Keep Me Still (17 page)

I
should be pissed. The right thing to do here is bitch Corin out for setting me up in a precarious situation with a boy I’m supposed to be staying away from.

And yet…

I’m still high from the memory of his mouth on mine. My body still tingles from the heat of his hands. Everything’s changed. But in a way, it hasn’t. Because I’m terrified he’s going to tell Corin—and God knows how many guys on the soccer team—about my seizures. And when he does, I might as well be right back in Hope Springs.

“So what was his deal back there?” Corin avoids my stare as we walk into our room. She sits on the futon and starts pulling off her boots, earrings, and assorted bracelets. “What do you need to tell me?”

Red lights flash behind my eyes. Immediate subject change needed.

“Corin, who cares about his deal? What the hell was that about tonight?”

“Don’t pretend to be mad,” she says while rolling her eyes and pulling her hair into a messy knot on top of her head. “I saw you two in that alley. That was hot. Seriously. And I’m not sure he’s playing with a full deck, but it was about damn time someone made a move.”

Busted.
Contort face into mask of frustration
—
quick
. “You promised me before we left there’d be no talking about Landen O’Brien tonight.”

“Yes, I did. And I kept that promise. I didn’t hear anyone
talking
about him tonight. Until now.”

I stay in the common area of our room contemplating this while she steps into the bedroom to put on pajamas. She’s right. Damn. “Okay, so you found a loophole. But I call B.S. because you know what I mean.”

Sighing so loudly I hear it from the other room, she slams a drawer shut. “Fine, I’m sorry about the sneak attack. But we were already planning to go out, and Skylar texted and asked if we wanted to meet up. I didn’t even say that we did. I just casually mentioned where we were going. It’s a free campus, Layla. They can go out wherever they please.”

“I realize this. I just didn’t know you were going to be slipping intel to the enemy.”

I can hear her laughing as I brush my teeth in our tiny bathroom. “If that’s how you treat an enemy, God help any boy you consider an ally. In fact, you still look a little dazed and turned on. Please don’t try to make out with me tonight. I’ve already had my share of sexually confused partners—I’m sticking with straight boys only from here on out.”

“Okay,” I say, pointing my foamy toothbrush at her. “We are definitely coming back to that.”

She cackles loudly, and I can’t help but feel like the least experienced person on the planet. “Seriously, Layla, he’s got some issues, like probably some major ones that are going to make anything with him difficult…but can you imagine turning away now and just forgetting about that kiss? ‘Cause I gotta say, I’m having trouble forgetting about it and I was just a casual observer.”

“See, now
you
wanna make out with
me
, don’t you?” I rinse and spit and go into the bedroom to change. When I’m done I plop down next to her on the futon.

“Stop changing the subject.”

“He just…he just makes me so…ugh!”

She waggles her eyebrows at me. “Horny?”

I shudder. “Oh my God, never say that word to me again. I hate that word. It’s so crude and not even a halfway decent way to describe what Landen O’Brien does to me.”

“Mmhm.” She leans back and lets her eyes scan over me. “You can clutch your pearls all you want, Georgia. But that boy twists you all up, and I don’t think kissing’s gonna get the job done.”

“Whatever. You basically said he was nuts. Now we share one kiss and I’m supposed to do him?”

Her forehead wrinkles as she contemplates this. “Ah, no, you’re probably right. Maybe hold off on that. But sometimes we have to let things happen to us, you know? Even uncontrollable things that might turn from bliss to shit before we can rein it in. Because that’s
living
. Things have to happen, you have to go on scary adventures, follow your heart, and let it lead you down dark alleys that may dead end in a pit of despair. Otherwise you’re just
existing
, and who the hell wants to settle for that?”

Is that what I’ve been doing? Her words spin around me in the tiny room, taunting me, smothering me. “But…”

“But nothing. You need to decide if you’re ready for this, ‘cause it’s coming. He’s here, and I saw the look on his face, in his eyes, every time I interrupted you tonight. There’s a storm brewing between the two of you. Either hang on, let it pick you up, and risk letting it beat your heart to hell and back before setting you back down or you can batten down the hatch and tell him to leave you the fuck alone. And if he hurts you, I’ll be here to put a hit out on him with a few simple texts and a photo. But you have to know it’s a possibility. Which, judging from the condition you were in earlier…you do.”

Corin’s voice is filled with emotion. There’s an experience behind the pain she’s warning me about, and I want to ask her to tell me about it. But I’m hoping she will when she’s ready. Her warning hangs in the air between us, and I’m trying desperately to weigh the pros and cons of giving Landen a second chance in my head. But all I can see is his face. All I can hear is his voice. And the thought of never again feeling his warm touch sending trails of liquid fire down my skin has me cringing inside.

I suck in a lungful of air and look up at her. “What if I don’t know what I want yet?”

“Then you need to tell him to back off till you figure it out. Good luck with that.” She snorts, and I smile at the thought of him watching me dance tonight. He was right—I am different. But it’s a good different, and it’s because of him. He should be the one to reap the benefits of all his hard work. “And hey, whatever he was wanting you to tell me so bad…you can. I know it may not seem like it after tonight, but you can trust me.” Corin’s normally clear voice is soft and clouded with emotion

“I know,” I answer back just as quietly.

“
Boys
,” she sighs out, raising her voice back to its normal decibel. “Can’t live with ‘em, can’t tie ‘em to your bed and use them as you see fit.” She shakes her head in mock exasperation. “Damn societal norms.” I can’t help but laugh, but when I sober up a little, she puts on a straight face. “Maybe just take it one day at a time. Like, what do you want right now?”

I stretch and yawn, feeling my neck and back shift with a satisfying pop before I answer. “Right now, I want to eat those double-stuffed Oreos you’re hoarding behind your makeup bag and watch
Pitch Perfect
until I pass out on this futon.”

Corin’s laughter is like bells chiming, and I notice for the first time that she has a few freckles across her nose. Maybe that’s why she wears so much makeup. But they’re cute, and I bet Skylar Martin would agree. Hm, another complication. If my roommate dates his roommate and teammate, could I really rid myself of Landen anyways? Do I even want to?

Before I have time to answer myself, Corin jumps up to grab the Oreos and the movie and my phone buzzes on my desk. “Can you grab that while you’re up please?” I ask, pulling the patched quilt Aunt Kate gave me up over my lower half and getting comfy against the pillows. Corin drops the Oreos in my lap and I rip back the plastic. “Why do they even bother to make regular Oreos when there’s double stuffed?”

“You have one new message,” my roommate says in her automated voicemail voice, ignoring my question as she hands me my phone.

Had a great time 2nite. Sleep might not come so easy if you’re mad at me…

My heart speeds up and my face goes all tingly.
Batten down the hatch!

But I can’t.

Hmm, poor baby. Hate to think of you tossing and turning all night.
I’ve barely hit send when my hand vibrates.

You could come over and read me a bedtime story.

Oh dear Lord.
Not sure how your roommates would feel about that.

He mentioned earlier that he and Skylar share an apartment-style set up with two other guys and that the four of them share a bathroom with another four guys. I wonder if female athletes have the same set up. No way in hell eight girls could share a bathroom. Boys are weird.

They’d deal. We can be quiet.

What am I going to do with this boy?
Have you lost your mind?

A few minutes go by with no response, and I wonder if I’ve been too much of a prude. He knows I don’t know how to do this sexy texting stuff. I don’t know how to do anything sexy really. And for the first time, this makes me sad. I want to be sexy, want him to want me like I want him. Because he has sexy down to a damn science.

“Layla, we watching a movie or what?” Corin asks, raising an eyebrow at the ridiculous parade of emotions marching across my face as she leans towards the television.

“Um, yeah, I—”

My phone buzzes again, interrupting my response, and I look down.

Yep, I looked everywhere. Guess I lost it. Keep an eye out and let me know if it turns up around you? I’m pretty sure that’s where it was the last time I saw it.

“Layla, pause or play?” she asks, as the Treble Makers take the stage on the screen.

What am I going to do with you?
I send back.

Hopefully some things we can’t mention in public.
I nearly jolt off the futon at his words.

“Layla?” Corin demands.

“Play! Hit play!” Jesus.

H
er
aunt has been holding out on me. And I’m not going to be able to focus on anything until I get some answers.

We have practice Sunday at noon, so I call her as we walk to the stadium, making sure to trail behind my teammates far enough to be out of hearing range.

“Landen? Is she okay?” Kate’s worried voice greets me.

“She’s fine. She’s more than fine actually. Which is why I’m calling.”

“Oh-kay,” she says slowly, and I can hear her typing stop. It’s only nine a.m. in Georgia, but I know she’s probably already put in a day’s work.

“The other day I, uh,
someone
threw a glass bottle against a fence and last night some guys came out of a metal door hard enough to rip the damn thing off the hinges. And she was
fine.
” I was a mess, however, though there’s no need to mention that.

Her typing resumes. “That’s a good thing. It means the Topiramax is working. So why do you sound all wound up?”

“Because I didn’t realize she was better when we made this arrangement,” I whisper angrily into my phone. That is to say, I didn’t realize that she wouldn’t need me after all.

Layla’s aunt sighs loudly. “It’s not failsafe. A car could backfire on her way to class, triggering an episode. Or there could be a shooting on campus, God forbid. That’s the problem. I’m a million miles away and there’s no guarantee that she’s cured. Her test results are indicative of far worse problems than her PTSD. So in a way, the seizures saved her life, because we might not have known about the hematoma otherwise.”

“Right, I get it. It’s just, I’m not sure how she’d feel about this. And if she wants me out of her life at any point, I’ll have to respect that.” Even if it kills me.

She sighs again. “We’ve been through this. If it weren’t for you, she’d be at UGA right now and I could be the one keeping an eye on her. But after you left, well…you know. And she decided to move across the damn country. And since she wouldn’t let me come with her, I
need
you there.
She
needs you there, even if she doesn’t know it.”

“Um, she might be coming around somewhat. But if she finds out that we talked, that I turned down playing pro soccer in Ecuador to come here and babysit her, I have a feeling there will be hell to pay—for me and you both.” And I don’t have the luxury of being a permanent fixture in her life. I can be disposed of. “What do we do then?”

“Look, you’re the one who hassled me every other day after you left about status updates. You’re the one who swore you just wanted what was best for her. If things have changed, then just say so. Go back to Colorado or play soccer overseas or whatever and I’ll figure something out. I can contact someone at the university and have them notified of her condition.” She takes a deep breath, and I can practically hear her debating about telling me whatever comes next. “If something does happen, I’d feel a hell of a lot better knowing you’re there with her, at least until I can get there. But I get it. You have your own life, and it’s been a while since you’ve seen each other. Things change, people change. If you want to back out, then do it. No hard feelings.”

Yeah right. And she’s got a point. Several actually. When Layla blew me off via text message, I damn near lost my mind and drove straight back to Georgia every damn day. But my mom needed me and Layla wanted nothing to do with me. So I resorted to calling her aunt at work pretty much every day until she started giving me updates on how Layla was doing. What meds she was on, if she’d had any more seizures, how they were treating her at school.

Not that I was all that worried about the last one, since I’d threatened Cam and DW until I was blue in the face before leaving, and both guys swore to look out for her and to keep the girls from giving her shit. Not that they really had since Homecoming. Whether they felt sorry for Layla after seeing how bad it was or just didn’t want me to blow the fuck up on them wasn’t clear. Or important. So long as they treated her with the kindness and respect she deserved.

I lean down and pretend to tie my shoe to put off going into practice with the others. “I don’t want out. I just don’t want her to find out about this and hate me.” Just when she’s finally starting to let me in.
Again.

“Okay, first of all, I see no reason she would need to find out. And secondly, I don’t think she could ever hate you. Would she be mad? Well…yeah. But hate you? I don’t even think she’s capable of that. Plus, she’s a smart girl. Angry as she’d be, eventually she would see sense and know that this was done with her best interest at heart.” Her voice stays steady but I can tell the woman is trying to convince herself of the shit she’s shoveling onto me. “Just be discreet, Landen, and everything will be fine.”

“I hope you’re right.”
But I suspect you’re dead-ass wrong.

“I
’m
not gonna lie. Yesterday kicked my ass,” Skylar tells me Monday morning. Stretching until my hands damn near smack the doorframe, I realize I’m pretty fucking sore too. And texting Layla till after midnight probably wasn’t the smartest move.

“Probably didn’t help that we went to practice slightly hungover,” I point out.

“Yeah, I’m thinking that was a dumbass move, not that I wouldn’t do Saturday night over again.”

Ditto, my friend. “Speaking of which, did Corin mention if they were coming to the scrimmage tomorrow night?”

“Nah, she’s playing hard to get. But twenty bucks says they show up.”

Today, Skylar and I are going to Intro to Getting Your Ass Up Early in the Fucking Morning while Austin and Dean and the others sleep in. But tomorrow, I’m not getting out of bed until noon. Especially since we need to be rested for our scrimmage against the upperclassmen. Remembering the thrill of Layla watching me play soccer has my adrenaline surging full force, and I’m wide awake even before we stop at the coffee shop on campus.

Skylar’s texting while we wait in line. Whether it’s the girl he knows from high school, Corin, or some other chick he’s managed to run some game on in the few days we’ve been here, I have no idea. But he’s grinning like an idiot so it’s definitely one of the above.

When he orders two coffees, I know it was most likely Corin. And if Corin’s coming to class, then Layla probably won’t be there since she mentioned that they were planning to switch off. But knowing Layla, she won’t miss the first day of class for anything, so I order an iced mocha in addition to my black coffee.

“Dude, you are so pussy whipped,” Skylar tells me as we walk to class.

“Oh yeah? I’m not the only one carrying two coffees.”

“Yes, that’s because I’m trying to get laid. You, on the other hand, are chasing one you’ve already had when there’s at least ten thousand other fine-ass girls around.”

I clear my throat without looking at him and take swig of my steaming, bitter coffee.

“Oh, no.
No way.
You lost your shit on Taite over a piece of ass you haven’t even tapped? Whoa, that’s like a whole new level of pussy whipped. It’s like…shit, it’s like you’re titty-whipped or something. Please tell me you’ve at least rounded the bases.”

I glance over at him, irritated at how well he’s putting the pieces together. “How old are you man? Cause I’m having flashbacks of the junior high locker room.”

He snorts. “Yeah, okay. I’m just saying, you’re ruining the freshmen experience, my friend.”

“Says the guy who said my pussy lips were showing and I needed to make a move.”

I watch as he shakes his head in a you’re-a-complete-dumbass way. “Yeah, a move to hit it one more time so everyone would know that shit was yours and then back the hell off. Not to get all bleary-eyed and follow her around like a damn stalker.”

So much for being discreet. Running my hand through my hair, I try not to sound as panicked as I feel when I ask, “Do I really seem like her stalker?” Her words from Saturday night come back to me.
So you’ve resorted to stalking me?

“Let’s recap, shall we? You shouted her name across the whole freshmen class at orientation and tried to run her down, went balls-to-the-wall
psycho
on Taite for
talking
to her at a party, showed up at a club you knew she’d be at, molested her in an alley, and reacted like a lunatic when some guys
almost
ran into her. Now you’re taking her a coffee on the first day of a class that, once again, every freshmen enrolled will be at.”

Son of a bitch.
“Well, it sounds bad when you say it all together like that. Here, you take this one too and be the damn gentleman.”

Skylar looks awkward carrying three coffees, but there’s no way I can ask for hers back now. I just need to take a step back. Be friendly, but not overly interested because, like her aunt said, she’s a smart girl. If I don’t back the hell off at least a little, she’s going to know something’s up.

Walking into Hilton Hall Auditorium, I groan at the crowd. She won’t like this. But then I remember how she handled the club. She’s doing better. And I have got to take it down a notch if even Skylar thinks my behavior is excessive.

Maybe I won’t even sit near her, and I’m definitely not going to bring up the scrimmage tomorrow or shakes afterward again. If she comes with Ginger to see Skylar then that’s cool, and if she doesn’t, that’s okay too. I’m psyching myself up to give her some space when Skylar turns down an aisle and I see her and Ginger—fuck,
Corin
—already sitting. And all my plans to chill out are shit. Because she’s wearing these short-ass shorts and her long tan legs are crossed in front of her. On the foot propped in the air dangles a flip-flop that matches her snug pink t-shirt. She’s jiggling her leg just enough so I know she’s uncomfortable in the crowd—and just enough to drive me insane with want.

My pulse ramps up as we say good morning, and they thank Skylar for the coffee. Layla leans around my roommate, making a special point of saying good morning to me. She licks the whipped cream from her bottom lip, and I can’t help but remember the soft, sweet feel of her mouth on mine.

I nod at her like I’m too tired to chat and drop myself into the seat next to Skylar.

The lecture starts and I’m congratulating myself on keeping my eyes off her legs and her pretty little pink painted toes, for the most part anyway, when my phone buzzes in my back pocket. I didn’t even realize I was sitting on the damn thing.

It’s a text from Skylar.
You are so screwed. Maybe after tomorrow night’s scrimmage you and legs can go ring shopping.

I don’t bother with a response but I jab my elbow hard into his ribs.

“Damn, dude,” he hisses at me.

“Keep your eyes off of her fucking legs,” I hiss back. Both Layla and Corin lean forward to see what the hell is going on with us.

And I see it. The look on her face that tells me she’s hurt that I’m not sitting by her, and that I didn’t say good morning. And my one goal in life has been not to cause her anymore pain. As soon as our gazes cross paths she turns her head abruptly and focuses intently on the heavyset brunette lady conducting a lecture that may or may not be on time management. Who can concentrate with so much of Layla’s skin exposed? I wish it were winter so she would put on some damn pants and maybe even a sweater.

I’ve got to figure out a way to back off without hurting her. Because if things go as far as I want them to, and she finds out what the hell I’m really doing here, I will have forfeited any chance I had of her being mine. Ever again. And dammit, now that it’s even a remote possibility, the thought of not having her is razor blades raking me raw.
Just slow your roll, O’Brien.

A voice I’ve contained for so long pushes through my internal struggle. My father’s voice.
Why did you ever think you could do this? You will screw this up and ruin you both. Just like before.