Zack sits up, his usual easygoing grin swiping off his face. “Stop,” he rumbles. “Don’t talk about yourself like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re not the biggest catch in the bloody room.” His voice is stern. “You wanna know what I see when I look at you?” I don’t say anything. He tugs at my hair. “Gorgeous hair. Gorgeous eyes. Killer smile, when you actually let yourself do it.”
“You’re telling me to smile?” I ask, my voice hitching as he drags his big hand down to my waist. “Where’d you learn that line? The builders across the road?”
He shakes his head firmly. “You’re right. No smilin’. You’d probably start a stampede. Keep your smiles for me.” His hand slides down my hip. I swallow as he gives my bum a squeeze. “You’re smart. You’re driven. You have the best backside I ever saw. You’re an absolute knockout, babe. So what if you’re shy? If people judge you for that, they don’t deserve you.”
Josh nods. “He’s right, L. It’s okay for you to be awkward. Just accept it. Don’t freak out and go cold when you can’t think of what to say.”
I sigh. “Okay.” I reach for my notebook, but Josh puts his hand on mine, stopping me.
“You don’t need that,” he says quietly.
I look down at his big, tanned hand on mine, then glance back up at him. His dark eyes drink me in.
For the first time in a long time, I really look at my two best friends. I see what every other girl in this pub is seeing.
I know they’re both attractive. When I first moved in, I was shocked at how hot they were. Josh, with his angular features, square shoulders, and inky black hair. Zack with his huge Viking frame, long blonde hair and easy grin. I’m not blind, but after I slowly became friends with them, I didn’t let myself think of them like that anymore. I haven’t had real friends since I was a kid. I didn’t want to mess it up.
“You’re not a smooth person,” Josh continues, curling his thumb into my palm. “That’s fine. Not everyone is. We live in a society that idealises hyper-confident extroverts, but really, they’re no better than people who are awkward or quiet or introverted. They just have a different set of skills. You don’t have to pretend you’re anything you’re not.”
“Aye,” Zack agrees, leaning closer. His warm breath fans over my face. “I personally find your inability to speak very charming.”
“Um. Thanks.” I shiver as he tucks some hair behind my ear. “Are we flirting, too, now?”
His eyes twinkle. “You’re blushin’, buttercup, so I would say yes.” He trails a finger over my cheek. “I’m getting jealous. It’s my turn to make you go pink.” Suddenly, our faces are very close. I can see all the pale blonde lashes framing his bright blue eyes.
He’s close enough to kiss.
Nerves burst up in my stomach, and I turn quickly back to my drink. I haven’t kissed somebody in years. I’ll probably be crap at it. I’ve already embarrassed myself enough in front of the guys for one night.
I guess my thoughts must show up on my face, because Josh leans in, reading my expression. “You okay?”
“Hm?”
He touches the side of my face. “You look overwhelmed. We can give you a breather, if you want. Go outside, or whatever.”
I open my mouth, then close it again.
Honestly, I am overwhelmed. Sitting here, sandwiched between them, is more than I can handle. Josh’s gaze stays fixed on me as Zack leans closer, brushing a kiss over my temple. There’s a sudden hot throb between my thighs.
Oh, God.
I’ll take this secret to the grave, but this, right here, is what gets me off more than anything else. The idea of being shared. I don’t know why, but there’s something about being pinned between two guys that is sending my ovaries into overdrive. It feels safe, and warm, and… hot. I can’t think straight. My heart is going so fast I can barely get a breath in. This is the kind of scenario that I think about when I’m in bed at night. My wildest, most secret fantasy. But in my daydreams, the guys have never had faces. They’ve certainly never been my best friends.
I look down at my drink. “I’m fine.” I clear my throat. “You guys are good at this. Sharing a date.”
“Well,” Josh says. “We’ve done it before. We only broke up with Monica a while ago.”
I roll my eyes. “Right. Of course. Monica.”
The guys have this running joke on the podcast, about how all three of them once dated the same girl at the same time. Monica. They bring her up whenever they answer a question about group sex. She’s become an inside gag at this point; I’ve even seen fans draw art of her with all the guys.
She’s not real. There’s no way. They just made her up for the podcast. I can definitely imagine Zack having a four-way, but for Josh, it seems highly unlikely. And there’s no way in Hell that Luke would share a girl with two other men. He’s too polite. He probably only has very gentle missionary sex while he tenderly strokes his girlfriend’s cheek and looks her lovingly in the eyes.
I blink away the image. Jesus. What’s wrong with me? Why am I thinking about Luke in bed?
Josh is still looking at me, heat burning in his eyes. “How about I get you that drink?” He says smoothly. “I think we’re overdoing it. You look like you’re having a stroke.”
“Such romance from my fake-boyfriend,” I say weakly. “I’ll have a water, please.” I need to cool down.
He nods. “Back in a few.” He stands, touches the top of my head lightly, then slides out of the booth. As he walks away from the table, for some reason, I can’t stop my gaze from falling below his belt. Has he always worn such tight jeans? I can clearly see the lines of his thick thighs, leading up to his tight bum.
“D’you want me to bend over for you as well, creampuff?” Zack whispers in my ear, making me jump. “I’m getting jealous.”
I turn and look at him. He gives me a hopeful smile.
I pick up another ice cube and slip it down the collar of his shirt, making him howl.
THIRTEEN
ZACK
It takes a few hours, but Layla eventually loosens up. Over a couple of rounds of pub food and beer, her awkwardness fades away, and she gets more comfortable. She’s actually very good at flirting, which doesn’t surprise me — she’s got a sharp tongue and a good sense of humour. She keeps trying to make notes in her little book, so eventually I confiscate it, and the conversation gets much more natural after that. By the time the pub rings the bell for last call, she’s cuddled between me and Josh, flushed pink and chatting up a storm. Josh and I both hold one of her hands as we walk her home, and by the time we get her back to our apartment building, she looks like most girls look after a date with me: horny.
Sounds like a knob thing to say, but she really does. Her cheeks are all pink, she’s leaning into my arm, and her eyes keep flicking between my mouth and my biceps. I make sure to flex, so she gets a good show, and her cheeks get even darker.
Who’d have thought it? Layla Thompson isn’t immune to muscles.
We pull up outside my door, and she pulls away from us, clearing her throat. “What now?”
Josh leans against the wall and looks at her silently. He honestly surprised me when he threw himself into the bar flirting role play — but now, he’s clammed back up again.
“Well,” I say slowly. “We end the date.”
Her eyes narrow. “How do we do that?”
Josh shoves his hands into his pockets. “Guess.”
She glances at her bedroom door. “We just… go home?”
I roll my eyes. “I ain’t done that since I was eighteen, love. I don’t tend to walk women to their doors and then just drive off.”
Maybe if I actually dated, I would. But it’s not exactly how one-night-stands work, is it?
She tilts her head. “What do you do?”
“Honestly?” I rub my beard, looking at my door. “I’d usually pick you up, toss you on my couch, and have my face between your legs before the door even swung shut. But I ain’t sure that’s the best method for this experiment.”