Page 7 of Ride or Die (The Shores #1)

CHAPTER

SEVEN

brILLIANT AND BEAUTIFUL

LAYLA

We sit in the library for a couple of hours, setting up a study plan for our midterms. I wish I had found Colton as a study partner sooner. We really are on the same wavelength when it comes to our study style.

We draw pictures, do acronyms, and make up rhymes to remember things. I know having him as a study buddy will work out, and that makes me feel nervous and excited in ways I don’t want to acknowledge.

Thankful it’s a shorter one day, we head to our lecture afterwards. This professor drones on for two hours, acting like he couldn't care less to be here. Instead of listening in, we sit quietly beside each other and do some independent work on the essays due for this class.

Apparently, Colton reads ahead too.

I find myself constantly stealing glances at him, surprised by how organized and dedicated he is and the fact I am learning about this whole other side of him. I’m no longer feeling intimidated by his presence and am thankful I may have found a friend. Also, praying it's not a trick.

Once the lecture is over, we pack up and leave the building. Opening the doors, I'm greeted with a warm fall breeze that whips my hair all around. My eyes squint in the setting sunshine and I turn to head towards the bus stop to start my trek home.

Colton grabs my arm and looks at me, confused. The heat from his touch spreads through my body like wildfire, and I feel that usual knot that forms in my core when I’m around him.

“Uh, what are you doing?” He tilts his head as the wind blows his hair in front of his eyes, that beautiful blue-gray hue gazing through at me.

“I’m going to the bus stop,” I breathe out, pointing my thumb over my shoulder. The longer he holds my arm, the more my body vibrates with desire.

He chuckles and gives me his gorgeous, panty-dropping smile. In all the years I’ve noticed him from afar, I’ve never seen him smile this much, and it is incredibly sexy. I swoon every time he does it.

“No, you’re not. You’re riding with me from now on.” He starts pulling me towards his car.

“I…uh…I...what?” I stammer, confused.

I’m riding with him from now on?

He chuckles again. “You’re so cute and innocent.”

I try to think of something to say, but words fail me.

That is the second time today he called me cute.

Butterflies flutter in my stomach, and my head spins.

I’m flustered, so many sensations and emotions swirling through me at once.

All because of the boy I’ve crushed on for a decade.

How pathetic am I? Am I so damn isolated from others that I can’t control these reactions happening in my body?

I have an IQ of 133, and I’m acting like a freaking horny adolescent.

Oh my god, Layla, don't embarrass yourself.

“We’re friends. Study partners. You treat me more like a human than anyone else I know. Everyone tries to use me for something, so I’d rather give a ride to someone who is real with me than these other fakes.” He shrugs like it's no big deal.

If only he understood how big of a deal this is to me.

“Oh. Okay. Alright. Just let me know what I owe you for gas money.” He grabs my hand and interlaces our fingers, turning the head-spinning into full-blown body-whirling. I might fucking faint.

His large frame towers over me, his eyes twinkling as they look down into mine. “You don’t owe me anything, Layla,” he says softly.

We are so close; the energy flickering between us is palpable. His eyes scan my face as if trying to read what I’m thinking.

In the distance, we hear someone yelling, breaking the spell he was putting me under. The pull between us was so strong, I could have kissed him right then and there. I now understand that pheromone energy stuff I’ve read about.

“Colt! Colton!” the female voice calls in the distance. We turn away from each other to see Serena running across the parking lot towards us.

“C’mon,” he mumbles, pulling my hand and leading us quickly towards his car. I take five steps for every two strides this guy takes, so he’s basically pulling me as fast as my little legs will take me.

“Colt! Wait!” the whiney voice calls from right behind us. We stop at the car and he unlocks it just as Serena runs up and pushes me out of the way.

“Get out of here, loser. This is Colton’s car. You shouldn’t be here.” She sneers.

What a bitch. Did she not just see him dragging me along?

She composes herself and turns to him. “Ready to go Colt, baby?” she says, batting her eyes and twirling her blonde hair on her finger, instantly changing from mega bitch to mega bimbo.

I wait for Colton to explain that I do have to take the train after all.

“No, Serena, I’m taking Layla home.” Her mouth opens and closes like a fish. I’m completely stunned too. He’s taking me instead of Serena?

“Wh-What? But Colt, we…last week...you’ve given me a ride...” She trails off as she pouts.

“Yeah, I did, and now, I’m not. The bus stop is over there, Serena. Find yourself a way home, or better yet, have daddy send a town car.” He says coldly. Like it is so easy for him to just move on from girl to girl.

Because it is, that’s what he does.

Oh my god, does he think he’s going to nail me next? Am I just another notch on his bedpost? Is that why he’s being so nice to me? Once he gets in my pants, he will probably act as if I was never alive.

He looks over at me and raises his eyebrows. “Layla?” He gestures for me to get into the car. I do as he says and close the door. Serena throws daggers at me with her eyes as she watches me sit in the passenger seat, and I look away from her intimidating glare.

The car rumbles to life, sending a surge of energy right to my core again like the first night I sat in this car. This two-door Camaro and the man driving it are sexy as fuck. Put them together, it's just...wow.

Colton turns to me and gives me a half-smirk before he puts it in drive. I’m having trouble controlling the hormones rushing through my body, clenching my thighs together to ease the pulsing ache between them.

We pull away from the university and head out to the highway to go home to The Shores. I still can’t believe he chose me over Serena. What is happening here?

The drive is long and quiet, but comfortable. I find myself glancing at him repeatedly, still in shock that I’m in his car again, but he catches me nearly every time.

We pull up in front of my house and I look over at Colton, who is just watching me, looking so damn sexy in the driver's seat of his car that it takes my breath away. This guy could be a GQ model.

“Thanks for the ride. You wanna come in?” I blurt out. Oh my god. Why would I ask that? I don’t want him to come in and see how we live! He makes me so weird and jittery with excitement that I always embarrass myself. Not that he would want to come in anyway. He just gave me a ride, that’s it.

“Yeah, I would actually,” he interrupts my spiraling mind, quickly removing his seat belt and hopping out of the car. He grabs his bag from the backseat and closes the door.

Wait, what?

We walk up to my house, and my heart is racing. Colton Hawthorne is about to see my home. My bedroom. Fuck!

My mom and dad are at work, so they're not home, and hopefully my sister isn’t either.

But I’m not that lucky.

Of course, the first thing we see when we walk in is Simone in just her bra and skirt, straddling and making out with some random guy on the couch.

Sure as shit ain’t Nate from the street race.

Just another guy on another day. She doesn’t take life seriously and will be stuck here forever as a result. She is either at a party, going to one, or fucking someone. What man wants to lock down the suburb slut?

Her eyes lift to see us walk in the door, and she pulls away from her latest conquest. Her curled brown hair is all a mess, lipstick smudged.

“Hey kids,” she calls out as she eyes up Colton seductively. Her expression makes me feel sick. I don't like the way she's looking at him. Especially since she’s straddling another guy.

“Hey Simone,” we both say and avert our eyes.

Simone is interesting, to say the least. She is the complete opposite of me. Sometimes I wonder if we have different parents.

“We’re just going up to study,” I explain as I pass the living room with Colton on my heels.

“Sure you are,” she teases.

I ignore her and head to the stairs. I walk ahead of Colton on the way up, and I swear I hear a little groan escape him as he watches me climb, my ass directly in his face.

He’s probably disgusted.

“Wear protection!” she yells after us, a hint of jealousy in her tone.

“Take your own advice!” I yell back.

Once we reach the upper floor, we walk down the hallway to my bedroom and I close the door behind us, locking it so Simone doesn’t burst in. I scurry around to pick up my clothes off the floor and make space for him at the desk. He sits down in my desk chair, and I take a spot on the bed.

“So, which subject do you want to review?” I ask.

"Uh, let’s go over accounting. It’s the most information heavy,” he suggests.

We spend the next hour going over our notes and setting up a plan of attack based on the outline to help with the course load. We have some fun and good laughs coming up with acronyms for some of the terminology.

Yes, these things are fun to people who like studying.

Our focus moves from our studies to discussing other things like old friends.

Surprisingly, Colt and I have a lot in common.

Absent parents for one, and we each worked hard for our grades.

We both love to cook, read, and do photography.

We also love playing video games, sadly I don’t have a console anymore, but he invited me over to play, which brought back those butterflies in my stomach back with a vengeance.

I bite my lip, trying to contain my excitement. I can’t believe I am so at ease with the bad boy.

As the evening progresses, we move closer and closer to one another, getting more comfortable, feeling a true friendship beginning. Even though we haven't been directly in each other's lives, there's a history here that's making it easier to connect, I think.

Sitting on my bed together, we talk about some of the stupid shit that happened at school back in the day.

He's currently laughing about our grade nine math teacher, recalling when she was upset at a student who kept getting alerts to his phone throughout the class and wouldn’t turn it off.

In her attempt to storm over to him, she slipped on the floor and sent her coffee splattering all over the place. The poor woman never lived it down.

“Hilarious for you! I was in the front row and got coffee all over me!” I slap his arm as he's laughing. I can't help but giggle, though. His laugh is so damn endearing, it’s doing things to me.

He chokes some air into his lungs through his laughs as he starts to calm down. “I know, I’m sorry. That part wasn't funny, just her slipping and the expression on her face. I do remember you being so upset that your notes and white shirt were ruined.”

I look at him with surprise. “You remember that?”

“Yeah, you squealed and yelled ‘my shirt!’ before storming off to the bathroom. When you got back, I could tell you had been crying. Your shirt was stained and wet from trying to clean it. I remember wanting to give you my gym shirt, but it was smelly, so I couldn’t.”

His eyes widen when he realizes what he just told me. I’m shocked that he remembers that incident with so much detail. I didn't think people noticed me.

He clears his throat, focusing back on the books in front of us. “So, can you explain the math for depreciation?” he asks as he looks back up at me.

“Uh, yeah, sure.”

I go on to explain the accounting he’s been having trouble understanding. Or at least that he claims to not understand. He listens intently, seeming to grasp the concept.

“Thank you. That makes way more sense than Professor Robertson’s explanation.

You’re brilliant, you know that?” His eyes soften as he smiles down at me, making me blush.

“And so incredibly beautiful as well.” He tucks some hair behind my ear, his eyes flitting between mine as his hand lingers, cupping my cheek.

My breath catches in my throat and I stand up immediately. It’s a nervous reflex, my body’s way of creating space between us because of how he’s making me feel. The sexual tension is thick, and I’m totally uncomfortable with the contact, knowing I’d be just another notch on his bedpost.

It’s Colton Hawthorne, for God sakes. I’m probably just some girl he has on some list titled ‘Bitches To Fuck’.

“You want something to drink?” I ask, ignoring the comment and intimate touch.

“Uh, yeah. Sure.” He rubs the back of his neck nervously.

I nod and head down to the kitchen, grateful for some breathing room. I can’t believe what just happened. Colton Hawthorne sat on my bed and called me brilliant AND beautiful. And I freaked the fuck out, storming off like some immature crazy little girl.

The question is, how am I going to handle this?