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“Just this once? I really want your help.” I don’t say anything, so she turns to Josh. “Josh? Seriously, I have the money. I bet you’d be a great teacher—”
“We’re not taking you on fake dates for money,” Josh snaps. “You’ve drunk too much. You don’t know what you’re saying. Finish your food and go to bed.” Standing, he stalks over to the kitchen, turning away from us.
No one says anything for a few seconds. Layla carefully sets her bowl down on the coffee table and joins him, wobbling slightly.
“Josh,” she says quietly. When he doesn’t respond, she reaches up and pats his cheek clumsily. “Look at me,” she orders. He turns his head, meeting her gaze. “Have I hurt your feelings?”
“No,” he clips out.
“No?” Her hand is still on his face. She rubs her fingers over his stubble. “I like this. You usually shave.”
I wince.
Josh closes his eyes for a second, then wraps his hand around her wrist, gently pulling her away from him. “Don’t do that, Layla.” His voice is lower than usual. “You’re drunk. Go to bed.”
It’s like the reality of the situation suddenly hits her all at once. Layla jerks away, stumbling back and looking around the room with horrified eyes. “You’re right,” she says slowly. “Oh God. I’m sorry.”
“S’all good,” I tell her, patting the sofa next to me. “What’s some drunk propositioning between friends, eh? Come eat, honey.”
She blinks hard. “No, I… you guys were having a nice evening. And I came in, ate your food, offered you money to take me out, and then…” she turns to Josh, “rubbed your face like a total creep. I’m sorry.” Her cheeks are burning with embarrassment. “I think I should go,” she mumbles, bending to pick up her bag. “Thanks for the food.”
Josh frowns. “Hey. No. What’s wrong?”
“At least finish your dinner,” Luke says.
“You can have it. I’m fine.” She picks up her jacket, yanking her keys out of the pocket. Her breath hitches, but she tries to hide it with a cough. As she turns to the door, I see the tears streaking silently down her face.
My heart stops. I’ve never seen Layla cry. I never even imagined she could. I stand. “Layla—”
“L, come back,” Josh says, rubbing his eyes. “Shit. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
She shakes her head. “‘M not upset,” she mutters. “I, um… just… Sorry.”
Without another word, she steps out into the hall and lets the door swing shut behind her. Swearing under his breath, Josh strides after her, but Luke stops him.
“Let her go,” he says. “She’s embarrassed enough. Let her sleep it off.”
“I made her cry,” Josh says, looking anguished.
I sigh, slumping back on the sofa and picking up her bowl. “She’s gonna bloody hate herself in the morning,” I mutter, scooping up some more pasta. “Absolutely hate herself.”
***
FIVE
***
LAYLA
My first thought when I crack my eyes open the next morning is: shit, it’s bright.
I don’t usually wake up to daylight. I’m normally up and out the door on my morning run well before the sun has risen.
I groan and roll over. I feel like crap. My eyes are sandy and gritty. My head is pounding. My mouth feels like it’s had all the spit sucked out of it by one of those saliva hoovers they use at the dentist. All I want to do is go back to sleep, but judging by the light spilling in from my half-open blinds, it’s time for me to get up.Patting around my bedside table, I yank my phone off the charger and squint at the time.
Then I blink. Rub my eyes. Squint some more.
It’s eleven forty-five.
