“Ah I don’t really dance.” It’s a cop out. I can dance, I just don’t want to.
Layla steps forward, eliminating the remaining space between us. “No one really dances. We stand there with our bodies pressed together and let the music move us.”
My head dips, acknowledging her. “I’ll come,” I blurt out stupidly.
“Perfect,” she says as she backs away. The smile that is plastered on her face never leaves. It hits me like a ton of bricks that she’s just played me. For a brief moment I thought she was into me, but as I watch her work the room, it becomes apparent that she’s just securing her entourage for the night. I’m nothing more than a pawn in her game and somehow I’m okay with that.
The room is brimming with people but I’m alone, sipping on an almost empty beer. Harrison is in the corner talking to the other member of the band and he looks like he’s hitting on her so it’s probably best that I stay where I am. I let my eyes wander around the room, acting as if everything is interesting. I have never felt so awkward, but I don’t want to leave. I want to experience the nightlife. I want to see what I’ve been missing out on by living in Beaumont and never taking an adventure anywhere. We don’t have nightclubs, we have the country club and the only time most of us hang out there is for Prom.
Layla breaks my musing when she announces we’re leaving. I set my empty bottle down and walk toward her. To my surprise she links her arm with mine and sets our pace. The night air is still sweltering, another difference between here and Beaumont. It’s not chilly and I have a perverse desire to strip down and go swimming. I’m guessing doing such a thing would probably be frowned upon.
It feels different to have someone else’s arm inside of mine. Her other hand is clutching my bicep, a sure sign that she’s marking some type of territory. From what, I don’t know. Part of me wants to slide away from her, but the rest wants to stay and let her guide me. Just because she’s holding onto me now doesn’t mean she’ll be with me in the club. Maybe this is nothing more than a friendly gesture so I don’t get lost in t
he crowd en route to the club or maybe it’s so I don’t get lost when we get there. We squeeze through the door and the bass instantly vibrates through my body. A few of the others in our group raise their arms and head off toward the dance floor and we make our way to the bar. My stomach drops as I try to remember whether my fake ID is in my wallet or not. The last thing I want or need is to be thrown out of here because I’m underage. I’ve already lied once tonight, no need to push my luck any longer.
Much to my relief Layla orders and I’m not asked. She hands me a beer, taps hers against mine and walks away. I don’t know if I’m supposed to follow, but I’m thinking she meant to leave me here since I can barely make out her red hair among the masses.
I lean against a small open space on the bar and pretend to watch everyone. What I’m really doing is waiting for Harrison. I feel like such an outsider. I don’t know what I’m doing. I know I should let loose and mingle, but I don’t know how. I pull out my phone to occupy my time and see that I have a missed call. I flip it open and there’s a voicemail and her number. It’s too loud in here, but I’m afraid if I leave I won’t get back in. Layla walked us right by the bouncer and he didn’t even flinch. I’m no one though. I won’t be so lucky.
I meander through the crowd and find the bathroom. Unfortunately it’s the only way I’m going to be able to hear what she has to say. I lock myself in a stall and take a deep breath to try to calm my racing heart. I don’t know what I want her to say. If she asks me to come get her, I will. I don’t care if it’s been two months and we haven’t spoken. I’ll leave tonight to go get her.
I dial the code for my voicemail and hold my phone to my ear. The seconds it takes to connect seem like a lifetime. Everything that I did to her comes rushing back. Leaving her in her dorm room, knowing I was making the right decision, but breaking my own heart weighs heavily. I wronged her. There’s no sugarcoating what I did. Now that I’m here I know I should’ve pushed harder, but the times that I played my guitar for her and her felt her stiffen in my arms when she heard me on my stereo are at the forefront of my mind. She’ll never understand why I need to do this for myself.
Her voice fills my ears and my eyes start to water. I close them, fighting back the tears.
I hate you. I hate you so much for what you’ve done to me. Are you listening to me? I hope you’re happy and in a ditch somewhere. You’ve ruined my life.
I click save and replay it, again and again. Letting her words seep into my skin and burn into my mind.
She hates me.
She hates me.
She hates me.
I hate me.
I’ve ruined her life. She’s eighteen and I’ve ruined her life. But I was ruining mine. Why couldn’t she see that? I wasn’t happy. I was suffocating and now I’m not. Now I’m breathing and am able to sleep at night. I can finally close my eyes and not see my life playing out in front of me like a bad dream. If I stayed, we wouldn’t have made it. We’d be a statistic and that’s the last thing I want.
I leave the stall and quickly wash my hands before heading back to the bar. I need to forget about what I left behind in Beaumont and the only way to do that is to numb my mind. She’s right to hate me. I will never fault her for that. I want her to, if I’m being honest with myself. I don’t want her pining away for me when I’m not coming back.
I’m pushed from behind and before I can turn around and punch someone, arms move around my waist. I turn slightly to see the red hair I was looking for earlier. I could fight her and ignore her attempt to get me on the dance floor, but I don’t. I let her drive us into the barrage of sweating bodies.
She moves around me, her fingers dipping under my shirt, dancing along my skin. I should tell her no, but I can’t find the words. Layla dips down and slowly brings her body up against mine. Her hands move up my torso, over my neck and into my hair. My eyes close on their own free will. I hate that my body is reacting to her. It’s not supposed to. I should be damned and sent to hell for causing my girl so much pain, but here I am enjoying the exhilaration coursing through my body because of the way Layla’s touching me.
My eyes spring open when her fingers still. Her hand moves to her mouth and away. My eyes follow. Growing up in Beaumont I never realized now naïve I was until now. Sitting on her tongue is a white pill and she’s offering it to me. My eyes move from her mouth to her hooded eyes and back again. People all around us are moving, gyrating to the music. Layla steps closer, allowing for no space between us. Her hand cups the back of my head while her other hand leaves a blazing trail down the side of my neck. My hearts is screaming no, reminding me of the damage I’ve caused. Telling me that I don’t deserve happiness, but my mind is urging me forward.
I listen to my head this time and move toward Layla. She doesn’t wait and touches her lips to mine, pushing her tongue into my mouth. Immediately, I’m filled with guilt and try to pull away, but I can’t. My body won’t move. I don’t know what she’s giving me, but I swallow it as her body melds to mine and my hands find her hips and then her sides. Before I know it, my hand is in her hair and I’m holding her to my mouth while we move to the beat of the music from the DJ.
My world is spinning on an axis that I’m not in control of. I’m flush, sweating. I can’t get enough of Layla and it doesn’t matter what I do, the thirst I’m feeling isn’t being quenched. My hand slides under her shirt, my fingertips grazing her breast. She pulls me closer by my belt, rubbing herself against my erection.
Her mouth leaves mine, her teeth biting my ear lobe. “My place is down the street. Want to get out of here?” I don’t know if I do, but I take her hand in mine and lead us to the door.
Chapter 30
We hold hands and rush toward her place, having to dodge cars as we jaywalk across the street. Steps are taken two at a time and she fumbles with her key when I attack her neck. I nip at her skin as my hands move up her body, under her shirt and pushing her bra aside. My desire for her is building, pushing the boundaries that I’ve held together for so long.
The door finally opens and we stumble in. One of us pushes the door shut, but neither of us is really paying attention to whom. I pick her up, her legs wrap tightly around my waist as she grinds against my hard on. I moan, welcoming the pressure. I palm her ass in my hands as I walk blindly down the hall.