by Ash Night
She was picking at her pancakes like they were hiding a rattlesnake that would bite her if she ate them too fast. She sighed. “Sad waffles.”
“Excuse me?”
“Sad waffles.”
“What?”
She cracked a smile. “Sad waffles. Pancakes are just sad waffles. I don’t like pancakes. I prefer waffles.”
“Would you like waffles?” I asked. “Cuz I can get you waffles.”
Her eyes met mine. Until that moment, I’d had no idea how much waffles meant to her. It was as if I were offering her the lottery. “Really?”
“Yeah,” I said, taken aback by how much this simple gesture meant to her. Calling the waiter over, I politely asked for a plate of waffles. He offered to take the pancakes away, thinking there was something wrong with them. “No, that’s okay. We’ll take them home.”
Once the waffles were in front of her, I asked, “Why did you eat my pancakes when we first met? I distinctly remember you taking one.”
“I was hungry. I’ll eat anything when I’m withdrawing and hungry.”
“Oh,” I said, taking a bite of toast.
“But I like your pancakes, Ryder. I really do.” Layla said as she swallowed a big bite of waffle. She grinned suddenly. “Truth or Dare?”
I nearly choked on my water. “What?”
She huffed impatiently. “Truth or Dare?”
“I got that. What I meant was, now?”
“Yes. Don’t tell me you’re chicken.”
“I am not! I’m just afraid you’ll make me do something stupid!”
“Exactly. Ch-ic-ken.”
“That’s called being smart.”
“Great, good for you. Now, Truth or Dare?
Sighing, I shook my head. “If I do a dare, will you stop?”
Her eyes lit up and she nodded. “Sure,”
“Okay, what did you have in mind?” My pulse picked up speed at the thought, but I kept my face a blank mask. Whatever she had up her sleeve, I would be ready.
“I want you to walk up to that group of girls over there and ask one of them out.”
Under the shade of a beautiful weeping willow sat a group of five girls. All five of them were extremely pretty and wore similar outfits. I scoffed. “What are we, twelve?”
She chuckled. “Just do it, Blue Eyes. I want to see one of them slap you after you use some cheesy pick up line about how blue all of their eyes are.”
I shrugged. “Your loss when I’m taken,”
Layla laughed loudly. “You wish,”
Walking over confidently, I saw the leader of the pack held up a hand for the girl facing her to stop talking, her shrewd blue eyes sizing me up. Her rose-red lips turned up in a deviant smirk. “Why, hello there, handsome. What can we do for you today?”
My heart rate tripled. Luckily, my voice came out calm and cool as a cucumber. “I was wondering if I could talk to you, miss.” I directed my words at a girl quietly reading a book. She had brown eyes and her blond hair framed her heart-shaped face.
She looked up from her book in surprise. “M-me?”
“Yes, miss, I’m sorry. I normally don’t do this, but I couldn’t help myself. What’s your name?” For effect, I gently took her hand and kissed it. She blushed red and shyly giggled. The leader looked annoyed she wasn’t getting the attention. Good. From the looks of things, the girl I was talking to wasn’t used to getting much attention. I was glad I could help. She was very pretty and deserved a nice boy to pay attention to her.
“My name’s Janey,”
“Well, Janey, would you mind giving me your number?” I held out my phone to her, open to the contact screen. Taking it, she quickly tapped in the number and handed it back. “Sweet, I’ll text you later, okay? My name is Ryder. Catch ya later, sweetheart.” I winked at her.
“See you,” Janey said faintly as I walked away. The three other girls started whispering excitedly, nudging Janey. The girl with the blue eyes was staring daggers into my back. I fought back the urge to flip her off. Girls like her really pissed me off.
“Impressive, Blue Eyes,” Layla said, finishing her waffles. The pancakes and my food were neatly stacked on top of each other in their own Styrofoam box next to her. “The chick sitting on the table is currently wishing you’d burst into flames, but I am impressed.”
“The girl I talked to was nice. Her name is Janey, and I’m planning to take her out for coffee in two months after her finals,” I said as I hit send on the text. I faintly heard a phone start playing a poppy, bubble gum type song. I grinned.
Layla’s mouth popped open in shock. “What?”
I snickered. “What? Jealous? You asked me to ask a girl out, I did, and now I’m following through. I’m not gonna be that jerk who asks a girl out on a dare and doesn’t call her back.”
“Wow, didn’t know you had a chivalrous streak,” Layla said.
I laughed. “Oh? And taking you off the streets wasn’t chivalrous? Besides, I distinctly remember us having a short conversation about chivalry when we met.”
She snorted. “No, what you did with me was what normal people call kidnapping.”
“I’m just gonna ignore that. My turn. Truth or Dare?” I scanned the crowd of tables, spying a lone guy at the table to the right of us. He would do nicely for a dare.
“Dare, of course. You are not getting a truth out of me until you get a few drinks in me.”
I grinned. “Duly noted. I dare you to ask that guy out. The one sitting at the table alone to the right.”
Layla smirked. “Oh, I’ll do you one better.” I watched with arms folded as she sauntered up to the stranger. “Hey,”
“Hello,” the guy said politely. “You’re pretty. What’s your name, gorgeous?”
“Betty,” she said as she slid onto his lap. “Like Betty Boop,”
“Man, oh man, you’re cute. Can I get your number?” He asked, pure lust in his eyes. “We could do something fun sometime. No strings attached.”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh please. I can do you one better.”
In one swift, fluid motion, Layla’s tongue was down the guy’s throat. He was shocked, but clearly enjoying it as she deepened the kiss. As quickly as she had sat down, she abruptly ended the kiss and walked away. The guy sat back in his chair, stunned.
“Wow. W-what was that?” I asked.
She smiled slyly. “Nothing, Blue Eyes, that was nothing.”
Chapter Seven
Layla
I wasn’t lying. That little stunt this morning truly was nothing. That’s what happened when you were numb to anything even close to sexual. It made no difference if I knew the guy or not. I was very good at knowing what men wanted by their tone of voice. The guy in the cafe had wanted more, but that little kiss had shocked him enough that I could get away. I may be numb to sex, but that didn’t mean I’d do it with anyone. I only used sex as a bargaining tool.
“Layla, I’m going to work.” Ryder called from the kitchen. “Do you need anything?”
“A bottle of lemonade would be nice,” I said, running in to give him a few dollars. His fingers curled around mine as he took the money.
“Regular or pink?”
“R-regular is fine,” I stuttered. His hand was warm and he was standing too close.
He grinned. He knew exactly the effect he was having on me. “Okay got it. I’ll be home around ten, eleven if my boss is being bitchy.”
I nodded. “I’m going out tonight. I might not be here when you get home.”
An overprotective look crossed his face and I froze. What was his problem? “Okay but promise me you’ll call so I can walk you home.”
“I am perfectly capable of walking myself home,” I said defensively.
“But what about that guy who…” He couldn’t say the word. It was a word I had become immune to, but he couldn’t say it. So I said it for him.
“Raped me?” I stared at him. “I told you it was no big deal. It’s happened before.”
&n
bsp; “It has?” His face paled.
I shrugged, suddenly unable to look into his eyes. I stared at the fridge. “Yea. And I’d be stupid to think it won’t happen again.”
“I’m sorry,” he said uncomfortably. “I can stay if you want to talk,”
Shaking my head, I blinked back tears. I wanted to talk. I needed to talk. I couldn’t talk. “No, that’s fine. I really want that lemonade.”
He chuckled lightheartedly. “I can still get it for you. I’ll take off of work tonight. I have a few days of vacation saved up. I can use one tonight. It’s really no big deal.”
A lump formed in my throat and my hands shook slightly. “No, thank you. Go to work. I’m fine.”
He sighed. “Okay, if you’re sure…”
“I am sure,” I said too quickly. Suddenly his arms were around me. I froze, afraid to breathe.
His breath was comforting against me ear. “I’m always here to talk, you know. I wish you would trust me.”
No, you idiot! You trust someone, you get hurt! That’s how this works! You need to stay away! My brain screamed.
“I’m really fine, Ryder.” It took everything in me not to hug him back. I wanted to hug him. I wanted to hug him tightly and never let go. But I couldn’t. Because if I did, I was afraid of how it would change everything. It would break everything. I couldn’t let that happen. I needed Ryder. I needed a guy in my life I could be comfortable around.
I just needed him to understand I couldn’t bear it if I broke him too.
Once I was finally able to convince Ryder to go to work, I sat on my bed, hugging Lilly to my chest. All thoughts of going out had left my mind. I suddenly didn’t feel up to it. It wasn’t fair. None of this was. I had never told anyone what went on after my parents died. And even my parents never knew what had happened to me while they were alive.
I was five the first time I was molested. It was by a family friend who had lived with us for a year. The first time I had had sex of my own volition I was eleven. The guy I was with was a high school senior. I didn’t even remember his name.
After my parents died, I had sex for money whenever I could get away from my controlling foster parents. I had enough money for an apartment by the time I was sixteen. I left as soon as I could. My foster parents didn’t care enough to report me as a runaway and the guy I rented from didn’t care about my age as along as sex was included with the rent money.
By the time I was eighteen, I was hooked on molly and coke and had OD’d twice. No one cared. I didn’t care. My life was all about drugs and sex.
How could I give Ryder the trust he deserved? And, even if I ever managed to tell him, would he trust me? I didn’t expect him to. He was the first good guy I’d gotten to know in a really long time. The rejection in his eyes would hurt.
Tears sprang to my eyes just thinking about it. A guy worth tears. I hadn’t met one of those in a long time. Lately nothing was worth tears anymore. Tears were reserved for the burning agony of withdrawal. I’d tried to quit cold turkey a few times in the past few years and always came back with tears in my eyes.
I was done with this life. Ryder was my light, my way out. I needed to learn to trust him. I hoped I could. He had been so kind to me. Our breakfast lunches were the best times I’ve had in a long, long time. Ryder looked at me as a human being.
For years, I’ve been looked at as a piece of ass, a drug mule, or a homeless delinquent that no one cared about. I’d forgotten that most people could be kind. At the coffee shop, Jacob and Miley had been very understanding and given me food. Ryder was kind enough to open up his home to me, something not just anyone would do.
A shiver ran down my spine as I remembered a cold winter night years ago. A very cold, hungry, and very strung-out, nineteen-year-old knocked on door after door. One look at my dilated pupils and the same doors that had so readily opened slammed shut in my face. I don’t remember how I ended up huddled against the wall of a building, but somehow I’d survived the night without waking up to dead, black limbs. Every time a door slammed, it meant only one thing. It meant I had to go back.
I didn’t want the door slammed on me again. I wanted freedom from the bad choices I’d made. I wanted a second chance. Opening up to Ryder was a start at leaving that life behind.
Taking a deep breath, I picked up my phone and typed with shaking fingers.
Do you want to play Truth or Dare with only truths?
I was open about everything that had happened after my parents died. I wasn’t quite ready to tell him about how my parents had died and anything before that point yet. That deserved a face-to face conversation.
When he got home, he only asked one question. He asked why I’d been dressed so early. This morning I’d gone out to score drugs. I swore up and down that it would be the last time. My body was already screaming in pain, but I’d meant it. I, Layla Saunders, was never going to use again. It was easier said than done. I really hoped I’d be able to keep my promise. I had to. No more chances. If this didn’t work, nothing would.
Bats flew around in my stomach as I heard the door open. Ryder was home. We agreed it was time to talk when he got home. Standing up, I went to the kitchen. He grinned as he held out a two-liter bottle of lemonade.
I couldn’t help but laugh. “What is that?”
“You said you wanted lemonade. You never specified the size.”
I poured myself a glass, dropping in three ice cubes from the freezer. “Next time I’ll be more specific.”
He smiled as he took off his shirt and threw it in the corner. “Oh yeah, that feels better.”
I shook my head. “You and your shirts,”
He shrugged. “Hey, girls are the same way with bras, aren’t they?”
“We are, but it’s because bras are annoying. They’re constrictive.”
“Shirts are constrictive,”
Shaking my head again, I walked into the living room and he followed. “Please do not say you have a similar policy about pants.”
“Hmm, depends,”
“Okay, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.” Ryder sat on one side of the couch. I set my lemonade on the coffee table before sitting down.
His demeanor was warm and inviting. “Layla, thank you for being so open. I really appreciate it. I can help you, if you’ll let me. Whatever you need.”
I chuckled lightly. “I’m handing you a loaded gun, you know.”
His dark blue eyes never once left my face. “I know. And I promise to be careful with it. Trust is a tricky thing for me too. But I really like you, Layla. I don’t let myself get easily attached anymore because of my mental illness. When I love someone, things can get messy. Really messy. Earth-shatteringly messy. Chelsea and I nearly destroyed each other. We knew everything about each other. It caused problems. We used that against each other when we were angry. I kicked her out a few times. We screamed. We threw things. It was…chaotic.”
“The door?” I asked. “Is that what happened to the lock?”
He looked at me sheepishly. “Yes. I slammed it too hard one night after a really bad fight.”
“That’ll happen,” I said.
Ryder’s hand inched closer, gently resting it on mine. “I can’t promise it won’t happen with us.”
I nodded. “I’m ready to cross that bridge when we come to it.”
Chapter Eight
Ryder
Rachel’s name was stuck in my throat. I had every intention of telling Layla about my family, but the words wouldn’t come out. What would Layla think? I was still trying to make sense of everything she had told me. She was promiscuous, but she had been adamant she’d only done that only to survive. That’s why she’d asked me if there was anything I wanted for the room. It was the only thing she knew.
“It’s okay. My stuff was heavy enough for tonight. We’ll work everything else out soon.” Layla smiled, her small hand in mine. It was as close to contact as she would get. Her reaction to my hug from earlier made perfect s
ense now. We wouldn’t just be taking things slow. Things would almost be at a stand-still. And I was fine with that. I was just happy Layla was opening up to me.
“Sorry, I’m just a little tired. It’s been a long day.” I said, yawning. “Bedtime.”
“What, no songwriting tonight?” she teased. “I really wanted to hear a few songs.”
“A few Sundays every couple months, I preform at an open mic at the bar on Ash road. You’re welcome to come watch me.”
I felt a flutter of excitement in my chest as I waited for her response. “Sure, I can’t wait to see you perform.”
“Great, I’ll see you in the morning,”
“Good night,” she said, heading to her room. I stayed on the couch, my head swimming as I struggled to process everything.
When I offered her a place to stay, I’d had no idea Layla had that much baggage. It didn’t change how I felt about her. I was worried though. As a heavy drug user, it would be hard for her to quit. She would have a rough few months. She had assured me she had it under control when I’d suggested rehab. I wanted badly to believe her.
It was getting late. Being on my feet, cleaning up the messes made by cocky drunk teenagers as they combed the aisles for overpriced snacks, made me too tired to work on my songs or even practice my guitar some nights. I desperately wanted to quit. I’d been saying that for years.
I needed the steady income to pay rent and for my meds. The last time I was unmedicated, my mom found me in the basement with a gun against my head. It was a really dark time, before I was diagnosed. I had a problem with impulse control. I didn’t really want to die. I just didn’t know any other way to escape the war inside my head.
School hadn’t been going well. A group of boys picked on me daily. They thought it was funny how I got angry at the oddest things. When my first girlfriend in middle school broke up with me, I made a scene in the lunchroom. I threw my tray. I yelled. I was escorted to the principal’s office by two male teachers after they pinned my me to the wall, arms behind my back. I got suspended for three days. Apparently, I’d made threats to the girl that I had no recollection of saying.