Keep Me Still (13 page)

“Oh no. She’s
thinking
again.”

“Shut up. Seriously, I am all for getting you kissed tonight because honestly, you don’t know true bliss until someone has made the world spin around you. Made you dizzy and tingly with a deep, hot as hell kiss that goes on and on until you don’t care if you ever get to breathe again.” She sighs and tilts her head in my direction. “But I can be kind of pushy, in case you haven’t noticed. If you don’t want to do this, say the word and I’ll drop it.”

Her words already have the room threatening to spin on me. Because one face is burning to life behind my eyes. “No, um, I mean, I’m in. It’s time. It’s way past time I think.”

“Hells yeah.” Corin’s triumphant grin has me rolling my eyes, but inside I’m a twisty aching mess. Because the only boy I can imagine kissing me until he steals my breath is the one I’ve vowed never to let that close to me again. Which is why I have to get myself out there and kiss someone else. Immediately.

I give my too-short dress one last tug. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”

“T
hink
a case of Natty will be enough?” Skylar asks once we enter the Stop-N-Shop right off campus.

“For me,” I say as we reach the beer coolers. “But what are the rest of you fuckers going to drink?”

Truth is, I probably won’t drink at all. I can barely remember my time in Colorado for how hard I tried to drink Layla Flaherty out of my mind. Danni and her brother Tucker dragged my ass out of the darkness like soldiers might pull a wounded brother from battle. If they hadn’t, I don’t know where I’d be right now. Probably not in college. Not so close to her. Again.

Skylar yanks a case from the cooler and the familiar temptation pulls at me. Maybe I
should
just get wasted so I can stop thinking about that look on her face. All the looks. The trusting smile from our first date, the longing in her eyes at Homecoming while she waited for me to man up and make a move, the humiliation that broke across her face when she woke up in the hospital, the way her eyes dimmed when she learned I was leaving, the way she shut down completely before I left. And the worst one of all. The panicked anguish displayed so clearly on her face when she saw me in the arena today. Because she doesn’t want me here.

On second thought, I’m going to be getting trashed after all. Beer’s not going to cut it though.

“Hey, man, you know if there’s a liquor store nearby?” I ask the clerk as he rings us up. The kind of pain losing Layla Flaherty inflicts on a man cannot be soothed with beer. You have to douse it in gasoline, burn it out, retch it up, and let it bang against your skull for days afterwards, just for a distraction. Knowing the whole time that it’ll be back before you have a second to miss it.

“Down on Fifth next to Big Jim’s Pawn,” the old man grumbles. He flicks my ID back at me and I have a feeling he knows it’s a fake but doesn’t really give a shit.

“Thanks,” I say with a nod as he hands me my change.

Fifth is damn near in the ghetto. California is like that, I’m learning. One minute you’re cruising by mansions and stores you can’t even afford to park at, but two wrong turns later you’re in a town they only mention in rap songs.

“Dude, liquor?” Skylar asks as we search for the store.

“It’s necessary,” I inform him.

“Have anything to do with that girl blowing you off at orientation earlier?” He’s too observant for his own damn good.

“Something like that,” I say, licking my lips in anticipation of the burn as the liquor store appears on my left.

I
’ve
already broken the neck on the bottle of Johnnie Walker when we get to Blackburn’s. The condo is a two-story with a balcony and people are spilling out every which way. The darkness I’m carrying begs me to go back to the dorm and drink alone until I pass out but I’m already here. And Skylar is super pumped about kicking Blackburn’s and Taite’s asses at beer pong. I’ve let enough people down for one lifetime. So I stay. For now at least.

Bass from a song I can’t name off the top of my buzzed head throbs out into the street, pushing against us as we make our way through the crowd.

The kitchen is narrow and several girls brush intentionally against me as I clear a spot for Skylar to put the case down. I clutch my bottle of Johnnie tight because I’m not sharing.

Skylar is busy texting some chick he knows from high school about bringing her hot roommates to meet up with us. I lean against the counter next to a couple too busy inhaling each other’s faces to notice me.

The alcohol puts up a hazy wall around me, separating me from the commotion I’m supposed to be a part of. This isn’t me. I don’t really want this. I want her. My Georgia peach, as Skylar has already started calling her, though he doesn’t know the half of it. Pizza and a movie on my couch with her in my arms would be heaven compared to this—this fake life I couldn’t give a shit about. Class, practice, games, and parties full of faceless randoms that can’t hold a candle to her. It’s going to be a long four years if I have to keep this up.

Yeah, I’m out of here. “Hey, man, you okay if I take off?”

Skylar glances up from his phone. “Aw hell, dude. Kelsie’s roommate is all excited to meet you. What’s the problem, man? You need a hug?” He slips his phone in his pocket and comes at me with arms open wide and his lips puckered. “Come to Papa.”

“Get the hell away from me, dickslice,” I say, shoving him backward.

He frowns at me. “Come on, O’Brien. Don’t be a pussy. So some chick blew you off. There’s probably a dozen or so here who’d probably be happy to blow you off in a way that doesn’t make you all pouty.”

“Fuck you,” I say before putting a deeper dent in my bottle.

“What’s going on, ladies?” Ben Blackburn booms, swiping Johnnie from my hands and taking a swig before handing it back. The kitchen is closing in on me and my vision is slightly blurred.

“I’ve killed guys bigger than you for less,” I damn near growl at him, but he laughs. Maybe I’m losing my edge.

“Don’t piss him off. He’s already trying to bail,” Skylar tells him as a few other guys from the team cram into the obscenely overcrowded kitchen.

“Afraid we’ll kick your ass at beer pong?” Blackburn challenges, backing up to lean against the fridge.

“Yeah, shit keeps me up at night.” I take another mouthful of liquid courage from my bottle and contemplate slamming my fist into his chin for no other reason than he’d hit me back and the pain would be a welcome distraction.

“Let’s get Taite and do this,” Skylar says, stepping between us.

“Taite’s working something right now. Probably best to leave him be. Besides, I can handle you girls all by myself.”

“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 fuck
you
are. You’re that
guy
. 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.

H
e’s
still 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.

“Maybe we don’t have to do this to each other,” I suggest, unable to look at him. “Maybe we can just leave it.”

He stiffens. “Please don’t say you want to be friends, because honestly, I’d rather you break this bottle over my head and use it to slice me open.”

“Jesus, Landen. I wasn’t going to say that. I was going to say we can be civil, we can live and let live. We’re both adults now—it doesn’t have to be like…like it was in there.”

“That what you want?” he asks, round, warm eyes pleading into mine.

“Mmhm,” I murmur, because what can I say?
No, I want you. I want you to have kissed me back then, to have loved me like I loved you, to love me still. To keep me still like you used to.
Yeah, no.

“You’re different,” he announces suddenly, his voice clear and devoid of the intimate intensity that’s been singeing between us for the past few minutes.

I shrug. “People change.”

“The Layla I used to know wasn’t much of a party girl.” He’s smirking at me, and my skin prickles in annoyance.

“The Landen I knew wouldn’t have pinned a teammate against a wall for no good reason.”

“Oh I had a reason,” he mumbles, and I’m beyond irritated at his arrogance. “He was touching you.”

Anger flares within me. “Oh, no! Some guy finally saw me as more than a charity case, so you had to sweep in and fix it? A member of the male species saw me as more than a friend, and you’re pissed because I’m supposed to wait until you sort out all your women and figure out what you want from me? I’ll pass.”

“All my women? What the fu—”

“Tell
Danni
hello for me,” I say, finally standing and bracing myself to walk away. For good. “And feel free to leave me alone from here on out.”

“Dammit, Layla,” he shouts. Shattering glass rings out across the small yard as the bottle he’s thrown connects with the wooden fence. Whirling around, I meet his panicked stare, but I’m okay. The darkness doesn’t come, because the medicine is working. For now. But he’s an asshole for doing it and we both know it.

“Nice.” The acidic pain and disbelief leak into my voice. It hitches but I don’t care.

“God, I’m sorry,” he slurs. “Layla, please…I’m so fucking sorry.” He runs a hand through his hair and struggles to stand. Looking at him, I can see he’s damaged. Broken like I was when we first met this time last year. And he helped me, pulled me out of the darkness. A part of me is grateful and wants to reach out and pull him up now. Return the favor. But I’m still hurting. Seeing him still hurts. Bad. And it’s a hell of a lot more likely that he’ll just pull me down with him if I try.