Page 47 of Keep Me Still
“I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry,” I tell her, and her eyes grow even wider in her pale face. And I am sorry. For leaving her last year, for not trying harder to tell her how I felt, and for being here under false pretenses that she doesn’t know about.
“Not your fault,” she murmurs, tucking herself closer to me.
I can feel her breath on my neck, and this is so not the time, but I lower my lips to her forehead and then to her wet cheeks before placing them against hers. When she moves her mouth firmly against mine, I realize I’ve been fooling myself if I think the only reason I’m here is because her aunt asked me to keep an eye on her.
I’m here because I needed a second chance. She gave me one this past weekend, and I screwed it up by being a first-class asshole this morning. And now I need a third chance. I hope to hell there’s not a limit on the number of chances this girl is willing to give me. Because I am a fucking idiot. And I’m going to screw up. A lot.
Thepolice officer raps on the driver’s side window and I flinch. For one dark and terrible moment, I’m back there. My life trickling out onto the concrete. Sirens and flashing lights. A man in uniform leaning over me and saying, “She’s okay—she’s alive.”
But I kind of wasn’t. Or at least I wished I wasn’t. And then I never figured out how to come back to life afterwards. Not really.
Landen holds me and rocks me and pulls me out of the darkness. Like he did at Homecoming. Like he did when two sophomores got into a fight next to my locker and again when fireworks went off unexpectedly after a football game and I nearly seized out in front of the whole school. He holds me and keeps me still. Like he always has.
I’m cold, abnormally cold, and I know if he lets go I’m going to go into shock. I thought I was past needing him, needing anyone. But as he holds me and grazes his lips across my forehead, mumbling over and over that it’s okay and I’m okay…I know I’m not. I am the opposite of okay because I need him. I need him so badly and he’s already left me once. I reach a hand up to touch the scar I got the day my parents were killed, but his grip is too tight for me to reach.
After giving the police our IDs for the accident report, the overeager medics make us all go to the university medical center and get checked out. Skylar gets a whopping two stiches in his forehead. Corin and I leave with matching pain pill prescriptions for whiplash.
Landen was actually injured the worst. He has a huge cut on his forearm that took eleven stitches. Plus a steering wheel-shaped bruise already forming on his chest since the rear impact didn’t set off the airbag. But he never once complains. The whole time we’re getting seen he never goes out of arm’s reach, even though the resident checking us out tried to make him get an x-ray without me. Stubborn ass that he is, he refused. I’m going to feel horrible if he has a broken arm or something.
Since Landen’s truck was towed to a local body repair shop, and the ambulances drove us to the hospital, we have to take a cab back to the dorms.
“Well, this was a hell of a first day,” Skylar says as we get out at mine and Corin’s dorm.
I smile at his joke, but I’m panicking. If, no,whenLanden leaves, I don’t know how I’m going to face Corin and explain my not-so-little freak out. I’m so tired and hollow it’s as if the entire universe is pressing down on me. Landen’s the only thing keeping me vertical right now.
I slip my hand into his and he squeezes tight.
“Corin, would it be okay if, um, Landen stayed in our room tonight?” Before she answers, I realize I should’ve checked with him first. His body tenses at my words and I feel stupid for assuming. “I mean, if you don’t mind,” I say to him.
“It’s cool with me,” Corin answers before Landen can respond. “But don’t athletes have to check in or something at curfew?”
“Yeah we do,” Skylar informs us. “But I can call Dean or Mike and tell them what happened.”
“Do that,” Landen says, squeezing my hand again and pulling me closer. And the bone chilling cold that settled into me dissipates, replaced by warmth radiating directly from his touch.
Becausehe felt me shivering, Landen insists I take a hot shower when we get into our room. Even though the AC still isn’t working and none of us thought to salvage the fan. As I step out of the steam-filled bathroom in my robe, I can tell they were talking about me by how quickly they fall silent. Landen and Skylar are sitting on the futon, and Corin’s in the desk chair. Her face is flushed, but it’s nothing compared to the raging inferno in Landen’s bloodshot eyes.
“Guess the freak’s out of the bag,” I mutter, crossing into the bedroom to put on pajamas. I grab a gray t-shirt and matching pink and gray shorts and slam the dresser drawer. Why can’t I just be normal? Maybe I should just let go of any hope I had left of having a normal life. Tears pinch my eyes, and I kind of wish I hadn’t asked Landen to stay so he wouldn’t have to see me like this.
“Hey.” Landen’s deep voice, heavy with exhaustion, startles me. I flinch as he slides the partition between rooms shut behind him.
“Hey,” I answer, avoiding his stare.
“Please don’t be mad. I didn’t tell them everything. Just that you have a condition and that what happened in the truck could’ve been a lot worse. Corin really needs to know, Layla. She’s your roommate for God’s sakes.”
“I’m not mad at you,” I tell him, and surprisingly, it’s the truth. “I just wish I didn’t have to be like this.” My voice breaks at the end and Landen crosses the room to put his arms around me.
“You are perfect. You’re the strongest person I know,” he says to the top of my head.
“How can you say that?” I ask as the tears begin to fall “I’m damaged, defective, like there’s a glitch in my brain or my wiring or something.” The tears fall faster, and I’m angry, but not at him, not really. “You should be with someone normal, someone who doesn’t fall apart at loud noises, screeching tires, and cars backfiring.”
“Layla,” he tries to break in but I’ve broken the dam and I can’t stop the pain from flowing out of me and onto him.
“Do you have any idea what it feels like to come to in a room full of people staring at you in horror and have no idea what kind of humiliating spectacle you just made of yourself? How shame slams into you as you realize you’re thirteen, or fourteen, or hell, seventeen years old and you just pissed yourself for everyone to see? It takes everything I have to walk down the street, to enter a crowded room, and not run out because I know it could happen at any moment and I can’t really control it.”
“Stop. Listen to me. Tonight was my fault. Do understand that? I was trying to find a side street to avoid traffic and I was distracted and—”
“No, Landen.” I shake my head. “No. It was pouring rain, and it was a freaking fender bender. Any other human being would’ve been fine.”
