9. Deacon
Chapter nine
Deacon
When I received videos of Stripper Pole Girl through all forms of social media last night, I never expected to meet her the next morning. In the video, Lyla wore a yellow dress, and her hair fell in curls around her face. The woman in front of me, wearing an oversized T-shirt and athletic shorts, performed Usher only a few hours ago. Lyla was gorgeous, and now that I knew she had a wild side, I found her even more intriguing.
I needed to take a mental picture of this moment. It was the first time since Cassie that I even looked at another woman as a possible . . . date ? Option? Rebound? I didn’t like any of those terms, so I just decided to chalk it up as a win.
“Ready to go?” I asked, and Andre looked at me like I spoke French. “We’re moving my stuff in today.”
Andre groaned, and the girls laughed from the counter they were sitting on.
“What are y'all up to today?” Andre asked them.
Lyla hopped off the counter. “I’m ordering food and napping before it gets here.”
“Second that!” Charlie added.
“What if we buy you food?” Andre gestured to the space between us and motioned for me to go along.
Charlie spun on her heels, and Lyla stopped walking halfway down the hall .
I read Andre’s desperate expression and decided it wouldn’t hurt to have the extra hands. “Brunch?”
Lyla took a few steps into the living room. “Does it include mimosas?”
I shrugged. “Why not.”
The girls shared a silent exchange. Andre started a slow clap of encouragement, and Charlie smiled.
“Fine,” Lyla said before she disappeared into her bedroom. She returned with her hair in a bun and her face free of last night’s makeup.
On the drive to the apartment, Andre rode shotgun, and the girls made themselves at home in the back seat. I turned up the radio and pulled onto the main road. “Closer” by the Chainsmokers came through the speakers, and I watched Charlie and Lyla sway to the beat.
“This your jam?” Andre chuckled and turned up the volume.
“It was last night’s anthem,” Charlie yelled before she and Lyla burst into song.
“Chainsmokers and Usher, huh?” I grinned in the rearview and felt a kick to the back of my seat.
Lyla sang to the mirror, and the performance ended as I pulled into our parking lot. The moving truck was already there, and a tall gentleman with red hair leaned against the driver’s side door.
“Are you Deacon Scott?” he deadpanned.
“Yeah, sorry I’m running behind—”
He shoved a clipboard into my chest and snapped his gum. “Sign here.”
I signed my name, and he led me around to the back. The door slid open, and the remainder of my bedroom sat in front of me .
“Think you can have it out in forty-five minutes? I don’t want to have to charge you an extra hour,” the driver murmured.
When I peered around the corner of the truck, Andre was laughing with Lyla and Charlie on the hood of my car. Lyla noticed me staring, and she tapped Andre’s shoulder.
I gestured toward the truck. “Still want brunch?”
With the extra hands I wasn’t expecting to have, we unloaded the truck in half an hour. I put together my bed frame, and Andre helped me lift the mattress. Everything else could be unpacked later today.
“I think I chose the heaviest tote,” Lyla whined and set her haul gently at the foot of my bed. “Are all the labels this specific?”
I stopped hanging clothes and turned to see what she was talking about. The tote read “Freshman to Junior Year with C,” and my heart sank. When I told my parents to load everything out of my bedroom back home, I forgot to mention that they should leave this one behind.
“Not really, no.”
“Hmm.” She eyed the label curiously and ran her fingers over the tape. “Who is C?”
I slipped another shirt onto a hanger, and my shoulders fell. When I turned to face her, she had a sly grin on her face.
I cocked my head. “Why are you so nosey?”
“I wouldn’t call it nosey . I prefer the word observant.”
“Okay, then. It’s just some old stuff. It’ll probably just sit in the back of my closet.”
She drummed her fingers on the side of the tote, eyeing me with her bright green gaze. She was waiting to see if I’d offer more information.
Nosey ass .
“Sometimes it’s just nice to have parts of people with us,” I admitted.
Lyla handed me more hangers and pondered my answer. “I could see that.”
“You don’t agree?”
She shrugged. “The relationships in my life are pretty linear. If you’re in my life, great. If not . . . I don’t need any reminders.”
I smiled reassuringly. “Reminders don’t always have to be a bad thing.”
“Noted,” she said. “Now come on. You owe me a mimosa.”
My eyes lingered on the piece of my past I was desperately trying to get a break from. Freshman to Junior Year with C had burned its way back into my memory; this time, it wasn’t even my fault. Sun peeked through the curtains, and I peered up at the sky. I wasn’t sure whose sense of humor this day was following, but it definitely wasn’t mine. I was putting in the effort. I was trying, and even when I thought I was beyond the point of failing, the universe just kept pushing the past back in my face.