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“Yes,” I say. “I am.”
He shakes his head. “Layla, that’s not fair. You know it’s not.”
“How is it not fair? It’s how I feel.”
“You promised.” His voice gets louder, shaking slightly. “You said you understood that this wasn’t going to turn into anything. You knew this would just be lessons, you said you were fine with it, so don’t look at me like that!”
“Like what?”
“Like… I’m the villain here. Don’t look at me like I’m hurting you—”
“I can’t help it!” I snap. “You are hurting me!”
He shakes his head slowly, his face dark with anger. “I told you I didn’t want this to get in the way of our friendship. You said it wouldn’t!” He jams a hand in his hair. “Is that it, then? I either date you, or I have to lose one of the best friends I have? Don’t you see how manipulative that is? You can’t force me to love you, Layla. And if you’re hanging out for that, you’ll be waiting a bloody long time. Because it will never happen.”
My mouth falls open. I can’t believe this is happening. “This hurts me, Zack! You hurt me! Do you expect me to want to hang out on your sofa and eat ice cream with you, after you slept with me and dropped me like a used condom?”
“That’s not what—”
“You came here to shag me one last time before you turned me down. You pinned me up against a wall, you came inside me, and then you broke up with me before you even did your belt up! No, we are not friends anymore!”
He doesn’t say anything.
I shake my head, trying to calm down. “Look, this spiralled out of control. We can both admit that. But I’m not going to apologise for something that you also took part in. This stupid ‘experiment’ didn’t require you to have your hands up my skirt 24/7. You chose to flirt with me constantly. To climb into my bed every night. To book us into a Honeymoon Suite like we’re a goddamn married couple. I didn’t make you do any of that! That was all you. So don’t stand there acting like I’m a crazy, overreacting, manipulative bitch when we both did this together!”
“This is unfair,” he whispers. “You’re being unfair. You knew what you were getting into, I told you these were just lessons—”
“No,” I cut him off. “You want to know what’s unfair? You made me trust you. You told me, over and over again, to open up and be honest with you. You made me feel safe and loved and comfortable. And now, when you’ve finally peeled away every defence I used to have, you’ve decided to have one last quickie with me, and then break up with me while your goddamn come is still inside me?! And you’re somehow telling me that it’s my fault, when you’re treating me like a fricking flesh light? What the Hell is wrong with you?! You’re not my friend, you don’t respect me at all! No friend would treat me like that!” I take a deep breath. “Hell, the guys back in high school hated me. They spread lies about me. They made me feel like a dirty, worthless slapper, but at least none of them tricked me into letting them inside me.”
I take a step forward, so we’re standing chest to chest. I can feel his heart hammering under his shirt. His hard eyes don’t leave mine. “That’s the cruel part in this, Zack. So stop lying to yourself, and get it through your thick head that you are just as much to blame as me.”
He doesn’t say anything. My voice dies away, fading into the still garden. Seconds pass.
Eventually, he presses his lips together. “So that’s it,” he says. “We’re not friends anymore.”
“No, we are not. Now get the Hell out of here.” He doesn’t move. I feel emotion bubbling up in my throat, a big salty seawave of sadness, and fight the urge to burst into tears. “Now!” I shout. “Get away from me!”
He clamps his jaw shut. His eyes are burning black holes in his face. Slowly, he turns and leaves, heading back the way we came. His footsteps crunch heavily through the grass. I wait until he’s completely out of sight, then slump back against the garden wall, pressing my cheek against the cold brick. Pain floods through me.
I don’t understand how this keeps happening. I don’t know why I’m always the easy option. There’s just something about me which makes men think it’s okay to use me.I don’t know why.
It wouldn’t hurt so much if it wasn’t Zack. Zack, who is, by all means, a grown-up Donny Pritchard. He’s the popular jock. The one that women fawn over. The one who could have any girl he wants. He goes through women like they’re disposable tissues, and I let him. After Donny, I swore I’d never fall for someone who would hurt me again, and I did. I did.
Tears fill my eyes, my cheeks heating as old memories from my teenage years flow back.
I try to reason with myself. I know it’s not the same thing. Zack is being a prick, but he’s not a sixteen-year-old boy trying to coerce me in the PE changing rooms. It’s not like he’s going to go around telling everyone that I’m easy.
Even if that obviously is what he thinks.
God. I’ve been such an idiot.
Bending over, I pick up my clutch from where I dropped it in the wet grass, pulling out my phone to text Luke and Josh.
LAYLA: I’m going home. Give my congrats to the bride.
Neither man responds. Whatever. I flick through my phone to a car service app, typing in the hotel’s address. I’m sick of tonight. I just want to go home. The nearest vehicle is fifteen minutes away, which is just enough time for me to pack, so I order it, then shove my phone back down the front of my dress, stumbling out of the alcove and back towards the hotel.
The ballroom blurs around me as I push my way through the party, weaving through people dancing and drinking like I’m in a dream. I’ve almost made it to the door leading to the hotel atrium when I hear my name.
