“God,” Zack mutters, pressing even closer. His massive body shudders over mine as he starts to come. Normally, he’s as loud as a bear when he’s getting off; but now he’s staying completely silent, his teeth clenched shut like he’s trying to fight the pleasure away. I cling to him, sighing, feeling our bodies shake together in the darkening garden.
Eventually, the feeling seeps away, but I don’t let Zack go. Slowly, he sets me back onto the ground, holding me upright as my heels sink slightly into the wet grass. I lean against him, catching my breath. My heart is fluttering in my chest.
What we just did shouldn’t be romantic. There’s nothing poetic about an illicit shag behind a building. But somehow, it is. I stroke my fingers through Zack’s hair, watching how the glass lantern strokes his skin in gold. He looks beautiful out here, unravelled and out of breath. Tipping my head up, I press my lips to his, breathing in his soft exhale.
“I love you,” I murmur. I don’t think before I say it. The words just slip out, easy as breathing.
Zack flinches. He pulls back, and I finally see his eyes. They’re bloodshot and puffy.
My stomach drops. I didn’t imagine it. He really was crying. Something’s wrong. Is it his leg? Did I hurt him? I reach for him, cupping his jaw. “Zack—”
He lurches out of my grip and pulls his dress pants back up, securing the button. He’s breathing hard.
I smooth down the skirt of my dress and wipe gloss off my cheek, watching him closely. “Maybe we should go back to the room,” I say softly.
He swallows convulsively and shakes his head. “I can’t do this anymore,” he says, his voice like gravel.
Cold slips down my spine. I can tell by the tone of his voice that he isn’t just talking about the wedding.
“You can’t do what anymore?” I ask carefully.
He waves between us, not meeting my eyes. “This. The lessons. The… ‘dating’. The kissing, and the shagging, and the fake couple bullshit. We can’t do this anymore. I’m done. I’m done.”
SIXTY-TWO
LAYLA
It takes a few moments for his words to sink in.
“So, let me get this straight,” I say slowly. A cold breeze whispers through the garden, sending goosebumps prickling over my bare arms. “You came here to sleep with me one last time, and then break up with me.”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he says, his face a mask. “I had to… I had to check if I needed to end this. And I clearly do, if you think you’re in love with me.”
I study him as he tugs his shirt back into place, fiddling with his cuffs. I can feel my insides icing over.
“Give me back my key,” I say eventually.
His head jerks up. “What?”
“You have the key to my flat. Give it back. I don’t want you to have it.”
He looks at me like I’ve just slapped him in the face. “You’re mad at me,” he says hoarsely.
“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.