by Amali Rose
It's an old snapshot. I’m probably about seven or eight years old, and Layla and I are sitting out on the large veranda of our craftsman home. She’s staring at a flower in her hands and I’m staring at her. Both of our expressions are filled with wonder, as though we can't quite comprehend the beauty of what’s right in front of us.
Fuck, I never even had a chance, I think, and make a mental note to ask my mom if I can get a copy of the picture.
The next few hours are spent enjoying the people I love the most. We eat, we laugh, we love and it's the best Thanksgiving I can remember. Everyone seems to have taken the news of our relationship in their stride, and there’s no weirdness when my hands end up on her, despite Laura’s warnings. Which is good because even if it’s an innocent arm stretched along the back of her chair, fingers playing with her hair, I find I can't not touch her when she’s near me.
The only drawback to the day is Cassidy’s despondency. She does her best to put on a brave face and appear unaffected, but she’s obviously miserable. I really hope she works things out with her guy.
After dinner is finished, we all head in different directions. The men settle back in front of the television, our mothers head to the living room armed with coffee and Emme runs to her room, in what I’m sure is a clandestine attempt to watch rot-your-brain shows on her tablet.
Layla and Cassidy sneak outside, and as much as I want to follow her out there, the expression on their faces makes it clear that’s probably not a good idea.
An hour later, they still haven’t returned and I’m craving a Layla-fix, so, deciding they’ve had plenty of alone time, I head out in search of them.
I follow the sound of hushed tones down the hallway that leads to the front porch, but just as I’m about to open the door and make my presence known, the sound of Layla’s voice, filled with anxiety, stops me.
“He explained what happened. He won’t disappear again, he promised.”
A derisive snort assaults my ears. “Of course, that’s what he’d say. But what if it gets too hard again? What if you start fighting and suddenly it’s not all sex and fun? From what you told me, he ran away because loving you was too hard, and he couldn’t handle it. Well, guess what? Love is fucking hard and if he couldn’t handle it then, how do you know he can handle it now? How do you know in six months’ time you won’t be on the phone to me, crying your eyes out because he’s ghosted you again?”
What the actual fuck? Cassidy’s voice is brittle and harsh, holding none of her usual warmth. My hand tightens around the doorknob I’m still holding, and I try to talk myself out of barging out there and confronting her. Until the next words out of her mouth take hold of my heart and squeeze until the physical pain makes any movement impossible.
“You were broken, Layla. He did that to you, and he did it with no warning, no explanation and honestly, he has no real defense. I understand you wanting to hold on to the friendship and trying to work that out, but I have no fucking clue why you would ever hand your heart over to him. It’ll only get crushed again.”
I risk leaning forward, looking for a glimpse of Layla, but as soon as my eyes land on her, I wish I hadn’t. Her face is creased with worry, and her eyes blaze with confusion.
Taking a step back, I scrub my hands over my face, my own confusion causing a war to rage within myself. Finally, deciding this isn’t a conversation we should have when we’re both so emotional, I turn and walk inside, nervous, for the first time since my mouth had tasted hers.
The sound of my keys landing on the kitchen counter echoes around the room. We barely spoke on the drive home. In fact, Layla has said very little since re-entering my family home a couple of hours ago.
I can see Cassidy’s words have sent her crawling into herself. I see her internal struggle as she tries to convince herself I’m worth the risk. Now, I just need to figure out a way to make her see that being with me is no risk at all.
Layla moves to the fridge, stocking it with all the leftovers my mom insisted we bring home.
“It looks like we’ll be eating pretty well for the next few days,” I say, coming up behind her, taking a moment to admire her ass as she’s bent over, placing cartons on the shelves.
“What?” She stands back up, her voice distracted.
I pull her back into me and wrap my arms around her, kissing her lightly in the crook of her neck and repeat myself.
“Oh.” She pulls away and moves to the other side of the kitchen, putting as much distance between us as possible. “Yeah, I guess so.” A forced smile crosses her face.
“Are you okay?” I’m aware I’m leading her, but we need to talk about this and I know her first instinct is to run from any kind of confrontation.
“Mmm-hmm.” She nods. “I’m fine. But I’m tired, so I think I’m going to head to bed.”
“I heard you and Cassidy,” I blurt out. She stills, and her face crumples. For a moment I think she’s going to cry and a flash of panic shoots through me. But she takes a deep, calming breath and lifts her head to look me straight in the eye.
“You left me.”
“I did,” I reply, nodding my head.
“I don’t understand how you could have left me so easily.” She takes a step toward me, but catches herself and presses her back against the wall, as though she needs a physical anchor to keep away from me. “You were my best friend and you say you loved me, but if that was true how could you just cut me out of your life like that? You made me feel like I was nothing, like our entire friendship had been a complete lie.” Her shoulders slump slightly, and I have to use every ounce of my willpower to hold my position next to the refrigerator, to give her the space I know she needs to have this conversation.
“Our friendship wasn’t a lie, Bug.” Her eyes close at the use of her nickname, and I drag my hand through my hair, frustrated. “I explained this. I thought you understood.”
Her eyes flash, and I realize that was the wrong thing to say.
“You know what I understand?” she rushes on, not giving me a chance to answer. “I understand that I spent four years of high school listening to girls talk about how hot you were, how badly they wanted to date you, God.” She flinches. “I listened to endless conversations about what a good fuck you were!” Her voice breaks, and I instinctively move toward her, but she stops me with the raise of her hand. “I would have put up with all of that, all of it, to have you in my life. That’s how important you were to me.”
She pushes off the wall and stalks toward the bedroom. I follow close behind, determined to have my say.
“Okay, first, I never fucked anyone in high school, so anything you heard was complete bullshit.”
I see her shoulders shake and hear a quiet derisive laugh. “Yeah, because that’s the takeaway from what I just said. It doesn’t matter if it wasn’t true. I still had to hear it.”
We both storm into my bedroom and I watch in shock when she starts gathering up her things and throwing them into her backpack.
“Wait, what are you doing?” I grab her arm as she rushes past me, turning her around to face me. “So, one conversation with your sister and you’re done? Cassidy decides I can’t be trusted, so you’re ready to walk away? Because Cassidy doesn’t know shit about me. I was a dumbass punk.” I move closer to her and she remains still, providing me with some hope that I can still save this. “I was eighteen and couldn’t handle the reality of never having you. Of watching you fall in love with some asshole loser, and it made me do something stupid. But I did it to protect myself, not to hurt you.” I move away and start pacing the room, memories of that first year overwhelming me. “Nothing about leaving you was easy, Layla. It fucking killed me.”
My voice is harsh, full of anguish, and she approaches from behind, running a calming hand down my arm before she steps in front of me, wrapping me in a hug. I return her embrace with fervor; grateful she’s heard what I said. I lean into her, inhaling the strawberry scent of her shampoo and my lips find her nec
k, placing soft kisses just below her ear.
She stiffens under my touch and moves her hands up to my chest, pushing back slightly.
“I think, maybe, we rushed into this too quickly.” Her eyes are filled with sadness and I shake my head in denial.
“No, rushing in is the opposite of what we did. We couldn’t have possibly gone any slower. We fucking turtled into this relationship.”
A wistful smile plays across her lips. “Did you just turn turtle into a verb?”
I pull her closer to me, tightening my grip in a desperate attempt to stop her from slipping away.
“I love you.”
She closes her eyes and pulls my head down until my forehead rests against hers. “I know you do, but I need some time to think.” Her lips brush along mine, a gentle whisper I barely feel. “I’m sorry.”
Layla
I trail my finger along the row of books, my eyes searching the titles for the one I need. Pushing my glasses up on my nose, I exhale a small sigh of frustration. It really shouldn’t be this hard to find a stupid book, but my head is all over the place, just as it has been for the past week.
Since the moment Ethan dropped me back at the dorm last week, the only thing I’ve been able to think about is our relationship. I spent the rest of the Thanksgiving weekend holed up in my room, crying, binge-watching The Office and replaying Cassidy’s words over in my head.
When Evie returned on Sunday afternoon, she found me in bed, tearstained and cradling a sweater that Ethan had forgotten. It took a few hours and a few shots of vodka for her to get the story out of me and afterward, much to my disgust, Evie remained firmly entrenched in Team Ethan, urging me to see him and work things out face to face. But I’m just not ready, yet.
Ethan and I have been messaging daily, and I’ve assured him that we’re not over, that I’m not ending anything, I just need some time to work through my feelings. He’s frustrated and angry, but he’s giving me the space I need.
Letting out a little squeak of relief, I finally spot the textbook I need and pull it from the shelf. I turn to head back to my workstation when I remember the librarian’s reminder, that the latest book from my favorite author had just been stocked.
Turning around, I weave my way through the library stacks until I end up in the correct area and find myself, once again, searching through titles.
My finger traces the spines, looking for the familiar name when I hear footsteps approaching in the next stack over, and a familiar voice whispering.
“Oh my God, April, you have no idea. I’ve never had a guy talk to me like that before. That motherfucker deserves a degree in dirty talk.”
I peek through the shelving and spot Tash. She’s talking to a girl who I can’t place but is vaguely familiar, and she has a smug smile plastered over her face.
I feel a small answering smile tilt my own lips. I’m happy she’s found someone she likes. Despite a propensity to be slightly shallow, she is a nice person, and I want her to be happy.
Spotting my book, I grab it off the shelf and begin to move away, not wanting to eavesdrop further and invade Tash’s privacy. I’ve taken a few steps when I hear words that cause me to stop in my tracks, and the blood to rush to my head.
“I swear, I was about to give up, but Ethan was definitely worth the wait.”
The other girl giggles at Tash’s declaration. “I can’t believe he slept with you, I thought he was all about that nerd girl.”
“Ugh, Princess Von Boring? It’s so sad, she’s into him so much and I think he just feels sorry for her, you know? He’s too nice for his own good.”
She pauses, and I know I should leave. That I need to force my feet to move so I don’t hear anything else that will punch another hole in my heart. But I can’t, and I stay locked in place, Tash’s words infiltrating every doubt I ever had about my relationship with Ethan.
She lowers her voice even more before continuing. “He had to come back home for family reasons, and she just assumed he came back for her.” My eyes are helpless to stop watching this train wreck and I see her friend nod as though it all makes complete sense.
“He’s such a sweet guy and he doesn’t want to hurt her, but really? I mean how could she ever imagine he would want her when he could have me?”
The contemptuous tone in her voice snaps me out of my paralysis, and as every conversation I’ve overheard over the years, and every sentiment that echoed Tash’s, attempts to force its way front and center, Ethan’s voice overpowers them all.
“She’s a bitch, Bug. A complete bitch.”
Memories chase me, and I realize that despite what I just heard, despite the hundreds of cruel comments I’ve ever overheard, Ethan has never lied to me. He’s never given me any reason to doubt his word. I’ve let conversations like this change the course of our relationship before and I won’t do it again. I race to gather my things and head for the exit, finally sure of what I need to do.
Four years earlier…
“Are you ready for exams?”
I grimace exaggeratedly in response to Renee’s question and she laughs softly. The sound of the rushing water we’re using to wash our paintbrushes almost drowns out the delicate sound.
The art studio is quiet, the rest of the class having hurried out as soon as the bell rang, eager to rush to the cafeteria, or football field, or wherever it is they spend their lunch period. Renee and I are the only ones left, dutifully cleaning our tools while we gossip about everything going on in our lives.
“Did you hear Taylor Swift is touring next year? I really hope I can get tickets.”
“Oh God, me too. I would love to see her live. Even more than that, I’d love to drag Ethan to a concert, just to annoy him.” We dissolve into giggles at the thought until the sound of the classroom door opening silences us.
We’re down in the back of the studio, hidden behind a nib wall that holds the sinks. I peek around the wall and turning back to Renee, I roll my eyes and mouth, “Jasmine and Kelly.”
“Ugh, just hurry up and find it, I need to get to the cafeteria.” Jasmine’s nasal voice rings throughout the room.
“God, calm down, Jazz. You don’t even know if Ethan is in there.”
The mention of Ethan’s name causes me to freeze and I can see Renee out of the corner of my eye, watching me worriedly.
“Levi messaged me and told me he’s there, so get your ass into gear, I have to get there and work my magic.”
There’s a moment of silence, only broken by the sound of papers shuffling and tools colliding, before Kelly retorts, “I don’t know why you’re bothering, everyone knows he’s going to prom with Layla the loser.”
A small gasp escapes me, and I close my eyes tight, praying it went unheard.
“I know, but it’s obvious he’s only doing it out of obligation since the Pillsbury Doughgirl can’t get a real date.”
My eyes squeeze tighter against her words, words I’d been running from my entire life, and as the room is filled with the sound of their laughter, I feel the pervasive sting of tears overwhelm me.
The girls find what they were looking for and leave as suddenly as they arrived. Renee places a comforting hand on my shoulder and squeezes reassuringly.
“They’re bitches, Lay. Jealous bitches. They’re not worth wasting your time on.”
I give her a shaky smile. “I know, but they have a point. He’s only taking me to prom because I told him I wasn’t going to go, and he insisted I had to.” I screw up my face at the memory. “It’s really not fair. He deserves to go with a girl he likes and have the entire experience.”
Renee scoffs. “We both know Ethan doesn’t do anything he doesn’t want to. He’s taking you because he wants to.”
“I don’t know.” My voice is quiet and unsure. Ethan has an overdeveloped sense of obligation, always determined to do the right thing. The last thing I ever want to be to him is a burden.
“Maybe I’ll just tell him I got a date, that way he can go wit
h whoever he wants to.” I move away from the sink and place my brushes into their jars. Renee follows, and I can hear her muttering under her breath.
“What?”
“I said, you’re killing me. But if you’re determined to do that, I might be able to help.”
“How?”
“You know my friend Luke? He moved here a few months ago from Ohio. Well, his girlfriend was going to fly down for prom, but she had to back out because her dad lost his job, so now he’s going solo. He’s a good guy, I’m sure he’d be happy to take you.”
As we gather up our bags, I consider her suggestion and with Jasmine’s voice ringing in my ears, I turn to her sadly.
“I’m in, set it up.”
Ethan
Turning off the shower, I step out of the stall and wrap a towel around my waist. The locker room is eerily quiet. Training finished over an hour ago, but while everyone else showered and left, I sat down with the coaches and had a long overdue discussion about my commitment to the team. Or lack of commitment.
It was a difficult conversation, but we all agreed it was in everyone’s best interest for me to quit, and now that it’s over, all I feel is relief. Now, I just need to sort out this shit with Layla and life will be good again.
I move through into the locker room, leaving the steam of the showers behind me and try to come up with a game plan for tomorrow. Layla’s refused to see me all week, but we have our art history class tomorrow afternoon and I need to figure out my approach, so I don’t spook her.
I’m lost in my thoughts, reaching up to open my locker, when the door to the room is thrown open and Layla stands there, breathing heavily.
“There you are!” she screeches, pointing at me. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere!”
She’s completely blindsided me and I stand there stunned as my eyes eat her up. Suddenly, she’s moving toward me and throws herself in my arms, wrapping her legs around my waist and clashing her mouth with mine.