Keep Me Still (4 page)

I
t
takes me nearly all of first period to get my heart to beat normally again. Didn’t help that Landen sat right behind me and his breath was tickling my neck. Whenever he’s even remotely close to me, I seem to develop superpowers. My spidey senses kick in or something because I’m hyperaware of his every move. And constantly fighting the urge to grin like a crazed lunatic.

For the first time, someone sees me. And he’s new, an outsider, and he thinks there’s something wrong with everyone else instead of what I know deep down. There’s something wrong with me.

I should tell him, like Aunt Kate said. Let him cut and run before it’s too late. But I’m desperate. When he started to walk away from me today, I felt like I was drowning. So I reached out and grabbed him like the life preserver that he is. And he seemed to like it.

When I find him waiting under the magnolia tree where I normally have lunch, I can’t help but smile. When he smiles back, my breath catches in my throat, and I think about his promise earlier.
I’ll show you. When you’re ready.

“Okay if I have lunch with you?” he asks, and I notice his eyes look three shades brighter in the sun.

“Sure. Long as you don’t mind your friends staring like you’ve lost your mind.”

“What friends?” He looks honestly perplexed, like he didn’t spend his first few days having lunch with the social elite of Hope Springs. Whatever. Never look a gift horse in the mouth and all that. I lower myself onto the grass across from him. “So, is your middle name Roxanne?” Landen asks after swallowing his first bite of pizza.

“Very funny.”

“I was just curious,” he says with a shrug. But the gleam in his eye tells me he was teasing. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

“Faith,” I say softly. It was my mother’s name, but there’s no reason to pull this sweet, seemingly carefree guy down that dark alley of despair.

“Layla Faith Flaherty,” he announces. “I like it.”

“Glad you approve.” I’ve almost finished my bagel when I realize he hasn’t told me his middle name. “We had a deal,” I remind him, and once again I’m treated to that adorable dimpled grin.

“It’s Landen,” he replies, and I know I’ve been tricked.

“So you go by your middle name then. What’s your first?”

The thick knot in his neck bobs as he swallows his last bite of pizza. “Ah, a guy’s gotta have some secrets. Plus, if I told you everything about me upfront, what reason would you have for hanging out with me tomorrow night?”

I almost choke on my water. “We’re hanging out tomorrow?”

“Sure, that’s what friends do, right?”

Heck if I know. “Okay,
friend
. And what is it we’re doing tomorrow?”

“Grabbing dinner after practice? Maybe a milkshake too if you can guess my first name.”

“And you’ve found my weakness,” I say, clasping a hand to my chest as my heart threatens to pound straight out of it. We’re joking around. I know that. I’m not completely mental. But my mind is asking a million questions a minute.
A date. He’s asking me on a date…sort of. Or is he?

“Milkshakes?”

I force myself to breathe normally. “Yeah. There’s a place in town, Our Place. It has the best malted triple-thick chocolate shakes on the planet. And they give you the silver cup with the extra that won’t fit in the glass and they have this marshmallow cream whipped topping…Okay, now I kind of want one.”

“Layla, we’ve known each other for two days. Don’t you think it’s a little soon to have a
place
?”

I roll my eyes, surprised at how easily I’m able to joke around with him. Maybe all these years in social solitary haven’t left me completely lame after all “That’s cute. But no, it’s actually called
Our Place
. An elderly couple owns it. They’ve been married for like fifty years and that’s what it’s always been called.”

For the first time since we met, Landen looks a bit unsure of himself. “Um, so do you want to hang around after school tomorrow and watch practice or you want me to pick you up when I’m done?”

The lunch bell rings and I stand, grateful for an interruption so I can contemplate his offer. Okay, so I realize it’s a simple question, and yet I don’t know how to answer. If I stay after then it’s casual, like we grabbed a bite to eat on the way home from school. But if he picks me up it’s a date, right? I have zero experience with this type of situation whatsoever. Now would be an excellent time to have some girlfriends.

“Someone’s overthinking things,” he whispers in my ear as we head back inside.

I release the lip I didn’t realize I was biting. “I think I’ll just stay and watch you practice. That way I can break down my thoughts on your skills during dinner,” I tell him as we round the corner into the crowded main hall.

His light chuckle warms me from the inside out. “Oh, I see. So I buy you food in exchange for criticism?”

“Precisely.” Landen’s smile is so wide it’s infectious. I’m still smiling when he slides into the seat next to me in English. It’s almost distracting enough that the negative thoughts I’ve lived with for so long don’t attack, but as I sit waiting for Mrs. Tatum to begin the lecture, they do.

He sat at the popular table his first few days here. Laughed and joked with them. Hangs with Cam and the DW guy. Plays football and soccer with the same people who’ve basically blacklisted me. And there will be cheerleaders flocking to him any day now. If they haven’t already. I’m fidgeting with my pen and chewing my lip off when Landen reaches over and stills my hand with his large warm one.

“There a pop quiz today or something?” he asks quietly. Mrs. Tatum begins speaking so I just shake my head.

Surely someone with a smile that genuine and an ability to calm me with his touch isn’t plotting with the cool kids to hurt me. He doesn’t seem like the type to ask me out on a fake date to humiliate me for the enjoyment of his peers. Though, the people he’s been hanging out with so far would probably find that kind of thing utterly hilarious.

For the next hour I pretend to take notes as diligently as possible, but I can’t stop thinking about the choice fate has seemingly thrown into my path.

Should I trust Landen O’Brien? Can I? Or will he just leave me behind, hurt and broken, like everyone else?

S
itting
on the cold metal bleachers makes me wish I’d asked Landen to pick me up instead. I’m starting to regret my clothing choices. Last night when I told Aunt Kate I was staying after school and going to dinner with Landen, she made me try on ten different outfits, finally settling on a smoky gray lace-covered dress with my black knee-length riding boots. Fall is warm in Georgia, but once the sun begins to set, all bets are off.

After the impromptu fashion show, there was the Spanish Inquisition that left me wishing I were a guy. Surely Landen’s parents didn’t grill him about me like the torture I endured all through dinner.

Aunt Kate was excited and a bit wary. I could relate. Still can.

He comes off the field sweaty and winded. When his gleaming eyes meet mine, I smile, trying hard to ignore my lungs as they deflate.
Pull in oxygen, dang it.

“Hey,” he huffs out, clomping up the bleachers to where I’m still sitting. “I’m gonna grab a shower and change. You want to go sit in the truck and warm up?”

“Um, yeah, that’d be good,” I say, and he reaches in his bag to retrieve his keys. Following him down the bleachers, I let myself admire his muscular frame. And his perfect backside. I can imagine how the muscles would ripple and shift if his shirt were off. How the sweat would bead and fall down those broad shoulders. My mouth goes dry just thinking about it. I’m actually pretty relieved to know that part of me exists.
Congratulations, Layla Flaherty! You’re a normal teenage girl after all!

“I won’t be long,” he says, his voice startling me from my ogling.

“O-Okay,” I stammer, turning towards the parking lot as he jogs out of sight into the locker room. My back heats suddenly, and I know I’m the object of someone’s murderous glare. I can hear my name being mumbled by a group of nearby cheerleaders. I think I hear Landen’s too, but I keep walking.

As soon as I close the door and crank the truck, music fills the cab. It’s the Red song that was playing this morning when we pulled into the school parking lot.
The Best is Yet to Come
. Seems like it actually might be. The intense scent of Landen’s sharp, clean cologne surrounds me, seeps into me, and I can’t get enough. The heat just intensifies it and I’m kind of hoping it’ll linger on me so I can breathe him in even after he drops me off. This boy is making me weird. Or something closer to normal. I’m not sure.

I’m scrolling through his iPod, chuckling at the mass amounts of 80s music when he finally emerges from the locker room. Striding purposely towards his truck, towards me, he grins, and something that’s been building inside of me releases, spreading through me with a slow and satisfying heat I want more of. Something is happening to me, something I didn’t even think I was capable of. I’m a little scared and a whole lot nervous. The tingling anticipation comes to an abrupt halt when Alexis Bledsoe, queen of Hope Springs High School herself, and a redhead whose name may or may not be Jena Becker join him. The two converge on him like vultures to a carcass and I watch helplessly as his grin fades.

They’re saying something to him and he’s listening but still walking. He nods politely and only stops when Jena reaches out and touches his arm. Heady feelings of jealousy possess me for a second but I shake them off.
Friends
. That’s all we are. And even if we are more than that, he can talk to girls, let them touch his arm. I just wish it wouldn’t be these particular girls. The ones who’ve spent so much time and energy hating me and aggressively recruiting for the Stay Away From Layla Flaherty committee.

It’s none of my business so I force myself to go back to scrolling through his music. The names of his playlists almost make me laugh out loud.
Workin’ Out
.
Makin’ Out. Rockin’ Out.

I’m shaking my head when a click and a cool gust of air startle me. He gives me a tentative smile as he tosses his bag in the back of the cab and climbs into the driver’s seat.

“Ready?” he asks, and his eyes are hooded and dark, like he knows he’s asking if I’m ready for so much more than dinner.

Taking a deep breath, because he is and I think I am, I nod.

“Then off we go.”

A
ll
through our first date we talk about soccer. And she doesn’t once ask about the girls that accosted me outside the locker room while she watched from my truck. I’m waiting for it, but she never says a word. I should be glad that she’s cool and not territorial like some girls but…I want her to be. And yes, I realize how fucked up that is.

I saw how her smile faltered and she lowered her gaze when they flanked me to tell me about some party at one of their houses this upcoming weekend. But she’s carrying on like nothing happened so maybe I was imagining things.

“So there’s a party tomorrow night, after the game,” I inform her just before I take a huge bite of my cheeseburger. She smiles but her eyes go dim. “You want to check it out?”

“I’m not really a party kind of girl,” she informs me with a look that says she barely managed to leave
dumbass
off the end of her sentence.

“Yeah, I mean, I can see that. But we’re friends right? Friends do things together like grab dinner, watch movies, and go to parties.”

Something that looks like anger tinged with hurt flashes across her face, and I quickly evaluate my previous statement.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to be a condescending dick.” This girl apparently has no friends, for whatever crazy ass reason, and I just told her in a special ed teacher voice what friends are supposed to do together.
Smooth, O’Brien. Don’t make plans for second date.

My apology falls flat and I really am sorry so I reach across the table to stop her hands from fidgeting.

“Hey. Seriously, I didn’t mean it like that.” She’s staring at our touching hands like they might catch fire any moment. “Tell you what, I’ll tell you my real first name
and
I’ll buy you that milkshake.”

Her lips curl sweetly upward and I’m at a loss for words. That look, the one that says I’ve made her day, made her life, stops all mental function. When everyone looks at you like they’re sizing you up to see what they can get from you or they’re trying to contain the sheer disgust and disappointment the mere sight of you causes, you start to avoid people’s direct gazes altogether. Until a girl you didn’t know existed two weeks ago looks at you like you’re the only reason she’s had to smile in her entire life.

“Landen?” Shit. She’s been talking and I missed it.

“Yeah?” No use pretending I have the slightest clue what we’re talking about.

“Chocolate, with extra cherries,” she says and I’m staring at her mouth.
Pull it together, man.

“Right, got it.” I drag myself out of our booth and walk to the counter. Sliding onto a stool next to an old-timer, I order Layla’s shake and wait. Glancing back at her, I notice she’s not looking at me but at the man next to me. Turning, I notice he’s hunched over, slowly counting out change on the counter with unsteady hands. His jacket could use a wash and he probably hasn’t shaved or bathed since the nineties.

Wow, I did not see this coming. The fact that there are homeless people in perfect little Hope Springs blows my mind. Before I have time to second-guess it, I pull a twenty from my wallet and signal a waitress.

A tired-looking but attractive brunette about my mom’s age saunters over. “Your shake’ll be ready in just a sec.”

“Yeah, thanks. I’m gonna take care of his too,” I tell her with a nod at the man next to me. “He needs another coffee, a slice of that pecan pie, and uh, um, a double cheeseburger.”

“That okay with you, Clyde?” the waitress says to the man. The tension in my chest releases when I realize he’s a regular. Not that it makes him any less homeless but at least he has somewhere to go where he’s welcome. That must be nice.

“Make it to go,” he sneers and then turns his watery glare to my face. “You feelin’ good about yourself now, kid?” Shit, he’s mad.

“Listen, mister, I’m trying to impress a girl here. So if you could just play along, let me be a Good Samaritan this once, I’ll let you buy mine next time.”

“Hell. What are you? Six foot, six two? I doubt I could afford you, boy.” He grunts but his weathered mouth is attempting a grin.

I laugh and offer my hand. “Landen O’Brien, sir.”

“Clyde Riley,” he says, clamping his trembling hand into mine surprisingly firmly. “You new around here?”

“Yes, sir. My father is a Colonel in the Army. We just moved here from Colorado.”

“No shit? I served back in my day. Took a bullet to the shoulder and couldn’t shoot anymore so they kicked my ass out. Honorable discharge, they called it. I’ll give you one guess how honorable it was. Takes a lot of dedication to be a Colonel.”

I bite my tongue so I don’t say anything disrespectful about the Colonel. Nodding, I take the shake and extra cup of cherries the waitress brings to the counter.

“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Riley,” I say, and he clasps me on the shoulder.

“Gonna take a lot more than that to impress the looker you’re with.”

I laugh. “Yes, sir. I’m gathering that,” I tell him before returning to my date.

I make her guess my first name before I hand the shake over. She takes a drink and I am so gone. Lost. Her smile, the little sigh she lets out, the way her eyes light up. All of it. I’m broken down and rebuilt. And nothing will ever be the same again.