2. Layla
2
LAYLA
A date? I’m going on a date?
Why?
Why am I going out with some guy I know I won’t like? Is it to make Tasha happy? Or is it because I’m afraid that if I don’t get out of my apartment and do some actual socializing, I’ll end up a lonely old cat-lady counting dust flecks in my living room?
Something’s wrong with me. I just can’t do the whole “guy thing.”
Tasha meshes with the opposite sex so naturally, but I’ve had only bad luck when it comes to men, and I don’t know how I’m going to deal with this guy she’s setting me up with. I’m really starting to wonder why I’m putting this much effort into picking an outfit for tonight.
I still can’t decide what pants to wear out. I’m on my third pair when I glance over my shoulder at the large, plate-glass window in my bedroom that looks out over the street. The blinds are open, and I realize I’ve been flashing my ass to basically anybody who’s been walking by and looked up.
Oh, well. This is a nice neighborhood. Maybe someone caught a glimpse of some cheek, but it’s not like there’s any psychos out there with binoculars and a camera taking shots for their personal jerk-stash.
I finally decide on some slim black jeans and a vintage T-shirt of some rock band with a cool logo, slip on a pretty bead necklace I picked up in downtown Austin with Tasha, grab my purse, and head out.
As I step outside, I wonder why I’m trotting around in heels and makeup on my way to a date that’s no doubt going to end in disaster. I’d much rather be curled up on the couch with some popcorn, watching a corny '90s rom-com where the awkward girl ends up with the hot guy.
I hear a cough up ahead and look up to see a man, swaying like he’s drunk out of his mind, stumbling right toward me. I step left, but he matches my movement, almost like he wants to be on a collision course with me.
An eerie feeling causes my chest to tighten. A second cough echoes behind me, and I glance back to see a second man rocking as he walks up the sidewalk in my direction. It’s like I’m being pinned in from both sides, and I feel my anxiety starting to kick in, so I quickly cut left, moving at a fast clip to cross the street.
And that’s when it happens.
The two men instantly snap out of their drunken stupor, which I quickly realize was just an act, and sprint toward me. My heart skips a beat as I try to run, but I’m wearing heels, and there’s really nothing I can do.
“Help!” I scream out as the first man reaches out and grabs hold of my arm. “Somebody–!”
My second scream is cut off as the second man muffles my lips with his hand. Panic hits me like a flood of cold adrenaline. This is it. I’m being kidnapped. I don’t know who these men are, but I can guess why they want me: to get to my uncle. No matter how far away from him I go, his business will always affect me.
I try to bite my attacker, but he forces my jaw shut, cutting off any chance I have of crying out or using my teeth to fight back. The men lift me up and carry me back across the road as I thrash wildly, the muscles in my legs and arms burning as I fight for my life.
My heart skips another beat when I see the white van, its sliding door open for me like a huge shark’s mouth.
Then there’s a thud.
The man grasping my feet falls to the ground clutching his left eye. There’s a blur of movement to my right, and I hear the sound of knuckles on flesh. I fall to the pavement as my second attacker is knocked back.
“Get your hands off her, you bastards!” a deep voice snarls.
I look up and see a monstrous, hulking man standing over me, putting his muscled body between me and my assailants. He’s built like a fighter or a soldier. Wide-shouldered, broad-chested, and wearing jeans, boots, and a raggedy tee.
He’s also brutally handsome in a dangerous way.
“Hey, man, just don’t hurt us, okay?” The guy who was just about to stuff me into the back of a van is now pleading like a little boy about to cry.
“I’d get out of here now,” he growls back, pulling his phone from his pocket. I watch him dial 9-1-1. “Yeah, I want to report an assault and attempted kidnapping on a woman–”
My pulse quickens with intrigue.
Who is this man? Why is he putting himself in danger for me?
Instantly, the two attackers leap to their feet and race off into the night. My mysterious guardian hangs up, smirks with disgust, then turns back to me and reaches out a massive, callused hand.
“You’re all right now, sweetheart. Those men won’t be back.” His voice is like warm honey in my ears, and his brilliant blue eyes seem to shine down at me through the darkness of the night. Suddenly, I know I’m all right. Safe. Nothing will happen to me now that he’s here.
I know I should reach out and take his hand, but my body doesn’t listen, and my eyes scour his with salacious interest.
His jeans are stretched and strained around his muscular, working-man’s thighs. His forearms are cut with sinewed muscle and laced with bulging veins signifying his strength. He has dark scruff wrapping his chiseled jaw and is wearing a mesh University of Texas hat.
Plenty of fellas around here might come off similar, but whoever this guy is, it’s like God took everything about him and dialed it up to 11. He’s bigger, taller, way hotter, and dripping with masculine energy.
I realize I’m thinking all kinds of inappropriate things about him as I reach out and take his hand. I was on my way to a date and here I am thinking about why his jeans seem to be bugling at the seams, so thick in the middle. Jesus, it’s like suddenly my ovaries are screaming at me.
“Th-thank you,” I stammer as he pulls me to my feet like he’s lifting a feather.
His smile takes my breath right out of me. Is that…interest I see in his eyes? Impossible. A man like him must run through flocks of models like a cat goes through kibble.
“Not a problem, darling. No way I was gonna let those two sick fucks follow through with whatever they had planned for you.”
“Are you a cop?” I regret my question immediately. Does he look like a cop?
“I sure ain’t.” He grins broadly. “But I could handcuff you if you’re into that sort of thing.”
Have I lost it, or is he flirting with me?
My heart is beating so loudly he must hear its beat through my chest. And I’m blushing so hard my cheeks feel like they’re on fire.
“Sorry, bad joke,” he says. “My name’s Taylor.”
“Layla,” I reply. “And no…it wasn’t a bad joke. I’m just shook up is all.”
“Layla.” He smiles. “You like ice cream, Layla?”
What did he just ask me? And did he just move closer to me, or am I dreaming? I swear I can smell him from here–a manly musk that feels right at home in my nostrils.
“Ice cream?” I ask. He nods, his eyes sharp and intent. “Yeah, I like ice cream.”
“Well, I just happen to have a fresh new carton of Austin’s best mint-chocolate-chip back at my apartment. I’d be happy to whip you up a sundae if you’re in the mood.”
Is he being serious? A grown man asking me if I want to have ice cream with him? Shouldn’t he be asking me if I want to go have a drink at the bar or something? No. He’s not that kind of guy. I don’t know how I know, but I know he’s not interested in getting me drunk. Despite the fact that he’s the size of a literal monster, kindness radiates from him, and without realizing it, I find myself nodding.
“Sure. That’d be better than what I had planned tonight.”
“Oh? What’d you have planned tonight?”
I quickly shake my head. “Nothing. You live close by?”
It turns out Taylor lives just two blocks down from me on the third floor of a nice new building. We’re greeted by the cutest golden retriever ever as we step inside.
“That’s Chester.” Taylor smirks, patting the cute little buddy as he sniffs around at my legs. “Just ignore him. He’s a good boy.”
My mouth falls open. Who is this man? Stunningly handsome, strong, tough, who likes ice cream and adorable dogs? It’s like he was created in a lab to melt panties without even trying.
“I think I’m in love,” I say, kneeling down to Chester’s eye level. Taylor stops and turns, and I feel myself blushing hard as I realize what I just said. “Sorry, that came out wrong. I just meant I love your dog–”
“It’s fine.” He grins. “Chester has that effect on women.”
Yeah, and so do you, pal.
My nerves are taking over as I stand and follow Taylor into the living room, which is more color coordinated than I would have expected. I’m suddenly terrified that this man has a wife or girlfriend who does his decorating.
“So…you live alone?” Nice, Layla. Real subtle.
“Nah,” Taylor replies, shaking his head from the freezer. I wince, expecting his wife to step out of the bedroom to join us. “I share the place with Chester.”
I smile, and my entire body relaxes. My worry is quickly replaced with embarrassment. I’ve known this man for minutes and I’m already worried about whether or not he has a wife or a girlfriend.
What am I? A lioness trying to stake her claim on the biggest lion around?
“So who were those guys?” Taylor asks, handing me a bowl of ice cream topped with spiral of whipped cream. I didn’t even realize he was scooping. I guess I was too distracted by his good looks and my own jealousy.
“I’ve always been waiting for something like that to happen, if we’re being honest, because of my family–”
I clamp my mouth shut. What are you doing, Layla?
Thankfully, Taylor is just frowning like he doesn’t understand.
“Your family?” He frowns. “What does that mean?”
I shake my head and spoon some ice cream. “Nothing. Never mind. They were probably just creeps trying to assault me or something.”
“What are you doing out there without a guy anyway? No boyfriend to look out for you?”
“No.” I blush. “No boyfriend. I don’t have much luck with men.”
“I find that hard to believe.” Taylor’s smile just makes me want to open up to him. I already trust him, and it’s not just because he saved me. There’s something about him that I can’t explain.
“Well, my ex, Mark, cheated on me with the head cheerleader.” This is crazy. I’m just spilling my guts to him. “And ever since then, I’ve just sort of steered clear of men.”
Taylor stares at me for what feels like an eternity. I shouldn’t have said that. What was I thinking? I barely know this guy, and now I’m pouring out my soul like he’s my therapist? He’s definitely just lost any interest he had in me.
Shockingly, Taylor slowly nods. “I can relate to that. Brandy, my ex, cheated on me too. She moved out recently. Well, actually, I threw her out.”
Is he for real? A girl out there actually cheated on this Adonis of a man? Impossible. He must be lying just to make me feel better.
“Did she have crazy eyes?”
Taylor squints at me, perplexed. “Crazy eyes?”
“Yeah.” I motion to him to show me his phone, and to my surprise, he actually pulls it out and scrolls to find a picture of her. “The ones with crazy eyes are the ones you gotta stay away from.”
“Well, I dunno about crazy eyes…what do you think?” He hands over the phone, and my heart sinks.
Kill me now.
She’s gorgeous. Absolutely stunning. Which is fitting based on just how handsome Taylor is. She seriously looks like she could have just stepped out of Maxim with her perfect cheekbones and flawless body.
I can’t ever remember feeling this way. I never get jealous. I’ve never been into a guy enough for that to even be an option.
Thankfully, my phone buzzes in my pocket with a call from Tasha. I answer immediately.
“Where the hell are you?” She sounds frantic. “George is waiting for you and–”
“I’m not coming.”
“You’re not coming?!” Her tone stings my eardrums. “Are you trying to make me look like an asshole?”
“Two guys tried to mug me, Tash,” I reply, wanting out of this conversation. “A good Samaritan saved me. I’m having ice cream with him right now.”
“You’re fucking with me.”
“I’m not fucking with you,” I reply.
“She’s not!” Taylor calls out. I look back to see him licking his spoon and feel a tingling sensation between my thighs. Could this man get any more perfect?
“Okay, tell me where you are,” Tasha demands. “I’ll come over and–”
“Tomorrow, Tasha. I really don’t wanna get into it tonight.”
I’m lying. I’d have no problem recounting tonight’s mess to her. The truth is, I want Taylor all to myself. I don’t want to share him at all, even with my best friend.
There’s a long pause. I know Tasha is reading my mind. We’ve known each other since 4 th grade. She almost always knows what I’m thinking.
“Ah, I get it,” she says knowingly. “This good Samaritan is a hottie, isn’t he?”
“Okay, nice talking to you, Tash!” I hang up quickly and turn back to Taylor. He’s smiling as he spoons more mint chocolate chip into his mouth. Is it possible he knows what I’m thinking too?
No. I’m just being paranoid now.
“I should go,” I tell him. “I don’t want to inconvenience you–”
“You’re not an inconvenience, Layla. And let’s be honest–you don’t want to go back to that apartment alone tonight. All alone. Not after what happened.”
Yup. He can definitely read my mind.
“Well…maybe I’m a little scared…” I admit. “But I don’t want to impose on you.”
It’s crazy the effect he’s having on me from just a few feet away. He’s like an anchor and I’m a boat lost on the wild seas and ferocious winds of an ocean storm. The rest of the world is just dull, ambient noise, and his voice is a drill that goes straight into my heart.
“You’re not imposing, sweetheart,” he replies. This time I’m not seeing things; he definitely steps closer to me. So close I can smell him again. “You take the bedroom. I’ll take the couch.”
Are you sure you don’t want to take the bedroom with me?
That’s what I want to say, but of course I’m too afraid to.
I’m actually overwhelmed by the emotions whirling through me like a twister: jealousy, lust, excitement, embarrassment.
I actually do want to stay here with Taylor, and that’s a big difference from how I was feeling about basically being forced to go out with George earlier this evening.
Taylor leans in, and I brace myself. Is he going to kiss me?
My eyes move to his lips, and I start to shake.
“And don’t worry, little girl.” His Texan accent woos me as it washes over me like a warm breeze. “I won’t try anything while you’re asleep.”
With that, he sets his bowl down and goes to the bedroom to get it ready for me.
You can if you want, I think. I wouldn’t mind.