Huh. I didn’t see it. Antisocial, wearing huge clothing, and giving clipped answers? She’d caught my attention, but no high school kid would salivate over that. I tossed my empty bottle in the recycling bin a couple of steps away and burped as I leaned against the wall again. Lyla James Marichal. Funny. We had the same middle name. I imagined myself telling her and could picture the blank stare she’d give me.
“Marichal. The former baseball player who’s mayor now?”
“Yep. That’s her father. He’s a legend around here.” Preston pressed his back against the wall. “Immigrant, pro athlete, self-made businessman, and now mayor.”
I nodded. I’d met him once, and he seemed nice enough. He was a major donor and heavily involved in all things sports at Fairview University. Because I never left our college bubble unless I was driving home, I didn’t rub shoulders with Fairview's elite. Most of us didn’t, but we’d heard crazy stories about the parties they threw. I’d been invited to Mayor Marichal’s house a few times for his annual sports gala and turned it down each time. It wasn’t my scene. Wearing fancy clothes and sitting at a table with a bunch of stuffy assholes wasn’t exactly my idea of a good time.
“Why was Lyla everyone’s wet dream?” I asked, going back to that topic. “I don’t see it.”
Pres raised an eyebrow. “She’s hot as fuck under those baggy clothes.”
“How do you know?” I stood straighter and turned to him.
“She didn’t always dress that way.”
“Did you two ever hook up?” I asked and frowned at my own question.
“No.” He chuckled, a low, almost defeated sound.
“Why is that funny?” I asked, “I thought she waseveryone’swet dream?”
“She was.”
“But, not yours?”
“Nah, she was mine too, for a time.” He shrugged. “Even if I’d tried something, she wouldn’t have given me the time of day.”
That gave me pause. Prescott didn’t pull as many girls as I did, but he was pretty damn close. I had to be missing something. I had never asked this many questions about anyone. Certainly not a fucking girl. Definitely, not one I knew wasn’t down for my style of hookups. I needed to shut up. I was bored, though. I was bored, and we were just standing here anyway.
“I feel like I’m missing something,” I said aloud. “Weren’t you the most popular guy at your school?” I asked. “That’s what all the girls who went to your school say.”
“Yeah, I guess I was up there.”
“So…?”
“Lyles is different. She’s the kind of girl that you don't let go of if you get her, which is near impossible as it is.” He looked at me again, a serious expression on his face. “Ever.”
“Ah,” I nodded. “She’s the commitment type.”
“Her?” He laughed. “Hell no.”
I stared at him. I was definitely missing a lot of things here.
He smiled, shaking his head as if Lyla James Marichal committing to anything was a joke. If that was the case…
“She’s the girl you can’t let get away,” he explained.
I wanted to ask why but bit my tongue. I didn’t care about forever or letting someone get away. I’d already had one important person in my life abandon me. I sure as hell didn’t need another. If you don’t let them in, they can’t hurt you. It was simple.
He sighed. “Look, I’ve known her since we were in daycare. I’ve only seen her as a friend, as a sister, for a long time now. But, yeah, she was the hottest, most popular, coveted girl, at school. Probably because she didn’t give many people an actual shot, and that was before.”
“I don’t see it,” I said instead of asking more questions. “The hottest, most popular shit. I don’t see it.”
“You wouldn’t. Not anymore.” He chuckled, but it sounded sadder than the previous. “She was. . .different back then. Social. Alive.”
Alive.“What happened?”
He inhaled sharply. “Let’s just say she’s on the official ‘do not call dibs’ list.”
