Distraction (Westbrook Series Book 1) Read online

  I sigh, and plop down onto one of the bar stools. She knows less than I do, but I can't tell her what Sam told me. I'm not even supposed to know that much. If it weren't for our recent status change, I would be in the dark as much, if not more than my mother is.

  "I just overheard Sam and Kyle talking. The name Georgia came up, but I really don't know much else about her."

  It's not a total lie. I really don't know much, which is frustrating. I wish Kyle would talk to me about her. Mom's excitement and her eager smile quickly dissolve. In its place is a half pout.

  "It would be nice to see him settle down with one girl, you know. He's not a seventeen-year-old boy anymore. These wild fraternity days are going to end before he knows it, and all of his friends will start getting married. He needs to understand what it means to be in a committed relationship."

  And now, we are in mom-lecture-mode. It's not as bad when she isn't lecturing me, but I still feel compelled to defend Kyle.

  "Maybe he’s keeping Georgia to himself because he doesn't want you doing this, Mom. He hates when you start lecturing him about his dating life." My tone seems to contain more sarcasm than I had planned to reveal. I really need to work on that. For some reason, my mother manages to bring out the worst side of me.

  "You are too young to understand right now, but some day, what I am saying will make perfect sense to you, Laila. I love your brother very much, and I want what's best for him. I'm sorry if it is intrusive for me to say so, but he needs to grow up a little. This party after party lifestyle of his is not what it's like to be an adult."

  I roll my eyes and sigh. No wonder Kyle avoids Mom. This is brutal.

  "All I am saying is that I think having a steady girlfriend would be a good thing for him."

  "Well, he isn't here to hear it, and he doesn't bother to tell me anything. So, I wouldn't waste your breath on me. It's just not worth it."

  My mom is glaring at me with her arms crossed over her chest. I really don't feel like getting into it with her, especially not over stupid Kyle.

  I stand up and turn towards the staircase. "Look, Mom. I'm really tired. I think I'm just going to go to bed."

  Mom's eyes soften, before she sighs. "Yeah, me too." She smiles and squeezes my shoulder gently.

  "Hey, don't forget to take your clean laundry up with you."

  I am already almost half way up the stairs when she says this. I begrudgingly stomp down the stairs, and take a quick detour to pick up my laundry basket. I guess I should be grateful that my mother still does all of my laundry. Avery started washing her own clothes at age fifteen. I figure I have my whole life ahead of me to do my own laundry. I might as well enjoy this luxury while it lasts.

  Once I'm in my room, I dig my phone out of my purse. I am dreading the potential messages waiting for me. I recall how Sam and I were busy texting each other back and forth, when I just up and quit responding, right in the middle of our conversation. It also happened to be right after Sam asked me if Trevor and I were alone.

  This is not a conversation I want to have, because even though Trevor and I weren't on a real date, it sort of felt like one. In fact, aside from the kissing and making out with Sam in the car on our way home part, my evening with Trevor felt more like a date than my afternoon with Sam did.

  I take a deep breath and slowly slide the bar on my phone to unlock it. I have three new text messages and three missed calls. Shoot.

  Harry: You still there, Laila?

  Harry: I never did hear back from you. I hope everything is ok. Give me a call later when you get a chance, ok? I miss you. :)

  Harry: Going out with the guys. Hope you guys are having fun. Not too much fun, though. Save that for your boyfriend, ok? :)

  My stomach drops after reading this one. Did I have too much fun with Trevor?

  Harry: I wonder if my texts are going through. I'm just going to call you.

  The messages were mostly spread throughout the evening. I feel terrible for leaving him hanging like that. I know this girlfriend stuff is kind of new for me, but I don't think I'm off to a particularly good start here. I pull up his fake name from my favorites list and hit send. I feel that overwhelming sense of dread intensify with each ring. Finally, his voicemail picks up.

  “Hey you. It's me, your girlfriend. I'm really sorry I haven't called. We ended up driving into a dead zone for most of the evening. I didn't get all of your texts until we drove back. Anyway, I hope you're having fun. I guess I'll just talk to you tomorrow. I miss you, too. Good night.”

  I can't decide if I am more relieved to have temporarily escaped a real conversation with him, or if I am a little annoyed that he isn't answering. I know I have no right to be annoyed, especially after ignoring his texts and messages on the way home. This reminds me that I never did listen to my voicemail. I have two messages waiting for me. Two of the three missed calls were from Sam. One voicemail is from him, and the other one is from Avery.

  “Hi little hottie. I think your phone is broken, or maybe it's just your texting, or maybe it's even mine? Anyway, I just wanted to hear your voice before bed. Call me.”

  I couldn't help but notice how his voice was slurring a little, and there were definitely people in the background. It wasn't just people. I definitely heard girls, laughing loudly and carrying on. Was he at a bar or a party? I have no business getting jealous, but I am. I remember how Trevor and I were lying next to each other, holding hands, and my stomach lurches. Why am I so confused right now?

  I select the next message, turn my speakerphone on, and set it down on my bed, as I slip my pajamas on. The sound of Avery's voice echoing through the speaker causes a lump to form in my throat.

  "Hey little lady. Did you guys have fun tonight? We planned our visit to the Keystone Retirement Village in the fall at tonight's meeting. I think you should come with. We could use some extra hands. I'll probably see if Trevor wants to volunteer, too. We are going to play games, and put on a little skit with silly dancing and singing. It'll mostly be ad-libbed, and you would totally rock it on stage. You could even sing, if you want. They would love that, Lays. Well, call me later, okay?"

  Singing on stage in front of just about anyone would be fine, but the idea of singing in front of Trevor suddenly scares the crap out of me. Why should I be nervous in front of him? We're just friends. If I can sing in front of hundreds of students at school, singing in front of one of my friends should be a snap. Sam even saw me in my first musical my freshman year. Would I be nervous if I had to sing in front of him now?

  I better shoot Sam a quick text in case he didn't hear his phone ring.

  Me: Hi. I tried calling, but I got your VM. Sorry I missed your texts and calls. There was no service out where we were. Call me when you get home if you want to talk tonight. Otherwise, we can catch up tomorrow. I miss you, too! :)

  I also send Avery a quick text, to let her know I'd help with her talent show at the retirement home, and that I will call her back tomorrow. I'm way too tired to talk tonight. Plus, I'm not so sure I want to talk about Trevor. I don't know how I'm going to get her to stop liking him, but I need to figure something out, before he breaks her heart.

  Chapter Sixteen: What Kind of Name is That, Anyway?

  The rest of the week has been pretty uneventful. I have spent most of my time lazily relaxing by the pool with my nose buried in a book. I did manage to deepen my tan to a rich brown color, while breezing through three and a half books.

  Sam and I have talked every night before bed. We have been shooting quick, flirty texts to each other throughout the day, too. Much to my relief, he has not mentioned anything about my night with Trevor. Avery didn't really bring it up, either, which makes me wonder if Trevor has already told her all about it.

  I haven't talked to Trevor since he dropped me off Sunday night. I've thought about calling him to thank him, but have decided not to, because that is something you might do after being taken out on a real date. Despite my nagging conscience, I refuse to accep
t that it was anything other than two friends hanging out.

  I have pulled up his Facebook page a few times, just to see if he has posted anything new. Unfortunately, he has been as MIA as I have been all week.

  The good thing about having some distance from Trevor is that I feel like my head is back on straight again. I don't feel confused about our friendship anymore. I keep reminding myself that Trevor has just been a little distraction. Sam is a great boyfriend, and I'm totally into being with just him. I only wish we didn't have to sneak around in order to be together.

  It's already Thursday afternoon. I can barely sit still because I know that Sam and Kyle will be walking through the front door any minute now. Sam texted me this morning, before his first class, just to let me know how excited he is to see me tonight.

  I am wearing my new floral, spaghetti-strap sundress. The neckline looks a little bit like the top of a heart. There are three little coral buttons that run in a straight line along my ribcage. The flowers are huge bushels of vibrant, stylized, coral peonies. I'm pretty sure this print was plucked right out of the sixties, because it looks just like something Don Draper's wife would wear on Mad Men. I am wearing a turquoise blue statement necklace, and my saddle tan and turquoise color-blocked wedge sandals with it. Avery helped me pick out my outfit. She seemed pretty confident that Sam would like it, too.

  It has been another scorching hot day today with temperatures well into the upper nineties, and the heat index was close to one hundred and seven degrees. It was so hot that I could barely stand even being out by the pool. Being in the water wasn't much better. It felt more like bath water than the cool, refreshing haven it usually is when I'm laying out.

  Mom and Dad are out with the Maddoxes tonight. They went to an early dinner followed by a concert. They have front-row seats to see Coldplay.

  It's kind of weird having parents who listen to some of the same kind of music you do. I'm pretty sure half of our school is going to the very same concert, but I doubt many of their parents are going. I'm actually surprised Kyle isn't going. I'm pretty sure Coldplay is one of his all-time favorite bands. He and Dad even went to one of their concerts together a few years back.

  The sound of Kyle's Civic pulling into the driveway sends a fresh batch of butterflies swimming into my stomach. I've been relatively calm all week with our frequent text and phone conversations, but seeing Sam in person is a whole other thing. I realize that I am sitting here all dressed up and ready, just waiting for my boyfriend to get here, even though we don't have a real date scheduled. Our meet me in the garage for the sequel to our hot Sunday afternoon make-out session isn't exactly a date in my book.

  Maybe sitting here like this looks a little too anxious. I'll run upstairs to hide out in my room, so I don't appear desperate. Sam probably wouldn't think that, but we are still so new in our relationship. I read in one of my magazines that a girl should try to create a certain amount of intrigue in order to keep her guy interested.

  I am scaling the last two steps when I hear the front door unlocking. My heart is pounding so loudly now that I almost can't hear beyond the loud clamor. I close my door, plop down onto my bed, and toss a couple of throw pillows to the side.

  I pull out my iPad to look at the latest Instagram posts. My door is open, so Sam can come find me. I'm not sure he will right away, with my brother lurking around, but I still hope he does.

  Avery has been posting new pictures every day this week. I should really keep up more with Instagram. I always feel like I'm late to the party when I finally check them all out. I let days go by, allowing the alerts to pile up, while everyone else seems to be on it all day long, every single day.

  Avery and I hung out here, swimming together all day on Monday. Sure enough, there is already a picture of the two of us sprawled out on the lounge chairs by our pool in nothing but our bikinis. I groan because next to Avery, I just look like a lumpy, disproportioned freak.

  I wonder what else Avery has been up to, because she has been incognito for the rest of this week. There are a few pictures from Monday night after our day in the sun. She apparently went out with some of her friends from her church that I barely know. They were at some sort of small get together at some guy named Pete's house. I rack my brain trying to remember Pete, but I don't think we've ever met. He's not tagged in any of the pictures, either. He probably goes to her church, too.

  On Tuesday, she went on another date. What? She didn't tell me she was going out with anyone. My heart sinks a little at the thought of her going out with Trevor. He wouldn't take her out again, not after our conversation on Sunday, would he? He told me he didn't want to lead her on, and I believed him.

  There are two pictures of her and Trevor. They are holding hands the same way couples do, standing in front of a statue in the first one. I assume they are at the Westbrook County Park, right outside the Westbrook Greenbrier Museum. His arms are intimately wrapped around her waist in the second one. My stomach drops when I see this. He is holding her the same way he was holding me on Sunday. In both pictures, he appears to be completely smitten with her.

  Could I have been right? Is he really just a player? No matter how hard I try to convince myself of this, there is a part of me that just can't accept it. I know it's because of his eyes. They seem so honest. How could he possibly look at me in that way and lie to me? It just doesn't make sense. Then again, neither do these pictures.

  An overwhelming sense of rage builds deep in my stomach as I study these photos. What the hell does he think he is doing with her? The urge to fire off an angry text to him washes over me.

  Before I am able to do anything I could regret, I am interrupted by shuffling noises in Kyle's room. I toss my iPad aside, and peek out my door into the empty guestroom. I wonder where Sam is.

  "Hey brother." I try to say this in a high-pitched, happy voice, the same way Buddy from Arrested Development does, as I lean against Kyle's doorframe. He seems too busy shuffling clothes around frantically between his bag and his closet to appreciate my attempt at humor.

  "Hey, lil sis," he finally says half-heartedly, without so much as a glance in my direction. Being an avid Arrested Development fan like me, I had expected my brother to come up with a more clever retort.

  "Are you in a hurry to be somewhere, Kyle?" I ask, while folding my arms across my chest.

  "Yeah, I have a da . . . ." he starts to say, before quickly correcting himself. "I scored some last-minute tickets to the Coldplay concert tonight. I need to get ready since it's in St. Louis."

  "Coldplay? You do know that Mom and Dad are going to be there tonight, right?"

  "Yeah. So will about twenty thousand other people, Laila. The chances of us running into each other are pretty slim. Plus, it's not my fault Mom and Dad don't listen to age-appropriate music."

  It's funny how much my brother and I think alike. Sometimes, it feels like he is stealing the words right out of my head.

  "So, how many tickets did you get?" I ask, not wanting to make it too obvious why I’m asking.

  "Two and sorry, lil sis. I am not taking you," he replies with his typical sneer.

  "I wasn't asking because I want to go, jerk."

  He squints his eyes at me, and sticks out his tongue like a little boy.

  I just roll my eyes. "So, who are you taking?" I ask, still trying a little too hard to sound casual.

  "I'm taking . . . my friend." There is a definite pause before he says friend. This means that he is probably taking Georgia, but I still need to know for sure, in case it is Sam.

  "Well, no shit, Sherlock. I figured you would be taking a friend. My question is which one?"

  "Why do you even care?" He throws a fresh polo over his head, before spraying some cologne on. Actually, he sprays a whole lot of cologne on, and it is so strong that it makes me cough.

  "I don't. Not really. Sorry, I was just trying to talk to you, which you are clearly not in the mood for. I will leave you alone. By the way, you might want to wipe s
ome of that cologne off, Casanova," I just about choke my words out sarcastically. "It's suffocating."

  He glares at me.

  "What? I'm just trying to help you. If your friend is a girl, she might gag if she has to sit in a car with you."

  I feel something warm and damp hit the back of my bare shoulders, as I turn to leave.

  "Gross, Kyle. Now, I'm going to need a shower. No wonder you have to wear so much stupid cologne."

  I fire his sweaty t-shirt back at him. I'm still dying to know if Sam is going to the concert with him, but Kyle is being his usual asinine self and won't dish. I have no idea why any girl would ever want to spend time with him.

  I glance hopefully across the hall, but the guest bedroom door is still propped open, and the light is still off. There are no signs of Sam. He isn't anywhere downstairs, either. Did he change his mind and not come home with Kyle?

  I check my phone to see if I missed any of his texts or calls. There is nothing. I haven't talked to him since this morning, which is strange, because he usually texts me all throughout the day. I have a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach that I can't seem to shake.

  Kyle rushes down the stairs, pausing only to snatch his keys and phone off the foyer table.

  "Later, loser," he says, while messing up my hair. I lean away from him, and shoot him a dirty look. "If Mom and Dad beat me home, let them know I’ll be late. We're going to a party after the concert."

  He doesn't wait for me to respond. The front door slams shut. The sound of his car humming fades away before I can even catch my breath. I shoot Sam a quick text.

  Me: Where r u? I thought you were coming home with Kyle for the weekend?