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  The following Monday, Layla rushed out of school to the parking lot, having made arrangements to meet Julie by her car, only to run right into Jay.

  She swallowed hard and felt her composure begin to unravel. “Sorry,” she stuttered, making a move to walk around him, keeping her eyes on anything but his face.

  “Layla…” he said then trailed off. She glanced up briefly and noticed an undeniable look of pain in his eyes as he gazed back at her.

  She walked away feeling the freshness of the wound he had inflicted.

  When she got home that day, she quickly changed into her running clothes and heading out the door, knowing that it would be the only thing that would make her feel better. As she checked her pedometer for progress, the pained look on Jay’s face haunted her. What was that all about?

  She ran faster, letting the exertion dispel the unsettling image.

  But when she was finally standing still, back it came to plague her again. As Layla stood under the warm water of her shower, her mind raced all over the place, trying to come up with reasons for Jay’s behavior. She was so sure that he’d played some kind of cruel joke on her, but now she was having doubts. There was no denying the tortured look in his eyes when she ran into him in the parking lot. Perhaps she’d read the whole situation wrong. Maybe he had been telling the truth when he said he was in no position to date anyone, but if that was the case, why not?

  Realizing that she’d probably never know the reason, and understanding that it really wasn’t any of her business anyway, she reverted back to her old mantra: acceptance was the only sane way to live.

  Jay

  Chapter 10

  By the end of the following week, Jay was regretting his decision one hundred percent. His resolve was in tatters. He couldn’t deny how it stung him when Layla wouldn’t even say hello to him in English, how she was acting like he didn’t exist. He was surprised that hurt more than he thought it would, but what did he expect? Was she just supposed to act like his best friend from here on out?

  He sat in the cafeteria alone, across the room from her, as he had done every day for the last week and a half. He watched her push her pretty auburn hair behind her ears and felt an ache so strong, wishing he could find any excuse to touch her cheek just one more time.

  Not only had he led her on to a certain degree, he’d also impulsively asked her to that stupid Thanksgiving dance, ruining her plans to go to New York with her mother. He felt like a total cad.

  He debated going to Layla and pleading forgiveness, begging her to give him another chance, but to what purpose? He was right. He wasn’t in a position to date anyone, especially not a lovely, innocent girl like Layla.

  Still, the memory of that terrible day in his car the week before plagued him night and day.

  Jay had stopped the car half-way down the block and pulled over after he’d dropped her home. He leaned his head back on the headrest and threw his arm over his eyes. It had been even worse than he had imagined it would be. He wanted to punch himself, hating himself for hurting her that way. No matter how brave she pretended to act, he couldn’t help noticing the way she swallowed repeatedly as though she was desperately trying not to cry.

  But then an even worse thought occurred to him. What if he’d imagined that? What if she really was okay with what he said? Somehow, in his own selfish head, the idea of that seemed to cut even deeper.

  He turned the keys in the ignition and headed home.

  He walked through the front door of his house, feeling worse than he remembered feeling for a very long time. Eager to be alone, he felt his face fall when Ben walked out of the kitchen.

  “Well?” Ben asked.

  Jay nodded. “It’s done,” he said quietly.

  “Don’t you feel better now?” Ben pushed.

  “Yup,” Jay replied and headed for the stairs.

  Ben narrowed his eyes and regarded Jay suspiciously. “Liar,” he said under his breath.

  Jay kept moving, pretending he didn’t hear the last comment.

  He made a decision. He would stick it out at school until the Thanksgiving break then disappear from her life forever.

  He stared in her direction as she sat alone with her back to him, reading a paperback novel. He started to consider that maybe he was behaving like a stalker, and supposed he should just leave the building for the day.

  But before he made a move to leave, Kevin Hartley pulled out the chair facing her and sat down.

  Jay saw red instantly.

  Against his better judgment, he was spitting mad and felt clued to the seat, glaring in their direction.

  It had the appearance of a regular conversation at the start, but when Layla rested the book on the table and folded her hands in front of her, Hartley leaned over and placed both his hands on either side of hers. To make matters worse, Layla didn’t pull her hands away. Instead, she leaned forward as though thoroughly enjoying the conversation.

  And suddenly Hartley was looking in Jay’s direction, a taunting expression on his face. He turned back to Layla and moved in further.

  His body moving of its own accord, Jay found himself somehow crossing the room, heading in their direction, driven by an unfathomable, immature and completely uncalled for envy—the red-hot flames of jealousy threatening to consume him.

  Kevin looked up as Jay approached and arched his eyebrows, a deviant, hateful look spreading across his features. “What do you want, Logan?” he asked, still holding Layla’s hands.

  Layla’s head whipped around.

  “You have one second to get your hands away from Layla’s,” Jay seethed.

  “What?” Layla gasped.

  Jay nearly staggered back, wondering where the words had come from, almost as horrified by his statement as she was.

  “Get lost, loser,” Hartley replied smugly, assured of having Layla’s back.

  Jay snapped.

  He reached over and grabbed Kevin by the shirt, his face red from rage, and pulled Hartley roughly out of his seat, preparing to pound the guy with his other hand.

  “Stop it!” Layla bellowed, standing up and pushing Jay’s arm away.

  And then, as if coming to his senses, Jay looked down at his own hand, wondering how it had managed to attack that boy without prompting.

  “What is wrong with you?” Layla yelled. Her disgusted glare burned into him, causing him to flinch.

  He turned on his heels and marched out of the cafeteria, the bitter sting of self-pity and shame making his skin crawl. He kept walking, out the front door of the building, putting as much distance between himself and Layla’s appalled expression as he could.

  In a matter of seconds, he was soaked to the skin, thanks to a heavy thunderstorm due to the unseasonable heat.

  He walked to his car and pounded the roof with his fist, then rested his head against the door, feeling the saturated shirt stick to his shoulders. “Layla,” he moaned softly, convinced that he’d never get that image from his head—the way she looked at him as though he was some kind of monster.

  Abruptly, he was aware of someone watching him, the instinctual feeling of eyes on your back. He turned around to see her walking toward him, her little hands balled into fists, her hair stuck to her face, dripping wet.

  She slowed down then stood motionless for a second, staring at him. Then she mopped her wet hair off her face and ran the cuff of her soaking wet jacket across her cheeks to wipe off some of the deluge.

  Jay swallowed a gasp, convinced he’d never seen anything so beautiful in his life.

  “What is your problem?” she demanded. “Why were you going to beat the crap out of Hartley?”

  “I…um…” he stammered.

  “Was it because he was holding my hands?” she questioned.

  Jay nodded, grimacing.

  “I don’t understand,” she stated firmly. “What you said last week…” she trailed off, waiting for his response.

  Jay walked forward, his hand out in front of him, reaching f
or her, but then he pulled it back and ran his fingers through his wet hair. His palm came to rest on his forehead as he looked at her with a reluctant longing. “Layla,” he said, then shook his head. “I…” He leaned his hand on the side of his car and pursed his lips.

  He glanced over at her and noticed an undeniable look of pity in her expression. Regardless of how badly he’d hurt her feelings, he could tell that she sensed his wavering and knew that his heart and his head were not on the same page. His pained expression was making it obvious that he was at war with himself.

  She walked forward a little. “Is everything alright?” she asked with overwhelming kindness, causing him to feel ten times worse, if that was even possible.

  He shook his head and leaned over, staring at the ground. Then he straightened his stance and opened the passenger door. “Get in,” he said, looking back over at her.

  “I can’t,” she replied. “I have to get to class.”

  “Look at you, Layla,” he uttered. “You can’t go anywhere like that. You’re soaked to the skin.”

  She hesitated momentarily then walked over and slid onto the seat.

  Jay walked around to the far side of the car and got in beside her. He fiddled with the heat, blasting it. “I’ll take you to my house where you can dry off then I’ll drive you home.”

  “I don’t have my stuff,” she said quietly.

  He handed her his phone. “Call Julie and tell her to take your things home. We can stop over there later.”

  Layla was silent during the car ride, shivering slightly. She was probably wondering what was going on with him, and he was well aware of the fact that he was throwing her for a loop.

  “I’ll apologize to Hartley on Monday,” Jay stated, looking straight ahead. “My behavior was completely uncalled for.”

  Layla shrugged, not bothering to answer.

  Jay looked sideways in her direction. “Are you cold?” he questioned.

  “A little,” she replied.

  “I could turn the heat up—”

  “It’s fine,” she said in a soft voice.

  When they entered his house, Jay ran upstairs and poked around Issy’s stuff, looking for something suitable to give to Layla. He walked downstairs and handed her a pair of pink sweatpants and an oversized black sweatshirt. “You can go shower upstairs then give me your clothes, and I’ll throw them into the dryer.”

  “Okay,” Layla replied quietly, taking the pile of clothes from his hand and heading upstairs to the bathroom.

  Jay made his way to his own bathroom and showered quickly then threw on a pair of gray sweatpants and a tight, white, V-neck T-shirt. He walked back downstairs to the kitchen and filled the electric kettle with water to make some hot tea.

  He had just put two teabags into mugs when she came into the kitchen, looking adorable in baggy clothes and wet hair. Jay swallowed and forced himself to look in the other direction, overcome by the vision before him.

  She bit her lip and looked at him nervously, holding out the wet bundle of clothes. “Where should I—”

  “I’ll take them,” Jay said grabbing the small pile from her and heading into the little room at the back of the kitchen. He threw her stuff into the dryer and turned it on then walked back into the kitchen and gestured toward the counter. “I made you some hot tea,” he said. He handed her a cup and motioned toward the living room.

  Layla took her cup, walked into the living room and sat at the end of the couch.

  Jay sat on the far end of the seat, giving her some space. He looked over nervously. “Can I ask you what you and Hartley were talking about before?” he questioned, knowing that he had no right to an answer.

  “He said he heard that you and I were no longer…” she waved her hand back and forth between him and herself, as if trying to find the right words. “That we weren’t doing whatever it was we were doing.”

  Jay nodded. “I’m sure that made his day,” he muttered.

  They sat in silence for a few moments.

  “Then he asked me to go to the dance with him on Friday night,” she added quietly.

  Jay looked up quickly. “What did you say?”

  “I told him that I really wasn’t in the mood to go,” she replied.

  “I still want to take you,” he informed her.

  “It’s not necessary. I don’t need—”

  “I want to,” he insisted.

  Layla let out a deep sigh. “I really don’t understand you,” she stated. “I thought you said—”

  “I said that I wasn’t in a position to date anyone on a full-time basis, but I still want to bring you to the dance.” Jay was well aware that he was confusing the girl, not to mention, selfishly backpedaling. The truth was, he really had been looking forward to bringing her.

  “Why?” she questioned. “Why are you not in a position to date anyone? Not that it’s any of my business, I suppose.”

  “I’m really not like other guys our age,” he answered.

  Layla rolled her eyes. “Oh, please don’t start with that crap—”

  “But it’s the truth,” he insisted, realizing how phony that excuse must sound to her. “There are things about me…” he trailed off, shrugging his shoulders.

  “Okay,” she replied. It was apparent that she was going to get no further explanation.

  “Ben is right; this could only end—”

  “BEN?” Layla screeched. “This is because of Ben?” Her face turned red suddenly, anger thick on her features. “I’m sorry, Jay, I know he’s been your friend for as long as you can remember, but what is wrong with that guy? What does he have over you, and what does he have against me? Are you involved with his sister or something?”

  Jay shook his head. “As a matter of fact, Ben likes you…a lot, which is why he doesn’t want to see you get hurt. And he does not, nor did he ever, have a sister. I’m not dating anyone. I meant what I said, Layla, I’m not in a position to get involved with anyone. If I was, you would be my first…my only choice.”

  Layla looked exasperated. She shook her head back and forth as if she was debating his request. Jay could see her weakening. “I don’t know about Friday,” she said. “At this point, Julie isn’t even going.”

  “Why not?” Jay questioned.

  “Well, for starters, she doesn’t have a date.”

  “Really?” Jay asked. He found it odd that no one would ask her, giving that she was a very pretty girl. “She seemed to like Joey,” he said pensively. “What if I had Joey ask her, would she go then?”

  “Maybe,” Layla replied. “But I’m not so sure it’s a good idea for you and I—”

  “Please, Layla,” Jay said, shimmying over and taking her hand in his. “Please go with me.”

  She glared at him for a long moment then sighed deeply. “Okay,” she mumbled.

  “Thank you,” he whispered, his eyes probing hers.

  “I need to brush my hair,” she said quietly.

  “There’s a brush in the little bathroom to the left of the kitchen,” Jay replied.

  He watched Layla walk out of the room, wondering what the heck he’d just done. Why on earth had he insisted that she go to that dance with him? A small, childish part of him was doing it to spite Hartley, he knew, but that was only a tiny part of the reason. The bigger part seemed almost too dangerous to contemplate at that moment. He knew he was running out of ways to fight his feelings for her. And as wrong as it was, as much as he knew he should never involve her in his life, he just couldn’t fight the pull she had. If he was being completely honest with himself, he knew he hadn’t wanted anything as much as he wanted Layla Sparks.

  He made his way to the kitchen to grab a couple of sodas and turned the corner into the hallway, smacking forcefully into Layla as she made her way back to the living room.

  Instantaneously, Jay gave into an overbearing impulse and gathered her into his arms. He felt her stiffen momentarily as he pulled her closer, but then, after a fraction of a second, she relaxe
d into him.

  He pulled his head back slightly to look down at her, and he could only imagine the spellbound gape on his stupid face. Without really giving it much thought, he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. Leaning her up against the wall, he pressed in deeper, feeling as though he had died and gone straight to heaven.

  So naturally, that would be the moment that the front door banged closed.

  He felt Layla stiffen again, and realized that his own breath had hitched in his throat. He could feel Ben’s disapproving glare burning into him from ten feet away.

  Layla pulled back from Jay quickly and pressed her forehead to his chest, seemingly overcome with unnecessary guilt, as if she had broken some unspoken law set by the almighty Ben himself.

  Jay cradled Layla’s head against him and shot Ben a defiant look.

  Ben merely looked back, a bitter-sweet smile pressed on his lips. “Hey,” he said quietly.

  “Hey,” Jay replied then turned back and kissed the top of Layla’s head.

  “Hi there, Layla,” Ben called out.

  “Hi, Ben,” she said shyly. She pulled away from Jay and looked in Ben’s direction.

  “I’ll just go…” Ben pointed toward the kitchen, “…Yeah, I’ll just…y’know…” he walked past the intimate scene without another glance.

  Jay blew a hard breath through pursed lips and looked down at Layla who was gazing up at him to gauge his reaction. He smiled at her. “It’s okay,” he said reassuringly.

  “Is he going to be…?” she trailed off, shrugging her shoulders.

  “It doesn’t matter what he thinks,” Jay replied, not bothering to lower his voice.

  Layla maneuvered herself out from under Jay and walked into the living room.

  Jay walked into the kitchen after Ben, debating whether to make up an excuse for his pathetic, weak behavior, or to tell Ben to shove his holier-than-thou attitude.

  Ben was leaning with his back against the sink, legs crossed at the ankles, munching on an apple. “So, that worked out well,” he said, the words muffled due to the large wad of fruit in his mouth.