Chapter Forty-Two
Tyler
While I’m in the bathroom all I can think about is she’s naked under that towel. She’s about to slip into my clothes. Well, the pants are my sister’s but that doesn’t matter. I need to get ahold of myself.
I don’t know how the hell I’ve controlled myself this long, truth be told. Do I want to touch her? Hell yeah! Do I want to hold her and beg her forgiveness? Absolutely. Can I do any of this right now? Definitely not. Even though she seems lucid and slightly less drunk, she still got sick less than thirty minutes ago in my room. Plus, I meant what I said to her: I will not do anything with anyone who isn’t sober.
When or if I ever am with her, I want her to remember every detail as clear as a bell. I’m not that big of a jackass.
I shut off the shower and pace my bathroom. The girl I want is one hundred percent naked in my room. I run my hands through my hair. She’s going to be the death of me. Plain and simple.
Keep it together. Watch over her. Do not be an asshole!
I knock on the bathroom door and open it a slit, “Hey, are you dressed?”
“Yeah.”
I open the door and am greeted with a quick flash of her bare back as my shirt drops down and covers it. I groan as my pants instantly become the most uncomfortable thing I’ve ever worn in my life.
“Um … hold on a second.” I enter the bathroom again and grab two ibuprofens from my cabinet then return to her. She looks down at the pills in my hands and grumbles. “I shouldn’t say this, but I am not taking what’s in your hand.”
“Why not?”
“Because they could be something other than aspirin or whatever.”
I laugh. She basically said to my face that she thinks I would drug her, and I find that hilarious. Complete freaking goner for this silly girl. “What’s so funny?” she asks.
“You. Come on.” I guide her to the bathroom and throw out the pills in my hand. She watches me grab a plastic cup, rinse it out twice before filling it up, and hand it to her. Then I reach in the cabinet and grab the bottle of ibuprofen.
“If you don’t believe this is simple over-the-counter pain reliever, grab your phone and text a picture to someone you trust,” I say.
“Okay.” She takes her glass and leaves the bathroom. She returns with her phone and snaps a picture of the pill bottle. Then she sends off a text.
A few seconds later someone replies and she sticks out her hand. I place two pills in her palm. Once she takes the pills I take the cup from her. I fill it with mouthwash and watch her use it. I toss the cup and lead her back to my bed.
Layla takes a seat and I ask, “Who did you text?”
“Juliet. There are only a handful of people I’d trust my life with and she’s one. She never drinks. She’s the perfect poster child, you know? Smart, pretty, fun, doesn’t care what anyone thinks about her. Sometimes I wish we were identical in more ways than just looks.”
I take her hand in mine and squeeze it. “I’m glad you aren’t.”
“Why?”
“Because, Layla, I like you. Just the way you are. You’re beautiful, smart, and outgoing. You have faults and they challenge you, but that’s what makes you awesome. I’m sorry we never really talked before.”
She blinks at me. “Why are you telling me this?”
“I don’t know. Probably because you won’t remember a lick of this conversation in the morning, so it’s easier to get it all out there. I didn’t tell you I was R because you didn’t like me. You liked R but not all of him. Not all of me. I’m not sorry for that. I’m not sorry for letting you like all of me Layla.”
She swipes her hand under her eyes. “I keep screwing up. This isn’t normal for me.”
“What isn’t?”
“Us. Our whole relationship. Most people usually get a couple of dates in before all the massive bombshells drop. The deal breakers, if you will. Like, ew, does he actually clean out his ears with his fingers and wipes it on his pants?”
I scrunch up my nose. “Uh, no. Why, do you?”
“No. That’s gross. But this is what I’m talking about. You know all these flaws about me and I barely know any about you. This is so messed up. Do you know when I told Adam I was dyslexic? I waited three months before I told him.”
“So what? I don’t exactly open up to people either. I told you I don’t care that you’re dyslexic, it’s not a deal breaker for me. How people like Adam treat it is bullshit! For you to think it’s a flaw or something completely wrong with you is messed up.”
She lies down on my pillow and sighs. “You’re not listening to me.”
“I am listening. You’re just not comprehending that I love you as you are.” Shit! I said something I didn’t want to tell her just yet. Now it’s out there and she remains silent.
“Layla?”
She sits up. “I should probably call my sister.”
“Yeah. Okay.” Perfect. Real freaking great.
I get off the bed and go directly to my closet. I pull down a sweatshirt and toss it to her. “I don’t know where your coat is but I assume it’s in someone’s car.”
“Rachel has it.”
“Rachel Little drove you here?”
“Yes.”
I shake my head. “You know she left with Austin two hours ago?”
She frowns. “Figures.”
“The party is dying down. I can take you home. I didn’t drink.”
“That’s okay. I’ll call Juliet. She’s still up.”
I take her phone from her. “It’s one in the morning. Will you please let me do this tiny thing? I won’t say another word to you the rest of the night. Just please let me do this.”
“Is that what you want?”
I nod. I want to be the one to take care of her and get her home. I have a feeling she means something else though.
“Okay. If that’s what you want.” She stands and walks over to my door.
I snatch up the sweatshirt and approach her. Layla looks at it and I pull it over her head. She tugs the bottom. She looks damn good in my shirts. Before my mind gets carried away, I give her phone back to her. “Come on,” I say and grab her free hand. She doesn’t try to break away from my grasp, but she’s not holding onto very tight either. It shouldn’t bother me but it does.
I guide us downstairs and into the kitchen. I drop her hand for a second. “Help me, please.” I gather four almost empty liquor bottles in my arms and she does the same, and then follows me out into the den. There are a few couples in there, making out on the couches or talking. “Get out,” I tell them.
One couple shrug and leave the room. The other, in a heavy make-out session, is apparently deaf. I set the bottles down and smack the back of some guy’s head. He startles and glares at me. “What the hell, man?”
“Get the hell out of my house!”
“Psh. Yeah, whatever man.”
He tries to go back to kissing the girl he’s with but I snatch the back of his collar and yank it. “Get out before I really get pissed off.”
“Such a buzz kill.” He finally gets the hint and leaves with the girl.
I turn back to Layla and she’s just staring at me with three bottles in her hands.
“Set those over there, please.” I point to the mahogany chest behind her.
“You were really tense,” she notes.
“I need people to leave so I can lock this all back up. The two quickest ways to shut down a party: get rid of the alcohol and shout that the cops are coming.” I frown. “I don’t want drunk people thinking they should get behind a wheel of a car so I never shout that the cops are coming. I get rid of the drinks, and then I call cabs for people or let them crash here, if I can stand them. That guy is definitely getting a freaking cab.”
She doesn’t say a word. She places the bottles where I ask. I do the same with the ones I carried in here. We proceed to do this a second time and I lock up everything.
We return to the kitchen right as Jared stumbles in and sways a bit toward the island. “Hey. Where did all the beer go?”
“Dude, how much have you had?”
He shrugs. “Don’t remember. I started chugging as soon as she started kissing Mark. I can’t stand it. I love you, damn it. How can you not see that?” He is glowering at Layla. Layla has the most confused expression on her face. “Say something. Please say something.”
“Jare, that’s not Juliet, man. Come on, let’s go find you a room.”
He squints and then growls, “Son of a bitch. Don’t tell anyone I said that. I’m begging you.”
I glance back at Layla and pat Jared’s back. “Pretty sure she’ll forget this conversation in the morning. Let’s go. Layla, I’ll be back in a second. Don’t leave. Okay?”
“Okay,” she says. “And Jared, I won’t say anything.”
I take him to the spare room next to mine. As soon as he’s settled I rush back down to Layla. She is still in the kitchen, cleaning. Throwing away empty cups and wiping up messes. I’m in awe of her. Why is she helping? No one else bothers to do that.
I’m grateful and annoyed. I’m trying not to fall for her any more than I have but then she does crap like this. She’s making it impossible for me. “You don’t have to do that.”
She turns. “I know. You don’t have to take me home either, but you are. So, I want to help clean up.”
“I don’t want you to help though.” I practically growl at her.
She lowers the trash bag in her hand. “Why not?”
“Damn it Layla. Just stop.”
“That’s not a reason.”
I walk over and try prying the bag from her. She’s a strong little thing though, and she jerks it back every time I tug. Any more pulling from either us, and the bag is going to rip. I finally let go and snap, “You’re really making it impossible for me. I want to hate you, damn it! I want to be pissed at you. I can’t. Not when you’re looking sexy as hell in my sweatshirt. Not when you’re helping me clean up without being asked. I told you I love you and you haven’t said a word about it. I shouldn’t want to be anywhere near you after you put my feelings in a blender and ground them up.”
“You think I don’t have feelings? Sure, I have feelings. Tyler, I was trying to forget about you. I drank myself stupid. I threw up on your floor. I’m wearing your shirts and they smell like you. And God help me, I just want to melt with every stupid sniff. But I saw you with Selena and I hate that she kissed you. Then R stopped texting me and I felt so confused. How could I possibly miss two different people so much that it hurts? But I find out it was you the whole time and I’m relieved, but I’m also so mad at you. I feel cheated. Which one of those guys is the real you? Was this all a joke?”
I step toward her and brush away the tears. “No. It was never a joke. You got all of me. Only very few people get this. You’re one of them. I don’t have a thing for Selena. Did I see the jealous flare in your eyes whenever she was around? Yeah, I noticed. And maybe I’m the world’s biggest jerk because I wanted you to be jealous. I wanted you to pick me.”
“I did pick you.”
She tries to bring my lips to hers but I pull back. A frown appears and then she shoves me. “I thought you wanted me?”
“I do. Not like this.”
“Like what? I practically threw myself at you.” She shakes her head. “I’m such an idiot.”
“It’s not like that. Knock it off. I told you before, if you aren’t sober, this isn’t going to happen.”
She flips me off. “There won’t be a second chance. I’ll find my own ride.” She drops the trash bag and storms toward the living room.
There are people all around and the music is still going. No one seems to notice I’m pissed off or that Layla is angry. They don’t even seem to notice when she whips around and smacks me in the face.
I rub my jaw and she snarls, “Stop following me!”
“No. If you don’t want me driving you home, fine. I’m calling you a cab and I’ll wait with you to make sure you get in the damn thing.”
“Don’t bother. You can quit pretending you care.”
“It’s not pretending. I do actually give a shit.”
I follow her out the door, call her cab, and wait outside in the freezing cold with no coat on. I’d go in to fetch my jacket but I don’t trust her to stay put.
“I’ll call my sister,” she suggests.
“I called you a cab it should be here in less than ten minutes. Stop being difficult.”
“I am not being anything.”
I am not going to argue with her anymore. She’s not listening, and there is no point in explaining myself.
I don’t know how the night went from winning a game to confessing my feelings to Layla, to watching her getting into a back of a cab and loathing me for probably all eternity. But it did. It downright sucks too.