“Advertise?” It does make sense. The guys have a mostly female audience. I bet they have loads of listeners who would buy underwear. “Okay,” I agree. “An advertisement slot.”
Josh nods, making a mark on his paper. “How does thirty seconds sound?”
“A minute,” I counter. “And not just a repeated script during your ad break. I want an actual back-and-forth with you guys about my products. In every episode that I’m in.”
Zack whistles. “You drive a hard bargain, pet. God, what a chore. How on earth am I gonna talk with you about thongs for a whole minute?!”
Josh studies me for a moment, then nods, writing something down. “Done.”
Luke shakes his head. “This is ridiculous,” he mutters.
I turn to him. He looks more pissed off than I’ve ever seen him. He’s usually so gentle and mild-mannered. “You don’t want to do it?”
“No,” he says flatly. “I don’t want to take one of my former students on fake dates to entertain a bunch of strangers.”
Oh. “Then why am I here?” I ask.
“He doesn’t have a choice. We outvote him,” Zack says casually.
“Of course he has a choice. I’m not going to demand that he takes me out on dates if he doesn’t want to.”
Luke takes a deep breath. “I’ll narrate the segment, if you like. Handle the scripts and the social media. But I’m not joining in.” He stands, pushing back his chair. “And I think you should think very carefully before agreeing to this, Layla. There’s nothing wrong with you that these two idiots can fix.” He picks up his drink and leaves, heading for his bedroom. “Message me when you come to a decision.”
We all watch as he disappears down the hallway.
“Ignore him,” Zack says, when his bedroom door claps shut. “He’s been in a weird mood ever since his ex sent him her wedding invite.”
I wince, suddenly feeling bad.
I actually remember when Luke got divorced. It must have been about ten years ago. Back when he taught me English, he was married to the high school’s headmistress, Mrs Martins. He’d started the school year bubbling over with enthusiasm. He was one of the few teachers in the school who really cared about us. He bought us all books, took us to the theatre, stayed after class for hours to help struggling students. We were all in love with him.
Then, halfway through the year, he changed. I remember him coming to school haggard and tired-looking, his clothes crumpled. We had two months off for summer, and by the time we got back in September, Luke was nowhere to be found, and Mrs Martins was now Miss Jones.
It’s been ten years, and as far as I know, he’s not dated since. So I’m not surprised he doesn’t want to fake-date me.
“Is it really fair to do this if he doesn’t want to take part?” I ask.
Josh shrugs. “It’s like he said. He doesn’t have to get involved in the fake-dating part, if he doesn’t want to.” He sits a little straighter, flicking through his papers. “Alright. If you’re happy to do this, we’re going to draw up a lesson plan. When are you free for a first date?”
“Monday evening is good.”
“Great. We’ll record an introduction to the segment tomorrow morning, then on Monday we’ll take you out to get some drinks, and see how you feel in a real-life date situation.”
My mouth quirks. He’s being so serious. It’s hardly surprising —Josh takes everything seriously. Above everything else, he’s a businessman. “Okay. Let’s do it.” I look over at the written contract Josh has been drafting. “Do you want me to sign, or something?” I reach for the paper, but Zack pushes it away from me.
“One more thing,” he says, his voice suddenly serious. “And this is gonna make me sound like a prick, but I gotta put it out there.” He smiles, his blue eyes kind. “This ain’t going anywhere. Okay? We’ll do the segment, get you nice and irresistible to men, and then release you into the wild like a baby bird. We ain’t gonna end up dating.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You do know that I’m not secretly in love with you, right?”
He grins. “Aye, I figured as much. But God knows how many times I’ve slept casually with a chick, and she ended up catching feelings. And it ain’t her fault,” he says quickly, seeing my expression. “You can’t help your emotions. But, like. I love you, Layla. I don’t want you getting hurt. Not by me, or Josh, or a stupid segment on our dumb podcast.” He puts his big hand over mine. “And if that thought enters your head, we’re gonna have to end this. ‘Cause I ain’t ruining our friendship.”