Keep Me Still (6 page)

B
eing
invisible was safe and I took it for granted. I see that now as Landen and I enter the gym.

Being seen is dangerous. As the eyes of nearly two hundred students watch us walk onto the dance floor, I kind of want to go back. Because I know what they’re all thinking. Why her? Why would the hot new guy, star of both the football and soccer teams, want anything to do with her? I feel like sending a mass text to all of them.
Heck if I know. Text me back if you figure it out.

But Landen doesn’t acknowledge any of them. He just pulls me onto the dance floor and wraps his arms around me like we own the place. Either he’s rhythmically challenged or he just doesn’t care, but regardless of the song playing, we sway slowly back and forth, pressed against each other like no one else is even there. Under the crisp coolness of his cologne on his shirt, I can smell
him
. Landen smells like fall. Like a warm breeze just before dusk that sends leaves floating free. Breathing in so hard I’m lightheaded, I pull him even closer.

A low noise halfway between a growl and a groan escapes his throat, causing my body to warm to a dangerous degree. My stomach plunges, like I’m leaning over the edge of giant black hole and I just looked down.

Jason Mraz sings about not giving up as I clutch Landen’s neck a little tighter.
Kiss me
, I think forcefully at him, tilting my chin up to let him know I’m ready now.

For a second I think he’s going to. His face lowers and his hooded stare meets mine. But then he steps back, straightening and pulling away.

His voice is so sharp it startles me. “I’m gonna grab a drink. You want something?”

Um, yeah, I want something.
You.
“Sure. Punch or Coke or whatever’s over there.” I slink off the dance floor behind him, wondering what in the world just happened. Is he just seriously parched or what?

Lingering on the edge of the dance floor, I watch as he gets two cups of punch and heads back towards me. He’s barely a foot away from the table when Jena Becker steps directly in his path. Give the chick a point for persistence. Her short red one-shouldered dress is two sizes too small but she’s curvy enough to pull it off. She places a perfectly manicured hand on Landen’s arm and I feel like a flabby slug compared her.

I can’t hear them over the blaring Ke$ha song that just came on but I can tell she’s flirting her ass off. Landen’s nodding a lot but he’s focusing more on his punch than the half-naked girl next to him. I can’t help but be a tad pleased about his obvious discomfort.

He finally says something and she sneers in response before stomping off. I’m almost worried about her breaking an ankle the way she punishing those stilettos. Almost.

When Landen finally makes his way back to me, he looks apologetic and maybe a little confused at my stupid grin. “Let me guess? There’s a party after,” I offer, knowing that’s what Alexis and Jena are always hounding him about. Why girls want a guy to get drunk and molest them is beyond me. If the guy doesn’t make an effort sober, anything he does under the influence probably doesn’t mean much.

“Uh, yeah,” Landen stammers, and for the first time he looks at me like maybe he wants to go. A lump threatens to form in my throat and I’m almost relieved that he didn’t kiss me and that we’re still “just friends.” Even if it is just friends complete with air quotes included because we both know it’s more than that. But at least I can give him a chance to back out before any major lines are crossed.

“Well I don’t know what she was so angry about. You can drop me off and swing by the party after, right?”

There. Take your out if you want it.

But it’s hurt and confusion that settle onto Landen’s features. I sip my punch and pretend not to notice.

“Yeah, I could. Or I could tell her to give it a goddamn rest already because my girlfriend isn’t really a party kind of girl.” His words linger in the air and mine don’t come right away. “Hope that’s okay because that’s what I said.” Landen shrugs but I know he’s waiting, leaning over that gaping canyon just like I did earlier.

So I grab his hand and jump. “It’s a shame you tell Jena Becker how you feel before you bother telling the aforementioned girlfriend.”

Landen turns, his expression open and hopeful. “What I told Jena was wishful thinking. What I’m asking you now is if you’re interested in the position. The pay sucks but the benefits are decent.”

“Hmm.” I bite my lip before taking another drink of my syrupy sweet punch. And then I inhale deeply to gather all of my courage. “I think I’m going to need further explanation of these
benefits
you speak of.”

Landen flinches with shock and I stare him straight in the eye, still hoping to convey my thoughts telepathically.
I’m ready.

“This was fun but I’d like to discuss my benefits package privately,” I tell him. Truthfully, I can feel the angry glares of Jena and her friends as they huddle nearby. And I want the kiss he owes me from earlier, but not in front of anyone. It’s ours and I’m not sharing.

W
e
dance for over an hour, and it takes all the self-control I have not to throw her over my shoulder and sprint to my truck when Layla says she’s ready to go.

As it is, I’m walking pretty damn brisk-like and practically dragging her behind me. She’s giggling so I think she’s okay with it.

The double metal doors are all that stand between me and heaven. That is until Cam, DW, and Brent Becker cut us off.

“What the fuck did you say to my sister?” the very angry center for the Hope Springs varsity football team demands.
Aw hell.

“I told her I wasn’t interested and that I have girlfriend, obviously.” I nod back toward Layla, who’s damn near cowering behind me. I will not fight in front of this girl.
I will not fight in front of this girl.
It becomes my mantra and I cling to it as I focus on controlling my breathing. But Brent’s all bowed up and I can tell Cam and DW know what’s coming. They came to try and stop him but neither one will do much more than try.

“Listen, I don’t want my sister dating the faggot-ass kicker. But if she likes you, you’d be lucky for her to give you the time of day.”

I. Will. Not. Fight. In. Front. Of. This. Girl.

My fists clench and I take a deep breath. “You’re right, but lucky for you, the faggot-ass kicker is taken.”

Brent’s jaw ticks a few times and I know he’s itching to punch me.
Feeling’s mutual, buddy.
But Cam and DW pull him back, and he whirls around and punches the metal doors instead. The impact rattles my bones and I’m thankful that it wasn’t my face that took the brunt of the blow. Not that I haven’t taken much worse.

I don’t know if there is a glitch in the space-time continuum or what the hell happens but time literally slows. A gust of outside air flies in as Brent storms out, and I turn to tell Layla we’ll go out a different way so dude doesn’t get the impression I’m following him, looking for a fight. But she isn’t behind me. Or rather, she isn’t
standing
behind me.

“Layla?” I scream, dropping hard to my knees. She’s on her back on the floor, tremors rocking her body, turning into full-on convulsions. And I’m fucking helpless and panicking. Her eyes roll back in her head and I grab her to me.

“Call a goddamn ambulance, 911, or what the fuck ever,” I scream at DW and Cam but I don’t wait to see who pulls out their cell phone first. Something warm and wet leaks onto the floor around her. I want to cuss the universe but I know that won’t help her. I’ve never seen anything like this in my life. Never been so scared. Even when my dad wrestled me down and kicked and hit me until I blacked out. And I was only ten then. Up until now it was the worst thing that had ever happened to me. It’s not even a close second to this.

“Shh,” I whisper in her ear, trying to drown out the sound of Cam calling it in. “It’s okay, baby. You’re okay, Layla.”
Because you have be. I need you to be, dammit.
“I’m here. You’re safe. It’s okay. I got you,” I keep murmuring over and over in her ear until finally she goes still.

We’re surrounded by teachers and chaperones and students, and I know now this is what they were talking about with the Freaky Flaherty shit. And I want to burn the motherfucking gym down Carrie style knowing this has happened before and they made fun of her for it. If I weren’t here, who would be holding her? Or would she just be a spectacle for them to gawk at?

The Colonel’s voice answers me.
If you weren’t here, this wouldn’t be happening at all
.

I
wake up in a gown I don’t have any recollection of putting on under a thin blanket and the nauseating glow of fluorescents. Great.

The back of my head hurts like someone took a hammer to it, so I ease off the pillow. Aunt Kate stands and crosses the room, looking tired and ten years older than she is.

“No,” is all I say when I see Landen dozing in a chair next to me.

“You’re okay, Layla. It was a bad one, but you’re fine.”

“It’s okay, baby. You’re okay, Layla. I’m here. You’re safe. It’s okay. I got you,”
I hear in my head even though Aunt Kate isn’t talking.

“Oh my God,” I groan, burying my face in my hands. It happened again, in front of everyone just like freshman year. Even worse, it happened in front of
him.
Tears burn in my eyes but I choke them back. Shame shoves my head down and I wish Landen wasn’t here so I could cry in peace.

“You’re awake,” he says groggily. The clock across from me is blurry but judging from the placement of the hands, I’m pretty sure it’s a little after midnight. I’m hooked up to an IV but I know from previous experience it’s just to keep me hydrated. A heart monitor is clamped on my finger and the machine beeps steadily. Guess it’s not programmed to recognize when a heart is breaking.

“I didn’t want you to know,” I whisper, and Aunt Kate nods and gives me a weak smile as she backs out of the room.

“Layla,” Landen says, standing and coming closer. “I already knew. Alexis Whatsherface told me my first week here.”

His words are supposed to comfort me. I can tell by his expression, but they ruin everything. Well, they ruin whatever was left after my spectacularly humiliating meltdown.

“Landen,” I croak out, wishing I had some water. “Please go.” I close my eyes because I’m drained and exhausted and don’t have the strength to handle the hurt on his face.

It all makes sense now. Understanding dawns on me, the pieces of the puzzle snapping together so loudly it’s a wonder I don’t have another episode. That’s
why me
out of all the girls he could’ve chosen. Same reason he bought old Clyde dinner at Our Place. Landen’s a bleeding heart looking for charity cases to rescue.

“Layla, what did I—”

“I’ll call the nurse and have you removed. Go.” My energy is fading fast and I’m running out of strength to hold back my tears of weakness, of defeat. I tried to hide from what I was and I lost. It found me. I don’t know what I was thinking. I am what I am. Can’t hide it forever.

Landen doesn’t move. He just stares at me open-mouthed and wide-eyed. I clamp my fingers down on the red call button and a beep echoes overhead.

“Do you need something?” a woman’s voice echoes through the speaker, and I almost break down right then. Yes, I need a different life. One where my parents don’t get gunned down in front of me, one where I don’t have seizures that cause me to spaz out and piss myself in front of the whole freaking school. And lastly—listen close, universe—one where the boy I’m falling in love with doesn’t date me out of pity.

“I’m going,” he mumbles, ambling away from me like I’ve kicked him. “Call me when you feel better, okay?”

I force myself to nod, even though I know I won’t. “Can I have some water please?” I ask into the air the once he’s gone.

I hang on until the nurse brings the water. “Thank you,” I say, wanting to tell her to send my Aunt Kate home too. But I don’t. And I don’t even take a drink of the water she brought because I’m at war fighting off my tears as soon she’s out the door.