Faking with Benefits : A Friends to Lovers Romance(59)

I grin. “Nice.” Josh gives me an annoyed look, but Layla nods.

“It was nice. It was incredible. It was like I’d been pushed past my breaking point, and I wasn’t scared anymore. I didn’t care that people were staring at me. I didn’t care that they were talking. It was the first time I hadn’t been scared in years, and the feeling was just… addictive.” She sets her coffee cup aside. “I was suspended until my exams, and I spent all of the extra time working on my plan. I got a job at a proper lingerie store. After my A-levels, I got into university, enrolled in three evening business classes, and spent five hours a night sewing. Five years later, by the time I was twenty-three, I had my first version of the store. By twenty-four, I was making a living wage off my clothes. By twenty-six, I started paying influencers to promote my stuff. I started getting featured in online magazines and listicles. My social media hit five figures. And now, here I am.” She spreads out her hands. “It’s not easy. I still have to work overtime and hustle like Hell to keep my revenue up. But I worked hard, and I’m nothing like that kid getting bullied in high school, anymore. I made a plan, I stuck to it, and I was successful. More successful than most of those other kids will ever be.” Her eyes burn. “So I don’t want you to feel sorry for me. It’s not some big, tragic story. I came out of it better than any of them.”

“Baby.” I stroke through her hair. “Honey. You’re so strong.”

She squirms. “Stop petting me. It’s patronising.”

“Nope.” I cuddle into her closer, and she gives up, leaning into me. Josh squidges closer on her other side, taking her hand.

Luke finally speaks up. “I can’t believe none of the teachers did anything,” he says, his voice hoarse.

She glares at him. “Well. You should believe it. It’s true. I have plenty of proof.” She tries to wriggle out of my grip. I don’t move, and she bangs on my arm. “Free me.”

I sigh, letting her go, and she bends under the bed, pulling out a silver filing box. She dumps the box on the quilt and yanks off the lid, revealing stacks of printed emails. “I CC’d myself into all of the emails I sent the teachers, and I still have all of their replies,” she explains, flipping through them to a pile of handwritten notes. “I even got the teachers to sign forms whenever I made a complaint. It’s dumb, I guess, but I just… wanted to prove to myself that I was doing the right thing. Even if no one else was.”

“It’s not dumb,” Josh says, picking up one of the forms. “It’s smart. These write-ups might have actually held up in court, since you got the teachers to physically sign and date them. It’s impressive. What do you think, Luke?”

There’s a beat of silence. We all turn to look at Luke. He’s looking at the pieces of paper spread out on the quilt, his face grey.

“Luke?” I prompt. “You alright, mate?”

He swallows and stands, leaving the room.





THIRTY-SEVEN





LAYLA





The door clicks shut behind him, and I close my eyes. This was exactly what I was afraid of. “He blames himself.”

“Why?” Zack says, picking up a croissant and taking a huge bite. “He wasn’t there.”

“Because he still thinks I’m just some kid he should’ve taken care of,” I spit. If I’m honest, the overprotective teacher act is getting really old.

“He’s right,” Josh says flatly, stroking my shoulder. “He should’ve.”

I push him off and slide out of bed, grabbing a hair tie off my dresser. “Do you honestly think he wouldn’t have helped me if he’d known what was going on? It’s not his fault he didn’t know.” I yank my hair up into a ponytail.

“He was there,” Josh insists. “He should’ve been paying closer attention. He sat in a room with you for hours every week, he should’ve noticed something was up.”

I shake my head, gritting my teeth. “It was ten years ago. He needs to get over it.” Anger glows inside me. “Why the Hell would he just walk out? It’s not my fault Donny was a prick. I don’t deserve to be avoided. I didn’t do anything wrong.” Shoving my feet into my slippers, I stomp to the bedroom door. “Screw this. We’re sorting this out right now.”

Zack goes to stand, but Josh grabs a handful of his shirt and yanks him back down onto the bed as I slam out of the room.



When I step into the lounge, Luke is standing by my window, looking down into the city. Every line of his body is tense, and my anger dies down a bit. This must be eating him up inside.

He swallows when he hears me come in, turning his head but not looking at me. “Layla—”

“It’s not your fault,” I say firmly.

“It is my fault, sweetheart.” His voice is resigned. “It was.”

“You couldn’t have known—”

“I was your teacher,” he interrupts me. “It was my job to protect my students. I had responsibility over you. And I failed you.”

“You had your own stuff going on,” I point out. “You were getting divorced, for God’s sake, of course you were preoccupied.”

He laughs, but the sound is hollow. “Are you joking? In what world is an adult divorcing his wife on par with a child getting bullied and harassed to within an inch of her life? I…” A shudder passes through his broad shoulders. “You were sitting in my class for hours every week, and I never even suspected.”