The Good, the Bad, and the Crazy. //+//A Complicated Love Story//+//

Chapter 12: Branson.

I went to go see Layla and when she asked where I had been last night I lied, telling her that I had been with the guys. How was I supposed to explain spending the night in another girl’s bed? I couldn’t, no matter how I tried to explain it; it would just come out wrong.

And Mary, what had been up with her? A few days ago she had been crying and cutting herself because she was afraid she had lost me and now she was threating to call the cops if I didn’t leave her alone. The things she had said hurt. They hurt so bad, it was insane.

Last night when she had been crying she said something about Layla. Had Layla said something to her? What could Layla have of said to make her so upset that she never wanted to see me again? I’m so confused.

“Are you okay?” Layla’s voice brought me back to the present.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” I said “Hey why are we in down town? You hate it down here.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I’m growing up, trying to see more of the world.” She said kissing me on the cheek.

I laughed “I’m not really sure you can call seeing down town Louisville more of the world. We went to high school right around the corner.”

“You know, I never understood why our parents sent us to public school. There are plenty of private schools that we could have gone to. God knows our parents could afford it.” She sighed as we walked past our old school.

“You miss it?” I asked.

She simply nodded “They loved me.”

I laughed “I love you.”

Her smile widened “I know.” And then she kissed me hard.

I pulled away and looked up just in time to see Mary standing across the street starring at us, her mouth open, and my University of Kentucky sweat shirt hanging out of her open purse.

“What is it babe?” Layla asked turning around “Oh, it’s just her.”

“Hey, Mary!”  I called, motioning her to come over.

Mary looked quickly from me to Layla and back again before running off in the other direction.

I frowned. I thought maybe she had gotten over it. Obviously not. But she couldn’t really be mad at me, she had kept my sweat shirt, hell she was carrying it around in her purse.

“Poor, Mary.” Layla sighed

“What do you mean?”

“Well isn’t it obvious. You make her so nervous, she just likes you a lot, and it’s not her fut.”

I laughed out loud “Mary doesn’t like me. If anything, she hates me.”