62. Lyla
Chapter sixty-two
Lyla
It was officially day fourteen of being Deacon Scott’s girlfriend for the second time this year. Graduation was only a month away, and while Deacon and I were still blissfully in the stage of labeling our new relationship, we also faced what would come after we both crossed the stage. I had Chicago, and Deacon had medical school. He was willing to shove everything aside for one girl already, and I didn’t want him to see me as someone who required him to do the same.
I wasn’t sure what I did in a past life that caused me to overthink every hand I was dealt. It didn’t matter if things were good or bad. I was always looking for the one thing that could go wrong.
My first therapy session was Thursday, and I was starting to get nervous. I practically had “Help Me” plastered on my forehead. Childhood trauma, a memory I couldn’t escape, and self-doubt? Add in the possible panic attacks and anxiety, and I was a case waiting to be solved. If that wasn’t a golden tagline introduction to the doctor who picked me up, I wasn’t sure what was.
“Stop!” I groaned loudly to the empty apartment. I had the entire place to myself, and I was tired of hearing myself dig deeper into an unnecessary hole.
Deacon went out with Nathan and Andre to celebrate something that involved beer and pool at City Tap. Charlie went home this weekend while Michelle and Keira were on a bike tour of downtown Toledo. Their activity didn’t make my top ten choices of what to do with the dwindling weekends left in our college career but to each their own.
I had overworked my already tired brain long enough. It was time to channel my last bit of academic motivation to knock out my unfinished business assignment. As part of our final, we had to create a presentation to walk the class through our proposals. Since I already had a business in mind, the task was simple. I had to make a riveting slideshow about the bookstore I planned to open.
However, my laptop had other plans when it decided to perform a three-hour update as soon as I signed into my account. I rolled my eyes as the estimated time to completion went up. This thing had all day to do this shit. I even had it plugged into the charger this morning and most of this afternoon. Technology was so ungrateful.
As if he could hear my thoughts across town, Deacon's name appeared on my phone screen. I placed my computer on the coffee table and leaned against the cushion. “Hello?”
“Hey, baby,” Deacon said. No matter how many times I heard him say it, baby hit differently when I knew it was real. “I’m probably going to be another hour or so. Andre just signed me up to play some guys who have been running the table.”
“Enjoy your night out. Isn’t it normal to want some time away from your girlfriend?” I pointed to my blank computer screen even though he couldn’t see it. “I’m living it up right now with my homework.”
“I keep waiting to want the space, Brooks. But ever since you called me downright delightful, I always want to be around you. ”
“Don’t lie. We’d only known each other for a few hours when I called you that.”
He chuckled. “We don’t lie, remember?”
My smile dug into my cheeks. It was a Friday night, and I had a cheesy grin plastered on my face while staring at my laptop screen. At this rate, I could handwrite the damn presentation faster.
“What paper are you working on?” he asked.
“No paper at the moment. My computer is taking forever to update.”
“Just use mine.” I heard Andre’s voice in the background. “I’m about to start this game, but yeah, sweetheart, just use mine.”
Once we hung up, I padded down the hallway to my room and pulled Deacon’s Macbook from his book bag. I hated how personal it seemed, like I was getting a peek into a hidden side of him that I didn’t know about.
Annnd restart the overthinking process. From the top, please.
I couldn’t wait to read my presentation notes and ignore the depressing tone shift on the second page. I’d always been guilty of allowing whatever emotions were in my head to flood my writing. After a weekend with my dad in eighth grade, I completely annihilated my Shrek vs. Donkey argument. I didn’t think a charming fairytale could sound so sad until thirteen-year-old me took the podium.
A notification announced itself on the screen with a soft chime. Cassie’s name appeared next to the messages icon, and a lengthy text showed underneath.
Cassie
I can’t stop thinking about our conversation at Tiki. I miss you, Deac. Can we please talk at our spot? If you still don’t want to try again, I promise you won’t hear from me.
And there it was—the one thing that could go wrong. Fuck me, and fuck my laptop for having a long-ass update.
Conversation at Tiki? How did I get so swept up that I forgot to ask about Deacon's conversation with Cassie?
I desperately tried to escape my survival way of thinking, but my mind was racing, and my anxiety had officially kicked in. What the hell was I doing? Deacon had a plan with Cassie, and that plan was inviting itself back into his life. I couldn’t offer Deacon anything more than a trail of shit I needed to work on and examples of people who were better off without me.
Even after a double dose of melatonin, I was still wide-eyed and in my thoughts when Deacon strolled in at twelve-thirty. Even though he had just spent the night with the guys, he looked like he hadn’t had a drop to drink. He was a walking triple threat with a fresh haircut, a backward hat that covered it, and a shirt that hugged his chest and shoulders.
“You’re still up?” Deacon placed my spare key on the counter and crossed the living room. He cupped the back of my head and kissed my forehead. His lips on my skin made my next breath an agonizing exhale.
As I stood up, I hid it through a forced yawn and a dramatic stretch. “How was your night?”
“It was fun.” He smiled, retreating to the fridge for a bottle of water. “How was yours? Did you finish what you were working on?”
I stared at him from across the room and hugged my chest to keep my hands from giving me away. “Yeah,” I said a little too enthusiastically. “I’m actually going to go to the library to print.”
He slowly lowered his drink to the counter. “You’re shaking, baby.”
“I’m fine,” I insisted, reaching for the keys. “I just need a second.”
He grabbed my hand as I rounded the corner. His warm expression forced me to pull in another stream of staggered air. If he kept staring at me like that, there was no way I could go through with the conversation that needed to happen. It had to happen for us to get out before the mess began.
“Lyla, I know when you need a second, there’s something you’re not telling me,” he prompted gently. “And the library closed a half hour ago.”
I swallowed. “Are you sure this is what you want?”
My question caught him off guard. “What?”
I pulled my hand from his and gestured to the space I created between us. “This. After graduation, I’ll be in Chicago trying to start my business while what? You—”
“Please don’t do this right now.” He shook his head, his calm exterior close to breaking. “We can figure out what that looks like, but don’t make it a problem.”
“I’m not making a problem, Deacon. I’m only stating what will cause this to be over. We haven’t talked about anything, and I think we both know why we’re avoiding it.”
“Who says anything has to be over?” He grabbed my hand again. “Look at me. Where is this coming from?”
I shook my head. “You had someone you were going to build a life with. That kind of stuff doesn’t just go away.”
“But things change, Lyla, come on.” He took a step back, throwing his hands in the air. “I lost one of the most important people in my life because of an accident. I had to find a way to move forward and find out who the hell I was without him. Cassie was—” His mouth went slack, and he eyed me pensively. “You saw, didn’t you? Cassie’s text. Is that what this is about?”
“She texted you saying she missed you. That’s a good thing .”
Deacon ran his hand over his mouth. He smacked the counter next to him, and his hand recoiled into a fist. I knew he wanted to touch me, to do anything to navigate this conversation in another direction. I hated seeing him like this, and the panic began to make its familiar sweep across my body. This was the part where he lost his shit before walking out. He’d never make this decision on his own, and if I needed to be the bad guy for him to move forward, then I could do that.
“Why are you doing this?” he said with a pained expression. “What do you need from me right now? Do you need me to leave? Because if that’s what you need, that’s okay, but I promise I’m coming back.”
The belt tightened around my chest as the tingling returned to my hands. The nausea boiled in my stomach, and my heart beat rapidly against the back of my ears. I swallowed again to keep my voice steady, but I lost the battle when tears pricked the corners of my eyes. “I don’t know what I need. I think I just need a break.”
He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. He was trying hard to focus on me when he opened them again. “A break from what?”
I couldn’t say it, and he knew I wouldn’t say it. Silence passed between us, and the apartment grew uncomfortably quiet.
“We weren’t in your plans,” I said. “Cassie wants you back, and my dad signed my trust over to me—”
“I told you I wanted to be with you ,” Deacon snapped, moving so he was only a few inches from me. “I don’t give a shit about anything else. You just wanna settle for what we said would happen back in August?”
“You planned your entire life around a girl who wants to get back together with you, Deacon,” I stated unapologetically. “That’s why we’re here in the first place.”
“No. I’m here because your dad—” He pressed his lips together in a firm line and looked away.
I watched him ponder whatever thoughts were scrambling around in his head. He was probably scrolling through every insult my dad had said in front of him, replaying every time he went back and forth on whether I was worth keeping around because of how many stumbles I caused. There were dozens of reasons Deacon could throw at me to end this conversation. We didn’t have to watch each other become strangers for this ending to make sense.
I couldn’t wait in silence any longer. “Just say it,” I whispered.
Deacon shook his head and placed his hands on his hips. “I’ll go stay with Andre for a few days,” he said without looking at me. He took a deep breath, and I wondered how long part of me would feel like his even after this conversation.
“But I want you to hear me,” he demanded softly as he walked toward me. “You can pick fights with me all day, and it won’t matter. I can give you some space, but you’ll get the same guy who followed you home that first night you stayed with me. I’m not going anywhere, Lyla.”
But why? I wanted to scream it from the rooftop so I didn’t have to look at him when he answered.
Deacon kissed my forehead and went down the hall, returning with a duffle bag and his book bag. I felt like I was going to be sick. I couldn’t move, and I couldn’t speak. For the first time in my life, I watched a man leave, and all I wanted to do was pull him back.