heart a little.
“What? Just say it, Landen.”
“Why wouldn’t you see me? Or answer my texts or phone calls at least?”
“Because,” I force out. “Because you knew, and you acted like you didn’t and…” And I am a fricking idiot who thought maybe you were just genuinely interested in me.
“Okay,” he says slowly, angling his shoulders towards me. “So I knew. So I asked about you when I first moved here and Alexis Bledsoe spouted some shit about you having seizures. So?”
“So…wait, why did you ask about me?”
“What? What do you mean why?” Landen shakes his head, and I have the strangest urge to run my fingers through his thick, dark hair.
“Um, why as in why did you ask Alexis Bledsoe, or anyone for that matter, about me?”
He rubs his neck and glances around my room. “I already told you. I wanted to talk to you. You were always alone, like you didn’t want anyone bothering you and I didn’t want to be the new guy hassling the queen of the school.”
I snort and then I remember I’m still in my PJ pants and a tank top. Dear God, I’m not wearing a bra.
Pulling my covers up to my chin, I drink in the boy who saw me when no one else did. “But why?” I whisper forcefully. “Why me?”
“Jesus, Layla. What do you want from me?” He tenses, and I can tell he wants to get up and yell. He’s all hyped up from soccer practice and trapped in my pristine room with my Aunt Kate probably listening right outside the door. “You walked in that first day and I…fuck, I don’t know. You had this, like, glow about you and I couldn’t take my eyes off you. I expected to see you running the school, looking down your nose at the pieces of shit not worthy of breathing the same air as you, shaking your ass on the football field, and being followed around by an asshole boyfriend who regularly beat the hell out of any guy who so much as looked at you. None of which would have deterred me, by the way. I was prepared to deal with whatever. And then none of that turned out to be accurate. So I thought maybe we’d get to know each other and hook up until I moved again or graduation or whatever. But the more we hung out, the more I wanted…more than that.”
Neither of us says anything because, well, there doesn’t seem to be anything to say. I want to kiss this beautiful boy—man—Landen. But I’m not ready for that and I’m not sure what would happen if I tried. And I haven’t brushed my teeth yet. Tears prick my eyes because I’m not a charity case. And he did just notice me and want to get to know me. And I’ve made a mess of everything. Because I’ve never done this before and I have no idea what I’m doing.
“Because I have seizures and you wanted to save me damsel-in-distress style?” I ask, just to make sure.
“Because you are beautiful and kind and I love…being with you.”
“Landen—” I start, but he’s not done.
“Friends tell each other stuff, Layla. And I was hoping, as we got closer, you’d fill me in on the details about your seizures. I didn’t rely on anything Alexis or anyone else said because honestly, I couldn’t give a shit what they think.”
Friends. Seven letters. I’m beautiful and he wants to get to know me better. But we’re just friends. Seven letters have never been more confusing. And he’s not done.
“But that was the most terrifying thing I have ever experienced, and if there’s something I could’ve done to prevent it, like rip Brent Becker’s arms from his body so he couldn’t hit that door, then I want to know.”
“There’s nothing you could’ve done,” I tell him. My voice is so low I’m not sure he hears me, but he scoots closer on the bed so I’m pretty sure he does. The raw hurt in his eyes compels me to keep talking. To tell him everything. Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes so I don’t have to watch his face while I reveal my painful secrets.
“I was thirteen. We were on our way to see The Nutcracker—we
“What? Just say it, Landen.”
“Why wouldn’t you see me? Or answer my texts or phone calls at least?”
“Because,” I force out. “Because you knew, and you acted like you didn’t and…” And I am a fricking idiot who thought maybe you were just genuinely interested in me.
“Okay,” he says slowly, angling his shoulders towards me. “So I knew. So I asked about you when I first moved here and Alexis Bledsoe spouted some shit about you having seizures. So?”
“So…wait, why did you ask about me?”
“What? What do you mean why?” Landen shakes his head, and I have the strangest urge to run my fingers through his thick, dark hair.
“Um, why as in why did you ask Alexis Bledsoe, or anyone for that matter, about me?”
He rubs his neck and glances around my room. “I already told you. I wanted to talk to you. You were always alone, like you didn’t want anyone bothering you and I didn’t want to be the new guy hassling the queen of the school.”
I snort and then I remember I’m still in my PJ pants and a tank top. Dear God, I’m not wearing a bra.
Pulling my covers up to my chin, I drink in the boy who saw me when no one else did. “But why?” I whisper forcefully. “Why me?”
“Jesus, Layla. What do you want from me?” He tenses, and I can tell he wants to get up and yell. He’s all hyped up from soccer practice and trapped in my pristine room with my Aunt Kate probably listening right outside the door. “You walked in that first day and I…fuck, I don’t know. You had this, like, glow about you and I couldn’t take my eyes off you. I expected to see you running the school, looking down your nose at the pieces of shit not worthy of breathing the same air as you, shaking your ass on the football field, and being followed around by an asshole boyfriend who regularly beat the hell out of any guy who so much as looked at you. None of which would have deterred me, by the way. I was prepared to deal with whatever. And then none of that turned out to be accurate. So I thought maybe we’d get to know each other and hook up until I moved again or graduation or whatever. But the more we hung out, the more I wanted…more than that.”
Neither of us says anything because, well, there doesn’t seem to be anything to say. I want to kiss this beautiful boy—man—Landen. But I’m not ready for that and I’m not sure what would happen if I tried. And I haven’t brushed my teeth yet. Tears prick my eyes because I’m not a charity case. And he did just notice me and want to get to know me. And I’ve made a mess of everything. Because I’ve never done this before and I have no idea what I’m doing.
“Because I have seizures and you wanted to save me damsel-in-distress style?” I ask, just to make sure.
“Because you are beautiful and kind and I love…being with you.”
“Landen—” I start, but he’s not done.
“Friends tell each other stuff, Layla. And I was hoping, as we got closer, you’d fill me in on the details about your seizures. I didn’t rely on anything Alexis or anyone else said because honestly, I couldn’t give a shit what they think.”
Friends. Seven letters. I’m beautiful and he wants to get to know me better. But we’re just friends. Seven letters have never been more confusing. And he’s not done.
“But that was the most terrifying thing I have ever experienced, and if there’s something I could’ve done to prevent it, like rip Brent Becker’s arms from his body so he couldn’t hit that door, then I want to know.”
“There’s nothing you could’ve done,” I tell him. My voice is so low I’m not sure he hears me, but he scoots closer on the bed so I’m pretty sure he does. The raw hurt in his eyes compels me to keep talking. To tell him everything. Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes so I don’t have to watch his face while I reveal my painful secrets.
“I was thirteen. We were on our way to see The Nutcracker—we
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