Faking with Benefits : A Friends to Lovers Romance(84)

“Oh my God,” she breathes, her body humming with excitement as she reads the email. “Anna’s flying me over. The ticket is for next Sunday.”

Next Sunday. My stomach drops. That’s in eight days. Eight days, and she’ll be out of the country.

“How long will you be out there?” Luke asks into his pillow.

“She doesn’t know.” Layla turns to look at me in the dark. “Crap, what if it clashes with the podcast?”

“We ain’t recording long-distance,” Zack grumbles. “There’s no way to get the audio mixed the same. Tried it before when Luke went to visit his family. It sounded like he was at the bottom of a well.”

“The convention is next Saturday,” I say slowly, reaching up to trace a finger across Layla’s ribs. “Maybe we should finish up your segment then.”

Zack goes still. “What?”

I swallow, my throat tight. “We could go out with a bang,” I say, trying to sound enthusiastic. “Do the finale at the live show. We can publish it for listeners later.”

“It would be a good way to wrap up the segment,” Luke agrees tiredly. “People will get to meet Layla, ask her questions.”

“It’s too soon,” Zack argues. “PodFest is like, a week away. We can’t end the whole segment then.”

“We said it would only be six weeks,” I remind him. He tosses me a glare.

I know what he’s feeling. He doesn’t want to let Layla go. He doesn’t want this ‘experiment’ to end. God knows I don’t either, but it’s not like we have a choice. This was only ever meant to be a short-term arrangement. We agreed on that.

If Layla were any other woman, I’d assume that we’d just keep sleeping together. Everyone’s enjoying themselves; there’s no reason we can’t carry on a casual relationship. But Layla won’t want to waste away the next few months screwing around. As soon as we’ve done that live show, I’m sure she’ll be back on her dating grind, flicking through dating apps and eating dinner with two men a week until she finds the perfect guy for her.

I don’t know how I’m going to handle watching her fall for someone else. But I have to.

“The live show,” Layla says. “Yeah, that’s perfect.” She bounces a bit on my lap. “I hope I’ll be back in time for my class reunion. I wanna show off.”

I clear my throat. “Do… you want me to go with you to your reunion? As your plus-one?”

“Nope. My classmates already think I’m a slag, I can’t bring my boss with me.” She squints at Zack and Luke. “I can’t take you guys, either. They’ll think I’m a WAG if I go with Zack, and God knows what will happen if I show up on a teacher’s arm. I can do it myself. Oh my God, I already have so many design ideas for Anna.” She leans forward, trying to slide out of my arms.

Luke wraps an arm around her waist and tugs her back down. “Not now,” he orders. “Sleep.”

“But—”

“No.” He rolls her closer to me, so she’s lying between us, and kisses her cheek. “We’ll work it out tomorrow.”

For a second, I think she’s going to argue. Then she relaxes, laying her head on my pillow and cuddling into my neck. I feel her breath flutter against my skin. “You guys are my favourite people,” she says in the dark.

I close my eyes, my heart pounding in my chest. Zack and Luke murmur back to her. And I just lie there in the darkness.

I have to tell her how I feel. As soon as possible.

I’ll tell her tomorrow. I have a wedding to deal with first.





FIFTY-THREE





LAYLA





“Are you sure this dress is okay?” I ask the next morning, twisting to check myself out in the dressing-table mirror. Zack rolls over on the bed and looks up at me through half-closed eyes. He looks great today, in a broad-shouldered black suit, his Viking-blonde hair loose around his face. “Very nice,” he rumbles, stretching out to grab my hip. “Take it off.”

I bat him away, trying to adjust the hem of the dress.

It’s about quarter-to-twelve, and the wedding is due to start at half past. Josh left this morning to help the wedding party set up, while me and the other boys stayed in the room. After last night, all I really wanted to do was stay in bed all day — I’m exhausted and feeling a lot cuddlier than usual — but instead, I got up at 8 o’clock to start getting ready. I’ve been shaving and plucking and curling ever since.

I’m nervous as I study my reflection in the mirror. When I picked out this dress, I thought it was perfect for a wedding. It’s a silky, mint-green piece that melts against my skin and makes my eyes glow. Considering most of my wardrobe is black or red, it’s the lightest, prettiest bit of formalwear I have. But now that I’ve put it on, I feel like a hooker. The flimsy fabric falls down to my mid-thigh and clings to my curves. “I didn’t realise how short it was. Or how low.” I fuss with the neckline, trying to tug it up. Have my boobs gotten bigger since I bought it? “Do you think it’s too… revealing?”

Zack snorts. “Since when do you care about that?”

He’s right. I usually don’t. But today’s different. If I’m honest, I’m dreading seeing Amy again after all these years. She’ll probably have invited a bunch of other teachers from Emery High, too. If I show up looking like this, God knows what they’ll think.