Faking with Benefits : A Friends to Lovers Romance(16)

Interesting.

I clear my throat. “You’re gonna break that glass, mate.”

Josh pulls his hand away from his water like it’s burned him, looking up as the door swings open again. His shoulders ease. “She’s here,” he breathes.

I catch Layla’s eye and wave her over. She said she was coming straight from the warehouse, but she still looks stunning, in a pair of tight black leather pants and a red jacket. Her hair is pulled back into a ponytail, and her eyes are made up smokey and black. It’s hot as Hell.

“Hi,” she says breathlessly, sitting down next to me. “Sorry I’m late. They evacuated the Tube after a drunk guy puked on the seats.” She sets her handbag on the table, then glances between the two of us. Her cheeks are pink. “There’s two of you.”

“Is that a problem?” Josh asks. “One of us could leave, if you don’t want to be seen with us both in public—”

“No!” She says quickly. “No, no. I, um, don’t have a problem with that. I just didn’t expect it. But I guess it’s better, actually, right? I get like, two perspectives. Two fake boyfriends. Yes, that’s good.” She clears her throat, then reaches for Josh’s water glass. “You guys look nice,” she babbles. “Sorry, I didn’t have time to change. I’d normally get my tits out on a bar date.”

Josh looks like he’s swallowed his own tongue. “You look fine,” he manages.

Layla blushes deeper, her eyes flashing between us again. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so flustered before. “You alright, sugar?”

She squirms a bit under my gaze. “Yep. So, um. Do we just start now?” She reaches into her bag and pulls out a small notebook labelled ‘DATE LOG’ and a pink fluffy pen. “I brought this to take notes.”

I try not to smile. “You won’t be needing that, pet. Josh and I had a chat, and we decided that before we get started with the date, we want to set up a baseline. We gotta see what we’re working with. This is an experiment, after all.”

She nods, business-like. “Okay. How are we going to do that?”

“I wanna see you in action,” I decide. “Go find someone to flirt with. We’ll watch and analyse your skills.”

Josh kicks me hard under the table. “Only if you’re comfortable,” he starts to say, but Layla just nods.

“Good idea. Do you have a scoring system in place? Hang on, I already wrote one.” Flipping through her notebook, she finds a page. “Here.” She twists the book around to show us. She’s drawn up a table with six categories, and boxes to score them out of ten. I read through them, trying not to laugh.

DATE SUCCESS INDEX:





Body language

Eye contact

Touching

Conversational Flow

Humour

Phone number acquired? (Y/N)



Josh makes a choking sound, covering his face with his hand. “Jesus, Layla.”

“You won’t be able to answer all of them, I guess,” she says seriously. “Conversational flow and humour are hard to tell from a distance. I suppose you can judge by how involved I seem to be in the conversation. Or how much I’m laughing.”

Josh closes his eyes.

I pull the notepad towards me. “Wow, you’re so bizarre. Okay.” I pick up her pen, waving the fluffy end at her. “Scoot. Go woo someone. You want me to pick a guy out?”

“Ew, no.” She looks around, scanning the bar, then points at a tall man standing by the fruit machines. “I want him.” She stands up, brushing down her pants.

“Nope,” I pull her back down patiently. She squawks when she lands in my lap. “He’s wearing a ring.”

She squints. “Oh. Right.” She shuffles back on my thighs and glances around, pointing to a couple of guys leaning over the pool table. “What about the guy in the hat?”

“In a relationship.”

“With who?”

I frown. “Um, with the guy who’s currently groping his bum? Jesus, you really are bad at this. I didn’t think I’d have to teach you how to identify single straight men.”

“Oh.” She slumps a little, surveying the rest of the room. Her eyes alight on the bar, focussing on a tall, skinny guy sitting alone, staring at his phone. “Him?”

I wrinkle my nose. The guy looks like a twat. “You think he’s hot?”

“Sure.”

I shrug. Who am I to judge if she has terrible taste? “Then go for it, pet. Go over there, see if you can get his number. We’ll be watching.”

She nods once, then stands back up and heads right over to the bar, little white ponytail bobbing. Josh and I both watch as she struts over to her target and taps him on the shoulder. The guy jumps and turns to look at her. His eyes flick up and down her body, sparking with interest.

She sticks out her hand for him to shake. “I’m Layla,” I hear faintly over the pub chatter. “Are you single?”

“Well, at least she gets straight to the point,” I mutter, making a mark in the ‘eye contact’ column. “Do you reckon she always shakes peoples’ hands in a bar? God, she’s such a little weirdo.”

Josh shifts. “Did we really have to do this?” He asks, watching as the guy pulls out the bar seat next to him.