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My cheeks burning, I let him help me off the stone step and lead me to the car, still idling on the curb. He opens the front passenger seat door for me, but I ignore it, opening a door in the back instead. Embarrassment is rushing through me in hot waves. I don’t need taking care of. I’m fine.
“Bad night?” He asks, climbing into the driver’s seat and buckling in.
“Bad day,” I mutter, and he nods, turning his attention back to the road.
* * *
We’re silent on the drive home. Josh keeps glancing back at me in the rearview mirror, worry clear in his eyes. I ignore him, watching the streetlights flash by the window, rolling amber stripes of light over my bare thighs. When I picked this outfit out earlier, I thought it looked hot.
Now I just feel gross.
I close my eyes and press my forehead against the cold windowpane, breathing deeply as we wind through the London roads back home.
When we reach our building, the lift is broken, so we climb up all six flights of stairs in silence. By the time we finally get back to our floor, all I want to do is take off my heels, strip off these stupid shorts, and step into a scalding hot shower. I need to wash this night away.
Josh walks me to my flat door, and I pull my key out of my clutch.
“Well. Good night,” I say, fitting it in the lock. “Thanks for coming out. You didn’t have to do that.”
He nods but doesn’t move.
“Bye,” I prompt, unlocking the door and pushing it open.
He peers in over my shoulder. “Have you got new lampshades?”
“...no?”
“Are you sure? Can I check?” I stare at him, and he sighs. “Can I come in with you?”
I hesitate. Normally I would say no. I feel crappy, and I don’t like other people to see me upset.
But this is Josh. As my eyes scan his chiselled face, emotion tugs inside me. For once, I don’t want to be alone. I want to be in his arms, so badly my skin aches. And I don’t know why.
I shrug. “You’re my boyfriend, aren’t you?” Before I can change my mind, I take his hand, leading him inside my dark apartment.
***
THIRTY-THREE
***
LAYLA
“You want a drink or anything?” I ask, kicking off my heels and heading for the kitchenette. “Water? Wine?”
Josh shuts the door behind him and bends to unlace his shoes. His phone beeps in his pocket, and he hooks it out, checking the screen. “Hang on a sec,” he murmurs, typing back a quick message. I pour us both some water. When I turn back around, he’s migrated to the couch, and is frowning at his phone like he wants to throw it out of the window.
“Who is it?” I ask.
“My brother,” he says shortly. “He wants my help organising the guest seating for the wedding.”
“It’s just in a few weeks, right?”
“Hm.” His phone bleeps again, and he sighs. “And that was Luke.” He starts tapping at the screen. “He wants to know if you’re doing okay.”
Irritation flashes through me, but I bite it back. I’m not really angry at Luke. He’s just concerned. It’s my fault for letting him see how much Donny upset me.
“I’m fine,” I say again. “Really. I ran into an old schoolmate. It… knocked me off-balance for a second.”
