top of Matthew’s which finally makes him bring his eyes back to me.

“I had the best day.”

Chapter Eleven

MATT

“Do you have to go, Miss Laila?” Clay asks, his hand clutching Laila’s. She’s holding Jen on her hip and he’s completely knocked out sleep on her shoulder. Luke is walking next to me carrying her to-go plates while I carry Nola and her puppy bag.

“I’m sure I’ll see you guys again, kiddo,” Laila says softly, her hair blowing in the wind. Clay pouts and hugs her leg while Luke and I load up her car.

“Bud, she’ll be back. I’m sure Uncle Matty will let you know when,” Luke says as he pulls Jen from Laila’s hold. He stirs and whines but relaxes as soon as he’s on his dad’s shoulder. Luke nods for Clay to let go of Laila and he does reluctantly.

“It was good meeting you, Laila. Don’t be a stranger,” Luke says as he pulls Laila into a side hug. She smiles and nods, waving to Clay before Luke guides him back inside, leaving Laila and me alone. I gently place Nola inside her carrier, making sure I don’t wake her. Nola doesn’t stir, even when Laila cranks the car to let the air run.

“She could sleep through anything,” Laila laughs. I never not want to hear her laugh. I’m obsessed with it and I want to be the reason for it.

“Do you plan on going to the Memorial Day fireworks show the city’s hosting at the end of the month?” she asks, fidgeting with her hands.

“Laila Wright, are you asking me on a date?” I ask, half-joking, half-serious.

“No, Matthew Foster, I’m not. I’m simply asking if you planned to go.”

“I do now.”

“Then I’ll see you at the fireworks show,” Laila says, getting into her car. She rolls the window down and I lean inside and maintain the space between us, but I so badly want to kiss her.

“Text me when you’re home,” I say, planting a kiss on her cheek.

She nods and all too soon pulls away from Luke’s house. I put my hands in my pockets and watch her car disappear down the road.

Today was a really good day.

September, 2008

I don’t really like school. If I could stay home and play with my trucks all day, I would. I only go to school because mom makes me. The only good thing about school is that it’s where I can see my best friend, Laila.

I call her Lala and she calls me Matty. She’s kind of quiet and doesn’t say a lot, but that’s why she’s my best friend. I like to talk and she listens. We “balance” each other out. That’s what mom says best friends do.

When school started last month, I was sad that I didn’t have a single friend from first grade in my class, but then I met Laila. She and I sit next to each other, so we share crayons and trade marbles.

She loves the color pink – almost everything she has is pink. Her hair is super long and curly. It bounces a lot when she walks. I like her hair. She said she doesn’t like people touching her hair, but when I asked if I could, she smiled and told me that I would be the only person who could touch her hair, other than her mom.

That made me feel special. Laila makes me feel special. I feel like if Laila had superpowers, it would be the power to make anybody fall in love with her.

The more time I spend with her makes me think that maybe girls don’t have cooties after all.

As soon as Monday rolled around, Luke and I immediately went back into builder mode to finish this project. Alabama got hit with a bunch of thunderstorms and that set us back. Luke’s been stressed about it because he doesn’t like projects being pushed back.

I don’t like that it got pushed back because I haven’t been able to lay my eyes on Laila since I’ve had to be in a different city. We haven’t called each other, but damn do I want to. I want to hear her voice and hear about her day without reading a text message. It’s a lot of things I want with Laila, but if this construction work doesn’t wrap up soon, I can kiss all of those things goodbye.

“Matty!” Luke shouts from the break tent. I walk over to him and sit down, thankful to be out of the heat.

“If you ask me to sit in that damn forklift again, I’m quitting,” I say before I guzzle a bottle of water in one sitting.

“I was going to tell you that you can take your lunch now if you want. The university is closing down campus early, so I’m letting everyone go home,” Luke says, throwing a pencil at me.

“Hell, yeah. You want anything?” I ask, standing from the seat and unfastening my vest.

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