Page 79

ELEVEN

Layla

I watch the drip of melting French vanilla ice cream wind its way down the waffle cone, and all I can think of is how Jack came on my face this morning and it dripped down off my chin onto my chest, trailing its way all the way down to my bellybutton.

“Layla!” Willow waves her hands in front of me. “Did you hear me?”

“No, sorry. What?”

“That guy over there, I think he’s like…interested in you or something because he’s staring and taking pictures.”

My eyes drift to where she’s looking and there’s a man standing there in a plaid dress shirt, buttoned to the top, and navy dress pants pulled high on his stomach, held in place by an olive-green sort of army belt with a fanny pack deal hanging down on the front of his pants.

“I don’t know him.” I look at the girls. “Are you sure he was taking pictures of me? Not you? Or you?”

They shake their heads.

“No. He’s not taken his eyes off you. He took a picture, then tapped on his phone, then took another. Now he’s just been staring.”

I scratch my shoulder. “Weirdo.” I breathe out, taking a lick of my ice cream, already missing Jack way more than is probably healthy.

“Shit, Layla…” Lily nods toward him. “He’s coming over.”

Tension twists the muscles in my neck as I look up. He throws a wave in the air like I’m supposed to know him, but I look around making sure there’s not someone else standing behind me.

“You’ve been having fun without me,” I hear him say as he gets close. “But it’s time to come home now…Layla.”

A chill covers me as he reaches for my arm and I jump up, twisting away, dropping my cone onto the wooden planks of the board walk.

“Now, that’s not a polite girl. You’ve made a mess.”

“I don’t know who you are, but you need to move on,” I say, stepping back but keeping my eyes pinned on him as the girls gather round.

“Enough is enough. I’ve played your games. You’ve had your fun. Don’t make this harder.” He shoves his phone into his front pocket and unzips the front of the canvas pack, pulling it down just enough that I see the clear metal of the barrel of a gun. “I saw you in that video. The one where you punched that guy. Showed me where you were, finally. So naughty hiding from me this long.”

Time slows. I swallow the rock lodged in my throat. It’s him.

Then, I remember…I’m going to post this, what you do when someone meets you. You’re a bitch TutoDanceFighter! They must have posted the video, maybe with a location tag or something in the background told him where I was…

I need to get away. Or do something before he gets to that gun…

“I’ve got all your tutus at home waiting for you…” His voice hardens. “So, get the fuck over here and let’s go.”

He lunges forward. His hand grazes my arm but years of training kick in. I duck, spin and cock back. I may be a little girl, but I’ve been taught well and I focus on my target.

My knuckles connect with all the force I can gather, plowing directly into his Adam’s apple, then my knee finds his nuts. My third strike is the heel of my palm in an upward cut into the base of his nose.

The girls scream behind and beside me as adrenaline heats and prickles my skin. The noise around me fades as blood streams down his chin and he falls like a sack of rotten potatoes onto the ground.

He curls into a ball, then pushes up, eyes narrow, different, darkness and evil taking over as he swipes the back of his hand through the blood.

“That is a very, very bad girl—”

I’m ready for what’s next as I watch his hand move to the pouch. Other people are gathering and I know I have to knock him out.

I spin, spin again…a pirouette, then pull my leg back, ready to center my heel into his face when I’m thrown off balance into the group of girls, and I see it. The blur of Jack lifting him up off the ground, then slamming him into the picnic table, wood cracking with the force as more screams and gasps come from the crowd.

“He has a gun!” I yell, but with one more bash of the guy’s head into the hardwood, he’s left drooling and unconscious.

Jack pulls him up again, throwing him to the ground and cutting the canvas belt away with the knife he always has in a sheath around his waist.

A second later, the sheriff is there, holding Jack back. Jack fumes and twists, nearly pulling out of the sheriff’s arms, and I think for a second I’m about to witness Jack killing him. Then his eyes snap to mine and he hesitates, the fury turning to concern as he storms my way.

“You okay?” He runs his hands up and down my arms.

“Yeah,” I answer, the fear I should have felt a minute ago finally taking hold. “I…I just…he’s that guy. From TikTok.”

“It’s okay. We’ll figure it out. But, baby…from now on, you need to tell me this sort of shit. As soon as you noticed him you should have called me, or run, not confronted him yourself. How can I take care of you if you don’t tell me everything?”

“I didn’t want you to feel responsible and it all happened so fast...”

Jack lets out a long, low rumble. “I am responsible, little Prima. So get used to it.”

I watch as the Sheriff pulls the man from the table, his head lolling, dazed, but apparently not seriously hurt. He’s cuffed, his Miranda rights read to him as he’s led away from the scene.

“Hey, Layla.” Lily grins. “You kicked that guy’s ass.”

Willow looks concerned, her mouth pulling into a tight line. “Are you all right?”

I turn to Jack, take in a deep breath of his dark, woodsy scent, and then wrap my arms around his middle. There’s a murmur from the girls, but I don’t care. “I am now,” I say, smiling. “Daddy loves me.”

Jack strokes my hair, kisses the top of my head, and then starts to lead us away from the scene. “Daddy’s here, baby. Daddy’s here.”