13. Lyla #3
“In a small town, when something happens like what happened to my family, you can’t get away from it.
Everyone knows, and everyone has expectations about how it’s going to affect you,” I explain.
“It was like I was under a microscope. At first, my emotional outbursts were normal, it’s what people expected of me having just lost my parents.
But soon… It’s like they all moved on, and they wanted me to move on too.
I was never going to get over it, but I started pretending.
I pretended I was fine, pretended I wanted to go to high school parties again, date boys again.
But the second I did, it was like that was wrong, too. ”
Beck makes a low humming noise as he nods, taking in what I’ve said. I’ve learned he always takes his time responding, and I’ve also learned that what he has to say is usually worth the wait.
“Whatever other people think, Trouble, that’s just their opinion. They don’t know what goes on in here.” He circles his index finger over his chest. “They can never know the true depth of you, the multitudes within you. You are allowed to grieve your parents and enjoy your life here for them.”
I take a bite of my peaches and drag the spoon out of my mouth slowly.
“Who knew you were full of so many wise words,” I say.
The only word I’m fixated on, though, is that nickname, and how this time he said it without any hint of judgement.
In fact, he’s used it almost in a way that feels… endearing,
“They’re true,” Beck replies. “And I have plenty of sage advice. I’m not just a hardened, surly, hot cowboy, or whatever you think of me.”
I lean over and nudge him, shaking loose a laugh from both of us. Beck goes still, until he turns and regards me.
“Lyla…” he starts, and my heart thumps in my chest at what Beck is going to say next. I’ve thought about that night more than a few times. I’ve thought about how it would have been to kiss Beck. What would have happened if he did. And I’m thinking about it now too, about what he would taste like.
Peaches and whipped cream.
“You have some…” Beck reaches his hand up toward my face, and I lean into the rough pad of his thumb as he wipes the corner of my mouth. “Whipped cream.”
“Oh,” I say, trying to conceal the disappointment I can’t quite explain. “Thanks.”
Beck’s thumb lingers next to my mouth for a second longer than is friendly, if you can ever call wiping whipped cream off someone’s face friendly. There is nothing unsexy about the way he swipes it across my cheek, and my eyelids flutter shut.
His hand pulls away, sucking my breath out of my lungs and bringing me crashing down to reality. “I should really get going.”
Beck stands and gives me his back as he heads inside. This time, I don’t stop him. I follow him in, and say goodbye at the door as platonically as I can. Like I wasn’t just imagining sucking his thumb into my mouth and swirling my tongue around it.
Later, I lay in bed staring up at the ceiling, unable to get comfortable. Every time I move the ancient metal frame squeaks and groans under my weight. And every position I find is wrong. My body feels different after having Beck’s eyes on it, after having his hand on me.
My phone lights up on the nightstand, casting a blue glow in the room. When I turn over and look at it, there’s an e-mail notification.
From: [email protected]
Subject: (no subject)
Hi,
I got a work e-mail.
-C.J.
I type back a reply.
From: lyla.morgan@
Subject: This is a good place to include what your e-mail is about.
Hi Beck,
This is a great start… but I think we ought to go over some basic e-mail etiquette.
Regards,
Lyla Morgan
From: [email protected]
Subject: Unable to attend “E-mail Etiquette 101”
Hi Lyla,
No, thank you. See? I have good etiquette.
Best,
Mr. Cactus Jackass
From: lyla.morgan@
Subject: E-mail Etiquette 101 Mandatory Attendance
This is a non-negotiable. Please report to my office first thing tomorrow.
Warmest wishes,
Lyla
From: [email protected]
Subject: Fine.
Speaking of… I set up Dad’s office for you. You can work in there from now on. Those kitchen chairs are a nightmare to sit on. I’m still stiff and sore.
Cordially,
Beck
From: lyla.morgan@
Subject: RSVP Yes to Office Meeting
That’s just because you’re old, and you have terrible posture when you sit.
See you bright and early,
Lyla
From: [email protected]
Subject: Great
Sitting is sitting. You can’t be good or bad at sitting.
Not if I see you first,
Beck
P.S. Thanks for tonight, it was nice.
Beck Hollis makes my head spin. But tonight was nice. It was nice having someone to talk to, someone to just be with even if we weren’t talking. It was surprisingly comfortable, working alongside Beck tonight.
My hand absentmindedly rises to the corner of my mouth where his thumb brushed against my skin.
I shouldn’t want to kiss Beck. I shouldn’t want anything to do with Beck. He’s my boss. I’ve already fucked up one job because I couldn’t control my mouth, albeit for very different reasons. I can’t afford to screw this up, too.
Beck is my one chance at having a decent reference to take with me back to the city.
I’ve dealt with enough men in my life who don’t understand me, who want to keep me small. He said it himself, men who can’t handle emotions are not men. And Beck is the epitome of emotionally unavailable. Tonight was proof of that.
Sure, he’s started opening up, sharing things with me that I never knew about him. I can see him, as if the real Beck is there under the surface. Still, we got too close and the steel walls slammed down around him.
And I’m starting to think I might deserve more.