19. Deacon
Chapter nineteen
Deacon
It was one of those moments when I knew I was dreaming.
In the dream, my brothers, Drew and Dominic, were being pulled on innertubes from the back of my uncle’s boat. We were at our family cabin in Michigan, and it was the last week of July. I was dreaming because when Drew fell off his tube and into the water, I heard a door slam shut instead of my dad’s laugh.
I blinked a few times, unable to register anything in front of me because it was still dark outside. I rolled over and checked the time on my phone. It was a little after three.
“Lyla,” I murmured, sticking my hand out behind me. I tapped the mattress, reaching further and further, expecting to touch her shoulder. Instead, all I felt were my bedsheets.
“Lyla?” I said, a little more urgent this time. Had she floated out of the room? I was usually a light sleeper.
I hopped out of bed, and when I opened my bedroom door, Lyla was coming out of the bathroom. She squinted as the hallway light popped on above us, and she tried to shield the glow with her arm.
“Jesus, Deacon,” she whispered. “What are you doing?”
My shoulders relaxed. “I heard a door, and when you weren’t in the bed—”
“I’m fine.” She giggled. “I was just leaving.”
Lyla crossed the living room and grabbed her purse from the back of the couch. There was no way in hell this girl was walking home at three in the morning.
“Leaving?” I followed close behind her. “What do you mean you’re leaving?”
“Deacon, tonight went wonderfully. Cassie saw us as a happy couple. Hell, she even saw us leave together. Let’s plan to get together on Tuesday for—”
“Lyla, it’s three in the morning,” I interrupted gently. “You’re not walking home.”
She scoffed. “Yes, I am.”
I lept toward the door and placed my hand above the handle. Lyla eyed me as I pressed my weight against her only exit. We continued our stare-off for about a minute or two, but I knew when her eyebrows pulled together in the middle of her forehead that she wasn’t going to let up.
She didn’t have to let up. I could accommodate to fit the situation. I always did.
“Fine,” I said, smirking. “Then I’m walking with you.”
“ No , you’re not.”
I snagged the keys from her hand, speaking over my shoulder as I walked back into my room. “Three paces behind you. You won’t even know I’m there.”
I threw on a hoodie and grabbed my hat. When I was close to the front door again, I handed Lyla her keys. She assessed my outfit change and let out a hollow laugh. Lyla was in for a rude awakening. I’d never avoid pissing her off because she wanted to do something that wasn’t in her best interest. She wasn’t walking home by herself at three in the morning. That was prime time for the bars to let out, and all it took was one creep to notice that she was alone .
“You’re ridiculous,” Lyla snapped. “I’m fine. I just don’t want to stay the night here.”
I shrugged. “No worries. Five paces back then.”
“Deacon!”
I took a few steps toward her, and she took a step back. I pretended not to notice, and she crossed her arms over her chest. She was guarding something, and I worried I might have come on too strong. It looked like she was waiting for me to get angry—like I would blow up and yell back at her.
I took a deep breath and raised my hands in defeat. “If you need to pick a fight with me so you can leave, that’s fine. I know you don’t know me that well yet, but one thing you should know is I’m the type of guy who walks you home in the middle of the night. I’m the guy that makes sure you’re okay even when you’re pissed at him.”
I opened the front door, and she hesitated, giving me one last chance to change my mind. When it was clear I wasn’t budging, she rolled her bright green eyes and sighed. “Five paces back?”
I gestured for her to lead the way.
“Fine.”
“Atta girl,” I murmured, shutting the door at the same time so she wouldn’t hear me. Without turning around, she stuck a middle finger in the air. Even with our dramatic exit, she heard me loud and clear.
Bowling Green came to life on the weekends after closing time. The bars let out, and everyone flooded fast food restaurants, local food joints, and nearby gas stations. Taco Bell had crowds circling the building, and Circle K became the hot spot for late-night cigarettes and snacks. The streets were loud and packed, and the way Lyla weaved across Wooster, I had to break into a jog to keep up .
“Could you just—” I grabbed her hand and guided her to the left to avoid a group of guys crossing the street.
We stopped before Manville Avenue, and she pulled her hand from mine. “Five paces back, Scott,” she warned without looking at me.
I laughed and let her get a few steps ahead.
Manville was a side street and a straight shot to Falcon’s Pointe. Lyla probably could walk the rest of the way by herself. We had passed the after-party craziness, and the chances of running into anyone moving forward were slim to none. But I was committed at this point, and the way Lyla was ignoring me was somehow making this fun. Was fun the right word?
The last time I walked a girl home was Cassie after she had too much to drink. She was upset with one of the girls she went out with and called me from the bar. I wasn't out with her and her friends, but I met her before she walked home. I didn’t stay, and she didn’t ask me to. I wondered if that should have been my first clue. Had her feelings started to shift for me back in April ?
I pulled out my phone. Maybe Cassie updated her story, or maybe—
“What did you say?” Lyla asked over her shoulder.
I looked up, and she was still facing forward. “What?”
Lyla turned around and kept walking backward. She slowed her pace so I could catch up, and whatever anger she had back at the apartment was gone. She wore a mischievous grin when I tucked my phone back into my pocket.
I shook my head. “Nothing. So you’re okay with three paces, huh?”
“Three paces is fine. If you do two, I might have to break into a run and try to lose you.”
I smirked. “Please. That would require you to actually run . ”
“Believe it or not, I’m pretty fast. I just don’t like to run for enjoyment.”
“But running from someone on the street, that’s a good enough reason?”
“I’m practical, Scott. Running away from a fake boyfriend who followed you home is much more newsworthy than running for personal enjoyment. Shit, that might clear up all of this Aaron Brooks nonsense. Make me some kind of empowered and independent woman instead of Stripper Pole Girl.”
“Hey, that Stripper Pole Girl happens to be my girlfriend, remember?” I chuckled at her disgusted expression. Apparently, the G-word was worse than the B-word. “And speaking of Aaron Brooks, what’s the next item you need from me?”
Her eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”
“Tonight was a good move for me . Cassie saw us together, and we were happy. You let me kiss you. Now, what do you need from me ?”
“'You let me kiss you,'” she echoed through a laugh. “You know you’re the first guy who has ever asked if you could kiss me?”
Nothing about that surprised me. Lyla told me about her monthly trial periods with guys and how she never let anything go past bedroom benefits and casual conversation. Lyla was the girl who kept it at a good time, and most guys wouldn’t budge at the opportunity to be with someone as gorgeous as her. She left no lines blurred.
“What’s more boyfriend-girlfriend shit you could do until my dad asks about you again? ”
It didn’t take me long to think of the one thing I always did for Cassie. I had done it every week since I started dating her. “I could buy you flowers?” I offered.
Her eyebrows shot to the top of her forehead. “Flowers?” She said the word like I had just offered to buy her expired bread.
“Cassie loved flowers,” I explained. “I always made sure she had flowers in her bedroom. It might hit a nerve if she sees me buying you flowers.”
“Yes, sweet Deacon. You can buy me flowers.”
“Don’t call me sweet Deacon,” I objected, even though I loved how it made her smile. “I’m not this helpless little animal you get to tug along.”
“You’re literally following me home. You’re also the first guy to do that , too.”
She spun back around so she was facing forward. I sped up to walk next to her, and she didn’t seem to mind that I broke her three-paces rule.
“All those guys you—” I cleared my throat. “Let me rephrase.”
She giggled at my attempt to save my next sentence from making me sound like an asshole.
“All of the fun you’ve had with guys—none of them ever walked you home?”
She scowled. “Please. Most of them don’t even notice I leave.”
“Not even the next morning?”
“I don’t stay until the morning,” she said, like I already should’ve known this information.
The thought of Lyla walking home all those times by herself irked me. Not only was Mr. September interfering with our plan, but he was also an asshole .
“So this wanting to leave tonight didn’t have anything to do with—” I caught myself again. Maybe it was the lack of sleep that was causing me to have word vomit. What happened at The Attic wasn’t my business. As her fake boyfriend, I should have moved on to a different topic of conversation. But as her friend , I decided to pull our line. It was a much safer option and something she couldn’t fight me on. It was one of her stupid rules anyway.
“We don’t lie, Lyla Brooks,” I said softly.
Lyla stopped walking, and I knew she was thinking about what to tell me. Even though everything about this relationship was fake, I didn’t see anything made up about our friendship. Lyla didn’t have guy friends, but I might be the safest start she’d ever get. She wouldn’t have to worry about me getting caught up in feelings that weren’t there.