Distraction (Westbrook Series Book 1) (36 page)

The tears are on the verge of breaking through. There is nothing I can to do to stop them.
I just can't believe it. He's actually going to break up with me because of my stupid brother
.

He sighs when he looks up. "
Damn it.
You can't look at me like that, Laila."

After the first tear rolls down my face and off of my chin, it's as if the dam suddenly breaks. After that, there is a steady stream of hot, salty tears that just keeps flooding down my cheeks endlessly.

"I think we need to talk about this somewhere other than here. My parents are right there in the next room." I look over my shoulder to be sure they aren't going to suddenly pop up anywhere. "I told them I am going out tonight. Will you at least
go somewhere
with me, so we can discuss this?" I ask in between my stifled sobs.

He nods while handing me a napkin.

"We'll just tell them I'm dropping you off somewhere," I suggest, as I pick up the car keys.

"That's okay. I don't want it getting back to Kyle. Just meet me at Westbrook Skate Park on Vassler in about a half hour, okay?"

"Sam, that's like four miles away," I protest.

"I know. Look, I could use a good run. It will help me clear my head. I'm just going to go upstairs to change real quick, and then I'll be off. I'll see you around seven?"

"Okay. Enjoy your run," I say sarcastically.

I hate that he feels the need to
clear his head
before he can talk to me about this. He reaches over and lightly brushes his thumb along my cheek, wiping away some of the tear tracks, before disappearing. His touch sends sparks flying through my body. I am just starting to get used to the way his touch makes me feel.

I can't imagine going back to the way things used to be, with my body lying dormant inside after so much activity. I guess there really is no going back. I can't erase the past week, no matter how hard I may want to right now. Once you know what that kind of electricity is like, you are bound to find yourself longing for it and chasing after it endlessly when it disappears. I can't imagine ever feeling that same way with anyone other than Sam.

I'm having trouble keeping the crying under control. I have a really bad feeling that I won't be able to talk Sam out of breaking up with me. This whole situation just makes me so mad at Kyle. He is the one who is being selfish and insensitive.

I stare down at my dress with frustration. It was supposed to be my secret weapon.
When did the magic wear off?
Through the pools of tears, the flowered print looks all muddled, much like a Monet painting. That is exactly how I feel inside,
muddled and smeared with doubt
.

I attempt to wipe away the blotchy mess that was formerly my makeup, but now looks more like the grease-stained floor of an auto shop. I consider reapplying, but decide against it. I'm done trying to win Sam over. If he is stupid enough to let Kyle come in between us, I'm not going to fight him on it. In fact, I'm changing into sweats.
Why should I be all dressed up when he is going to be wearing sweaty running clothes?

I force myself to wait until seven before I leave. I know he'll probably beat me there, but I don't want to appear desperate. I grab my keys and dash out the door, sporting a big neon-green oversized tee with a black tank top underneath, my black leggings, and my neon-green-soled Nikes. My hair is pulled up into a messy bun, and I am wearing my neon Lululemon headbands that Avery gave me for Christmas. I definitely look like I'm on my way to soccer practice or the gym.

When I pull up to the parking lot, I see Sam, pacing by the park bench, shirtless, with his arms up behind his head. He must have booked it because he is completely out of breath. Watching the sweat trickle down his bare chest makes my stomach dance with anticipation. My first instinct is to run to him and throw my arms around his neck. That would be a normal girlfriend sort of thing to do.
I suppose our situation is anything, but normal, though
.

I reluctantly restrain myself and saunter up to him casually, instead of hurling myself at him. He doesn't notice me at first. His back is turned away. He has his white t-shirt twisted up and tucked into the waistband of his loose basketball shorts, so it hangs about halfway down his thigh.

I decide to stand there a moment before saying anything. I've never had an opportunity to really appreciate his beautiful, muscular back in all of its glory. His gorgeous tan skin is flushed all over, making him look even sexier. I watch a stream of sweat roll down his spine, and disappear into his shorts at the small of his defined back.

I take a deep breath and close my eyes, trying to remind myself why we are here in the first place. My wretched stomach is writhing with an unsettling ache, as our earlier conversation resurfaces in my mind. I suppose we should just get on with it.

"How was your run?" I ask in my most enthusiastic voice, as I hand Sam one of the cold bottles of water that I snagged from the refrigerator on my way out of the house.

A huge smile spreads across his face as he grabs the bottle. "Good. I'm a little out of shape, but it was good." He pumps the water bottle up in the air towards me. "You are an
angel
."

If he considers this out of shape, I'd hate to see his body when he is in shape
. He twists off the cap and gulps half of the water down, before pausing to take a breath. He wipes some sweat from his forehead with his forearm, and returns the bottle to his lips again.

When the bottle is just about empty, his eyes flicker open. "Are you planning on going for a run, too?" he asks breathlessly, with a lopsided smile sneaking onto his face.

While it is refreshing to have him flirt with me, I don't want to get my hopes up just yet. "I just wanted to be comfortable," I say casually, as I fight back my own smile.

"I
like
you in this, Lis. You're cute. I don't think I've ever seen you in workout clothes before." He tugs on my t-shirt playfully as his infectious smile becomes impossibly wide.

Who would have thought that this would be the outfit he would end up noticing? Guys are so strange.

"So . . ." I start to say, but as soon as I speak, the words seem to vanish from my mind. I can't think of anything to follow that up. So, I just wait for him to jump in.

"I know. This sucks, Laila," he finally says. "I'm just trying to figure out what is the right thing to do. I've been thinking about us, and this whole screwed-up situation, and how to fix it. No matter which way I look at it, it's not the way I
want
it to be." He sips his water and sighs again.

My mouth starts to open, but once again, the words just don't follow.

"The really selfish part of me wants to say
fuck it
. Kyle will get over it. Let him
deal
, but you know that isn't me." He shakes his head and laughs, only it's not a happy laugh. It's one of those
bite you in the ass irony
kind of laughs.

"Laila, you
have
to understand. Kyle is my
best
friend
. He has been there for me through everything. I can't
do
this to him. It kills me to have him upset with me. And the thing is, I totally get where he is coming from. I mean if I had a little sister, I'd react the
exact
same way."

Sam's penchant to always do the right thing is one of the reasons I have always been so fond of him. He is such a good person, through and through. I just wish in this
one
situation, he would just let go and do what he
wants
to do, instead of what he
thinks
he
should
do.

"But, if I do the quote, unquote,
right
thing and end things with you, then I just end up hurting you. You are the last person in the world that I want to hurt. I was serious when I said I think I . . . was falling for you." His voice quiets to almost a whisper at the end of his sentence.

My heart tugs at me, conjuring up that familiar burn in the back of my throat. "
Was
. . . as in
past tense?
You aren't falling for me anymore?
"
I ask, forcing the words out of my mouth as if I am choking on them.

Sam squeezes his eyes shut and rubs his temples, as he lets out a frustrated half sigh, half grunt.
"Not
was
.
Am
. I
am
still falling for you, but I
can't
be. I
shouldn't
be. We
can't
be together, Laila. I
want
to more than anything, but we just
can't
." His voice sounds like it is plagued with a mix of guilt, frustration, and anger.

He is staring at a couple of kids, scaling one of the ramps with their skateboards on the other side of the park. I know that he is purposely avoiding my eyes.
I can feel it
. He doesn't want to see how badly he is hurting me. I just want to scream at him.
Just because you refuse to look, it doesn't mean it's not there. I am hurting.

"No. I get why you would pick Kyle over me. I mean we only started dating a week ago. You guys have been best friends since you were little." I look down at my hands, as I blink back my tears.

He moves closer to me and almost reaches out for my hand, but pulls his back, as if he is restraining himself. "It's not like
that
. I'm not choosing
him
over
you
. I'm just doing what I know I
need
to do in order to set things right."

I look up at him through teary eyes. He closes his eyes and looks up to the sky, as if he is silently asking God, "Why?"

"It still feels like that, Sam."

"I know. This all my fault. I should have waited. If I would’ve just . . . waited until you started college, Kyle wouldn't have gone ballistic on me. His biggest problem with us being together is your age. He doesn't think you are old enough, and in retrospect, I think he's probably right. You just seem so much older than you are, Laila."

"Well, I just think you are making a
big
mistake. Kyle would get over it. He'd eventually see why us dating is okay. He would end up accepting it, but you won't ever know." I can feel the anger building inside of me as I speak. "You'd rather just
throw
it all away."

He looks away from me again. I hate that he isn't saying anything. I want him to say, "No. I'm not going to give up that easily. I'm going to fight for us." Those words never come, though, and that sick feeling inside me only gets worse.

"Sam, how can something that feels
so
right be
so
wrong?" I ask. I reach over and grab his hand, demanding his attention.

He takes a deep breath, but he doesn't pull his hand back this time. "You don't think this is
killing
me? I meant every word I said in those letters, Laila." Sam's pained expression is a perfect reflection of how I feel. He reaches up and brushes his fingers lightly along my cheek.

"It doesn't
have
to
be
like this. You don't
have
to
do
this. Give us a chance," I whisper, as I desperately try holding on to the teetering pool of tears in my eyes.

His chest is only inches away from mine, but the electricity pulsing between us makes it feel like I am plugged directly into him, and we are one wire. He leans down and gently kisses me on my lips. It is a hesitant kiss, as if he is trying to fight it, but can't.
How can he deny that rush that sweeps through our bodies when our lips meet?

The moment his lips find mine, the force of his pull becomes too great for me. I was trying to hold myself back, but I can no longer stand it. I press my lips against his harder, when I feel him start to pull away.

Then, I take the lead, which I've never done before. Sam has always been the one to show me and guide me through our kisses. He is surprised by my forwardness. He must like it though, because he pulls me hard against his chest and deepens the kiss, matching my movements. After a while when we are all out of breath, he finally pulls away and let's out a deep sigh.

"
Shit
, Laila.
That
wasn't supposed to happen. I just wanted to kiss you quickly, one last time. It wasn't supposed to turn into
that
." He kicks up some gravel and pumps his fist through the air. "
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Why
did you do that?
Damn it
," he yells, while pushing his fingers through his sweaty hair.

I am so startled by his reaction that I physically jump back a little. I must be looking at him with fearful eyes, because he does a double take and his face relaxes. "I'm
really
sorry. I didn't mean to lose it. I just . . . . This is going to be so much harder than I thought it would be."