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My dad plops down on the couch and chats away, talking about his time in jail and his plans for the future. How he's going to do better. How he’ll never fuck up again.
Jay and I are both silent. I cast glances at him, but he hasn't looked at me since my father walked in the door.
As I sit there, silently begging Jay to look at me, my hurt turns to anger.
Jay knows me well enough to realize I act out when I’m angry. I excuse myself from the room, feeling the heat of Jay’s eyes boring into my back. He couldn't meet my eyes head-on, but he'll stare a hole in my back as I walk away.Fuck him.
I flounce into the bedroom I haven't slept in since Jay and I gave in to our passion. It's become a storage space for my clothes where I come every morning to grab some clothes.
I rifle through my garments now, looking for the skimpiest, sluttiest outfit I can find. A micro mini skirt and a V-neck top, both of which are two sizes too small for me. I grew out of them sophomore year, but I can still squeeze into them and show off plenty of cleavage and leg.
I survey my appearance in the mirror and decide I look perfect for hitting up a club. In fact, there’s one down the street that the squad has been begging me to go to with them.
Jay won't look at me, so I should be able to walk out of the house dressed like this, right? And he won't dare say anything in front of my father because he doesn’t want Dad to know about our relationship. He’s ashamed of us.
A pang of guilt hits me because I know I'm only doing this to goad him, but dammit, he hurt me. It hurts that he won't look at me. I thought what we had was special, but Jay is treating me like a dirty little secret, and it cuts me to the quick.
I wipe the angry tears from my face, apply a heavy eyeliner, and swipe on some mascara. I top off the look with fire engine red lipstick and let my hair hang long down my back. It feels sensuous, falling over my bare back and shoulders.
I throw on a pair of sky-high heels the other cheerleaders talked me into buying eons ago but have rarely worn. I can walk in heels, but I'm not a huge fan of them, even though they make my legs look amazing.
When I'm done primping, I flounce out of my room and down the hallway through the living room to the front door. I instantly feel Jay's eyes on me, and he makes a strangled sound.
“Where you heading off to, Layla? Is there a party tonight?”Dad asks.
I smile brightly, making sure to meet Jay’s gaze. He’s certainly looking at me now. My tummy flutters when I see his clenched jaw, and his eyes shoot fire at me.
I toss my head defiantly. “Yeah, I'm meeting some of the squad at this club right down the street. It’s eighteen and up night. Don’t worry. I don’t have a fake ID, so there won't be any drinking.”
My dad nods, accepting my answer. “Okay, Laylabug. Call if you need us.”
Jay looks like his eyes are about to pop out of his head. His nostrils flare, and his hands ball into fists as he turns his head to my father. “Are you going to let her go out dressed like that?”
I don’t try to hide my smirk when Dad gives Jay a questioning look and shrugs. “Layla is eighteen, and she’s always been a responsible girl. I trust her. Besides, I couldn’t stop her even if I wanted to. She’s legally an adult now and can do what she wants.”
I give Jay a smug smile before I march out the front door without saying another word to him.
The smug smile falls from my face as soon as I walk out the door, and I’m pensive as I traipse down the street to the club.
My victory feels hollow. I didn’t like the disappointment and outrage on Jay’s face. He hurt me, but hurting him back doesn’t feel good. I’m behaving immaturely, and my cheeks flush in shame.
Maybe Jay is right. Maybe I am too young for him. Look at how I behaved. I didn’t act like a grown woman at all. I acted like a brat throwing a temper tantrum.
Tears prick at my eyes, but I blink them back and straighten my shoulders. Oh well. What’s done is done. My heart may be breaking, but I’m determined to see this night through now. Maybe I can dance away all thoughts of Jay.
I know one thing. I refuse to go back to the house with my tail between my legs so Jay can pretend I don’t exist when we’re in my father’s presence.
nine
Layla
I’ve been on the dance floor for two minutes when I hear someone shouting my name. A shiver passes through me. No, it can’t be.
Daddy.
I stop mid-dance. I’ve been dancing with the other cheerleaders on the squad, trying to lose myself in the music even though my heart isn’t in it.
“Layla!” I hear my name yelled over the music again and turn to see Jay pushing his way through the throng of teenagers toward me.
