by Amali Rose
“Nope, I’m Archie all the way.” She snags a red vine between her teeth and bites down savagely. “Talking about choosing between two guys, what are you going to do about Michael?”
My shoulders sag. “I think I’m going to end it. It just doesn’t feel right. I think until I figure out how to get over Ethan completely, I’m kind of a b-i-t-c-h if I keep seeing Michael.”
She rolls her eyes at me, groaning. “Bitch, Lay, the word is bitch.”
I shove her and steal the bag of Swedish Fish she’s hogging. “Whatever. I just don’t want to be one.”
“Well, I’m Team Ethan all the way. Team Layhan!” She giggles. “And I totally think he wants you.”
“Yeah, that’s so farfetched, I’m not even going there. Can I admit something?”
“Of course you can.” She sits up a little straighter as my tone registers.
“It bothers me how easily we’ve fallen back into old patterns.” My body deflates slightly as I admit this. “I feel weak, like I’ve given in and by doing that I’ve given up. He broke my heart and I feel like I’m just handing it back to him saying ‘here you go, have at it, break it again,’ because it feels inevitable that’s what’s going to happen.”
Evie eyes me thoughtfully. “You’re not weak, and anyone who thinks you are has never loved anyone. You can’t just get over it because that’s the sensible thing to do. That bastard emotion claws its way into your very soul, sinks its fangs in and infects you like a fucking disease.” Her voice is tinged with regret, so I reach for her hand, squeezing gently in an effort to comfort, and her expression softens.
“Love isn’t so easily shaken off, no matter how much you wish differently. Be kind to your heart, Layla, it’s been through enough.”
“I’m glad you suggested this.” Michael takes a seat at the picnic bench and opens his juice bottle. “I wasn’t feeling up to a run after training this morning.”
“Are you guys ready for the game tomorrow?” My voice is nervous and high pitched, and I’m praying he doesn’t pick up on my trepidation.
Luckily, he seizes on my question and launches into a tirade about how hopeless the Wolves are.
“Seriously, there’s no way we can lose to them, they’re a joke.” My brows arch at the venom in his voice. “You’re coming to the game, right?”
I nod my head in confirmation. “Good, I was thinking we could have a celebration dinner after? Chris has said we could borrow his place for the night.”
There’s no way to miss his implication and he’s given me the perfect opening to say what I need to say.
I take a deep breath and swallow down the apprehension that is coursing through me.
“Um, that would be really nice, but I’ve been thinking, um…” My voice is too hesitant, and I wish I could just say it. “I think maybe, I mean I’ve had so much fun with you, you’re such a great guy, and like, I’m so glad we went out, but…” My voice trails off helplessly and I know I am completely messing this up. Determined to make this as painless as possible, for both of us, I open my mouth to continue when I’m cut off.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I finally make eye contact with Michael, only to find him glaring at me like I’m a piece of gum stuck to his shoe.
“I’ve dragged your fat ass around for the last month, I’ve risked my reputation on a girl who looks like you, so fucking ugly, and you’re breaking up with me?” He laughs cruelly, and my entire body sinks into the warm embrace of numbness as he spews his harsh words at me.
“Un-fucking-believable. Do you really think a guy like me would ever want a girl like you? You’re a fucking joke, Layla. I was just trying to piss Miller off, and do you know how fucking stupid you are for believing me when I said that wasn’t true. How pathetic you are for believing that?”
I feel the warmth of tears slide down my cheeks as I listen to his callous words and I wonder what I was thinking, because he’s right. How could I have believed it?
“Fucking hell, tell Tash to give me a call. Now that’s an ass I’d actually like to tap.” With those last words of vitriol thrown at me, he gathers his stuff and walks off without looking back.
I don’t know how long I sit here. I have no idea when the tears stop. And I don’t realize how cold I am until a warm hand grips my arm and shakes me.
“Layla?” His voice is too soft, and it’s overwhelmed by the voice in my head screaming Michael’s taunts back to me.
“Layla.” The voice, firmer this time, drags me out of my bubble of numbness. I’m wrapped up in two huge arms and a familiar woodsy scent tickles my nose.
Slowly, I lift my arms and return the embrace, desperate to be comforted in any way I can.
“You with me, Bug?” He pulls back, and I find myself staring into Ethan’s hazel eyes, admiring the golden ring that always made them so beautiful to look at. I nod slightly, the only response I have in me.
“Okay, we’re gonna go back to your dorm and then you’re going to tell me exactly what happened. Can you walk?” I get to my feet and allow him to wrap an arm around me as we make the short walk back to my room.
My mind is a frenzied mess right now, but the one thought screaming the loudest? How lucky I am that Ethan has always got me.
“The guy’s an asshole.”
I have to give Ethan credit. His tone holds no recriminations. No sense of I-told-you-so. Just genuine anger.
“It is what it is.” I shrug in an effort to appear unconcerned, taking a sip of the mug of hot chocolate Ethan made for me. But the fact is, all I can hear are the words Michael threw at me so heartlessly.
Fat. Ugly. Pathetic. Joke.
Words I heard on repeat through my childhood. Words that my inner-witch whispers to me when my mind gets too quiet.
Ethan busies himself searching under my bed for my secret stash of candy.
“There’s nothing there.”
He glances up at me in surprise. “What?”
“There’s no secret stash. I don’t do that anymore. If you want candy, I think there’s some in the cupboard next to the desk.”
He follows my finger and walks to the cupboard, pulling out a pack of cookies that he tears into before taking a seat on my bed and placing them in between us.
“You know, he’s probably sitting at home right now, crying in his Cheerios that you dumped his ass.”
My answering snort is self-deprecating. “I think we both know that’s not true.” My fingers tighten around the mug, knuckles turning white, and my eyes flit around the room nervously before I continue. “I’m not the kind of girl that guys waste time regretting.”
Ethan jumps up and begins pacing around the small room.
“That’s total bullshit and you know it.”
The condescending tone in his voice irks me, and I feel myself fire up.
“What I know, Ethan, is guys like Michael don’t end up with girls like me.”
“Guys like Bradshaw? Assholes, you mean? You’re right, they don’t get girls like you, you’re too fucking good for them.”
His voice rises angrily, imploring me to hear him. Instead, his easy dismissal of the truth only infuriates me.
“Guys like Michael.” I lean forward, my body vibrating with rage. “Guys like you! Men who can have anyone they want. They don’t fall in love with the plain girl, Ethan. To say differently is a bold-faced lie.”
His head snaps back as if I’ve slapped him and he wears an expression of shock. I watch closely as he struggles for words while I fight to regain my composure before I admit too much.
“You know I love you, Bug.” The sincerity in his voice is my undoing and after all these years, I break.
“Not in the way I needed you to.” My voice cracks and I loathe how desperate I sound. I slump back against the wall in defeat. “You never saw me the way I wanted you to.”
Silence descends on the room, suffocating me, and for the first time in my life, the desire to be away from him overpowers the need to be near him.
>
I scramble off the bed, dumping my mug on the desk and heading for the door when his voice stops me in my tracks.
“I saw you, Layla.” His eyes are feral as he thumps his chest. “I fucking saw you, every single day.”
Ethan
I listen to the bullshit she’s spewing at me and I can feel the rage pulsating through me. All these years she’s thought I was out of her league when I spent my entire life chasing her around like a lost fucking puppy?
Adrenaline is pumping through my veins and I feel out of control, like my brain can’t process what’s happening right now. I continue to pace the room like a caged animal, which is ironic since that is exactly what I feel like.
Layla pushes up off the bed and I watch her move toward the door, her eyes glassy with unshed tears, and I finally lose control.
“I saw you, Layla. I fucking saw you, every single day.”
She pauses, but just for a moment, before continuing her path to the door. Her head shakes back and forth as though trying to convince herself my words aren’t true.
“You need to leave.” Her words stop me in my tracks, stunning me into a stillness I didn’t think I was capable of right now.
She stands in the open doorway, her hand on the knob. I hold her stare, and we continue in this stand-off until tears begin to silently fall down her cheeks.
“Go,” she chokes out. “Please.”
Fuck. That.
I stride forward aggressively, and I don’t miss the way her eyes widen as she realizes my intent.
Reaching her, I use my right hand to push the door shut and thread my left through her hair. Using my hips, I slam her back against the now-closed door and pin her body to it. My need for her makes it impossible to be gentle. There will be plenty of time for that later.
I lean down and run my nose along the length of her neck, her sweet scent overwhelms me, and I breathe in deeply, wanting nothing more than to be overwhelmed by this woman.
The way her body responds to mine, the shallow breaths, and the almost involuntary shiver, gives me the confidence to continue. My teeth find purchase on that sweet spot where her neck meets her shoulder and I bite down, roughly, desperate to mark her. Her answering groan has both my dick and my resolve, hardening.
I tighten my grip on her hair and my other hand snakes up to loosely grip her throat and I squeeze gently. Her eyes fly up to meet mine, and the excitement I see in them has me pushing my body deeper into hers.
Unable to hold back, I press my mouth against hers and slide my tongue along her lips. My restraint shatters as her sweet taste hits my tongue and a feral groan rumbles out from deep within my throat.
Her hands are clawing at my shoulders, trying to pull me closer and I suck her bottom lip between my own as my hands tangle in her hair. Every breathless whimper she makes has my cock jumping against my zipper, desperate for freedom, and when my tongue finally enters her mouth, she writhes against me, uncontrollably.
Years of pent-up hunger has me taking her mouth aggressively, and Layla responds with an intensity that matches my own.
“You taste so fucking good.” My voice is raspy and sounds foreign to my own ears.
“Oh God, don’t stop.”
Our kiss is savage, with a ferocity I didn’t expect, a wildness that is welcomed. I grab her ass and lift, her legs immediately wrap around my waist and her elbows land on my shoulders, her hands grabbing my hair and pulling, as though she can’t control herself.
My lips tilt up in a smirk against her mouth and I move us across the room to sit on her bed. Her mouth doesn’t leave my skin the entire time. Kissing, licking, and biting her way along my jaw until she reaches the spot under my ear that has my eyes rolling back and my chest vibrating with need.
I reconnect our mouths, licking along the seam and she opens with a groan. I ensnare her tongue between my lips and suck, reveling in the way Layla wiggles against me.
“Fuck.” I release the word with a hiss when her jean-covered pussy rolls over my cock. She pulls back and looks at me with a wicked glint in her eye and I fucking love that she can still shock me.
My hands reach down and pull up her plain white tee, revealing her tits, all plump and just begging for my mouth on them.
“Ethan?” Her voice, sounding pained, jolts me out of the fog I had fallen into. I search her eyes, terrified that she’s going to tell me to stop.
Instead, she leans into my touch, rests her forehead against mine and rasps out, “Touch me.”
My. Fucking. Pleasure.
I bend forward and place my mouth on the swell of her breast, sweeping my tongue out to taste her skin, loving the way goosebumps follow the path of my tongue. My right hand toys with her other tit, squeezing it and rolling the nipple through her bra, eliciting the kinds of filthy moans I’ve fantasized about falling from her mouth.
“That feels so good, keep doing that, ‘kay?” A ridiculous sense of pride hits me at the mindlessness in her voice, so unlike Layla. And I fucking did that.
“I’m not gonna stop, baby, I’ve needed this for so long.” My voice is muffled by her neck and my hands are going crazy, trying to touch every part of her. Every part that has been off limits to me, needs to be marked.
I involuntarily thrust up when her teeth graze along my jaw and I squeeze my eyes shut in an effort to control myself. Because I’m seconds away from blowing in my pants right now, and that’s really not how I want this to end.
“Shit, I love you, Lay,” I breathe out. “I love you, so fucking much.”
Her body stills completely, and when I look up, she’s staring at me wide-eyed. I’m not sure if it’s happiness or horror I can see, and I suddenly feel the cold wash of nerves hit me.
“What?” Her voice is small and timid. The voice she reserves for people she’s unsure of. A voice she has never used with me.
“What?” I throw her question back at her because fuck if I’m going to pretend I didn’t say it or act like I haven’t wanted this to happen since I was twelve years old. This girl is it for me, and if there’s any chance she feels the same way, I refuse to let her run away.
“What did you say?”
“I said I love you.” My voice is firm, controlled.
“Well, you shouldn’t!” Her voice is neither of those things. She jumps off my lap, pulling her shirt down as she does, and I guess it’s her turn to pace the room.
“Telling someone you love them when you’re dry-humping them is a lot different than telling a friend you love them. Why would you do that?”
I try to hide my amusement when her voice reaches dog-whistle levels.
“I understand that.” She throws her hands up in the air and I’m not sure if she’s more frustrated with my answer, or my calmness.
“What?” she shrieks.
Standing up, I move toward her calmly, arms slightly aloft, for what reason I have no fucking idea. Maybe, in surrender?
“Come and sit down, Bug, we should talk.” I take hold of her arm and gently guide her back to her bed. She comes, but she shakes her head the entire way.
“You can’t call me Bug anymore.”
I bite back a laugh. “Why is that?”
“Because, because,” she sputters, and I have to admit I’m loving this slightly neurotic Layla. She’s fucking funny.
“Because nothing. I’m still gonna call you Bug, nothing’s changed.” I shrug nonchalantly. I do it simply to piss her off and see what happens, and when her eyes practically pop out of her head, I have no regrets.
“Everything has changed. Everything.”
“Nothing has changed.” I kneel in front of her so we’re eye level, and cup her head in my hands. “From what I can gather from that bullshit you were giving me before, you have feelings for me. Right?” I raise an eyebrow, challenging her.
A beautiful blush spreads across her cheeks.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” I lean in and brush my lips across her mouth and the small sigh she exhales in respon
se has me wanting to deepen the kiss. Instead, I break away, and sit back on my heels, needing some distance between us if I’m going to continue.
“I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember, Lay.” She shakes her head again, in denial. “Yes. And now that I know how fucking stupid we’ve both been.” Her eyes narrow indignantly. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m kind of judging you for being completely clueless to how I felt. It’s not like I was fucking subtle.”
She pushes me away and I fall on my ass.
“That is such crap! You never gave me any clue that you liked me, Ethan Miller. Don’t you dare try and rewrite our history.” Her lips are pursed and her jaw clenched as she glares down at me. I laugh loudly at her fierceness. Neurotic Layla was fun, but it’s good to have the real one back.
“Don’t laugh at me, Millhouse,” she scoffs.
This time my hands are definitely held up in surrender.
“Okay, okay, it’s possible I wasn’t as obvious as I thought I was, but I was way more obvious than you.” She starts to interrupt me, but I plow on, determined to have my say. “None of that matters, anyway. I was stupid, you were stupid.” Again her mouth opens to cut me off. “But– but—” I hold a finger up to silence her. “Let’s just stop being stupid, okay?”
She snaps her mouth shut and stares at me silently for a beat. Then another. For one painfully long moment, I worry that she won’t take this leap with me.
She climbs down off the bed and sits on the floor beside me. Taking my hand in hers, she threads her fingers through mine and stares at them, almost wondrously.
“Will you go on a date with me?” She doesn’t look at me but remains fixated on our hands.
“Yes.” This gets her attention, and I get eye contact. Her expression is a mix of fear and hope and I hate that I haven’t been able to erase all her apprehension. But I will, there’s not a doubt in my mind about that.
“Now?” she pushes.
“Fuck, yes, let’s go.” I stand up, dragging her with me and head straight to the door.