Worth Saving(44)

“Well, I was kind of hoping you might wanna come hang with me and the guys tonight,” I reply, hoping that introducing her to my friends isn’t too much too fast. “We made plans to go see Southpaw tonight, and I was thinking I’d enjoy it more if you came with me.”

I hear her exhale, and somehow I can tell she’s smiling.

“That sounds great,” she answers. “What time are you guys going?”

“We’re not too sure yet, but I can text you and let you know since you’re gonna be out with your girls.”

“Okay, that sounds good.”

“Great. Okay, well I guess I can let you get ready now. I’ll talk to you here in a bit.”

“Okay. Bye.”

It may sound strange, but this is new territory for me. I’ve never been with anyone that I felt was worthy of meeting friends or family of mine. I’ve had a lot of flings in my life, all of which I don’t feel very proud of these days, but I’ve always been so busy I didn’t have time to settle into anything. But the past few weeks with Layla have been crazy. The connection we share is ridiculous and I’m wondering what the hell is wrong with me. It’s like I have this little bug inside me that desires nothing more than to make her smile. Something inside her smile drives me to a place I’ve never been before. It’s like I’m being taken to a new town I’ve never known—I feel uncomfortable and everything is out of place and new, but it’s f*cking beautiful here and I want to stay. That’s the only thing I can think of to describe how being with Layla makes me feel.

I’ve been talking about Layla a lot since Jason and his business partner, Jordan Harper, got into town, so naturally they want to meet her. As crazy as Jason can be, he’s been pretty supportive of the idea of me spending time with Layla. When I first told him about her, he acted like I wasn’t mature enough to pull this off. He’s one to talk, considering the shit he just went through with one of his clients back at home, but the more I talk about her, and the more time I spend with her, I think he’s seeing the effect she has on me. So, he’s coming around.

The biggest change I’ve noticed in myself since we started spending more time together is that I’m spending less time thinking about what happened in the desert. I think that has a lot to do with the fact that Layla is occupying more of my time, so there really is no room to think about Lieutenant Weston or his death. When I feel those thoughts of him starting to creep up, it’s become habit to think about Layla instead. I think about that smile and the sound of her laugh, and I’m good to go. Maybe that’s why I’m going out of my way to see her so often. The more I see her, the more space she takes up in my mind, and I think that’s helping me with this PTSD.

As usual, I push any thoughts of PTSD or Lieutenant Weston out of my mind and replace them with thoughts of Layla while I get ready. I have to meet Jason and Jordan in a little while so we can have lunch and then pick a time for the movie. Since I know Layla’s coming, I make sure I put on something I think looks good on me. I go to my closet and check out my pants. Sweats? No way. Shorts? Nope. Jeans? Probably not. I’ll just go with some slacks. You can never go wrong with black slacks. Now for the shirt. T-shirt? Negative. Button up? Overused. Dark gray sweater it is. I pull everything out, along with some dark gray shoes, and I put it all together on my bed so I can see how it looks. I like it. Now I just need to jump in the shower so I can smell good too.

Two hours later, the three of us are standing in the lobby of the movie theatre waiting for Layla to show up. Her lunch with Marlene and Amanda ended up going longer than she expected, so she decided to meet us here. While the three of us wait, I start to feel anxious, and I can feel my foot tapping on the floor from the nerves.

“What’s the matter with you? You gotta pee?” Jason asks, frowning at me.

“No, I don’t have to pee,” I reply, mocking his face with my own frown.

“Then why are you tapping your foot like Sonic the Hedgehog?”

“Don’t worry about my foot,” I snip. “Worry about your own feet.”

“He’s nervous,” Jordan chimes in. Jordan is six-foot tall, black, with a shiny bald head. He’s also eleven years older than Jason, so he’s the more mature and experienced of the two lawyers.

“What makes you think I’m nervous? Maybe I like tapping my foot. Why can’t I just tap my foot without being hated for it?” I reply.

“Damn, getting real emotional over a tapping foot, man,” Jason says, looking at me crazy again. “It’s okay if you’re nervous about your girl showing up. It just means you like her.”

“I do like her, and I’m not nervous.”

“Ugh, whatever man,” Jordan says.

“This two versus one thing is kind of lame, you know that?” I jab.

“Dude, just let it go,” says Jason. “Anyway, so how’d your little date go yesterday? Did you do the basketball thing you were talking about?”

“I did. It was fun. She’s pretty good, too. I was surprised.”

“Pretty good? Did she beat you?”

“Well, I had to let her win. I’m not an *.”

“First of all, you are an *,” Jason says. “Second of all, I doubt you let her win. She beat you, didn’t she? You suck, Austin. I can’t believe you let a girl beat you at basketball.”