Chapter Eighteen
Tyler
Layla’s face looks murderous.
She pushes Adam and he stumbles back a bit. He looks hurt but her words cut through the air like a knife. “You cheated on me! Get a clue. Never. Going. Out. With. You. Again! Done. So done!”
“Baby,” he says. She gets into her car and slams the door shut. Adam is such a dipshit though, and tries to get her to roll down her window.
“Jared, looks like we’re going to have to pick up dumbass here and take him away before Layla calls the cops.”
“Shut up!” Adam yells at me. “She loves me.”
“No, bro. I’m pretty sure you pissed her the hell off,” I say.
Jared walks over and grips Adam by the back of his neck. “Let’s go, man. Tyler here is heading to Melanie’s house. I hear Selena is going to be there.”
“I don’t want Selena.”
“If you start crying I’m going to personally punch you in the nuts,” I warn.
“She wouldn’t let me claim her.”
I take it back. He’s about to get punched if he keeps talking like that. “What did you say, man?” I ask.
He shoves me and tries to wriggle free from Jared’s grip. “You both heard me.”
“Don’t be a prick, Adam. Anyone can see you aren’t ever winning her back. I don’t care if you lick her shoes and shower her with rose petals,” I say.
“Eff off, Tyler,” Adam screams.
I reach my Jeep and Jared pushes Adam into the back. “He’s right, man. You’re such a dumbass.”
“Whatever.”
I shoot Jared a look. Why did we decide to help this idiot? We should have let Layla run over his foot or call the cops. Anything would have been better than listening to him sob.
We arrive at Melanie’s in record time. We all pile out and head into the house. It’s full of people already. As I pass the stairwell someone hands me a cold beer. I hand it off to Adam. “Drink up.”
He doesn’t argue; he just pops the top and walks off. I look around at the same shit that happens every weekend and I hit Jared’s chest. “I’m not staying.”
Jared grumbles as Rachel Little bounces over to us. “Hi Jared. Great game. You’re amazing.” She looks over at me and gives me a weird look. “Good job, Tyler.”
“Yep.”
I start to shift away but then Rachel snorts. “Oh lord. This cannot be happening.”
I follow her stare and notice Mark and Juliet dancing. Well, more like Mark trying to show Juliet how to grind and then her looking uncomfortable and as out of place as her t-shirt shirt in a house full of girls in skimpy clothes.
Jared looks over at Rachel and snaps, “What’s wrong?”
“Look, my best friend might be that dork’s twin but that doesn’t give her the right to be here. She doesn’t belong at all. Look at what she’s wearing, for God’s sake. That right there is a huge sign she’ll never fit in.”
Jared shrugs. “I think she looks pretty freaking hot. Personally, the whole I’m-totally-smart-and-don’t-give-a-shit-what-people-think-about-me look really does it for me. Showing a ton of skin leaves very little for the imagination.”
She gapes at him. “You’re joking.”
“He’s really not,” I say. “You ready to go?”
“Yep.” Without another word to Rachel he stalks out the door and I follow.
My phone buzzes before I slip back into my Jeep.
Faye: I swear the universe is against me.
Me: Y is that?
Faye: Just jerks in general.
Me: Yeah. Hey. I’m bout 2 drive my friend home. Won’t text 4 bout 20 mins. Wanted u 2 know I’m not ignoring u.
Faye: Wow that’s really sweet. Drive safe. Talk to you soon.
Me: Talk 2 u then.
Jared groans. “You’re not getting hung up, huh?”
“I’m not. I like talking to her though.”
“Bullshit. When have you ever texted a person, let alone a girl, this much?”
I continue to drive with the music cranked up. Hopefully it will make Jared drop this interrogation. It doesn’t. “Wow. You really are into her. How can you be into someone you’ve never met? You don’t even know what she sounds or looks like. What do you really know about her?”
“Enough.” I make a turn on Hobson Street. “I don’t know what this is. All I know is I like texting her. So what?”
“I just don’t get why you haven’t stopped. You know it’s not going anywhere.”
“How do you know it’s not going anywhere?” I can hear the harshness in my voice.
Jared grumbles. “You told me that you guys wouldn’t get personal or whatever. Therefore, that means you won’t meet her. What the hell is the point of texting someone you won’t meet?”
“Why are you jumping all over me? This has nothing to do with me texting Faye. It’s all about you trying to get Juliet to notice you. Well, I hate to break this shit to you, but she probably has noticed you. And as Rachel so eloquently pointed out, she’s not exactly in the same class of people as we are. So that means she wouldn’t have made a bold ass move even if she did like you. Mark saw that shit and swooped in.” I probably shouldn’t have let all that loose, but man, he’s really pissing me off.
“Let me out here. I’m going to walk.”
“Oh, don’t be such a pansy. I’m taking you home.”
He slaps the power button on the radio. “Whatever, man. I’m trying to point out sooner or later this whole veiled relationship is going to blow up in your face.”
“I know.”
“What?”
“I know it’s going to eventually end.” I am not stupid. Soon one of us will start seeing someone. That thought right there bothers me more than I want to admit. Which is crazy because it’s not like I can actually ask her out. In person Layla hates my freaking guts.
I pull up to his house. “Thanks for the ride. Sorry for being a prick.”
“It’s cool man. I’m sorry too. You’ll get her soon.”
“Maybe.” He gets out and shuts the door.
My phone has rested in my hand for about twenty minutes now. Maybe I should stop texting her. There’s a knock on my door. My dad enters my room looking like he’s already had one too many whiskeys. His blue eyes are the same as mine, only bloodshot and glazed over.
“How did you do?” he hiccups.
“Good. We won.” He would know if he ever went to a game. I don’t dare mention that. He’s too busy. His absence gives me: my Jeep, the roof over my head, and every other luxury around here. I’m happy, I’m blessed. But would it be so terrible if he saw one game?
He bobs his head up and down. “Good. Good.”
He rocks on his heels. His usually pressed suit is in disarray. His black tie is undone and falling away from the collar. “No parties?”
“There were a few. I just decided to stay in.”
“Back in my day there was a party around every block. Me and my buddies went house to house. And the ladies? You couldn’t keep them off of us. I had one every night.” He laughs as if recalling this shit is somehow funny. “Bet you know what I mean. Don’t get serious or tied down until you’re thirty-five.”
Yep. This is the type of crap my dad slurs at me. He brags about his past and then tells me to be a player for a long time. He also tells his office buddies how great I am at football, how I’m going places. Yet he doesn’t really know; he’s never watched a single game.
Mom used to come when I was younger but she stopped around eighth grade. If I do make it big, guess who’s getting thanked? My friends, coaches, and maybe my girlfriend, if I get one of those. It certainly won’t be my shitty parents.
He makes his way to the door. “Well, we have a charity event tomorrow. Some damn thing your mom is making us do. Starts at noon.”
“I know.” It’s for underprivileged children, but of course he can’t remember that.
He steps out of my room and I text Faye.
Me: I hate my family.
Faye: I’m sorry. I can’t complain too much about mine.
Me: Mine r entitled dickwads! My dad is always busy taking on clients or some shit. My mom is more worried bout lookin great in the public eye n hosting all these events. None of them really know I exist.
Me: Sry 4 the rant. He just came in2 my room n basically told me 2 go screw all the grls in the world. Then said I shouldn’t get married til I’m old. Meanwhile he’s drunk. Again.
Me: Again sry I’m ranting u probably don’t want 2 hear bout any of this.
Faye: That sounds awful. Don’t be sorry for unloading on me. u’ve listen 2 my crap about my ex. I say rant away.
Me: Thanks. I really hate that they don’t attend my games. Yet they brag 2 whoever is in their little circle of tightwads n rich jackasses how gr8 I am. How would they even know? They never come.
Faye: Wow. My mom might not understand cheering but she makes as many games as she can. I’d be so sad and ticked off if she didn’t come to any of them.
Me: Yeah. I’m not asking them 2 come 2 all of them but 1 would b freaking nice.
Faye: If our games didn’t fall on the same days I’d totally come see you play. Everyone needs support.
I want to tell her she does see me. I can’t. Not yet.
Me: Thanks. So … r there any big dances coming up at ur school?
Faye: A few. I don’t plan on attending. Kind of funny. Last year I would have been crying about not having a date or attending a school dance.
Me: What changed?
Faye: It’s just a dance with someone you’ll eventually forget right? Someone who will become that guy you went to this with or that with. It’ll be nothing. OMG I’m sounding like my sister.
Me: She sounds pretty smart. N yeah I get it. Every1 is gettin on my case bout stupid crap l8ly. Like when do u plan on taking ur ACT n SAT? What colleges r u looking at?
Faye: I know. It’s like the future isn’t just a we will see thing. It’s like you have to know all the answers and your plans now. In the meantime I have enough trouble passing Algebra.
Me: Exactly. Hey, um … do u mind if I call u?
Faye: I uh … I don’t know. Do you think that’s a good idea?
Me: Yes. Maybe. Do u think it’s bad?
Faye: Idk what if I sound like some beast 2 u or something? Will u stop talking 2 me?
Me: I’m pretty sure u won’t.
Faye: Um … okay.
I hit dial and wait. Two rings in and I hear a faint sigh then, “Hey.”
“Hi.”
“Um … so … you don’t sound like a beast,” she says then laughs. Holy shit, I think I love the sound of Layla’s laugh. I hardly hear it when she’s around me.
“Not yet, I try to keep all that hidden,” I tease. My cheeks hurt from grinning. What is wrong with me? Why do I keep grinning like an idiot? Thank God she can’t see me, she’d probably think I was nuts.
“Do you usually go to parties after your games?”
“Sometimes. I just wasn’t feeling it tonight,” I say.
“Me neither. I don’t think I can take any more sympathy stares, or people whispering behind my back about what must’ve happened between me and Douche of the Year.”
“That is a great name for him.” I laugh. “So how’s that been going?”
“The rumors, or avoiding my ex?”
“Both, I guess.”
I hear something rustle then she groans. “It’s been crappy. I mean in class I can tell there are a lot of people who are so happy we broke up. Then there are those who just want to feed off gossip, so they gloat about it and make up reasons. I don’t tell them the truth because I’m tired. Why should I? What’s it to them anyway? Ugh, then there is this one boy in my school who’s constantly being a total jackhole. Like somehow my very existence bothers the living hell out of him. But I guess I shouldn’t care because he’s like a huge class clown.”
Damn it. This is why I can’t tell her it’s me she’s talking to. She thinks I’m a jackass yet, she’s the one who treats me like garbage.
I clear my throat. “He sounds like an asswipe.”
“He is. I guess you can be that if your father has his face and family name plastered all over and all the money in the world. Why would you have to take life seriously? He’ll have a job and all that money to play with probably right after he graduates.”
Is that how she really sees me? No wonder why she hates my freaking guts. I don’t want to break the news to her that I would probably get nothing more than a janitor’s job at my father’s firm if I didn’t go to college. Even though we have money my father constantly reminds us all that our family built our legacy from nothing. And we need to earn our keep.
“I know people like that.” I knew a whole bunch of country club brats that fit that description.
“Yeah, they suck.”
“If you could change one thing what would it be?”
“For my dad to be here. He died when my sister and I were in middle school.”
I don’t think anyone in town will forget that day. Mr. Valentine was super fit. He ran every day. People in town swore he never drank or smoked. Not once. Mr. Valentine was always nice, and he always got the baseball team ice cream even when we lost. One day on his run he collapsed just outside of town. My uncle was the one who spotted him on his way to work and called 911. The funeral was huge, pretty sure everyone attended.
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you. If you could change one thing what would it be?”
“I’d want a do over. One whole day.”
“Is there a specific day?” she asks.
I smile. “Nope. Can’t tell you that.”
She laughs. “That seems a little unfair.”
“Might be, but I’ll tell you eventually.”
“Why not now?” I can hear the pout in her voice.
I chuckle. “Because that’s a waste of a good surprise. Besides, how else am I going to get you to keep talking to me?”
She huffs. “Oh fine.”
“What is your favorite type of dessert?”
“Ohhh that’s a good question but you have to answer first?”
I can’t help but laugh again. “White chocolate chip cookies.”
“Really? No pies or cakes your favorite dessert is cookies?”
“Yep. What’s yours?”
“Ummmm … I love turtle cheesecake the most.”
“Cheesecake is weird because I don’t know if it’s a cake or a pie. You have crust like a pie but it’s called a cake. When you look it up, it’s vaguely considered both. Which do you think it is?”
“You know I’ve never thought about it. I just think it’s delicious. Is that a category?”
Phone Layla is funny. Way better than the one I see every day at school. I wish this version of her would actually greet me one day instead of the typical Ice Queen that’s been in my presents for most of my life.
“For you it can be.”
She giggles. “That’s awfully nice of you. Oh hey, my sis is home. I need to ask her how her first party was.”
“Oh, cool. She’s younger than you then?”
“No; she’s older. She’s a very shy person.”
Usually the girls I know can’t stand their family. I like how Layla cares about hers. It’s refreshing actually.
“Well, I hope you have a good night Faye.”
“You too.”
We hang up and I set my phone on my charger. What the heck am I getting myself into?