Free Keep Me Still by Caisey Quinn

a darkness in him that I don’t want close enough to cast a shadow anywhere near Layla.
    “No, sir,” I answer evenly, hoping he’ll let it drop.
    My mom, ever the peacekeeper, jumps up to fix his plate. “Sit. Relax,” she tells him. He does, but his eyes don’t leave the girl next to me. She’s rigid under my hand until I give her a little squeeze. A forced smile pulls at her lips and again, I want to kiss that mouth so badly. Want to lose myself in the taste of her. The feel of her.
    “Maybe if you spent more time practicing and less time gawking at Blondie, you’d have made those. Field goals win games. Or lose them, in your case.”
    I take my hand off Layla’s knee so I don’t crush it. “We were down by two touchdowns, sir. I don’t think two field goals would have made much difference.”
    Layla’s focusing on her plate—not touching it, just staring at it. Probably wishing she could disappear. Suddenly, without any change in her demeanor, a hand lands on my thigh. Despite the tension in the room nearly choking us both to death, my dick twitches at her touch.
    “You watch your mouth, you hear me? Two field goals can be everything. If you took football seriously, there’d be scouts coming to see you.” The Colonel goes on about monumental games where field goals made all the difference. He might even refer to me as soccer fag once or twice. But my sole focus is on the small warm hand on my inner thigh.
    She’s rubbing in a slow circle, applying pressure now and again—probably when she thinks what the Colonel says is affecting me. My mom and Kate are trying to make small talk but even their words are barely registering.
    “Are you even listening? Goddammit. Can’t even show some respect for five fucking minutes. How the hell are you going to make it at West Point?”
    His fist hits the table and Layla flinches. Son of a bitch.
    “Don’t do that,” I say evenly. Her hand leaves me and I’m untethered. No longer attached to Earth by anything that matters.
    The Colonel’s red-rimmed eyes bulge. “What did you say to me?”
    “Jack,” my mom breaks in. “Why don’t you go back down to the den and I’ll bring you some pie?”
    He ignores her. As usual. “You were man enough to backtalk to me once. Do it again. What’d you say?”
    Adrenaline has me breathing so hard I can see my own chest heaving. “I said, don’t fucking do that. Don’t hit things or slam things around Layla. She has a condition. Noises like that can—”
    “It’s fine,” Layla says quietly from beside me. “I’m okay.” Her hand returns, and I realize there will be immediate consequences for my actions. It all makes sense. This is why my mom invited them. She thought he’d behave around company. But when the Colonel stands, I know she was wrong. And so does she.
    So does Layla’s aunt apparently. “I think we’re going to clear out of here and let you all have some privacy.” She stands and jerks her head not-so-subtly towards the living room. We both look at Layla, waiting to see what she’ll decide. She’ll run straight out the door and never look back if she has any sense.
    “That’s enough, you two,” my mom says in the sternest voice she’s capable of.
    “Like hell it is. Just because he’s got his little piece of ass here, he thinks he can—”
    “Excuse me?” Kate lurches at the same time I do.
    “Apologize,” I command. This is it. It’s been coming forever. It’s almost a relief. Today’s the day I hit back. I just wish she didn’t have to be here to see it.
    “I don’t know what she’s done to you or if she’s just convinced you that your dick is bigger than it actually is. But you’re on very thin ice.” He’s standing now, leaning towards me, staring me down, with both hands gripping the table. Probably so he doesn’t break my neck in front of so many witnesses. I’ve never understood why he hates me so much. I’ve just accepted that he does.
    “We’re going, Layla.