Give Me You

by Caisey Quinn

  “I realize this. I just didn’t know you were going to be slipping intel to the enemy.”

  I can’t help but laugh out loud. “If that’s how you treat an enemy, God help any boy you consider an ally. In fact, you still look a little dazed and turned on. Please don’t try to make out with me tonight. I’ve already had my share of sexually confused partners— I’m sticking with straight boys only from here on out.”

  Layla steps out of the bathroom where she was brushing her teeth. “Okay,” she says, pointing her toothbrush at me. “We are definitely coming back to that.”

  I giggle at the shock all over her face. “Seriously, Layla, he’s got some issues, like probably some major ones that are going to make anything with him difficult… but can you imagine turning away now and just forgetting about that kiss? ‘Cause I gotta say, I’m having trouble forgetting about it and I was just a casual observer.”

  “See, now you wanna make out with me, don’t you ?” she teases before joining me on our small futon.

  “Stop changing the subject,” I tell her, because I sense that there is so much more we should be discussing than this.

  “He just… he just makes me so… ugh!”

  “Horny?” I offer.

  Layla looks legitimately appalled. “Oh my God, never say that word to me again. I hate that word. It’s so crude and not even a halfway decent way to describe what Landen O’Brien does to me.”

  “Mmhm.” I look her over carefully. All the signs are there. Flushed skin, diallated pupils, and trembling hands. She’s definitely turned out just by talking about him. “You can clutch your pearls all you want, Georgia. But that boy twists you all up, and I don’t think kissing’s gonna get the job done.”

  “Whatever. You basically said he was nuts. Now we share one kiss and I’m supposed to do him?”

  Good point. “Ah, no, you’re probably right. Maybe hold off on that. But sometimes we have to let things happen to us, you know? Even uncontrollable things that might turn from bliss to shit before we can rein it in. Because that’s living. Things have to happen, you have to go on scary adventures, follow your heart, and let it lead you down dark alleys that may dead end in a pit of despair. Otherwise you’re just existing, and who the hell wants to settle for that?”

  “But…” Layla gapes at me, but I’m not done. She’s sheltered and innocent and I get that. But I know from experience that what I saw tonight wasn’t just a hook up.

  “But nothing. You need to decide if you’re ready for this, ‘cause it’s coming. He’s here, and I saw the look on his face, in his eyes, every time I interrupted you tonight. There’s a storm brewing between the two of you. Either hang on, let it pick you up, and risk letting it beat your heart to hell and back before setting you back down or you can batten down the hatch and tell him to leave you the fuck alone. And if he hurts you, I’ll be here to put a hit out on him with a few simple texts and a photo. But you have to know it’s a possibility. Which, judging from the condition you were in earlier… you do.”

  My heart beats a little harder in my chest as memories I’ve tried to bury fight their way to the surface. Yeah, some bad things have happened to me but some pretty amazing things have happened too and I don’t think I’d trade them for the pain.

  Layla looks torn and utterly lost. “What if I don’t know what I want yet?”

  I shrug. It’s kind of a relief to know she doesn’t have her shit together any more than I do. “Then you need to tell him to back off till you figure it out. Good luck with that…And hey, whatever he was wanting you to tell me so bad… you can. I know it may not seem like it after tonight, but you can trust me.”

  “I know,” Layla says softly.

  “Boys,” I huff out to lighten the mood. “Can’t live with ‘em, can’t tie ‘em to your bed and use them as you see fit.” I shake my head to convey my disappointment in this. “Damn societal norms.” Layla laughs and I continue. “Maybe just take it one day at a time. Like, what do you want right now?”

  She yawns, causing me to yawn right along with her “Right now, I want to eat those double-stuffed Oreos you’re hoarding behind your makeup bag and watch Pitch Perfect until I pass out on this futon.”

  I get up to grab the cookies in question, and Layla’s phone vibrates on the desk beside mine.

  “Can you grab that while you’re up please?” she asks, a quilt she brought with her to her chest. I hand over the Oreos and she opens them. “Why do they even bother to make regular Oreos when there’s double stuffed?”

  I hand her the phone without answering. “You have one new message.”

  She texts for several minutes before the movie starts and God love her, girlfriend is so transparent. Clearly Landen isn’t finished working her up for the evening. After stuffing my face with an Oreo and queuing up the movie, I wait for her to finish up. But four Oreos in and she’s still glued to her phone.

  Rookie move. Skylar will text tomorrow and I’ll wait at least two days before answering.

  “Layla, we watching a movie or what?”

  “Um, yeah, I—” her phone buzzes, interrupting her response.

  “Layla, pause or play?” I wait for her to look up but she doesn’t. “Layla?”

  Dear Lord, girl. Make the boy sweat a little at least. I make a mental note to work with her on this.

  “Play! Hit play!”

  She sits her phone aside and I shake my head in the dark.

  College is turning out to be a lot more interesting than I expected.

  After the mundane mind-fuck that is freshman seminar, Corin and Layla ask if they can use O’Brien’s truck to run to Target and buy a fan because their AC went out. I try to play it cool when they start talking about sleeping in the nude, but damn. The thought of Red naked nearly breaks me.

  I keep giving Landen hell about being so focused on one girl when we’re surrounded my so many, but in a way, I’m starting to get it. Sometimes a certain one just appeals to you on a level beyond comprehension.

  I’ve dated a lot of girls and I like to keep it casual. Dinners, movies, parties, hook ups. Easy peasy.

  I don’t play games, don’t lie about wanting more, or even give off any false illusions of being boyfriend material. Did that once in high school and it was an epic fail. Soccer will always be my first love and my plan is to go pro as soon as possible.

  Literally every girl I’ve ever hung out with has been cool with this.

  But Corin Connelly confuses the hell out of me.

  After practice, I decide to shower and wear cologne in hopes of at least attempting to prove I’m not the repulsive caveman she seems to think I am.

  An hour later, we pick up the girls and they climb into the backseat of the truck cab. Neither of them say much, and Landen is his normal barely communicative self, so I fill the silence talking about practice and share my opinions on our teammates in hopes he’ll chime in. Mostly he just checks out Layla in the rear view and tosses her wounded please-take-me-home-from-the-pound puppy looks at her.

  Target is full but the fan selection isn’t great. Apparently a lot of freshmen are without AC. Corin and Layla debate on what type of fan to get for fifteen minutes before I grab an oscillating floor fan from the shelf.

  Seriously. Chicks. It’s a fan. Not like they have to marry it.

  As we leave the store, it start to sprinkle a little. Corin and I argue about whether we should get Mexican food or run by the diner closer to campus where she’s planning to put in a job application.

  By the time we reach O’Brien’s truck, the sprinkling has turned to an all out downpour. The poor fan is going to get soaked, or the cardboard box it’s in will

  “I’ll run back in the store and buy a tarp,” I say just before running quickly through the parking lot.

  I peruse the lawn and garden section before finding a blue one that should work fine. I pay for it then run back outside and grab the fan from the girl. Landen gets out to help me secure the tarp over the truck bed. He l
ooks flustered and I wonder if it was safe to leave him alone in the enclosed space with Layla and Corin for that long.

  We’ve just hit University Boulevard when break lights appear for miles in front of us. I’m starving but traffic looks pretty backed up.

  “Is there another way? A side street or anything?” Landen asks. I assume he’s asking me since no one else is from here. But I haven’t exactly mapped out campus yet.

  The rain begin coming down in sheets.

  “Damn,” I mutter under my breath. “I’m thinking you could take Langston over to—”

  I’m interrupted by the squeal of tires and a loud thundering sound of the impact of metal on metal.

  “Fuck!” I call out as my neck jerks forward and then back. One of the girls screams and before I can blink, O’Brien damn near jumps over the seat, practically taking Corin’s head off in an attempt to get his arms around Layla.

  I look back, confused at why he’s having another one of his major freak outs even though she seems fine despite a little shakiness.

  “You’re okay. It’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re safe,” he says to her, rocking her gently while Corin and I meet each other’s confused gazes.

  Before I can ask if they’re okay, I hear sirens. I look everyone over and O’Brien definitely got the worst of it. I have a small gash on my forehead and Corin is rubbing her neck but we’re okay. Landen is bleeding, maybe from the arm and maybe from the head, I can’t be sure with him all over Layla the way he is.

  A beige Suburban hit us and is still connected to O’Brien’s tailgate.

  “You need to get back in the driver’s seat,” Corin says softly, “before the cops think something majorly shady is going on.”

  She’s right, and I make a noise of agreement but Landen doesn’t detach from Layla..

  “Fuck it,” I say, sliding over into the driver’s seat. One little reckless op ticket won’t kill me or my soccer career. And clearly some major shit is happening between Layla and Landen at the moment so I take one for the team.

  Without another word, Corin climbs over the center console and buckles herself into the passenger seat. I shrug in her direction and she gives me a half-smile that pretty much says ‘our roommates are insane. What can you do?’

  “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry,” we hear Landen murmuring over and over.

  “Not your fault,” she responds.

  I’m guessing the cops might have a different opinion, but now isn’t the time.

  We give the police our licenses and proof that Landen has insurance on his truck before going to the university medical center to get checked out. Skylar gets two butterfly stitches over the tiny gash in his forehead. Layla and I are given prescriptions for what basically amounts to extra strength Tylenol for possible whiplash.

  O’Brien on the other hand is beat to hell and back—something I think the cops noticed was odd for someone in the backseat, but they didn’t ask very many questions. Mostly they seemed to want to get the paperwork handled so they could get out of the rain. He has a gnarly looking cut down his forearm and nearly a dozen stitches by the time we leave. His truck was towed to the nearest body shop so have to take a cab back to the dorms.

  “Well, this was a hell of a first day,” Skylar says as we get out of the cab.

  Layla looks ready to collapse, which is apparently fine because Landen doesn’t appear to have any intentions of leaving her side.

  “Corin, would it be okay if, um, Landen stayed in our room tonight?” She turns to him before I can answer. “I mean, if you don’t mind.”

  “It’s cool with me,” I tell her before Landen can respond. “But don’t athletes have to check in or something at curfew?”

  “Yeah we do,” Skylar breaks in. “But I can call Dean or Mike and tell them what happened.”

  “Do that,” Landen says, pulling Layla closer.

  I’ll give him this much, he might not be the most well balanced person on Earth, but he obviously loves my roommate very much.

  I can tell that our AC is still out the minute we step into the stuffy dorm room. I cuss myself for not remembering to grab the damn fan.

  Landen tells Layla to shower and I glance over and see that she’s shivering. Maybe we don’t need the fan after being soaked in the rain.

  Once she’s safely ensconced in the bathroom, he turns to where Skylar and I are sitting across from one another.

  “Start talking, O’Brien,” I say, pointing a finger at him. “What happened tonight, that wasn’t anywhere in the vicinity of normal behavior.”

  Landen sighs and lowers himself onto the futon a few feet from Skylar. “She’ll hate me for telling you. But she should’ve told you by now.”

  My stomach tightens in nervous anticipation and I scoot to the edge of Layla’s desk chair. This can’t be good.

  “She’s obviously got something major going on,” Skylar chimes in. “Whatever it is, you can tell us.”

  Landen nods. “She has a condition. It’s like…Epilepsy almost. But not exactly.”

  I frown. “You’re not really clearing anything up, O’Brien.” Though some things are becoming clearer. Why she’d never been kissed, for example. I’m wondering if she could attend high school normally with a condition like that.

  He wrings his hands and I can literally feel the tension rolling off of him. “What happened tonight could’ve been so much worse. That accident could’ve triggered an much more terrifying episode than either of you saw.”

  “How so?” I tilt my head. “I mean, like she could’ve died? Or what? I need details here. I live with her. I want her to be safe and okay, but how can I look out for her if I don’t even know what the hell I’m looking for?”

  Before he can explain anything further, Layla steps out of the steam-filled bathroom in her robe.

  She glances at each of us and apparently none of us have a poker face for shit.

  “Guess the freak’s out of the bag,” she says before disappearing into the bedroom. The wounded expression in her eyes makes me want to console her, but I’m not quick enough. Landen isn’t far behind her. I exhale softly and lean back into the chair. Doesn’t look like we’ll be getting any more answers tonight.

  Skylar opens his mouth to say something, but we can hear Landen through the thin walls.

  “Please don’t be mad. I didn’t tell them everything. Just that you have a condition and that what happened in the truck could’ve been a lot worse. Corin really needs to know, Layla. She’s your roommate for God’s sakes.”

  We don’t hear much of the rest, but the murmur of their voices though the wall is constant.

  “Well this is pretty fucking awkward,” Skylar says. “They need to just bang and get it over with.”

  “How romantic of you,” I deadpan.

  “Just sayin. You know I’m right.”

  I nod. “Oh yes, ye of infinite wisdom. Please do tell me more about how sex fixes everything.” I lean forward and fake being wildly enthused at the prospect of him dropping more knowledge on me.

  “Mock me all you want, Red.” He shrugs. “But that much pent up sexual frustration is not healthy for anyone. You saw how he reacted with Taite.”

  I did, but I still see no reason to agree with the arrogant ass out loud.

  We hear what sounds like sobbing through the door and I cast a long glance a the sliding door barrier between us and them.

  “Let them work out it themselves,” Skylar says, barely looking up from where he’s texting on his phone. “Pretty sure it’s about time for them to.”

  I glance at my own phone as if I have better things to tend to than being ignored by him. But I have no messages and no missed calls so I’m just scrolling through old ones.

  “Mike and Dean took care of curfew for us,” Skylar informs me several moments later.

  I try not to feel at all relieved that he was texting dudes and not a girl. “Well that’s good.” I glance around at the small space. There’s just the one futon out h
ere. “So, um, you’re staying too?”

  Skylar follows my line of sight to the futon beneath him. “Ah, no. Definitely not.”

  Of course not. Big man on campus has better places to go. I’m sure she’s lovely.

  “Use a condom,” I say without looking up from my phone. “No glove, no love.”

  A low chuckle reverberates from his chest. I feel him leaning closer toward me. “You jealous, Red? Think I’m bailing to go bone some chick instead of having a slumber party with you?”

  I scoff a little too loudly. “No. I literally couldn’t care less what you do. And by the way, only pre-pubescent boys still refer to it as boning.”

  Skylar watches me with entirely too much knowledge in his gaze. “My bad, sweetheart. Let me rephrase. Did you think I was going to go meet up with another female, one who’d be more than willing to let me strip her naked and appreciate every inch of her body with my tongue, making her moan my name and beg for my dick?” He leans even closer until he’s practically whispering in my ear. I refuse to move a single muscle and let him know he’s affecting me in the slightest. “Would you beg, Red? Naw, I bet you wouldn’t. You’d probably make me beg, wouldn’t you? Show me that pretty pink pussy and tease me until I was on my knees and—”

  “Enough,” I say, jerking away from him. “Lovely portrait you’ve painted and I’m sure you’re company for the evening will be the epitome of class.”

  It’s bad enough I’m nearly positive my roommate and her man are engaging in some pretty heavy foreplay judging from the sounds coming from the next room. But this, Skylar whispering dirty promises in my ear, it’s too much. Can maintenance seriously not fix the fucking AC? It’s a million damn degrees in here.