Page 47 of August and the Night

As we discuss the next steps, I can't deny the excitement that I'm feeling, but at the same time, my heart aches. It aches because I know deep in my chest that the time to let Layla go has become very close.

37

August

The weight of the evening's conversation still hangs in the air as I return to the cabin. The moonlight casts a soft glow on the path, guiding my steps. The file of evidence is now in capable hands, and with each passing moment, the darkness that simmers within me seems to ease, replaced with a nagging worry of what this will mean for my supposedly fake relationship with Layla.

Slipping back into the cabin, I find Layla still nestled in bed, her breathing steady and calm. A heaviness swirls within me as I undress and settle beside her, pulling her close. I hold her tighter than usual, as if she might disappear in this very moment. Our time together is limited, and I want to savor every moment.

As I lay there, watching her sleep, the hours slip away. The moon paints patterns on the walls, and the soft rustle of the sheets becomes a soothing lullaby. Eventually, exhaustion overcomes me, and I close my eyes, sleep finally coming to me.

The sun filters through the curtains as morning arrives, and the scent of the ocean breeze mingles with the scent of Layla’s shampoo and body wash, relaxing my senses. Layla stirs beside me, her eyes fluttering open, and a warm smile spreads across her lips when she sees me watching her.

"Good morning," she murmurs, her voice still tinged with sleep.

"Good morning," I reply, my voice a soft rasp. I lean in and brush my lips against hers, savoring the connection between us.

With a leisurely pace, we get ready for the day. The sun is high in the sky when we finally make our way to the beach. The warmth on our skin is a welcome change from the cold Seattle weather we left behind. We stretch out on the sand, the sound of the waves and the gentle caress of the sun creating a serene backdrop.

Hours melt away as we lounge on the beach, a sense of peace settling over us. We share stories, laugh, and revel in the simplicity of the moment.

Later that evening, as the sun dips below the horizon, Layla's mischievous grin appears as she makes a suggestion. "You know, there's a bar not too far from here, according to Google maps. What do you say we change up the routine a bit?"

A twinge of hesitation ripples through me. The thought of navigating through a crowded, noisy place with people jostling against us makes me uneasy. I don't want anyone coming too close to her, anyone rubbing against her in the packed atmosphere. The possessiveness that stirs within me is undeniable, a primal instinct to protect her from any potential harm, even if it's just the innocent bumping of strangers in a bar. But the spark in her eyes is infectious, and I find myself nodding reluctantly, unable to deny her pretty eyes anything.

At the bar, the laughter and clinking glasses create a lively atmosphere. Layla's enthusiasm is contagious as she grabs the microphone for karaoke. She looks at me with a playful challenge in her eyes.

"Your turn," she says, her voice daring me.

I roll my eyes but eventually give in to her persistence. We sing and laugh, the worries of the world seeming to fade away in the midst of our carefree antics. Our voices are probably grating on the ears of all the people in the bar, and despite that, I find myself enjoying the moment.

As the night goes on, Layla's laughter becomes more exuberant, and I can't help but notice her swaying a bit more than usual. She's having a blast, and it's contagious. But as the night wears on, I begin to sense a shift in her demeanor. Her words slur, and her movements become unsteady.

"Layla, maybe you've had enough," I suggest, concern lacing my voice.

She waves me off, a mischievous grin on her face. "Nonsense, Auggie! It's all in good fun."

But as the hours go by, her speech becomes even more slurred, and it's clear that she's had a bit too much to drink. I grow increasingly worried, my protective instincts kicking in.

"Layla, seriously, let's get you back to the cabin," I insist, helping her to her feet.

She leans into me, her gaze unfocused but affectionate. "You're a good guy, August. You know that?"

I chuckle, guiding her toward the exit. "Yeah, well, someone's got to keep you out of trouble."

We step out of the bar, warm air hitting us in the face. I see how Layla’s face pales slightly, probably feeling nauseous. I tie her hair back out of her face and wrap my arm around her waist, leading her stumbling form back to the cabin.

"I… August, I need to tell you something," Layla slurs, her words heavy with the effects of alcohol.

I gaze at her, my concern mixing with curiosity. "What is it, Layla?"

She pauses, her gaze unfocused as if struggling to find the right words in her inebriated state. "I bought an apartment. A really nice one. I'm planning to move… move out after our trip."

Her words land like a punch, the shock reverberating through me. Anger and frustration churn within me. The fact that she kept this significant decision hidden has me fighting back my rage, I am aware of how hypocritical I am but I can’t stop myself.

We probably only have a week left together after this trip before the news comes out; that is the timeline. I only have one week left with her, and the fact that she isn't going to be spending that one week with me, in my home and in my bed makes my chest light on fire.

"You did what?" My voice is sharp, edged with anger that I can barely control.

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