Faking with Benefits : A Friends to Lovers Romance(89)

It wouldn’t bother me much now, but when you’re a sixteen-year-old goody-two-shoes, hearing the head teacher of your school say that about you is scary. And so unbelievably embarrassing.

I swallow thickly, forcing myself to meet her gaze. “Hello, Mrs Martins.”

Zack clears his throat next to me, and Josh’s brother smiles. My cheeks heat.

“Oh God. Mrs Tran… I mean, um, Amy. God. I’m sorry.”

Amy laughs sweetly. “It’s not a problem. One of the pitfalls of being a teacher, I’m afraid. I saw one of my old students in Tesco the other day, and he called me Miss.” She pulls a face, then glances across to Zack. “And you must be Zachary, right? Rob has told me a lot about you.” Her eyes flick back to Zack’s hand on the back of my neck. “So, how long have the two of you been dating?”

I shove Zack off me. “We’re not. I’m actually here with Luke.”

“Huh. I did see you two together earlier.” Her pale eyes burn through me, and I fight the urge to step back. “Well. That’s not a match I thought I’d ever see.”

“Here ya go, love.” Zack interrupts, passing me a glass of lemonade. “Get this down ya.” He rubs my arm.

“Thanks.” I tip the glass back, swallowing down the drink so fast my eyes water.

“Seriously, though, thanks for coming, man,” Rob tells him over my head. “Wasn’t sure you were gonna make it.”

Zack wipes some lipstick off the rim of my glass and grins when I glare at him. “Why? I’m not that flaky, am I?”

“No,” Rob says, smiling at a passing couple. “It’s just, I know it’s a tough day for you. When we were doing table arrangements, Josh said you probably wouldn’t come.” He smiles at Zack sympathetically. “It’s good to see you getting out.”

Zack goes still next to me. I watch, alarmed, as his face drains of colour.

Rob keeps talking. “Honestly, if I’d known about the date, I would’ve moved the wedding. But everything was already booked. So, yeah, I really appreciate it. I know Josh would—”

“Zack?” I ask, interrupting him. “Are you okay?”

Rob pauses. We both watch as Zack tugs at the collar of his shirt. He’s starting to breathe hard.

“I…” he clears his throat. “Yeah, I just. Can you hold this a sec?” He shoves his glass into my hand. Liquid slops over the rim and wets my fingers. “Crap,” he mutters. “Sorry. I…” he reaches for a napkin from the table, dabs at my dripping wrist, then takes a deep breath. “Shit.”

“It’s okay.” I set the glass down, touching his back. “Hey. Are you feeling alright?”

Zack opens his mouth, closes it again—then turns on his heel and leaves, striding through the hall and towards the exit. I watch his broad back disappearing into the crowd, confused.

“Oh, shit,” Rob mutters. “I… shouldn’t have said that.” He shakes his head hard. “I really shouldn’t have said that.”





FIFTY-SIX





ZACK





I push through the crowds of people like I’m on autopilot. My blood is pounding in my ears. I feel like I’m in a dream. Or maybe a nightmare. It has to be a nightmare, right? This can’t be real. It can’t be.

How the Hell could I forget what day it is?

Faces turn towards me as I cross the wedding hall and make my way to the exit. There’s a painted wooden sign set up on an easel by the doorway, greeting all the guests as they come in. I stare at it, the letters blurring.

Congratulations!

Rob and Amy Tran

April 5th





How could I forget? The date’s literally everywhere, for God’s sake. It was on the invites. It’s on the signs. It was on the receipt when we booked into the hotel, but I didn’t notice. How? How is that possible?

I know how. Layla.

I’ve spent the last couple of weeks in a Layla-induced haze. She’s filling my brain. Nothing seems to matter when I’m with her. I’ve been so caught up in her, I’ve forgotten the one person who used to matter to me most.

I stride through the hotel lobby. There’s a cluster of people hanging around near the main entrance, clutching their suitcase handles as they wait to check in, so I cast around until I spot the personnel exit, half-hidden behind the lifts. Ignoring the No Entry sign, I push through the white door, stepping out into a small private car park. It’s almost deserted; one of the caterers is leaning against the wall, smoking a cigarette. He looks at me cautiously as I practically fall out of the door, panting.

“Christ. You alright, mate?” He blinks. “Uh. I mean. You’re not meant to use that entrance, sir. Do you need directions?”

I open my jacket. “I’ll give you a hundred quid to piss off.”

He stubs out his cig. “Alright, then.”

I grab my wallet, yank out a handful of bills, and shove them at him.

“Thanks!” He pockets them and disappears, the door slamming shut behind him. The sound echoes through the car park.

I slump down onto the stone steps and look up at the sky. Somehow, the afternoon has slipped into evening without me noticing; the bright blue sky is starting to darken at the edges, and I can see a sprinkling of stars directly above me. I take a deep breath, forcing the cool spring air into my lungs, but my chest feels too tight.