“He did most of the work.”
“Well,” I say. “I bet I’m a better cuddler than he is.”
She doesn’t respond.
“Did you hear what I said?” I ask helpfully. “I said I bet I’m a better cuddler than he is.”
She sighs, obviously still too sleepy to argue, and lifts the quilt, inviting me into the bed. “Come on, then.”
Finally. Dumping the food on her bedside table, I climb into the bed next to her. The pretty pink sheets are warm from her body. I wrap my arms around her, and she practically purrs, stretching to give me a little kiss.
I fight the urge to laugh at her. “You’re so sweet when you’re tired.”
“Need coffee to be a bitch,” she mumbles, burying her face in my chest. “You’re soft.”
Josh snorts. “Did you fix the t-shirts?”
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
ZACK
Luke sits on the end of her bed without a word.
“Okay.” Layla takes a deep breath, looking down into her coffee cup as she thinks. “Back when I was in high school,” she starts, “I was pretty different to how I am now. I was shy. Quiet. There was this guy I liked. Donny Pritchard.”
Luke flinches.
“The guy at the bar?” I surmise, and she nods.
“He was two years older than me, but he got held back because he was, like, really thick. But he was handsome and over six foot, so all the girls fancied him anyway. One day when I was sixteen, he asked me out completely out of the blue. I was shocked; I didn’t realise he knew I existed. But of course I said yes.”
Josh and I exchange a look. I don’t like how this is going.
“About a week after we started dating,” she continues, “he brought me into the PE changing rooms at lunch time. We were snogging, and he asked me to take off my shirt. I told him I wasn’t ready.” She scowls. “He got mad. He told me that he never really liked me; he’d asked me out for a dare. I started crying and ran home. And by the time I got to school the next day, everyone was looking at me differently. Whispering about me behind their hands.” Her mouth twists. “Apparently, he’d told everyone I’d blown him in the changing room, and let him come on my face.”
I almost gag.
“What?” Luke demands. Josh stays silent, just looking at her.
She takes a calm sip of coffee. “That same day, I overheard twenty different rumours about me. I’d screwed three guys at once. I’d whacked off my maths teacher for a better grade. I had crabs, I had herpes, I was a diagnosed sex addict.” She laughs bitterly. “I was a virgin, for God’s sake. But still, all the girls hated me because they thought I’d steal their boyfriends away. The boys catcalled me in the hallways. I literally got propositioned about twenty times that day. Please, babe. Five quid for a blowie. I know you did it for Donny, why not me? You think you’re too good for me? I had my locker graffitied. My stuff destroyed. Rubbish thrown at me.”
“Jesus,” I mutter. “Jesus.”
She studies her nails, her face blank. “I kept waiting for it to blow over, but it never did. For the next three years, I was the resident school slag.” Her face darkens. “And all of it happened because one stupid guy couldn’t take no for an answer.” She frowns up at Luke. “But it wasn’t your fault.”
“Do you think this is why you struggle to date now?” Josh asks carefully. I glance across at him. He’s trying to hide it, but he looks murderous; every muscle in his body is tense, and his jaw is clenched tight.
Layla shrugs. “Probably. It makes sense.” She fiddles with her coffee. “Sometimes I think about what would have happened if I had agreed to sleep with him. The rumours were awful, but at least I knew they were made up. If I’d actually slept with Donny, and then all this stuff came out, it would’ve ruined me. I don’t think I’d ever be able to get over that amount of shame.” She twists her fingers together. “So, yeah. It’s hard to trust a stranger with my body now, I guess.”
My heart feels like it’s cracking in my chest. Without thinking, I reach forward and gather her up, pulling her into me. For a second, she stiffens, and I think she’s going to pull away; but then she softens, laying her head on my chest.
“Thank you,” she says, her voice muffled.
“For what?” Josh strokes the back of her hand.
“Helping me get over this. Even if, like, I didn’t actually tell you what I needed to get over.”