Stay For Me - Megan Smith Page 0,18

fired.” I say smugly.

Layla narrows her eyes and picks up the shot. “I need a lime.”

“Pussy,” I retort.

She rolls her eyes as I reach with my empty hand and fish out a lime placing it on a napkin for her.

I raise my shot to her. “To not relying on douchebags.”

She’s fighting back a smile but regresses and clinks her glass with mine. The tequila burns on its way down spreading warmth over my body. This may be the only thing that gets me through the night.

Layla brings the lime to her mouth; her teeth sink down into the lime, her lips covering it as she sucks on the tangy lime to help with the burning. Her eyes are squeezed shut and she shakes her head back and forth.

When she can’t get any more from the lime she takes it from her mouth and puts it in the empty glass. “Whew.”

“Not a tequila drinker?”

Her body shakes, “Um, no,” she laughs. “Not really a drinker at all.”

I screw the cap back on the bottle and place our glasses in the sink behind me. Layla takes out a slice of pizza and places it on a napkin before sliding it to me. “It’s getting cold.”

She takes her half eaten slice and takes another bite so I follow her lead. I chew the food in my mouth before talking again. “So I’ll give you a ride home tonight.”

She immediately shakes her head. “No, no, the cab is fine.”

“Layla,” I say sternly. “It wasn’t a question.”

She swallows hard and cast her eyes down. I feel bad that I’m pushing this on her but I hate that she has to waste money on a cab when I can just take her home. Plus, with all these crazy people running around I’d hate for her to run across trouble being out so late.

“Eli, you can’t take me home every night.”

I take a bite of pizza ignoring her. I can and I will but I’m not about to start an argument with her about it. If she doesn’t have a ride home at the end of the night I’ll take her, it’s that easy.

“So tell me something about yourself.” I say wanting to steer the conversation away from who takes her home at night.

She takes the last bite of pizza and then wipes her mouth. “What do you want to know?”

I shrug. “Whatever you want to tell me.” I shouldn’t want to know anything about her because of her boyfriend but I can’t help being intrigued.

“Well,” she taps her pointer finger on her leg. It’s a sign that she’s nervous. “I hate cheese.” I glance towards the pizza. “American Cheese.”

I chuckle. “That’s…odd.”

She picks up her napkin and throws it at me. “Tell me something about you.”

I think about that for a second. “I like to sing.”

Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Really?”

“Yeah.” I nod. Only three people know that: Erin, Sophia and my mom.

I know what’s going to come out of her mouth before she even says it. “Sing for me.”

I shake my head. “Not happening.”

“I’ll make you a deal.” She grins. “I’ll let you take me home…only if you promise to sing to me.”

I throw my head back and laugh.

“Hey, take it or leave it.” She says with some sass.

I think about it for just a second. “Deal.”

And so the next hour Layla and I sit and eat the whole pizza together getting to know each other a little better. She’s funny, smart, sarcastic, independent and sassy, and I’m finding myself wanting to get to learn a lot more about her which is a horrible idea. When the club opens, we’re busy, slammed really for a Friday night, but every time I glance towards Layla I can’t help but smile at her.

Layla

Another Friday night comes along in early March. Brian and I have been getting along, surprisingly, and mom’s been home more than not. It’s a good thing but in a way I’m a little nervous because he’s not so over the top with me lately. He’s actually been a little nicer. I think it’s the new job or something. He’s bought me flowers, took me out for dinner, filled our fridge and bought Fallon a new book bag when her strap broke on hers. I hate that he is still buying our food but it’s better than him paying our rent, I guess. Mom seems to be taking a bit of a break from drinking and dating, too. She’s been quiet mostly, stays in her room