Faking with Benefits : A Friends to Lovers Romance(49)

“No,” she says, stirring ice around her glass. “You did nothing.” We’re silent for a moment. Layla studies the table, running her fingertips slowly over the glossy grain.

I clear my throat. “So. How is the experiment with Josh and Zack going? Honestly.”

She smiles slightly. “I didn’t lie on the podcast. It really is going great. I’m already a lot better at flirting, I think. And I’m getting more natural on my practice dates.” She grins suddenly. “And now I can come in bed, too. If you were wondering.”

“I wasn’t,” I say firmly. She just laughs. “Well, I’m glad you’re finding it helpful. Just remember that if you ever feel like you need to stop, you can change your mind.”

She narrows her eyes, taking another sip of her mojito. “Why are you so against it? Is it just because you think it’ll ruin my friendship with Zack and Josh?”

I shake my head. “I just don’t think they’re going about it the right way. Your issues aren’t social, or…” the word sticks in my throat.

She smirks. “Sexual?”

I nod. “Right. There’s nothing wrong with you. I think you’re just finding the wrong men.”

“Oh?”

I nod. “I think finding a partner is less about attraction, and more about logic. If you can find a person that’s compatible with you, you can avoid facing troubles down the line when the honeymoon phase is over.” I smile at her grimly. “And you won’t make the same mistake as me.”

She rolls her eyes. “Jesus. You got divorced once, Luke. It’s not like you’re doomed to be alone forever because one relationship didn’t work out.”

My mouth falls open. “I don’t think I’m doomed forever—”

“No? I’ve never even seen you bring a girl home. There must be some reason for that.”

“Well… I…” I bluster. Honestly, I haven’t thought about finding a partner in forever. I’m perfectly happy with my life the way it is. I’m coming up to forty, after all. It feels a little late in life to be swiping through Tinder.

Layla leans forward, raising her voice over the noise. The movement puts our faces very close together. I can see all of the individual lashes framing her eyes, and the sprinkling of freckles on her cheeks. “It’s your whole schtick on the show. The ‘resident divorcee’. And I get it; it’s your speciality. But how come you aren’t even trying to date?”

I can’t look away from her. There’s a smudge of dark makeup under her eye, and without thinking, I reach up to thumb it away. “I… suppose I haven’t found the right woman.”

Her eyebrow quirks. “You dated Monica, didn’t you? Zack said you guys broke up because he couldn’t commit. Did you want to stay with her?”

My mood drops. I really wish Zack would stop talking about that. “That’s not quite what happened,” I admit. “I actually instigated the breakup. I wasn’t prepared for anything serious. Zack agreed that it was time, so we split.”

She frowns. “What about Josh?”

“Josh wanted to stay with her. He liked her a lot.”

“And his feelings were just ignored? That seems unfair.”

For the first time, I let myself really study her. She looks so unbelievably kissable right now. Her eyes are dark and dilated. Her pretty pink lips are wet and parted. My hand is still on her face, and without thinking, I stroke my thumb over her cheekbone. “I suppose it was,” I murmur.

Her gaze flickers to mine, and she smiles slowly. “You know,” she says. “That was a long time ago. You should start dating again. Before you get old and lose all your hair.”

“Charming, Layla.”

My heart thuds as she laughs, sliding a little closer. My eyes widen as she tilts her face towards me.

She’s going to kiss me.

I thought I was making up all of the little flickers of attraction I saw in her, but maybe I wasn’t, after all. She’s actually going to kiss me.

And I’m going to let her.

Suddenly, a shout goes through the bar. I look up to see a footballer on one of the TV screens lift up his shirt and do a victory lap on the field, bellowing in triumph after shooting a goal. Layla swears as the guy next to her throws up his pint, sloshing beer down her front. “Jesus!” She shouts, turning to face him. “What is wrong with you?”

He turns to her, grinning sloppily. “Whas’ the matter, honey?” He slurs.

She scowls at her wet shirt. “You’ve soaked me, you utter moron.”

“Oooh, have I?” He throws his head back and laughs. “Smile, princess. S’just a shirt.”

Layla opens her mouth to argue, and I wrap my arm around her shoulder, yanking her into my side. She immediately goes quiet. “Go,” I tell the man.

His face creases. “You can’t tell me what to do,” he says.

“Go,” I repeat. “You’re a public nuisance. Get out of our way.”

Even after all these years, I am very good at getting people to do what I tell them to. Zack says it’s a leftover from my time as a teacher; whenever I raise my voice at someone, they automatically feel like they’re about to get into trouble. The man wavers, and I arch an eyebrow. “Now, please.”