“And it’s all because of you,” Paul says dreamily. I nod, staring as Layla kisses Luke, slowly starting to rock on his lap. A moan filters through the lounge. Jesus Christ. Is she riding him? With the bedroom door open?
“This was your idea. You should be proud of yourself. God, I can’t believe that Briar Saint tweeted about you.”
I smile slightly. On Monday morning, the actress Briar Saint tweeted about us, and all of our steady momentum just exploded. Suddenly, everyone was messaging us. Our email inboxes have been constantly full. Our PO box is overflowing with sponsored items and free gifts from companies that want to work with us. Layla gave an interview for a London-based fashion magazine a few days ago, and she’s had to hire three more seamstresses to help her keep on top of all of the orders. London PodFest even got in touch yesterday, and told us that there was so much demand for entry to our live show that they’ve upgraded us to the largest auditorium in the building. We’ll be talking for a thousand people — by far the biggest crowd we’ve ever recorded in front of.
Paul is pretty much shitting himself. He sent us all boxes of chocolates this morning, and when we went to record in the studio last week, he was there with bottles of Prosecco. We’re now his biggest clients. And it’s all because of Layla.
There’s another moan from the bedroom. I glance at Layla. She’s riding Luke now, holding onto the headboard for balance. As I watch, she tosses her hair back, then shoots a look at me over her shoulder, green eyes glittering. She’s doing this on purpose.
“You don’t sound very happy,” Paul chides. “This show is your baby. I thought you’d be over the moon.”
“Of course I’m happy,” I tell him. “I never thought the podcast would do this well.” Layla is panting now, her thighs straining as she bobs up and down over Luke’s dick. I can see the sweat sheening her skin, a flush slowly climbing up her chest as she screws him hard. The sight should probably just get me hard, but instead, it makes something flutter inside my chest.
I’ve been screwed ever since Mother’s Day. Since she burst into my room half-naked, climbed up into my lap, and stayed with me. I miss my mum all the time, but usually, it’s just a background hum. But every so often the grief hits me all at once, and it hurts so much I get physically sick. On Mother’s Day, with Luke and Zack both gone and nothing to do but think, it felt like I was dying. Like my organs were shutting down.
And then she came, and took me to her flat, and just held me. There was no hesitation. No holding back. She just instinctively knew what I needed and did it for me.
I don’t want you to be alone right now.
Ever since then, I can’t even look at her without my heart clenching in my chest. Every room she walks into seems brighter. The sky seems bluer. I can’t get her out of my head.
I’ve never been in love. I don’t know what it feels like. But I wouldn’t be surprised if it felt like this.
As I watch, Layla finally comes, slamming her hand against the headboard with a muffled cry. Luke follows soon after, pulling her into his chest as she trembles. I grimace, adjusting myself in my suddenly-tight jeans.
“What was that?” Paul asks down the line. “Are you watching a movie?”
“I have to go,” I tell him. “I’ll talk to you Tuesday. Have a good weekend. None of us will be available.”
“What? Bu—”
“We’re going on holiday. Bye.” I hang up and set my phone on the coffee table, heading to Layla’s room. Her and Luke are tangled together on her bed, panting. Zack is sitting next to them, fully dressed, a hungry look on his face as he watches.
“It’s rude to have sex with the door open,” I tell Layla.
“Is it?” She gasps, pushing Luke away. “I wasn’t trying to be rude. I was trying to be inviting.” I try not to stare at her trembling, sweat-slicked cleavage as she gasps for breath.
“Um. Aren’t you supposed to be packing? We’re leaving in half an hour.”
“I am packing,” Layla insists, climbing out of Luke’s lap and slithering into Zack’s.
“Our little cornflake was just giving us a fashion show,” Zack announces, pulling her close. “She wanted us to pick what pants she should bring with her. But it’s hard not to jump on her when she’s dressed like this. You’d do the same thing.”
“I would,” I admit.
Layla smiles, grinding against his crotch. “How do you like this one?” She asks, plucking at the blood-red babydoll slip she’s wearing. Before I can answer, her phone buzzes on the table. She waves at me. “Can you pass it?”
I hand it over. Zack groans as she shuffles off his lap and checks the screen. “Seriously?” He flops back onto the bed. “Honey, we’ve talked about this. We don’t answer emails when we’re sitting on our boyfriend’s knob. Really, you should know this by now, it’s a week-one lesson!”
“Easy for you to say,” Layla mutters, flipping through her phone. “You guys get to clock out at the end of the day. Become self-employed, and see how often you get to put your phone on silent. I’m waiting on like, ten different emails.”
Zack huffs. Luke stretches out behind her, laying his head silently on her shoulder. Layla smiles, not looking away from her phone as she threads a hand through his hair.
Luke has changed completely since he finally gave in and started dating Layla. It’s like a dark cloud hanging over his head has just dissolved. I guess he’s had feelings for her for longer than he’d like to admit. Knowing him, they were probably eating him up inside.
He took her on their first official one-on-one date yesterday night. Apparently they went to a sky restaurant; ate some fancy dinner at the top of a skyscraper in central London. I’m sure it was incredibly romantic. It’s a bit unfair, really. Luke’s had way more experience in wooing women than me and Zack. Still, he joined the game so late, he has some catching up to do. I watch as he nuzzles into Layla’s neck, smiling into her skin.
It’s crazy how happy this one girl can make all of us.
“Hey. Spaghetti hoop. You good?”
Zack’s question brings me back to Earth. I turn to look at Layla. She’s tense against Luke, gripping her phone so hard her knuckles are white as she reads the screen.
“Layla?” I ask. “Something wrong?” She doesn’t answer, so I kneel in front of her. “L. Hey. What is it?”
“I got it.” She’s breathing hard.
“Got what?”
She takes a deep breath, not taking her eyes off the screen. “I got it. I… can’t believe it.”
I raise an eyebrow.
“Remember when we taught you about nouns?” Luke asks. “You were about eight at the time. Could you try using a few now? You got what, sweetheart?”
“The scholarship!”
It takes a few seconds for her meaning to click. “With Anna Bardet? The one you thought you couldn’t land?”
She nods, her face flushed with pleasure, and happiness shoots through me like a comet. Without even thinking, I wrap my arms around her and pick her right up, spinning her around.
“Layla, that’s amazing.”
“Put me down, you knob.” She kicks my ankle, but she’s smiling.
I pull her closer. “I’m so proud of you,” I tell her. She locks her arms around my neck and starts kissing the side of my throat, making me hiss.
“I’m not surprised,” Luke says from the bed. “She’d be mad not to choose you.”
“Damn straight,” Zack agrees. “Sounds like we got something else to celebrate.”
“Speaking of,” I say, dodging Layla’s attempts to lick my neck, and setting her carefully down on the carpet. “Come on. You need to get packing.”
She frowns. “I’m almost done.”
I glance down at the clothes carefully arranged in her pink suitcase. She’s packed for a pretty basic trip; she has one dress I’m assuming she’s wearing to the wedding, and then a handful of jeans and t-shirts.
Zack sniffs, poking at a black sweater. “You’ll want something fancier than this.”
She bats her eyes at him. “You’re taking me somewhere nice?”
“I ain’t saying anything.”
Layla turns to me, her eyes questioning.
“You might need some more clothes,” I tell her. “We have a surprise for you.”
FORTY-FIVE
LAYLA