Page 32 of Keep Me Still
“I’ll be on Blackburn’s team,” Dean speaks up. I hadn’t even seen him come in. Whatever. I amble into the living room behind them.
But as we set up the plastic cups on our side of the sticky table, I get a clear shot of exactly what Lucas Taite is “working.” And I see red. Literally. And it’s not just the label on my bottle. It’s the color of her dress. And her perfect lips.
Before Skylar or anyone else can stop me, I’m around the table, over a couch, and pressing Taite against the wall with my forearm.
“Jesus, O’Brien. What the fuck?” He tries to snarl at me but I’ve caught him off guard. If I press any harder, I’ll probably snap his windpipe. My senses are heightened and I can hear his every breath. Or maybe that’s her breath. Or mine.
“There are a hundred other girls here. Find one.” My voice comes out low and lethal, so much like my father’s I almost don’t recognize it as my own. The image of his hand skimming slowly down Layla’s bare arm unleashed an uncontrollable rage inside of me. The way he was leaning into her, watching her mouth as she smiled up at him. My forearm is practically vibrating with the need to hurt him. No, my entire body is, like I’ve been plugged into an electric wall socket. Fuck, I’m losing it.
“I’ll have you kicked off the team for this,” he says evenly, barely loud enough to be heard over the blood rushing in my ears.
“How about I break your goddamn legs and then neither of us will play?”
“Taite, you good?” Blackburn calls from behind me. I almost flinch at the thought of a beer bottle shattering over my head.
“Yeah,” he says, straightening as I pull back and let him up off the wall. His eyes stay on mine, and I hope he sees the threat in them. It’s valid.
“I’d get some air if I were you,” he says under his breath, and I have to admit, it’s not a bad idea. Because if I look at her right now, I don’t know what will happen to any of us. So I grab my bottle off the Ping-Pong table and storm out the nearest door without looking back.
Dropping down onto some concrete steps off the back porch, I take a drink and try to clear my head. Not that Johnnie really helps with that much. A minute hasn’t even passed when I feel someone behind me. Probably Blackburn about to jump me or something. I take another drink and wait for the blow but it doesn’t come. A high-pitched female voice does though.
“So you don’t want her but no one else can have her either? Is that it?” The shrill, shrieking redhead is unfamiliar to me, but boy is she pissed. I twist around to face her, realizing it’s probably not a good thing that I’m sitting and she’s standing above me.
“Don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of making your acquaintance,” I slur at her. “Who the fuck are you exactly?”
“I’m Layla’s roommate. And I know exactly who the fuckyouare. You’re thatguy. The one who tossed her aside for some chick in Colorado and then showed up here to ruin her life.”
Jesus, whoever she is, she has her sights set on pounding the shit out of my heart. And the girl has impeccable aim.
“Corin,” Layla says softly, coming up behind her. Her voice slams me back into high school. I force myself to fight off the onslaught of memories and focus. I’m here now. In the present. We’re both different, and I can’t do a thing about any of the pain I caused either of us in the past. But I want to. I want to apologize my ass off and beg for her forgiveness. Damn. It’s kind of shitty time to be trashed.
“I’m sorry,” I say, doing my best not to slur the words. I try to look her in the eyes, but there’s two of her. The one from my memories and the one actually standing here. They blur together and then back apart and I blink in an attempt to focus on the girl standing before me now.
Her roommate pulls at her arm, but she keeps her gaze on me. At least, I think it’s on me. “Don’t, Layla. Don’t let him apologize. Walk away. Because what happened in there was bullshit and you know it.”
Damn, Ginger is really amped up. Maybe even more than me. But I’m glad to see that Layla has someone protecting her, like I should’ve done.
“I’m okay,” she says, touching the other girl’s arm. “I’ll come back inside in a minute.”
She turns the full force of her bright ocean-colored eyes on me, and suddenly I’m the one who needs protecting. Because I want to grovel at her feet. I want to beg her to give me another chance, to forget everything that happened and start over. Or pick up where we left off before it all went to hell. I want to blurt out that I love her and I miss her and I haven’t stopped loving her or missing her since the day I left Hope Springs.
I need a do-over dammit. And I need it to start right the fuck now.
He’sstill angry, but the outside air seems to be diluting his rage enough. There’s something wild and desperate in his eyes that scares me a little. I walk to the edge of the back porch and lower myself onto the steps next to him. My heart forgets how to beat for a second and ends up all out of rhythm.
His black Henley is snug and unbuttoned at the top. I’m not ready to look at his face yet so I focus on the small gray buttons. “Landen,” I say, both loving and hating the feel of his name on my tongue. I’m a little dizzy from the shots I did with the Luke guy and Corin. I’m probably getting even more intoxicated from Landen’s whiskey-drenched breath.
“Layla,” he says, his voice rough and raked over, making my head swim. The memory of what we were before, what we almost were, hits me hard enough to knock the wind out of me. High school was yesterday. And it was a lifetime ago. And I’m lost, trying to remember how to talk to him and breathe at the same time.
I take a few calming breaths in an attempt to compose myself. “You gonna show up every time a guy makes a move on me?” I take the bottle he’s staring at and pull it to my lips. Smells about as enticing as nail polish remover mixed with paint thinner, but I take a drink anyways, using my tongue to catch the trickle that escapes onto my lips. My esophagus immediately bursts into flames and I close my eyes, temporarily blinded by the pain.
When I open them Landen’s darkened stare meets mine, and it’s a wonder my flesh doesn’t melt under the intensity. I remember his eyes being a much lighter shade of green.
“Depends,” he says, and I have to scramble through my memory to figure out what question he’s answering as I hand him back his bottle. “You gonna make out with all my teammates?”
Ouch. My body reacts first, struggling to stand, to put some distance between us. But he reaches out a hand, gripping my thigh, and I’m frozen to the concrete. Words form in my mind but don’t make it to my mouth.I’ve never made out with anyone. Why are you here? Why didn’t you ever kiss me? How’s Danni?
“That was a shitty thing to say. I’m sorry.” His hand relaxes but doesn’t leave my leg.
