The Temptation of Lila and Ethan (35 page)

“Yeah, I know,” he replies in a rushed voice. “Your name came up on the screen.”

“Oh yeah, duh.” I coil a strand of my short hair around my finger, unsure how to react to his standoffish attitude. “Sorry, I’m being a little bit spacey, aren’t I?”

He doesn’t answer right away and I can hear someone talking in the background. A woman. London probably. “Did you need something?” he finally asks, distracted.

“Not really,” I say, unraveling my hair from my finger. “I was just sitting in my old room and suddenly thought of you.”

“You’re in your old room… why?”

“Because,” I start, but there’s a loud crash in the background and then it gets really loud with voices and rustles. “I’m sorry. You sound busy. I’ll just call back later.”

I expect him to argue a little, but instead he quickly says, “Okay, talk to you soon.” Then he hangs up.

I try not to sulk or let it get to me, because I’ve been so accustomed to guys blowing me off, but I wasn’t in love with them. And I had my pills. As the urge to cry over his brush-off overpowers me, I want to leave the room and go track down my mother’s stash, because she has them hidden all over the house.

“Jesus, Lila,” Ella calls out from the closet. “Is there a secret to putting the dress on… I can’t get the ribbon to tie.”

“Do you need my help?” I say starting to get up when the
closet door opens and she walks out, the flowing dress swishing with her steps. It’s not tied and so it’s loose in the front, but she still looks beautiful. I instantly place my hand over my mouth and shake my head, my eyes welling up. “Oh my God, you look so beautiful.”

She swallows hard, glancing down at the dress, gripping some of the fabric in her hands. “I guess so.”

I lower my hands from my mouth. “You don’t sound happy. Do you not like the dress?”

“No, I like the dress.” She glances up at me, confused. “It just feels like there’s something missing.”

I move forward and fiddle with her hair. “It’s probably because you don’t have any makeup on and your hair’s not done, but we can get it done for the wedding.”

She shakes her head again, turning it to the side and looking at her reflection in the full-length mirror on the wall next to the vanity. She stares at herself forever and I can tell she’s about to cry. Sucking in a breath, she turns for the closet.

“I’m going to get out of it,” she mutters and then disappears into the closet, shutting the door.

I stand there for a moment, deciding whether or not to go in there and find out what’s wrong. She’s obviously hurting over something and I wonder if it’s something about Micha or her family. My best guess would be her family, since they’ve been the center of her problems in the past.

Deciding to go find out, I step forward toward the closet but stop when my mom walks into my room.

She’s wearing an unwrinkled cream-colored pencil skirt and silver satin blouse. Her heels match her shirt and the purse draped over her shoulder, the purse that I know holds her bottle of pills. Her blonde hair is done in a bun and it’s been a while since I’ve seen her, but the lack of wrinkles in her face probably mean she’s recently had Botox done.

“Jesus.” She stumbles back, surprised to see me and the heel of her shoe makes a streak across the shiny white-and-black marble floor. “How did you get in here?”

I clutch my hand around my phone, remembering the last time I saw her and my father and they both told me how stupid I was for moving to Vegas. That I was going to turn into nothing and that to my father I was already nothing, worthless, a huge massive disappointment that he wished had never been born. He didn’t want garbage like me in his house. Those were his exact words and that’s when I jumped into my car and drove back to Ella’s, making the decision to never see them again. And I’ve been good on my promise until today.

“I walked through the front door,” I say, regretting coming here, but Ella needed a dress. She deserves one, a good, pretty one that will make her feel special on her wedding day. Because whether she’ll admit it or not, almost every girl wants the perfect dress.

My mother stands in the doorway, looking me over as she grips the doorknob. “You look like shit, Lila. That T-shirt…” She makes a repulsed face. “And that godawful haircut. What were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t thinking anything,” I tell her, eyeing her Botoxed face. “Other than I was sick of looking artificial.”

“Watch it, young lady,” she warns, letting go of the doorknob and stepping forward. “Or you won’t get what you came here for.”

I cross my arms and raise my eyebrows at her, unsure what she means. “And why did I come here?”

She waits, like she’s expecting me to give her the answer, when I don’t have a clue what’s going on. “So you finally took my advice and came back. Honestly, I’m not sure how I feel about this, Lila.” She walks into the room, her head held arrogantly high as she takes in my appearance like I’m a sideshow circus freak. “Do you know how frustrated your father and I have been with your life choices lately?”

“Probably about as frustrated as you’ve been with them since I was born,” I say, my voice coming out sharper than I intended.

She purses her lips and places her hands on her hips as she reaches me—close enough, yet her eyes look so far away. “Lila Summers, you know the rules in this house. You won’t talk to me like that while you’re here.”

I’ve always been taught to obey, but seeing her like this, my vision undiluted, I feel like I’m seeing her for the first time, along with everything she’s done and said to me over the years. “Yes, I do, mother. Don’t express anything, right? At least in a healthy way.”

“What does that mean?”

“You know what it means.”

“No, I don’t.” She rushes toward me and gets in my face. “If you’re going to move back in here with me, there will be rules.”

I smile at her politely, suddenly understanding what she thinks I’m here for. I’m about to say something when the closet door swings open and Ella walks out carrying the dress over her arm, her eyes red, like she’s been crying. She stops dead in her tracks as she takes one look at me and my mother and tenses, eyeing the door like she’s going to bolt. And I don’t blame her. I’m thinking the exact same thing.

“Who are you?” my mother asks curtly, her gaze sliding over Ella’s torn shorts and faded purple tank top.

Ella glances at me with a what-the-hell-should-I-do look and I can see the apprehension on her face. She doesn’t do well with parents, and even though I don’t completely understand why, I’m guessing that it’s because her dad’s an alcoholic and probably wasn’t that nice to her.

“She’s my friend,” I state, swinging around my mom and grabbing Ella’s arm. I jerk her toward the door a little harder than I meant to, but I’m trying to portray inner strength, even though it’s hard to feel it whenever my mother’s around. “And we were just leaving.”

“Like hell you are.” My mother’s fingers snag my elbow and she yanks on my arm. The side of her purse brushes against my arm and I can’t help but think how easy it would be to snatch it from her and steal her bottle of pills, knowing
the instant one went down my throat, I’d feel better, but it’d be a fake better. “You aren’t walking out of here, especially when you look like that.”

“Look like what?” I wrench my arm away from her.
Inner strength. Do not let her get to you
. It’s difficult, though, without the pills. “A normal human being?”

Her eyes turn icy as they narrow in on me. “I’m not going to let you screw up your life, even though you’ve been so determined to do so. It’s time to start over.” She cuts her gaze to Ella. “And get away from the people who aren’t suitable for you.”

Ella glares at her as she starts to open her mouth and even though I’m curious as to what’s going to come out of it, I decide it’s time for me to put my mother in her place, because I need to stand up for myself. “That’s what I’m doing right now.” I flash her my most beautiful smile, and then grab Ella’s hand and hurry for the front door.

One foot in front of the other. Get the hell away from here and all the emptiness it holds.

My mother starts yelling at us as she follows us through the house, saying mean things about me and Ella, and she even tries to take the dress away, telling me that neither one of us is worthy of having it, not when we looks so trashy. That’s it. She can take jabs at me because I’m used to it, but not at my friends. It’s ridiculous and pathetic. As we reach the entryway, I whirl around and threaten her with the one thing I know will make her stop.

“Walk away, Mother, or I’ll tell everyone your secrets,” I
warn in a low tone, walking toward her. I get in her face, surprising her and myself. “I will make sure everyone knows just how great of a person you are outside and
inside
.” I smile as she frowns, her face draining of color, and inside I do a pleased dance.

“Watch your mouth.” Her voice trembles, but her face is subdued.

“Oh, I will.” I let out a sharp laugh. “I’ll watch it as I walk around announcing to anyone who will listen just how great you and Dad are behind closed doors.”

I’m putting her worst fears out there. Part of me wants to keep going, slap her across the face, tell her how worthless she is, beat her down like she’s done to me for years, but I don’t want to turn into her either. Ella and I walk out of the house and I make a silent vow to myself that I will never, ever return, not to her, my father, that lifestyle, or the pills. There’s nothing there for me. Never has been. Now that my head is finally clear, I can see that now. See what I want.

I want a life of my own.

Lila

After we drop the dress off at Ella’s house, we change into nicer clothes and then I take her out to a nightclub as a sort of bachelorette party. I asked her if she wanted anyone else there, but she told me no and that besides Micha, I was really the only person she wanted to hang out with at the moment. The nightclub isn’t as fancy as the ones I’m used to, tucked in a corner of a run-down neighborhood, but the entrance fee was cheap and they have two-dollar Jell-O shots.

“Are you okay?” Ella calls out over the loud, booming music, crossing her legs as she spins back and forth in the barstool. She has on a short green dress and her hair is down and curled at the ends. She keeps getting texts from Micha and each one brings this lovey-dovey look to her eyes that I envy and want. “You seem really sad.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?” I have a backless white-and-black dress on that hits halfway above my knees. It looks really fancy but I actually bought it at a discount store.

She takes a sip of her drink, looking uncomfortable. “Because of your mom?”

I shrug and sip my fruity drink. I promised myself I wasn’t going to drink that much, but I’m walking in dangerous territory right now, having just got done with my mother and the fact that I haven’t heard from Ethan since we had that awkward, rushed conversation. “Yeah, but I don’t really want to talk about it if that’s okay.”

She flips her hair over her shoulders and fans her hand in front of her face. There’s no air conditioning inside the club and there are way too many people in the compacted area. “Okay, what do you want to do then?” A devious grin appears on her face as she slams back the Jell-O shot. “Talk about Ethan?” She slams the little plastic cup down on the counter top.

I shake my head. I haven’t been trying to think too much about Ethan and the phone call. I keep trying to tell myself that he’s probably just having a hard time. I mean, it has to be hard seeing someone you care about who can’t remember you at all.

“I don’t want to talk about him either,” I tell her, stirring my drink.

Ella sucks the last of her drink down, gagging as she swallows the alcohol piling up in the bottom beneath the ice. “Why not? You never used to be so closed off about guys. In fact, you told me stuff about Parker that I really didn’t want to hear.”

“Ethan’s different from Parker.” I shrug as memories of
what happened with Parker surface, but I swiftly shake them away. “Besides… I don’t know… I think that maybe Ethan and I should just be friends.”

Her forehead furrows as she props her elbow on the countertop. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” I say. “I worry he might not be as into me as I’m into him.”

Ella muses thoughtfully over this with a trace of a smile playing at her lips and a drunken look in her eyes. “You think so?”

I tilt my head to the side, studying the strange look on her face. “You know something, don’t you?”

“I know a lot of things.” She spins around in her stool so she’s facing the packed dance floor. “Like the fact that Ethan has never ever talked about a girl so excessively until you.”

I rotate around in my stool, too, leaving my empty glass on the counter. “When has he ever talked about me?”

She smiles, the glow of the lights on the dance floor shining across her face. “For, like, the last month. Micha says he hasn’t stopped talking about you.”

“He’s probably saying what a pain in the ass I am,” I say. “I’m sure I’m driving him crazy, living with him.” Plus all the drama I’ve brought into his life.

“He’s both complained and gushed,” she remarks, making an exaggeratedly swoony face and then rolls her eyes. “Would you quit worrying? Jesus. You’ve never been like this with guys before. Usually you don’t give a shit.”

“I
don’t
give a shit,” I lie, but it comes out so pathetic sounding that I give up and just say the truth. “All right, you know what, you’re right. I do worry about how Ethan feels about me, but I also haven’t felt this way about a guy before.”

“What way?” she asks with interest, leaning in so she can hear me over the music.

“I can’t tell you yet because I need to tell him first.” I give her a halfhearted smile. “Now can we please have a subject change, perhaps something that doesn’t have to do with me and my life?” I thrum my fingernails on the counter. “Like maybe you could tell me what had you all teary-eyed back at my house.”

Her expression falls as she takes a deep breath and then, shaking her head, she grabs my hand and tugs me toward the dance floor. “Come on, let’s dance and have some fun,” she says, steering us through the crowd.