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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.”
“Whatever,” the guy mutters, standing and shuffling out of the booth.
I wait until he’s out of sight, then turn to Layla. “Are you alright, sweetheart?” I pick up a napkin and start trying to wipe off the front of her thin shirt.
She looks up at me with huge, dilated eyes. Her cheeks are pink. She swallows and nods, slipping out from under my arm and standing. “I… I’m gonna dry off in the bathroom. You want another drink?” She looks flustered.
I frown. “Layla, I can get it. It’s no bother.”
She fixes me with a look. “Why? Are you trying to impress me, Mr Martins?”
“Of course not,” I say. “But—”
She smiles. “Then I’ll buy the next round. Gimme ten minutes.” She turns on her heel and heads to the toilets without another word.
***
THIRTY
***
LAYLA
