Layla #2
I’m kneeling by the edge of his bed, rummaging through my backpack.
Golden light slants through the wide windows, casting long stripes across the hardwood floor and my open backpack that’s practically mocking me right now.
Seven pairs of underwear, thank God. Two T-shirts, not enough, and a single pair of jeans.
I was in such a rush packing to get here, the excitement of being in Reed’s arms again, that I basically grabbed whatever was in my dresser drawers and bolted.
Now I’m sitting here realizing I forgot most of my clothes, like an actual moron.
My chest feels rigid, not from panic exactly, but from the stupid, embarrassing wave of shame that hits when I imagine having to ask him to drive me somewhere.
I hate asking.
I’ve never been the girl who needs to be taken care of. I’ve always been the one who figures it out, who makes do, who pretends she’s fine even when she’s not. I take care of myself, I always have.
The floorboard squeaks as heavy footsteps come into earshot.
I don’t turn around yet, as I keep staring at my backpack, like it might magically refill itself if I glare hard enough.
The sound of his footsteps halts in the doorway, and I softly hear the gentle clink of ice against a plastic, followed by the gentle thud of a cup set down on his dresser.
“Hey, sunshine,” he says, walking closer towards me. “What’s wrong?”
A wave of humiliation washes over me, my throat working as I try to swallow the emotions down.
Choosing not to look up, I stare at my hands in my lap. “I… I fucked up packing.”
Nothing on his end, as his footsteps still, a tell he’s waiting for me to continue.
I force my words out, quieter than I mean to. “I was so excited to get here that I just threw shit in my bag and left. I forgot almost everything. I’ve got like… three days’ worth of clothes if I’m lucky.”
It’s silent for a beat before his footsteps move closer until my gaze lands on his tobacco brown, Thorogood leather boots.
He kneels in front of me slowly, as one knee hits the floor, followed by the other.
I finally lift my gaze, and there he is, kneeling in front of me, wearing a faded black T-shirt stretching across his shoulders, his burn scars on full display for me.
His hair is still a little messy from earlier, with that soft half-smile he only ever shows when it’s just us.
He gently reaches out as his fingers brush my cheek first, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.
“Come on,” he says softly.
I blink, confused. “What? Why?”
He doesn’t answer right away, as he keeps looking at me with this simple adoration that takes my breath away.
I never knew a man could look at me this way, not when I’ve been conditioned with anything but this.
He leans in, pressing a slow kiss to my forehead, before resting his forehead against mine. “I’ll take you shopping, baby.”
He’ll what?
My eyes flutter shut, feeling the intense sting of tears rushing through.
No one has ever done this for me. Some may think, “Well, Layla, it’s just shopping.”
Well, it’s never been as simple as just someone taking me somewhere because they want to. It’s always Brian making me feel foolish for even asking, adding a sigh or an eye roll to make me feel small.
Brian would’ve laughed, then told me to figure it out on my own. My mom would’ve sighed and reminded me how scatterbrained I’ve always been.
But Reed… He kneels here, offering to take me like it’s the most natural thing in the world to drop everything and fix something that’s upsetting me.
A tear slips free before I can stop it, and I let out a shaky laugh, trying to play it off.
“You don’t have to—”
“I want to,” he says, pulling back to make eye contact, not giving me a chance to argue.
He reaches out, his thumb brushing beneath my eye, wiping away a tear.
I blink at him, watching his movements. Still in shock and awe, he’s on his knees for me.
He shifts a little closer as his hand rests lightly against my knee while the other tucks that same piece of hair back behind my ear again.
“I want to take you to a boutique,” he continues softly as his thumb traces an absent little circle against my knee, “or wherever the hell you want to go.”
My chest constricts, my heart rate picking up rapidly.
“I want to carry your bags,” he says, glancing at my backpack before looking back up at me, the corner of his mouth lifting just a little. “Watch you try on clothes.”
My lip trembles, I can’t fucking help it.
“No one’s ever…” I start, having to stop because my voice stutters. “No one’s ever just… taken care of me like that. Without making me feel insignificant first.”
His eyes soften even more, if that’s possible, as he leans forward pressing his forehead to mine.
“You don’t ever have to feel small with me,” he whispers, lifting his hand to cup my face, gently stroking his thumb across my cheek.
“Not once. Not ever. You’re allowed to forget things.
You’re allowed to be messy. You’re allowed to need something and…
ask. Or don’t even ask. I’ll see it, and I’ll give it to you. ”
Another tear trickles down my cheeks as I silently laugh through them.
“Okay,” I whisper, covering my hand with his.
He gives me a genuine smile, causing his eyes to crinkle at the corners.
“Okay.”
He stands, offering me his hand.
I look up at him before I take his hand as his fingers weave through mine.
Pulling me up gently, he presses a soft peck on my lips before retreating to the dresser.
He grabs the iced coffee from the dresser, the one he made me just because, and presses it into my palm.
“First things first,” he says, his thumb brushing my knuckles. “Caffeine, clothes, then dinner.
A laugh escapes me as I get on my tippy toes and give him another gentle peck on the lips.
“Thank you,” I whisper against his lips.
He kisses me back slowly, like he’s saying you’re welcome without words.
“Let’s go, sunshine.”