Page 16 of Keep Me Still
“Layla, I know you’re upset. And I’m sorry, truly I am. But school really isn’t an option or even a priority right now. We have an appointment with a specialist tomorrow morning and some lab tests on Tuesday. And honestly…” Aunt Kate bites her lip. Whatever else she has to say, she’s not too excited about. That makes two of us.
She takes a deep breath and speaks in a rush. “I’d like you and Landen to take a breather. You’ve been hanging out a lot and you’re both going through some things you need to deal with before going any further with your relationship or friendship or whatever you kids are calling it these days.” Her smile is forced and I can’t even muster an attempt at one in return.
“I don’t think that’s an issue. Pretty sure whatever it was is over.” Not that being Landen O’Brien’s latest charity case didn’t have its perks.
“Well, then, I’m sorry about that too. He seems like a nice enough boy, though this violent streak that apparently runs in the family isn’t exactly something I find endearing.”
Violent streak? My mind can’t even reconcile the sweet boy who stood up for me andsawme when no one else did with a violent version. My vision swims from the strain of trying. “I’ll come down later,” I tell her, curling back into my covers. Maybe I can just sleep this whole mess away.
But as soon as I sink down into the depths of unconsciousness, he’s there. Bloody and bruised. Broken. And alone. Like me.
“Layla,he’s here.Again,” my aunt Kate says through my bedroom door.
He’s been stopping by the house every day since Homecoming. I want to see him, want to ask if everything is okay with him and his dad. But he knew. The whole time. While I was convinced he just liked me for me—that he just noticed me all on his own and was interested—he was pretending. Because he knew about my seizures and wanted to rescue me from the big bad bullies of Hope Springs High School to make himself feel better or whatever. Well, I’m not interested in being rescued. I’ve survived more than Landen O’Brien could even imagine, and if he thinks being ignored at school because of my freakouts is more than I can handle then he—
“Layla, for God’s sakes. He’s just going to keep coming back.” Okay, now even Aunt Kate is annoyed with my knight in shining armor.
I crawl out of bed and open the door. My knight is actually wearing sweaty soccer practice clothes but he still looks pretty damn good.
It’s Thursday, and I haven’t been back to school since the dance, but he’s been coming by at the same time every day without fail. Aunt Kate has been diligently sending him away at my request, but I guess she’s tired of being my personal security.
I don’t even greet him. I just open the door and retreat back to the safety of my bed. But he follows. Lowering himself onto the mattress, he looks at me with these puppy-dog eyes, and I’m flustered. His face is still mildly bruised from his encounter with Becker, and I do kind of feel sorry for him. His wounded expression breaks my heart a little.
“What? Just say it, Landen.”
“Why wouldn’t you see me? Or answer my texts or phone calls at least?”
“Because,” I force out. “Because you knew, and you acted like you didn’t and…”And I am a fricking idiot who thought maybe you were just genuinely interested in me.
“Okay,” he says slowly, angling his shoulders towards me. “So I knew. So I asked about you when I first moved here and Alexis Bledsoe spouted some shit about you having seizures. So?”
“So…wait, why did you ask about me?”
“What? What do you mean why?” Landen shakes his head, and I have the strangest urge to run my fingers through his thick, dark hair.
“Um, why as in why did you ask Alexis Bledsoe, or anyone for that matter, about me?”
He rubs his neck and glances around my room. “I already told you. I wanted to talk to you. You were always alone, like you didn’t want anyone bothering you and I didn’t want to be the new guy hassling the queen of the school.”
I snort and then I remember I’m still in my PJ pants and a tank top. Dear God, I’m not wearing a bra.
Pulling my covers up to my chin, I drink in the boy who saw me when no one else did. “But why?” I whisper forcefully. “Why me?”
“Jesus, Layla. What do you want from me?” He tenses, and I can tell he wants to get up and yell. He’s all hyped up from soccer practice and trapped in my pristine room with my Aunt Kate probably listening right outside the door. “You walked in that first day and I…fuck, I don’t know. You had this, like, glow about you and I couldn’t take my eyes off you. I expected to see you running the school, looking down your nose at the pieces of shit not worthy of breathing the same air as you, shaking your ass on the football field, and being followed around by an asshole boyfriend who regularly beat the hell out of any guy who so much as looked at you. None of which would have deterred me, by the way. I was prepared to deal with whatever. And then none of that turned out to be accurate. So I thought maybe we’d get to know each other and hook up until I moved again or graduation or whatever. But the more we hung out, the more I wanted…more than that.”
Neither of us says anything because, well, there doesn’t seem to be anything to say. I want to kiss this beautiful boy—man—Landen. But I’m not ready for that and I’m not sure what would happen if I tried. And I haven’t brushed my teeth yet. Tears prick my eyes because I’m not a charity case. And he did just notice me and want to get to know me. And I’ve made a mess of everything. Because I’ve never done this before and I have no idea what I’m doing.
“Because I have seizures and you wanted to save me damsel-in-distress style?” I ask, just to make sure.
“Because you are beautiful and kind and I love…being with you.”
“Landen—” I start, but he’s not done.
“Friends tell each other stuff, Layla. And I was hoping, as we got closer, you’d fill me in on the details about your seizures. I didn’t rely on anything Alexis or anyone else said because honestly, I couldn’t give a shit what they think.”
Friends. Seven letters. I’m beautiful and he wants to get to know me better. But we’re just friends. Seven letters have never been more confusing. And he’s not done.
“But that was the most terrifying thing I have ever experienced, and if there’s something I could’ve done to prevent it, like rip Brent Becker’s arms from his body so he couldn’t hit that door, then I want to know.”
