The house of barbary, p.4
The Trust Factor, page 4
“Dad, it’s just one video! It’s not like I told someone to press record.”
“I don’t care to know any details, Lyla. I knew twenty-three was too young, and you’re clearly not trying to do anything serious with your life. I don’t know why I expected anything different. Just because it’s your senior year—”
“I’m working to get it taken down,” I lied. I needed him to stop talking so I could think. I did a quick rundown of the items that generally pissed Aaron Brooks off. Nothing I ever did made him happy, so I chose a few things that would make sense in the mini-story I was about to spin. “My boyfriend is working to get it taken down. Called Instagram and everything.”
I wasn’t even sure if someone could call Instagram, but who was I kidding? I was speaking to the man who thought there was an InstaSnap. He wouldn’t question that detail.
“Boyfriend?” His tone dropped a few notches. “What boyfriend?”
“Yeah,” I said, my voice taking on an obnoxiously high pitch. He would’ve heard I was lying if he knew me at all. “We’ve been dating for a few weeks. He’s currently searching for the asshat who recorded it in the first place. I’m sorry about the video, but it really looks worse than it is.”
“Your ass is on my phone screen, Lyla,” he said, taking another deep breath. “Let me know when it’s removed from InstaSnap, and then I can properly thank this new . . . boyfriend of yours when I come in for Thanksgiving. But if he isn’t worth my time, Lyla, don’t even bother. You have until graduation to convince me you have your shit together.”
My mouth went dry. I wasn’t sure who hung up first. My hand dropped to my hip, and I threw my phone on the bed. Yesterday, everything I wanted was only a graduation away. Today, I was nursing a hangover and needed more water so my head would stop spinning.
When I ventured out back into the kitchen, Deacon was still sitting at the counter.
“Everything okay?” he asked while my head was in the fridge.
I spun around and averted my eyes from his mouth. How could someone’s lips look that full and inviting by just existing?
“My dad saw the video, and I told him my boyfriend is trying to have it taken down,” I said slowly. “He’s also trying to find the person who recorded it.”
“Your boyfriend sounds like a good guy if he’s trying to have it taken down.”
“Yeah”—my voice took the high-pitched tone from before—“except I made him up. So, really, as endearing as this boyfriend sounds, he doesn’t exist. And now my dad wants to meet my knight in shining armor when he comes for Thanksgiving.”
Deacon winced. “That sucks.”
I buried my face in my hands and groaned.
“Is there more?”
I heard the playfulness in his voice, and I smiled despite my misery. I was glad someone was getting enjoyment from this. Deacon leaned forward on his elbows, and his eyes met mine.
I pulled myself onto the counter and smirked. “I have to convince him that I should still get the money he promised me for graduation.”
“Damn. That part really sucks.”
It went against all of my instincts to provide more details of my personal life to a guy I just met. Guys were predictable and disappointing, and just because Deacon seemed genuine didn’t mean he was.
I decided it was best not to come onto him for Deacon's sake. For now, I’d just enjoy how his plain white T-shirt hugged his chest. He had to have some sort of cardio routine.
Charlie’s voice drifted from the hall, and I forced myself to stop mentally undressing the man in front of me. Charlie—and who I assumed was Andre—came into the living room. Andre smacked Deacon’s hand the way guys do, and Charlie rounded the counter to sit next to me.
“Is he Mr. September?” she asked, bumping my shoulder with hers. “He’s cute.”
I crossed my arms in front of my chest. “He’s not September.”
Andre and Deacon exchanged a few laughs, and I was jealous of their carefree conversation. I was wrong before when my head was hovering over the toilet. That wasn’t the lowest point a human could get to. It was having their ass on the internet and their future in their prick-of-a-father’s pocket.
Chapter nine
Deacon
When I received videos of Stripper Pole Girl through all forms of social media last night, I never expected to meet her the next morning. In the video, Lyla wore a yellow dress, and her hair fell in curls around her face. The woman in front of me, wearing an oversized T-shirt and athletic shorts, performed Usher only a few hours ago. Lyla was gorgeous, and now that I knew she had a wild side, I found her even more intriguing.
I needed to take a mental picture of this moment. It was the first time since Cassie that I even looked at another woman as a possible . . . date? Option? Rebound? I didn’t like any of those terms, so I just decided to chalk it up as a win.
“Ready to go?” I asked, and Andre looked at me like I spoke French. “We’re moving my stuff in today.”
Andre groaned, and the girls laughed from the counter they were sitting on.
“What are y'all up to today?” Andre asked them.
Lyla hopped off the counter. “I’m ordering food and napping before it gets here.”
“Second that!” Charlie added.
“What if we buy you food?” Andre gestured to the space between us and motioned for me to go along.
Charlie spun on her heels, and Lyla stopped walking halfway down the hall.
I read Andre’s desperate expression and decided it wouldn’t hurt to have the extra hands. “Brunch?”
Lyla took a few steps into the living room. “Does it include mimosas?”
I shrugged. “Why not.”
The girls shared a silent exchange. Andre started a slow clap of encouragement, and Charlie smiled.
“Fine,” Lyla said before she disappeared into her bedroom. She returned with her hair in a bun and her face free of last night’s makeup.
On the drive to the apartment, Andre rode shotgun, and the girls made themselves at home in the back seat. I turned up the radio and pulled onto the main road. “Closer” by the Chainsmokers came through the speakers, and I watched Charlie and Lyla sway to the beat.
“This your jam?” Andre chuckled and turned up the volume.
“It was last night’s anthem,” Charlie yelled before she and Lyla burst into song.
“Chainsmokers and Usher, huh?” I grinned in the rearview and felt a kick to the back of my seat.
Lyla sang to the mirror, and the performance ended as I pulled into our parking lot. The moving truck was already there, and a tall gentleman with red hair leaned against the driver’s side door.
“Are you Deacon Scott?” he deadpanned.
“Yeah, sorry I’m running behind—”
He shoved a clipboard into my chest and snapped his gum. “Sign here.”
I signed my name, and he led me around to the back. The door slid open, and the remainder of my bedroom sat in front of me.
“Think you can have it out in forty-five minutes? I don’t want to have to charge you an extra hour,” the driver murmured.
When I peered around the corner of the truck, Andre was laughing with Lyla and Charlie on the hood of my car. Lyla noticed me staring, and she tapped Andre’s shoulder.
I gestured toward the truck. “Still want brunch?”
With the extra hands I wasn’t expecting to have, we unloaded the truck in half an hour. I put together my bed frame, and Andre helped me lift the mattress. Everything else could be unpacked later today.
“I think I chose the heaviest tote,” Lyla whined and set her haul gently at the foot of my bed. “Are all the labels this specific?”
I stopped hanging clothes and turned to see what she was talking about. The tote read “Freshman to Junior Year with C,” and my heart sank. When I told my parents to load everything out of my bedroom back home, I forgot to mention that they should leave this one behind.
“Not really, no.”
“Hmm.” She eyed the label curiously and ran her fingers over the tape. “Who is C?”
I slipped another shirt onto a hanger, and my shoulders fell. When I turned to face her, she had a sly grin on her face.
I cocked my head. “Why are you so nosey?”
“I wouldn’t call it nosey. I prefer the word observant.”
“Okay, then. It’s just some old stuff. It’ll probably just sit in the back of my closet.”
She drummed her fingers on the side of the tote, eyeing me with her bright green gaze. She was waiting to see if I’d offer more information.
Nosey ass.
“Sometimes it’s just nice to have parts of people with us,” I admitted.
Lyla handed me more hangers and pondered my answer. “I could see that.”
“You don’t agree?”
She shrugged. “The relationships in my life are pretty linear. If you’re in my life, great. If not . . . I don’t need any reminders.”
I smiled reassuringly. “Reminders don’t always have to be a bad thing.”
“Noted,” she said. “Now come on. You owe me a mimosa.”
My eyes lingered on the piece of my past I was desperately trying to get a break from. Freshman to Junior Year with C had burned its way back into my memory; this time, it wasn’t even my fault. Sun peeked through the curtains, and I peered up at the sky. I wasn’t sure whose sense of humor this day was following, but it definitely wasn’t mine. I was putting in the effort. I was trying, and even when I thought I was beyond the point of failing, the universe just kept pushing the past back in my face.
Chapter ten
Lyla
Andre chose a shitty time to admit to us that there wasn’t a single breakfast place in BG that served mimosas. There was a Bob Evan’s and a few family-owned restaurants, but none stocked the champagne necessary to make my morning bubbly. Part of this was my fault. I spent three years on campus and should’ve known this information.
I sighed against the car door and watched the trees blur by on our way down Main. My stomach grumbled, and I glared at Charlie. Her lips made a thin line, and I knew she was trying not to laugh.
“What about coffee?” Deacon’s eyes met mine in the rearview. The way the sun hit them was extraordinary. “We promised you food, right?”
I decided his offer was too sweet to pass up. “I can do a chai tea latte from Grounds.”
Deacon dropped his shoulders and signaled that we were pulling over. I tried not to act too impressed with how well he parallel parked with an audience. I firmly believed that if parallel parking were the only option, I’d find another place to stop or happily walk myself from a nearby parking lot.
Grounds for Thought was the perfect spot to spend a Sunday recovering. The usual chit-chat buzz and casual coffee house playlist were in the background, but it was a bright and relaxing atmosphere to get back on track. Last night had been a doozy, and this morning followed close behind it.
I had no idea how to fix the hole I dug last night, and because of it, I was losing to Aaron Brooks and his financial upper hand. The stakes I set for myself weren’t impossibly high. I needed a knight in shining armor boyfriend who had his shit together. But I came up blank as I scrolled through the list of guys on my phone, reuniting with calendar names I hadn’t seen since last year.
I couldn’t even get past the labels of some of these contacts. If I slept with them, they were in my phone as the month and their first name, for God’s sake. Something told me there was no way I could get May-August Jake to go along with being my boyfriend for a few months. If I didn’t sleep with them, I provided a context clue. I had no idea who Penthouse Josh was.
I leaned my face into my hands. Andre and Charlie laughed at something on the other side of the table, and I decided to put my issues on hold until I was more equipped to deal with last night's damage. Deacon called my name from across the shop and waved me over. I met him at the register, and his light brown eyes were laced with sorrow as he delivered the news.
“They’re out of chai tea. Anything else you want?”
I forgot he had been there this morning to witness a replay of my Usher performance and my dad’s threat. I stared blankly at the tip jar, and Deacon tapped my shoulder.
“Do you like matcha?”
“Yeah, why?”
Deacon turned his attention to the cashier. “Do you have blueberry syrup?”
The cashier nodded. “We have that.”
“Can she have a large iced matcha with blueberry syrup and oat milk, please?”
The cashier looked at me to confirm the order.
I shrugged. “Why not?”
Since Charlie was practically in Andre’s lap, I decided to stick around the counter with Deacon to wait for our order. I eyed him suspiciously. It was such a specific order he had on the tip of his tongue that I had to ask. “Matcha, huh?”
Deacon looked down at the ground and smiled. “I took a shot. It’s one of my brother’s favorite drinks.” When he looked up, I did my best to make it look like I wasn’t staring at him.
A barista called out our drink orders from behind the counter. “Iced black coffee with caramel and vanilla! Iced matcha with blueberry and oat milk!”
I plucked two straws from the cup near the tip jar and handed one to Deacon. “No creamer or anything?”
“Nah.”
I wasn’t sure if I should be concerned or impressed with how much this man smiled. The barista placed two more drinks before us, and I grabbed Charlie’s staple strawberry banana smoothie.
As I sat there listening to Andre’s recap of the night at The Attic, I knew Charlie would see him again after this. She could barely keep her eyes off of him.
“I can’t believe that was you on the pole!” Andre exclaimed.
I leaned forward to face Deacon. “You told him?”
“Everyone has kind of seen it already,” he said with an apologetic shrug. “I didn’t show it to him out of spite! Trust me, it was all positive reviews.”
Andre nodded and took a long sip of his drink. I rolled my eyes at the two of them, and Charlie shielded her mouth with her hand so I couldn’t see her laughing. Even though I couldn’t see her response, she had been waiting to laugh about this all morning.
“Is Aaron still freaking out?” she asked.
“I’ve received a text every twenty minutes since he called me this morning.”
“Is Aaron your boyfriend?” Andre prompted eagerly from the seat across from me. “Is he pissed about the video?”
Deacon patted my forearm and smiled into his iced coffee. He enjoyed being in the inside circle of my ongoing saga. I glared at him while Charlie giggled through a response to Andre’s question for me.
“Lyla doesn’t date.”
I searched my brain for a conversation change. “Have you scanned the crowd for No Style Kyle? Is he here this time?”
“Don’t bring up my shit because—wait a second.” Charlie shifted in her seat and pointed to Deacon. “I’ve seen you before. I knew you looked familiar! I’ve seen you here before.”
“Was I with you?” I asked, invested in the epiphany, because if I was in the same room as Deacon, I would have remembered him. He was too pretty to pass up.
“Yes!” Charlie exclaimed. “It was the day we decided to keep our lease at Falcon’s Pointe.”
“That was what, the end of—”
“Last year.” Deacon sighed, drawing the attention of the table.
Andre peered out the window like something got his attention.
Charlie locked eyes with me and shrugged. An entire minute passed, and I couldn’t stand the silence anymore.
“Who knew we’d meet up again?” I offered lightheartedly to the group.
Deacon smiled faintly. “Are you guys ready?”
It was a short ride back to Falcon’s Pointe. After Charlie and Andre exchanged numbers, we bid our goodbyes and walked up the stairs to the apartment.
“I’m totally seeing that guy again,” Charlie said with a massive grin. “His friend is hot, too.”
I scoffed at her suggestion. “Not my type, Charlie. He’s way too nice. He could never survive thirty days with me.”
Chapter eleven
Deacon
After a week of classes, my mind finally shifted to something other than school or Cassie. Maybe it was my unplanned reunion with Grounds for Thought. Maybe it was because I felt at home in my apartment and enjoyed living with Andre and Nathan. They carried the same energy Drew did when coaxing me to move on, and between the constant prompting and trying to survive my longest dry spell, my mind shifted to sex.
I needed and actually wanted to sleep with someone else other than Cassie. I considered this an essential milestone in figuring out what I was doing with my personal life. Heartbreak wasn’t a roadblock to getting laid, and wanting to feel wanted wasn’t a sin.
I went out with the guys on the first Friday night of the semester with a game plan. Find a girl I thought was cute, make sure she could carry on a conversation, and see where things went. It had been a while since a woman looked at me like she could devour me right on the spot. It was exciting to have the little touches back; running their fingers down my arm, touching my shoulders, smacking at my chest when I said something to get a rise out of them. I was reminded of my first week as a freshman before I met Cassie, and suddenly, I was chasing a high I didn’t even know I wanted.
Serena was the first. She was gorgeous—dark brown hair, light brown eyes, and a line of freckles that ran across her cheeks. She made me laugh, and when she invited me back to her place, I didn’t hesitate. It was like riding a bike. Only this bike could speak some Italian and had a set of tits that fit perfectly in my hands.
Amber was the second and most surprising encounter. We met at a pregaming party, and before we even left for the bars, I was in her bedroom.
Then, my following weekend consisted of Melissa on Friday and Becca on Saturday. As I said the names aloud to Andre and Nathan over lunch at Mr. Spots, I realized I was in danger of sounding like a Petey Pablo verse. Was this considered a hoe phase? I was confident I had mine in high school, but could a person have more than one?
