48. Lyla
Chapter forty-eight
Lyla
I had watched Michelle and Keira clean our apartment at least one hundred times since Charlie and I signed our lease. They took cleaning to a whole new level. They vacuumed the outside of the vacuum cleaner and cleaned the inside of the dishwasher. I was grateful for their attention to detail, but no one would ever catch me wiping the outside of a Pledge can—which was exactly what Michelle was doing.
Charlie rolled her eyes and flipped through her playlist on YouTube. “It’s just Deacon coming over. Why do you guys care if the apartment is clean?”
“Especially since I don’t care,” I added. I sat beside Charlie on the couch, reading my new book and enjoying a White Claw.
“I always clean when we get back from a break,” Keira said. “I just want things to look nice.”
Michelle sighed when Keira opened the vacuum's canister too early, allowing debris to settle along the side of the trash can.
“I’ll help,” I offered, stealing a chip from Charlie’s bag of Doritos.
There was a knock on the door, and I immediately shifted my focus to that task instead. The debris would have to wait. I knew who was at the door, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t excited to see him .
Deacon stood in the hall with a smile and a— backward hat ? He’d never worn one before and chose moving day to try out the new style.
Fuck me. Why did I tell Deacon we couldn’t sleep together again? I couldn’t renege on rule number six, not with the guy trying to get his ex-girlfriend back. He had his entire future mapped out, and this friendship was just a stepping stone to his life with Cassie.
Deacon stepped inside and pulled me in for a kiss. His lips lingered on mine a little longer than I anticipated, but I wasn’t mad about it. He smelled like his usual cedarwood and lavender, and a warmth settled in my chest. It was like wrapping myself in my favorite blanket. It had been three weeks since I’d seen Deacon Scott, and I missed the hell out of him.
“I missed you, Brooks.” His tone was so casual that it might as well have been a statement about the weather. I had to hand it to Deacon. He was moving past our Christmas Bone much better than I thought he would.
I tightened my grip around his waist and smiled. “I missed you too, Scott.”
The right side of his mouth had a slight curve, and I tugged on his hand when he tried to walk to the living room. “Where’s your stuff?”
“Right.” His shoulders slumped, and his smile vanished. “It’s in my car.”
“I’ll come with you.”
I followed him down to the car, and before he opened his trunk, I forced him to look at me. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing’s the matter.” He guided me out of the way so he could get his bags.
His tongue grazed the center of his top lip, and I knew there was more. “Deacon.”
He smiled. “Just because we’re top-tier boyfriend-girlfriend now doesn't mean you know me.”
“ Uhm , we were always top tier, and I know you pretty well. Now, what’s up? What happened?”
He dropped his bag and took a seat on the curb. “I met with Cassie before coming here.”
I followed his lead and sat beside him, ignoring the dip in my gut. “And?”
“And I just . . . honestly, I don’t fucking know. She wanted to meet for lunch, so we did, and then she apologized for how we broke up. But then she brought up Dominic and how everything— I changed, and I just couldn’t hear it. It’s like I looked back on our relationship and couldn’t remember being happy.”
I touched his shoulder and slid my fingers across his upper back. “That’s a lot, Deac. I’m sorry.” Another moment of silence passed between us, and I realized there was a question I needed to hear the answer to. “Do you still love her?”
“I think part of me always will. I just . . . I don’t know.” His tired expression told me he had been thinking about it since he saw her this afternoon.
It was time to channel the best friend who knew him better than either of us wanted to admit. I sat up and cleared my throat. “Can I say something, maybe a little out of line? I feel like I’ve earned that level with you, you know, since you’ve been inside me and all.”
“ Jesus , Brooks.” He chuckled, and it was nice to see a smile back on his pretty face.
“Sorry. Okay, so you’re dating for a year, and at twenty-one years old, your boyfriend’s world completely shatters overnight. I don’t know—” I struggled to find the words because the last thing I wanted to do was invalidate feelings I couldn’t imagine having to bear. “I can’t say there was right and wrong because I don’t know everything that happened between you guys, but does anyone really know how to help someone after they have gone through the unimaginable? I’m not making excuses for anything she did or didn’t do. But there isn’t a manual that tells us how to help someone, Deacon, and I’ve known you for . . .”
I began counting on my fingers. For someone who usually ran their sex life as a calendar, I certainly sucked at—
“Five months,” Deacon said.
I smiled at his quick answer. “Five months. And in those five months, you’ve never asked me for help. You’ve offered me a proposition that benefits us both, but that doesn’t count.”
He covered his mouth with his hand so I couldn’t see the sexy smirk he was hiding underneath it. “It’s never been easy for me to ask for help.”
“I know,” I prompted gently. “But sometimes we need to ask for it, and that’s okay. Because of you, I’ve actually thought about therapy. I mentioned it to my mom over break, and a few months ago, I never would’ve done that. None of what you went through . . . what you’re continuing to go through, is easy.”
Deacon’s features relaxed, and I knew he was fighting against whatever dark thoughts surfaced. I pulled him closer so my head rested against his shoulder.
“I guess Cassie didn’t have it easy either, huh?” he mumbled.
I exhaled slowly, leaving a light kiss on his temple. “No. I couldn’t imagine watching you go through what you went through when it first happened. It’s hard watching you going through it now.”
“I’m sorry.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” I emphasized, leaning back to get some air. I wanted to kiss him, pull him from every dark moment he had to relive. “You don’t ever have to be sorry for being real , Deacon. Not with me. We don’t lie.”
“We don’t lie,” he echoed in a raspy voice.
Deacon stood up and offered me his hand. I grabbed his book bag off the ground and led us back upstairs where Deacon officially unpacked into part of my closet, two dresser drawers, and half of my desk. It was a small space, but I wasn’t worried. I was more concerned about the fact that I wasn’t worried. In just five short months, I went from Lyla Brooks, the girl who got physically ill over the thought of getting close to anyone, to whoever this version of me was. I couldn’t even label this version because I was still trying to understand her.
Deacon had the trust factor—something I had given out a handful of times only to have it thrown back in my face. I’d known for a while that Deacon was different . I kept searching my reader’s brain for a better word to describe him, but every time I tried, it was like I had never picked up a book.
The first night Deacon slept in my room as an official roommate, his duffle sat unpacked on my futon, and his fully clothed body took up the right side of my bed. He hugged me against him, and we fell asleep quickly, both tired from returning to a new semester on campus.
The next morning, Deacon woke up around eight and was out the door in twenty minutes to get to his first class. He did his best not to wake me, but after spending so many nights with him next to me, it was hard not to feel the empty spot on the mattress when he left.
I rolled out of bed, ready to tackle the admission I had been putting off since Christmas. I had to tell Charlie what happened over break before I talked myself out of it. Right before she started her morning scroll through Instagram at the breakfast counter, I dragged her by the elbow into my bedroom.
“What the actual—” Charlie protested, stumbling in behind me. “Good morning to you, too?”
I closed the door behind me and blurted, “I slept with him.”
Charlie furrowed her brow. “Last night you did?”
“No, on Christmas Eve.” I rolled my eyes. “Christmas Day if you want to get technical.”
She flashed me a flirtatious grin. “Oh, Lyla. How Hallmark of you! I love that detail.”
I dragged my hands down my face and groaned. I wanted to laugh at her comment and punch her at the same time. She didn’t think I was serious. She thought I was giving her a story update.
I felt the bed shift next to me, and she pried my hands from my face. “You know, fake relationship or not, it’s a little unconvincing that you would wait this long—”
“ No , Charlie ,” I emphasized, making direct eye contact with her. “I slept with him. I slept with Deacon.”
“Like you, actually . . .”
I nodded.
“ Yes, bitch!” Charlie cheered, jumping up from the bed. “This is what I’ve been waiting for! I honestly thought you slept together when he started staying over, so color me surprised. Well done, both of you.”
I winced at her satisfied grin. “What?”
Her face fell, but a sad smile still lingered against her soft features. “I just wasn’t expecting to lose you to that team while we were still in school.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You like him.”
I couldn’t argue with her statement. I did like Deacon. He was one of my favorite people. I noticed the pep in Charlie’s step as she approached my bedroom door, and the alarm bells sounded.
“Charlie,” I warned.
“You know, you really don’t help your case whenever I ask about him, and you’re speechless. It's not as convincing as your fake relationship.” She grabbed the doorknob and spun on her heel to face me. “It is still fake , right?”
“Yes,” I practically growled, throwing a pillow at her head.
“I was interested in this whole charade when I discovered it, but now I’m completely invested in how this will end.” She picked up the pillow and threw it back at me. “Lyla Brooks likes a boy.”
“I do like Deacon, but it’s not like that.”
Charlie rolled her eyes and opened the door. She glanced down the hall to make sure we were home alone, and her upbeat tone confirmed we were. “You can tell yourself whatever you need to make sense of it. But if it helps, I know he likes you too.”
More alarm bells. The entire squad was alerted as my heart rate skyrocketed to a dangerous speed. Deacon couldn’t like me. I mean, I knew he liked me, but it was the same way I liked him. That comparison wasn’t entirely reassuring either. How the hell did this happen?
Not a real relationship, no lying, fuck around in private, and no love. Don’t ask about the past, and only fuck one time .
“He’s in love with Cassie,” I said, trying my best to look unbothered.
Charlie’s smirk told me I had failed. “Like I said, tell yourself whatever you need to.”
This weekend, I had to nail down a Mr. January. Deacon wouldn’t have been upset last night if he wasn’t considering getting back together with Cassie. As his fake girlfriend, I was thrilled our plan was working. As his best friend, I was still working through the idea of Deacon getting back together with the girl who broke his heart.