Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 81520 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 408(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81520 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 408(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
“This is really good,” Dad says, making Layla blush with his compliment. “You considering videography as a career?”
She nods. “I’m not sure what I want to do with it, but yeah.”
“From that video, it’s clear you have a keen eye for detail. The way you captured their passion and love for the music. You could make a very good living working in the music industry. If you ever want to intern at Blackwood, just say the word.”
Her eyes light up, and I can’t help the way my insides tighten. “Really?” she says. “That would be amazing.”
CHAPTER THREE
CAMDEN
JUNIOR YEAR
Layla: SOS My house.
“Shit, I gotta go.” Without waiting for any of the guys to say anything, I haul ass upstairs and head straight for the front door. Layla only texts me SOS when it’s an emergency—it’s our thing. When one of us needs the other to bail us out, or when we’re having a bad day and need to talk, we text SOS. Layla was supposed to be in Michigan, staying with her aunt so she could visit her friends and boyfriend for two weeks before school starts back up. She’s been looking forward to this all summer. She’s only been gone for a few days, so for her to be back already means something went wrong.
Without knocking, since I know her dad’s at work and her mom treats me like I’m her own son, I swing the door open and go in search of Layla.
“She’s in her room,” her mom says with a sad smile from the kitchen where she’s stirring something on the stove.
“Thanks.”
I sprint up the stairs to the fourth floor, where her room is, and with a small knock, walk right in, stopping in my place for a moment when I see her lying in her bed, curled up like a shrimp, with tears streaming down her cheeks.
“Ah, hell, Shutterbug, what happened?”
Lifting her into my arms, I sit against the headboard and hold her tight while she sobs against my chest. I have a feeling I know what, or I should say who, has caused her to cry: Taylor, her dumbass boyfriend. And while I hate to see her cry, if he’s the cause of her tears, that probably means one thing—they broke up—and selfishly, that makes me happy because Layla deserves better than that guy.
When she’s finally calmed down enough to talk, she sniffles a few times and glances up at me with her red-rimmed eyes that have me wanting to kill the fucker who would dare to break her heart.
“He’s been cheating on me for the past several months,” she chokes out, “with Mariah.” A fresh sob wracks her body, and she nestles her face back into my chest. I lean over and kiss the top of her head, inhaling the raspberry scent of her hair and the vanilla from her lotion. “I showed up as a surprise, and instead, I was the one surprised.”
Over winter and spring break, she offered to visit Taylor, but he gave her excuses that he was too busy with school and sports and work and wouldn’t be able to spend quality time with her. I wanted to call bullshit, tell her to dump that asshole and find someone who would make her the center of his world, but I kept my mouth shut, knowing she needed to get through this her way. I knew he would eventually fuck up, and once he did, I’d be here for her. When summer came around, he mentioned he had football camp in the beginning, so she called his mom to ask when it was over to plan a visit and surprise him.
I had a bad feeling something like this was going to happen. I could see the signs that he’d been pulling back, not calling and texting her like he used to when she first moved here, but for Layla’s sake, I was hoping I was wrong. Because, with the way she wears her heart on her sleeve, I knew she’d be devastated the day he broke her heart. I’ve learned over the past year from getting to know Layla that when she gives you her heart, she’s all in. She’s loyal to a fault and probably the most forgiving person I’ve ever met. She’s also the best person I know.
“I’m such an idiot.”
“You are not an idiot,” I tell her, tipping her chin up to look at me. “He doesn’t deserve you.” Nobody does… but if she would ever give me a chance, I’d do everything in my power to be worthy of her love.
“It hurts,” she croaks, fresh tears filling her lids.
“I know, but you’ll get through this.” I kiss her forehead and hold her tighter while she continues to cry in my arms. When her eyes eventually shut, I spend the next couple of hours watching her, wondering how long it will take for her to get over this guy. I know that sounds bad, but the truth is, at some point in the past year, I fell in love with Layla. I’ve waited for the day I can finally tell her and hopefully make her mine.