Distraction (Westbrook Series Book 1) Page 20

  His muscles are flexed in all of the right places, so his t-shirt is pulling tightly across his chest and stomach. I avert my eyes quickly, when I see him peering at me with a curious smile on his face. I can tell from my peripherals that he is biting his bottom lip, and running his hand through his hair, but I refuse to face him. I can't help but wonder what he is thinking about. Why is he so nervous?

  "Let's play quarters. We have vodka," Avery sings. "It's even the good stuff." Avery pulls a chilled bottle of clear liquid out of the freezer behind the bar, and slams it onto the bar top. Clear drops of condensation trickle down the frosted bottle, over the blue and white label that says Grey Goose.

  "What about your parents?" I ask, eyeing the staircase warily.

  "Um, Avery. I can't be playing drinking games. I still have to drive home, you know?" Trevor is looking at Avery, but he seems distracted.

  "My parents are asleep, and I can have my neighbor take you home later."

  "How do you know your neighbor is even home?" Trevor asks.

  "Who, Bill? Please. He's always at home. He's a total nerd, but he's sweet as can be, and would do anything for me."

  Isn't that the truth? Bill Taylor is completely and totally in love with Avery. The poor guy trips all over himself every time she is anywhere near him, and he seems to always have this stupid glint in his eyes when he looks at her.

  "Come on, Maddox. You can come back and get your car tomorrow, or you could just stay over. Please? It will be so much fun." She bats her eyelashes, and cocks her head to the side.

  Trevor and I look at each other and smile, as we shake our heads. We both know that there is no winning when Avery makes up her mind about something.

  After about thirty minutes, the formerly half-full bottle is nearly empty, and Avery is so far gone, she can barely hold her cup up straight enough to take a sip from it. This is when I decide to end the game. I am feeling quite tipsy myself, even though I've only finished about two shots worth of vodka.

  It turns out I have a hidden talent. Who knew that I would be so good at flipping quarters into a cup? Needless to say, Avery is not very good. Trevor is decent, but even he has had more than his fair share of vodka tonight.

  When she finally passes out, Trevor scoops her into his arms, and carries her upstairs to her room. I help him get her into bed, making sure she has a bottle of water on her nightstand, and the trash can close by, just in case. I remove her shoes, and pull the covers gently over her. Before leaving the room, I snatch a pillow from her bed for myself, and flip off the light.

  Even though Trevor is by no means drunk, he still shouldn't be driving. Despite what Avery said earlier, her neighbor Bill isn't home yet. So, we head back downstairs and wait.

  It is a little awkward at first, but then Trevor starts talking. I think he is just trying to keep things from getting weird, because he is talking about anything and everything.

  He tells me what his friends are like in Philadelphia, and how hard it was for him to move away for his senior year. He tells me about his ex-girlfriend, and how she broke his heart by breaking up with him, so she could date one of his close buddies. He says it was bad for a while, but that he eventually had to let it all go. Then one day, he just realized she wasn't the right girl for him anyway.

  Is his ex the girl with the beautiful big, brown eyes that I saw on Facebook? He talks a whole lot about her, but not once does he say her name. I don't ask any questions. I just listen intensely.

  "So, what about you? Has anyone ever broken your heart, Patterson? I mean, other than Sam?"

  I realize that I haven't thought about Sam for most of the night, and I've been fine. I was more than fine. It was actually kind of fun. Trevor has been a welcoming distraction, for once. The only problem is, he isn't really allowed to be my distraction. Even if Sam and I break up tomorrow, it's not like Trevor and I could ever be together. I could never hurt Avery like that. She is my best friend.

  "Don't laugh at me, but Sam is my first real boyfriend."

  His eyebrows shoot straight up, and I swear that his eyeballs are about to pop right out of their sockets.

  "Really? Wow . . . That is kind of hard to believe. So, wait a second. Didn't you and Sam just start dating last week?"

  I simply nod and look away. I know it's true, but knowing it is one thing. Hearing him say it out loud is quite another.

  "It's okay, Patterson."

  I look at him and blush. He is looking at me with such an intense gaze that I don't really know how I'm supposed to react. Why does he have to be so damned attractive?

  "I know. It's just kind of embarrassing."

  He keeps looking at me like he wants to say something else, but he doesn't. He is just sitting there, biting his bottom lip. This makes me nervous because I know he is thinking about something. Oh. My. God. Is he thinking about my lack of experience with boys? Now my cheeks are on fire.

  As soon as I feel the prickling heat, his lips break out into the biggest grin. "What?" I ask. "Just say it. Whatever it is that you want to say, but are too afraid to say. Please just spit it out already, okay?" I ask with frustration.

  "Only if you promise you won't hit me when I ask you this?" His dimples are pulled in tightly across his cheeks, and I can't help but smile myself. Damn him and those dimples.

  "Okay, so if Sam is your first boyfriend and you only started dating last week, was he your first . . . ." He takes another deep breath, before finishing his sentence. "I mean have you ever kissed a guy, before him? I assume that you and Sam have kissed, right? I mean of course you have, you're dating, right? He's your boyfriend, right? You have kissed him, right?"

  He keeps asking the same question over and over, but with each occurrence, there seems to be more uncertainty in his tone. It's funny to see him stumbling over his words. It is so unlike him. He is now staring at my lips again, as if he wants to kiss them. The truth is that I want him to. I really, really do, so much that it is freaking me out. I have to turn my head away. My face feels like an inferno.

  "To answer all of your questions, yes, I have kissed a boy before Sam, and actually that answers two of your questions, because now, you know that Sam and I have also kissed. You already knew that we're dating."

  "Did you guys ever kiss before? I mean, before last weekend?" he asks. His eyes still haven't left my lips.

  "Boy, you sure aren't shy about asking me deeply personal questions, are you?"

  "It's your fault. You practically dragged it out of me. You wanted to know what was on my mind." He punches my arm playfully.

  "No. Friday night was our first ever kiss, although I would have gladly kissed him sooner, if given the opportunity. He never seemed to notice me before that, though. I guess I was always just Kyle's little sister to him, you know?"

  "I have no idea how he or anyone else could not notice you, Laila. I'm pretty sure he did. You probably just didn't realize it."

  I look at him doubtfully, but I don't disagree with him. What's the point?

  "I bet you didn't even know that I had a crush on you in junior high, did you?" He has a coy smile on his face, and he is biting that bottom lip again.

  "What? No way." I shake my head in disbelief.

  He said he had a crush on me, as in before, in the past, not in the present. I feel a slight sinking sensation in the pit of my stomach. What difference does it make anyway? Even if he still had a crush on me right now, it's not like we could do anything about it.

  "Yeah. I totally did. Every time our parents got together, I wanted to come along, just so I could see you. You didn't give me the time of day, though. I guess some things don't ever change," he says with a sly smile.

  "What is that supposed to mean?"

  He has that dazed look on his face again, the one from the lake. "Can you really not see it, Laila?" He runs his hands through his hair, and starts pacing again.

  "Trevor?" I try to get his attention, but he ignores me. "Trevor. Stop. Would you please just come back here fo
r a sec?" I place both my hands on his shoulders to steady him. Just this brief contact sends about a million bolts of electricity pulsing through my arms. He must feel it too, because now, his cheeks are flushed.

  "What are you talking about? You keep saying things, and I have no idea what you mean by them." I am staring directly into his eyes as I speak.

  He takes a deep breath and swallows hard." Do you remember how I said that the reason I'm having a hard time getting closer to Avery is because I think I might like someone else?" I nod, as uncomfortable feeling sneaks into my stomach.

  "Well, it's . . . you. I can't stop thinking about you. I mean, I figured after three years I'd be over it, but then I saw you at your party last week, and I just . . . ." He sighs again. "Laila, I always thought you were beautiful, but somehow in the last three years, you grew up, and now, you are just . . . so much more. The instant I saw you, all of these old feelings came rushing back. The more time we spend together, the more I realize that it isn't really just a crush anymore. It's more intense than that. I like so much more about you than just the way you look."

  I have absolutely no words. I know that we've been playing around and flirting, but not in my wildest dreams, was I expecting him to say that.

  "Laila, I guess what I've been trying to say to you, is that I really like you. When I found out you were dating Sam, I thought I was going to lose it. I was thinking that maybe, since you guys just started dating, that there is a chance we could . . . ."

  "Trevor, just . . . stop. Please stop talking. There is no point in you telling me all of this. I do have a boyfriend, and it really doesn't matter if we have been dating for one week or one year. I am not breaking up with him to be with you. Plus, my best friend is head-over-heels in very much like with you. There isn't a boy in this universe that is worth betraying our friendship. I'd really like for us to be friends, though."

  My words come out more harshly than I want them to, but maybe that is a good thing. The truth is, I needed him to stop talking because I was getting dangerously close to doing something I know I would regret for the rest of my life. I can't let him know how I really feel about him. Hell, I haven't even fully admitted to myself the extent of my true feelings for Trevor Maddox.

  He doesn't say anything for a long time. He just buries his head in his hands, and starts swearing under his breath. I want to wrap my arms around him, and console him, but I know I shouldn't confuse things any more than they already are. I need to keep my distance. We need to stay in the friend zone more now than ever before.

  "Look, I better head on out," he finally says, after what feels like an eternity of silence between us.

  "Are you sure you're okay to drive?" I ask, knowing very well that my rejection has probably left him stone-cold sober.

  "I really didn't drink all that much. Plus, I haven't had anything to drink for more than two hours. I should be fine."

  I nod. He isn't slurring his speech or acting like he's drunk. No, it's so much worse than that. The look on his face makes my stomach lurch violently. I can't help but feel like this whole thing is my fault. I mean, what did I expect to happen after flirting with him all night like that?

  "Laila, I'm sorry if what I said made you uncomfortable. That wasn't my intention. I just wanted you to know how I feel, and I thought that maybe there was a small chance that you felt the same way. I'd like for us to be friends, too." He looks down, as if it is too painful to look directly at me. He has his hands buried deep in the pockets of his shorts, as he shifts his weight back and forth nervously.

  His apology is sweet and sincere, but his emerald eyes seem to be storming with pain. Knowing that more truth lies there than anything he could possibly say to me, makes my heart ache. I wish there was a way we could go back in time, and redo everything from Friday on. I could tell Avery that I might have a crush on Trevor, claiming him as my own, instead of the other way around.

  Then, there is the whole Sam part of it. What would I do differently with Sam? Everything was so perfect. Was, that is, until tonight. It's still hard to want to undo any of that, even if I am feeling more for Trevor than just friendship. The more I think about how great my time with Sam has been up until today, the more I am tempted to turn my phone back on, and listen to all of his messages.

  "I'm so sorry." It's the only thing I can say to him right now. He nods. With his chin cemented to his chest, he walks slowly to his car.

  I close the door behind him and latch the lock. I can't seem to get the hurt look on his face out of my mind. It makes me sick that I had to lie to him, but I know I did the right thing. My stomach hurts so badly right now that I want nothing more than to just vomit. If only it were that easy, to expel this sick feeling inside me.

  Chapter Eighteen: I'm Just So, So Sorry

  Needless to say, Avery is a little on the cranky side in the morning. This helps convince me to go home early, and deal with the Sam situation. I'm definitely ready to hear what he has to say. It could be challenging for us to sneak away alone, long enough to talk it through, but we've been pretty creative up until now. I'm sure we'll think of something.

  As I pull into the driveway, I spot Kyle's car parked on the street. The knots in my stomach immediately tighten. I head straight up to my room without looking for anyone. I want to take a shower and change clothes, before even thinking about facing Sam. Both Kyle's door and the guest door are propped open, which means they are either outside swimming, or are downstairs in the basement playing video games.

  Just as I'm about to shut my bedroom door all the way, a hand catches the side of it, and pushes it back open. In my haste to pack, I did not bring an extra outfit. I am wearing the same dress I had on last night. I scrubbed my face clean this morning, and did not reapply makeup. My hair is all kinds of crazy, tamed only by having it twisted up into a messy bun. Tame is actually the last word I'd use to describe this mound of frizz, haphazardly piled on top of my head. Normally, I would not dare let Sam see me like this. But today, I am so exhausted by this whole ordeal that I couldn't care less.

  "Knock, knock," Sam says softly, while poking his head through the open space between the door and the doorjamb.

  I close my eyes and take a deep breath, while releasing my dangling backpack. So much for that shower I was so desperate to get. I slowly open my eyes, pull the door the rest of the way open, and motion for him to come in. I keep my head down the whole time, refusing to look at him. I can see the bottom edge of his shorts, and his brown leather flip-flops.

  "I know we can't talk long with Kyle still here, but I just wanted to pop in, and tell you how sorry I am. I handled everything so poorly. I've been a really shitty boyfriend, Laila. I know that, and I wish I could redo it all." He sighs, and shakes his head.

  I'm not sure if he expects me to say something, but I really have nothing to add. When it's clear that I am not going to speak, he continues rambling on.

  "I've replayed it in my head a thousand times, and each time I tell Kyle, no. I don't completely choke, and we end up spending the whole night together, just you and me. I don't know why I panicked when Kyle said that. I swear, it was like the fucker knew about us. I just . . . I screwed up." His voice sounds strained, as if it physically hurts for him to speak.

  I don't know what to say to him or what to do about it. This is the part where I wish I could just skip ahead, and have us be back where we were before last night. How do we get back there?

  "I'm just so, so sorry." He keeps shoving his fidgeting hands in and out of his pockets. He is also tapping his left foot nervously, as he waits for me to reply.

  I still have no idea what to say. I believe him, but it doesn't change the fact that he went out on a date with another girl. It doesn't change how he handled it all. It doesn't erase all of the tears I cried last night. I'm keeping my eyes focused on my feet. I'm afraid to look up, because I know if he looks at me with his sparkling eyes, I will instantly melt.

  "Please say something, Laila. I'm sweating bulle
ts here. I didn't sleep at all last night." His voice catches in his throat.

  If I didn't know him better, I'd think he was fighting back some tears. That isn't like him, though. He does not cry. He didn't even shed one tear at his grandpa's funeral, and there is nobody that he was closer to in this world. Sam is definitely not a crier. He probably just has something caught in his throat or something.

  "I didn't sleep very well, either." It is the only thing I can think to say. I fall back against my bed, and drape my forearm over my face, to block out the light. My eyes are starting to burn, but there is no way I am going to cry in front of him. After another awkward moment of silence passes, he finally concedes.

  "Well, I guess I'll give you some time to think about things. When you are ready to talk, I'll be downstairs." He pauses for a minute. "I really am sorry, Laila," he whispers.

  When I hear the door click, I sit up, and wipe away the stray tears that are trickling down the sides of my face. Even though I didn't look at his face, I know his eyes were full of sorrow, that his hands were sweating, and his stomach was a mess of knots, twisting and turning. I know this whole thing just feels like a slow form of torture to him. I know all this because it is exactly how I feel. I really don't want to be angry with him. More than anything, I just want to let it all go, and bury myself in his long, muscular arms.

  A hot shower will have to do for now. I end up taking the world's longest shower. It feels soothing to let the water continuously run down my back. Steam has fogged up the glass doors and all of the mirrors.

  So many things are on my mind. I keep replaying in my head, what Trevor said to me last night. I think about everything Sam said this morning. I think about the way I feel when I'm with each of them, and how I don't want to be anywhere else, or with anyone else, at that time. How is it possible for me to feel so strongly about two completely different guys?