I asked her, “Why do men cheat?”
She answered, “Because men are visual creatures. They are simple, primitive. If they see something they like, they give in to their urge to possess it.”
“And women?”
“Simple, when we are beyond unhappy with our men.”
Layla waited outside the William. L. Clements Library building for her boyfriend Blake.
Boyfriend. The word weighed heavy in her thoughts, she couldn’t hold it on her tongue, so she never said it and instead tucked it away into the folds of her mind. Blake always said it though, threw it around casually like it was his last name. “I’m her boyfriend”, “How does your boyfriend look tonight?”, “Your boyfriend misses you Lay”.
Blake with his doe eyes and toothy grin. Blake with his arms always open for her, with his heart full of love for her. Blake never asked why she never called him her boyfriend. Blake never asked how much longer she would take to say “I love you too”. Blake let Layla be and feel what she did. And Layla was feeling guilty.
She rested her back against the brick wall of the building and stared down, mulling over her thoughts, replaying moments from their earlier days together, until a pair of shoes stopped directly in front of her and she looked up to be met with Blake’s baby blue eyes, his mouth curved upwards into a smile.
Layla felt her heart leap dangerously forward at the sight of him and her lips stretch involuntarily into a shy smile as she stepped into his embrace. She stood on her tippy toes to rest her head in the crook of his neck as he slightly bent down to put his arms around her waist and rest his head on top of hers. “Where to?” he asked.
Layla grinned up at him before grabbing his hand and running away.
“Babe, I should’ve guessed you were up to something “, Blake laughed as he sat down next to her on the tablecloth spread out on the slightly damp grass on top of the hill.
Layla lays her head on his lap and holds out a book for Blake. Blake smiles as he opens the bookmarked page and reads.
“What were the use of my creation, if I were entirely contained here? My great miseries in this world have been Heathcliff’s miseries, and I watched and felt each from the beginning: my great thought in living is himself. If all else perished, and HE remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger: I should not seem a part of it. “
Layla closes her eyes and surrenders herself to the words tumbling out in Blake’s low baritone voice. Blake uttered each word with such conviction, Layla felt goosebumps rise on her arms at the sincerity in his voice. She knew he loved Wuthering Heights as much as she hated it. She hated tragedies, he loved love.
…
“Why?”, he asks as he brushes strands of hair out of her face.
“Because”, she says her eyes boring into his’, “I am both Catherine and Heathcliff.”
As Blake lay awake at night, staring at the ceiling, he thought of Layla’s eyes and her unfaltering gaze today. She caught his eyes and held them hostage with the intensity in her’s, challenging him to look away. Blake didn’t. He clasped her hands in his’ and squeezed them softly. I love you.
She smiled but never looked away either. And he heard. I love you too.
Author’s Note: This was mush and rightfully so. They deserved this chapter, my Blake and Layla. Please stick around for more of their story. And listen to this song while you read this chapter again.
vodkandcokeplease 