A heavy hand lands on my shoulder. “What is going on here?” A low voice comes from above me.
I look up at Luke standing behind me. His face is white with anger as he studies my expression. “Are you okay?” He asks quietly, and I nod.
Donny looks up, and the laughter drains from his face. “M-Mr Martins.” He stutters.
Luke turns his steely gaze on him. His lips press together. “Donald. How nice to see you again.”
“Uh. Yeah. You too, Mr M.” Donny rubs the back of his neck, frowning at Luke’s hand on me. “Uh. Why are you hanging out with Tuggy?” His eyes widen. “Holy shit. Are you two on a date?”
Luke drops his hand like I’ve burned him. “Tuggy?” He repeats. “What the Hell does that mean?”
Hearing that word from his lips snaps something inside me. I stand up, sliding off my stool like a zombie, and head to the exit, pushing through the crowds of rowdy patrons. Shoving the bar’s back door open, I step out into the black night air, sinking onto the pavement and wrapping my arms around my knees.
Cars rush past on the road. Cold evening drizzle mists over me. Tears blur my eyes.
This was a bad idea. Trying to date means putting yourself out there. Which means making yourself vulnerable. I put my face in my hands, trying to breathe.
A few minutes later, the door behind me opens. Noise from the bar washes out into the street. I don’t move as Luke steps outside and shuts the door behind him, setting a can of cola on the stone step next to me.
“Drink it,” he says quietly. “The sugar will help.”
“I don’t need help,” I mutter.
“No?” He asks mildly, looking down at me as I shiver. “Well. It can’t hurt.” He toes the can closer to me.
All of the embarrassment burning inside me suddenly twists to white-hot anger. I don’t know why Luke is so obsessed with seeing me when I’m weakest, but it’s really starting to piss me off.
“For God’s sake,” I snap. “Can you please just leave me alone?”
My hard voice echoes around the empty street. There’s a pause, and then Luke sits down next to me. “No,” he says softly. “No, Layla. I’m not leaving you alone out here when you’re upset.”
I close my eyes, dragging in a shuddering breath.
Fine.
I take another deep breath and pull myself together.
THIRTY-ONE
LUKE
Layla completely shuts off.
It’s like she freezes over. One second, she has hurt and frustration and fear all over her face; the next, she’s sitting calmly on the stone steps, examining her nail beds, her expression cold and detached. “Seriously,” she says again, her voice almost bored. “It’s not a big deal. You don’t post pictures of yourself half-naked online if you can’t handle a little catcalling.”
“I don’t think that’s true,” I say slowly, trying to nudge the soda closer to her. “Sweetheart, you’ll feel better if—”
“I’m fine,” she snaps, and I look down. She sighs and leans her head back against the brick wall, squinting up at the dark sky. “Sorry,” she says softly. “Sorry, sorry. I turn to a bitch when I’m embarrassed.”
I shake my head. We’re silent for a moment. A car trundles down the road. A few streets away, I hear drunk voices singing a Mariah Carey song. Slowly, Layla reaches down and cracks the tab of the can, bringing it to her lips and taking a few deep swallows.
“What does Tuggy mean?” I ask when she sets it back on the pavement.
She makes a lewd jerking motion with her hand.
I grimace, my stomach turning. “What? Why the Hell did he call you that?”
She looks at me sideways. “You really don’t remember me at all, do you?” She says, her voice soft.
“I told you. I barely remember anyone from your class.”
“You remember Donny,” she points out, and I huff.
“Yeah. Because Donald refused to study, and then his parents threatened to sue me for bad teaching practice every time I gave him a failing grade. I ended up tutoring him on Friday lunch breaks, just to get them to back off.” I don’t like to think badly of my students, but occasionally, you meet a kid that’s just bad, through and through. Donny was one of them.
I try to put the pieces together. “Did he give you a hard time?” I guess.
“Among others,” she says stiffly.
“Was it… bad?” I ask, my voice hesitant. I already know the answer. She wouldn’t be crouched here, shivering in the cold, if it wasn’t bad.