It did. It tore my heart apart. “It was fine,” I say blandly.
Her cheeks flush with anger. “It’s not fine! I don’t want to hurt you, Josh! I don’t want you to let me hurt you! Why didn’t you tell me you had feelings for me?”
“My feelings didn’t matter.” My voice sounds robotic. “I wanted to help you. This was never about me.”
She glances around my room, taking in the books on my shelves and the collage of wedding invites pinned above my desk. “No,” she says slowly. “Nothing you do ever is, is it? God, you’re so annoying.”
I tip my head up, looking at her. “I wish I had a better reason,” I say honestly. “I don’t. I was a coward. I wanted you so badly, but I was scared you’d say no.” I swallow hard. “Being your friend was better than nothing.”
“You could’ve just told me.”
“You weren’t ready to hear it. There’d be no point.”
She looks startled. “What do you mean?”
I sigh, wiping a hand over my face. “If I’d told you that I was in love with you before this whole experiment started, what would you have done?”
“I would’ve asked you out for a drink.”
“No,” I say softly. “You wouldn’t. Try again.”
She considers for a few seconds. “I would’ve run for the hills,” she admits eventually.
“Even with your ten-year-plan?”
Her shoulders slump. She crosses her arms over her stomach. “I think we can agree that the ten-year-plan was just a crutch. You’re right. I would’ve left.”
I nod. “Before we started this, you weren’t looking to be loved. You wanted to find a boyfriend the same way you want to find laundry detergent at the grocery store. To cross an item off your list.”
She presses her lips together.
“I’m not blaming you,” I say quickly. “Not at all. This is on me, not on you. But that’s why I lied. Because if I told you how much I loved you, I would have lost you. And I couldn’t lose you, L. I couldn’t. I…” I trail off, rubbing my chest. Even the thought takes my breath away. “The last time I lost someone I loved, it almost killed me,” I force out, my voice strangled. “I don’t know if I can do it again. You’re the most important person in my life right now.”
Her eyes flick to the picture of my mum, carefully tacked to the bottom of my noticeboard. Understanding shimmers across her face. Another pang of self-hatred spikes through me.
After my mum died, I used to wish that the grief could hit me all at once. If it was just one massive wash of pain, I could’ve fought through it. Let it make me stronger. But it’s not like that. It’s like a tap dripping, steadily eroding you away. It doesn’t make you strong; it only ever makes you weaker. And now, over a decade later, I’m apparently so weak that I’ll lie to the person I love most in the world, just to keep her close to me. “Some days, there’s not much fight left in me,” I admit. “It was easier to lie. So I didn’t have to lose you.”
Her eyes gleam at me in the low light, completely unreadable. “So you pushed me away.”
“Yeah. I did. I’m sorry.”
She crosses her arms over her stomach. “Well. I guess I can’t really blame you,” she says. “I was doing the same thing, right? I was using that stupid list to push everyone else away. Including you.” She looks down, taking a deep breath. “You don’t get hurt by bullet points.”
“Layla…”
“I think you’ve probably noticed by now,” she says, her voice wavering. “I am so scared of people hurting me. But—” She steels herself. “I think I trust you, anyway.”
My heart jumps in my chest. I reach out and take her hand. She watches, curling her fingers into mine. “I can’t promise I won’t hurt you,” I say levelly. “I’m sure I will. But I promise that when I do, it will never, ever be on purpose. And I’ll find some way to fix it. I will.”
Her whole face changes. As soon as the words leave my mouth, it’s like the sun’s come out from behind a cloud. “I believe you,” she says slowly. “I trust you. I do.”
And then she falls on me. Literally — her body just sort of collapses onto my lap. I wind my arms around her waist, pulling her close, breathing in her sweet scent. She tugs my mouth to hers, and for the first time in a long while, my body relaxes.
Kissing Layla feels like taking off a heavy backpack, or finally getting to lie down after spending hours on your feet. It feels like waking up for work, and realising that it’s the weekend, and you can spend all morning in your warm bed. It feels like safety, and relief, and happiness. It just feels right.
“I’m sorry,” she says into my mouth. “Sorry I left you. Sorry, sorry.”
“I’m sorry I lied to you.”
“I love you,” she breathes, and my heart expands in my chest. I force myself to pull away. She looks down at me, her green eyes soft and dark.
I curl my thumb under her cheek. “I love you too,” I say quietly. “I missed you so much, L.”
A shiver runs through her. “Sap,” she whispers, and I smile, pulling her mouth back to mine.
SEVENTY-NINE
LAYLA
We spend the rest of the evening together, tangled up on the guys’ couch. I’m exhausted, but I don’t want to go to bed. As early evening slips into night, the sun sets over London, washing our bodies with gold and red light, and then eventually fading into darkness.
We spend most of that time kissing. Slow and gentle. Hard and passionate. And everything in between.
A few months ago, I hated kissing. I thought it was boring. Now, every second takes my breath away. The hours slide away without me realising.
Even when our mouths aren’t firmly locked together, we don’t talk much. There’s some idle chatter, but nothing deep or personal. It feels like we’re inside a delicate little soap bubble. I’m scared of popping it and ruining the moment. I’ve been so heartbroken for so long, and suddenly, all of that pain has gone. I can breathe again. More than that — I’m happy. My whole body is thrumming with endorphins. It’s like every cell in me was missing the guys, and now that we’re back together again, I can finally relax.
A few months ago, the thought that I could be so attached to other people would scare me. To be honest, it still does. But I trust the men. I have to.
Sometime after the sun goes down, Josh’s phone starts pinging. He pulls it out and frowns at the screen.
“You can let go of me, you know,” I tell Zack, who has his arm around me like a vice as he draws patterns on my thigh with his fingertips.
“Can I?” He doesn’t move. He hasn’t for the past twenty minutes. Now, I think it’s clear that we’re not experts at this whole ‘group relationships’ thing — but I’m pretty sure it’s supposed to involve some more sharing.
“I won’t run away.” I try to stand, and he yanks me back down, settling me back into the crook of his arm and sighing happily. “Zack.”
“What do you need? Luke will get it.”
“Get what? A catheter? I need to pee, for Christ’s sake.”
He pats my knee. “You can do it here, I don’t mind.”
“Zachary.”
He heaves a massive sigh and lets me go. “Fine. I’ll miss you.”
I stand and shuffle along to the other side of the sofa, plopping myself down on Josh’s lap. His arms come to wrap around me immediately, and he buries his face in my hair, breathing deep. On my left, Luke takes my hand.
Zack makes an outraged noise and scoots closer on my other side. “You little liar.”
“You need to learn to share. You’ve had me for ages.” I kiss Josh’s cheek. “He looked sad.”
Josh doesn’t deny it, just tugs me closer into him, stroking my knee. “I love you,” he says into my cheek, and I just about melt.
“Me, too.” I twist in his lap, trying to get a look at his phone. “What’s up? Is there a problem?”
He sighs, tightening his grip on me. “Nothing we weren’t expecting. One of our sponsors for the next month has pulled out. They don’t want to be seen ‘associating with our brand’ apparently.”
“What? Why?” I sit up, alarmed. “Oh, God. Is it because of me?”