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I scowl. “I don’t know what’s wrong with them. We just can’t get the company to print the right colours. The graphics are fine, but the actual fabric shades are all wrong.”
Layla groans into my shirt. “God. You’ve been giving them HEX codes for the colour shades, haven’t you?”
“... yes?”
“Honey. No. You’re designing a shirt, not a website logo. You need to give them Pantone codes for the cotton and vector codes for the print.” She snuggles closer.
I stare at Josh. “We’re literally dating a girl who went to fashion school. How did we not think to ask her?”
“Because you’re dumb,” Layla announces, closing her eyes. “Also, your garment labels are weird. I’ll give you the number of the girl who designed mine. Where’s Luke?”
“Hovering nervously in your living room.” I point at the bag on the nightstand. “He spent, like, fifty quid on breakfast for you this morning, by the way. You might wanna eat it before it gets cold.”
Her eyes flutter open again. “Um. Why?”
“It’s an ‘apology gift’, apparently.”
She stiffens. “Apology?”
“Mm.” I gather her a little closer against my chest. “He’s walking around like he’s murdered someone. Don’t think I’ve ever seen him so guilty.”
“Crap,” she mutters, pulling out of my grasp and sitting up. Her hair falls in rumpled waves around her face. “It wasn’t anything he did.”
“He said something about you getting hassled at the pub last night?” I prompt. “He seems pretty cut up about it.”
Josh sits up, his gaze sharpening. “Is that what happened?” He demands. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Layla runs her hands over her face. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she mumbles.
Josh and I exchange a look. “Reckon we should switch up the syllabus?” I ask.“Skip right to next week’s lesson?”
“Only if she wants to,” Josh says. “Don’t push her.”
“What is it?” Layla asks cautiously.
I pat her thigh. “Telling your partner all your secrets.”
She looks at me flatly. “Yeah, right.”
“That’s seriously it!” I protest. “I can email you the lesson plan, if you like.”
She looks up at Josh, and he nods, tucking some hair behind her ear. “It’s actually about being emotionally vulnerable,” he says quietly. “But he’s right. After the first few dates, maybe a few sleepovers, the next step to intimacy is opening up. Letting someone into your private, personal life.” He kisses her shoulder gently. “You want a serious relationship, not a casual fling. The only way you can get to that next level is by being vulnerable.” He reaches out and takes her hand, threading their fingers together. “I don’t want to pressure you. But if you want to work on opening up, you can trust us. We won’t hurt you with anything you tell us.”
Layla bites her lip, torn.
I snuggle in on her other side. “Come on, ladybug,” I coax. “Tell your loving boyfriends what happened.”
Her shoulders sag. “Fine. I guess I should get this over with, anyway.” She raises her voice. “LUKE! CAN YOU GET IN HERE?”
There’s a pause, and then the bedroom door squeaks open. Luke’s pale face appears in the doorway. Layla points at the edge of the mattress.
“Sit,” she orders. “If I’m telling this story, I don’t want to have to do it three times.”
***
THIRTY-SIX
***
