Page 46 of Keep Me Still

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“Corintotally ignored me this morning. I am definitely hitting the showers before we pick them up.”

Smirking at him, I let out a small noise of disagreement. “Maybe she’s not impressed with your mad skills. Maybe a shower won’t even help.”

“Uh huh, says the guy falling over himself to get to a girl who is never going to give it up.”

Skylar and I give each other shit all the way back to the dorm after practice. I need to go for a run, exhaust myself so I won’t have any energy left for lusting after the girl I’m supposed to be playing it cool with. But they’re waiting, and if I want to shower, there’s not really time.

Lazy piece of shit, my father’s voice says in my head. And dammit, I’ve at least got to get a short run in. I tell Skylar so and he looks at me like I’m insane. Which I am.

Anhour later, we pick up the girls and they climb into the backseat of the truck cab. Neither of them says much, and Skylar fills the silence talking about practice and what a dickwad Blackburn is. Twice I catch Layla’s stare in my rearview, but she’s blocking me out, and I’m not sure what has her so guarded. No, that’s not true. I was a dick this morning, and now I’m getting a taste of my own medicine. Fair enough.

Target is kind of crowded for a Monday night, but I guess a lot of freshman are without AC and probably some other shit they should’ve brought. Corin and Layla debate on what type of fan to get for fifteen minutes before Skylar gets frustrated and grabs an oscillating floor fan from the shelf.

As we leave the store, rain starts misting from the sky while Skylar and Corin 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, leaving me and Layla straggling behind.

“You still want me to come tomorrow or what?” Layla demands, breaking the silence.

“If you want.”

She aims a pointed look dead at me. “I asked what you wanted.”

“I mean, I’m sure you have studying and better stuff to do than come watch a scrimmage. It’s not like it’s a real game or anything.”

“Okay,” is all she says. I don’t know if she means “Okay, I’ll come” or “Okay, I have better things to do.” What Idoknow is that watching her putting up the walls I worked so hard to tear down sucks. Bad. There has to be a way to balance keeping an eye on her for her aunt, getting close enough to have a chance at making her mine, and never letting her find out exactly how I wound up here. I sure as fuck wish I could figure it out.

The rain pelts us with the fury of ten hells as we reach the truck. Damn, I don’t have bed cover to keep the fan dry. Probably not a great idea to shove it in the back with the girls, but there’s really not any other option, and we’re all getting soaked while trying to figure out what to do with it.

“I’ll run back in the store and buy a tarp,” Skylar says just before making a mad dash through the parking lot. The girls climb in the back, and I’m grateful Corin didn’t go with him. I need the buffer before I just start spilling my guts to Layla and ruin everything.

The two of them are talking quietly; heads leaned together like girls do when sharing secrets. Or when talking about what a dick you are while you’re a foot away. I climb in the truck and arrange the huge box on the passenger seat.

“Everything okay?” I ask, twisting around to look at them.

Wearing matching masks of innocence, they turn to me, wide-eyed. “Everything’s great,” Corin says sharply. “We’re going to the diner so I can get an application and Layla can get a milkshake. Skylar can get over it.”

“Okay,” I say with a shrug. Layla and her milkshakes. I smile at the thought, and I cringe slightly because watching her pleasure over her chocolate shake with extra cherries is going to be hell on my dick. A three-hour practice and a three-mile run did nothing to quench my need for her. I glance in the rearview and there’s a mischievous heat in her eyes, like she can read my thoughts. Skylar’s right. I am so screwed.

My overly observant roommate pulls the door open, interrupting my thoughts, and grabs the fan. I get out to help him wrap it in the blue tarp he just bought. Once we’ve wrangled that bastard into the bed and gotten back into the truck, the rain eases up. I pull out of the parking lot and look both ways as I get back on the main road that takes us back to campus.

Up ahead I can see the gridlock, and I rack my brain as I press the brakes to try and think if there’s a back road to the diner. Skylar’s from here, so I ask him if there’s another way we can go.

Before the words are even all the way out of my mouth, the clouds let out and sheets of water pound down on us. The poor fan is probably destroyed, tarp or no tarp. Or at least the box will be.

“Damn,” Skylar says under his breath. “I’m thinking you could take Langston over to—”

But he doesn’t get to finish because the squeal of tires drowns him out. The sickening crunch of metal comes at the exact moment of impact. Layla’s scream matches Skylar’s “Fuck!” and I slam the truck in park and bail over the seat, nearly tackling Corin in my attempt to get my arms around Layla. She’s trembling hard and I know what’s coming. And that she’s going to be humiliated. Because this was her chance to start over and it’s ruined. Ruined because of me.

“You’re okay. It’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re safe,” I say into her ear, rocking her gently. Raking my eyes over every inch of her to make sure she is, in fact, okay, I realize that it’s me who’s not okay. I love her and I need her and I need to be there for her as much as I need to breathe air to live. Also, I’m bleeding.

A few minutes later, her trembling subsides as tears slick down her face and onto me. I hear sirens. Skylar has a small gash on his forehead and Corin is rubbing her neck but they’re okay. I glance out the back window and see a tan Suburban jammed into the back of my truck. But I don’t care. We’re okay. Layla is in my arms and she’s safe.

“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, but I can’t let Layla go. I look down into her moist blue eyes, pulled in by her need for me, and I can’t move. I don’t want to. They can think what they want.

“Fuck it,” Skylar says, sliding over into the driver’s seat.

Without another word, Corin climbs over the center console and buckles herself into the passenger seat, leaving me and Layla alone in the back.