Chapter Forty-Three
Layla
At school Tyler doesn’t acknowledge me. It’s fine. I don’t want to talk to him either.
I can’t believe I made a fool of myself in front of him. Oh, and every time I see Jared he looks away. I haven’t told Juliet what he told me. In fact, I haven’t told anyone that I remembered anything from that party.
Playoffs are this week and then it’s the winter formal. I still don’t have a date and I don’t care. My sister wants me to go dress shopping with her this weekend. Normally I would love nothing more, because Juliet really hates dressing up and it would be fun to watch. I told her I’d think about it but honestly, I’m not in the mood.
The last bell sounds and people rush out of the room like the building is on fire. I take my time. There is nothing to hurry off to anymore. The boy I want basically pushed me away because I wasn’t sober. Okay. Why though, if he really likes me has he been ignoring me all day? There isn’t a lick of alcohol running through my veins. Now what the heck is stopping him?
I pass by Selena and she giggles loudly to her group of silly sophomores. “Tyler and I are going to the winter formal together. Eeeeeeek!”
My heart drops into my stomach. He asked her? Her!
I will not cry.
I hurry to my locker, grab my things and then make my way to my car. Adam is leaning against the door. “What?” I snap.
“I just wanted to let you know I’m sorry. I messed up.” He actually looks remorseful.
I shake my head. “Okay, fine. I have to get to practice.”
“I know.” He backs away from the door and smiles. “You won’t ever take me back, will you?”
“No.”
“I figured.”
I open the door and slide in. As soon as the door closes I feel like a chapter of my life has finally ended. I just wish another chapter of my life didn’t feel like it ended as well. I’ve got to let it go though, and accept that Tyler and I were not meant to be.
It’s been weeks and I’m miserable. There, I said it. I finally broke down and admitted it. I’m absolutely, one hundred percent miserable. It’s been weeks and Tyler and I are still not speaking. I miss him. I miss his voice, his laugh, but most of all I just miss him.
I lie back on my bed and sigh.
My door springs open, and Juliet enters wearing a really pretty, long, flowing, blue gown. I smile at my sister.
“Can you help me with my hair?”
“Sure.”
She takes a seat at my vanity and I roll off my bed. “Does my makeup look okay?” she asks.
“It’s fine.”
“Stop it Layla. Really look at me, please. I need my sister right now, not this weird zombie that’s been pretending to be her for weeks.”
I stare at her. “Fine. I’ll fix that too.”
“Why don’t you talk to him?” she prods.
I roll my eyes and run the brush through her hair. If I start working on her hair maybe she’ll forget I didn’t answer her. She knows why I can’t talk to him. I embarrassed myself in front of him at that party. There is no coming back from that. No chance at all.
She holds up a folded piece of paper. “If you don’t answer me I’m not giving this note to you. I don’t care if he told me it was a matter of life and death that you get it.”
I go to grab it and she drops her hand and smiles. “Nope. Answer me. Why won’t you talk to him?”
“I did talk to him. I told him I wanted him and he said he didn’t want me when I was drunk.”
Juliet sighs. “Why is that a bad thing?”
It’s not. I just didn’t want to be rejected then ignored. She hands me the note and I place it on my nightstand. “You’re going to read it, aren’t you?” she asks.
“No. Now shut up so I can fix your hair.”
Juliet scowls at me. “Dang it. Layla, he wrote you a letter. Most boys don’t do that. Not even through email, text, nothing. They barely tell you to your face. You need to read it.”
“Did you read it already? How do you know what’s in it, nosey pants?”
She shrugs. “That was the deal I struck with Tyler. I read the letter to decide if I should give it to you or not. He was all red in the face but he agreed. I needed to be sure whatever was in the letter wasn’t going to upset you more. Sue me for caring.”
“I think I might.” I smirk. “What does it say exactly?”
Juliet starts to shake her head but I hold her down by her shoulders. “Don’t, you’ll get the brush stuck in your hair and you don’t want to go to the dance looking like that. It’s not exactly an in-style look.”
“Fine. But I’m not telling you what’s in the letter. You need to read it.”
I groan. “That could take all night and you know it.”
“Well, I can read it to you while you do my hair. Deal?”
Shady. Can’t believe she’s striking deals with me. “Ugh. Fine. You’re impossible sometimes.”
I drop the brush and reach for the note. She takes it from me and smiles wickedly. “I’ll read this on two conditions.”
“What?”
“One, you’ve got to talk to him after I read this. Two, you have to go to the dance with me.”
“Have you lost your marbles? I don’t have a dress, or a date.”
She continues to smile. “There is a dress in my room that I was told to buy, with matching shoes. And if we stop wasting time you’ll have enough of it to get everything done and still have a date and a ride to the dance. In or out?”
I scowl at her. “Fine. I’m in.”
She opens the note and starts to read while I heat up the curling iron and pull out my big box of bobby pins. “‘Layla, you drive me nuts. Your scent is embedded in my car. Your laugh is in my head. Your face invades my dreams. There are so many times I want to go up to you and apologize. At this point though, I’m not sure what I should apologize for.’”
“This letter sounds awful!” I glare at my sister.
“It’s getting there. Hold on.” She clears her throat and continues. “‘Should I apologize for how I’ve acted recently? Should I apologize for the years I’ve spent misjudging you? Should I apologize for falling in love with you twice? Should I apologize for not having the balls to tell you to your face how I feel when you can actually remember the words I’m saying?’”
“Wait, what did he say?”
“You want me to read it again or do you just want me to repeat the last question?”
“The last question. Are you making that up?”
“Layla, he loves you.”
I smile for the first time in weeks. “What’s the rest of it say?”
“I’m getting to it.” I continue working on her hair while she reads. “‘You texted me out of the blue as a wrong number. At first, I thought you were some drunk. After a few more texts I became hooked. I don’t even like texting or talking on the phone. But there I was, drawn to you, Layla Faye. I needed to know more about you. When I figured out who you were I was already head over heels.’”
“He was?”
“Quit interrupting me,” She snaps. “Where was I. Oh okay. ‘I was already head over heels. Putting a face to the texts made it better. I thought if I could get you to feel the same way about me, either as R or myself, then at least I’d have a chance. But after you told me we should stop hanging out and then rejected my offer to take you to the dance I felt like maybe you didn’t like me the way I liked you. So, I backed off. This didn’t make how I felt any better. I don’t like us not talking, Layla.’”
I start to sniffle.
“Please don’t burn my hair,” Juliet warns.
“I’m not going to mess up your hair,” I say. “Is that the whole letter?”
“No. There is a little bit left.” She smiles. “‘I miss you and hope you miss me too.’”
I blink back a few unshed tears. “I do miss him.”
“You need to call him.”
But I heard Selena, isn’t he taking her to the dance?
I finish curling and pinning my sister’s hair and then start to fix her makeup. Juliet keeps shooting me looks every so often. “What?”
“You’re going to call him, right?”
I chew on the inside of my cheek. “I thought he already had a date?”
Juliet arches a brow. “Um. No. He wouldn’t have written this letter and paid for your dress and shoes if he had another date Layla. Call him.”
“I heard her telling everyone that.”
She scowls at me. “That thot? He didn’t ask her out. She’s been begging him to take her and he never gave her an answer. She spread that rumor, probably to force him to take her. He doesn’t want her, though. He wants you. Remember the day I came to Moe’s?”
I shrug. “Sure. What about it?”
“He left the Pizzeria not just because he was worried about me, but because he was upset that people were making fun of our waitress, who obviously had a learning disorder. He wasn’t laughing, he was ticked off.”
I drop the eyeshadow brush. “Layla!” Juliet swipes at her dress and I pick it swiftly.
“Sorry.”
“Am I done?” she asks. I nod. “Good. Call him.”
She stands and goes toward the door. “Then come get your dress, okay?”
I agree and she leaves.