I look down at my drink. “I’m fine.” I clear my throat. “You guys are good at this. Sharing a date.”
“Well,” Josh says. “We’ve done it before. We only broke up with Monica a while ago.”
I roll my eyes. “Right. Of course. Monica.”
The guys have this running joke on the podcast, about how all three of them once dated the same girl at the same time. Monica. They bring her up whenever they answer a question about group sex. She’s become an inside gag at this point; I’ve even seen fans draw art of her with all the guys.
She’s not real. There’s no way. They just made her up for the podcast. I can definitely imagine Zack having a four-way, but for Josh, it seems highly unlikely. And there’s no way in Hell that Luke would share a girl with two other men. He’s too polite. He probably only has very gentle missionary sex while he tenderly strokes his girlfriend’s cheek and looks her lovingly in the eyes.
I blink away the image. Jesus. What’s wrong with me? Why am I thinking about Luke in bed?
Josh is still looking at me, heat burning in his eyes. “How about I get you that drink?” He says smoothly. “I think we’re overdoing it. You look like you’re having a stroke.”
“Such romance from my fake-boyfriend,” I say weakly. “I’ll have a water, please.” I need to cool down.
He nods. “Back in a few.” He stands, touches the top of my head lightly, then slides out of the booth. As he walks away from the table, for some reason, I can’t stop my gaze from falling below his belt. Has he always worn such tight jeans? I can clearly see the lines of his thick thighs, leading up to his tight bum.
“D’you want me to bend over for you as well, creampuff?” Zack whispers in my ear, making me jump. “I’m getting jealous.”
I turn and look at him. He gives me a hopeful smile.
I pick up another ice cube and slip it down the collar of his shirt, making him howl.
THIRTEEN
ZACK
It takes a few hours, but Layla eventually loosens up. Over a couple of rounds of pub food and beer, her awkwardness fades away, and she gets more comfortable. She’s actually very good at flirting, which doesn’t surprise me — she’s got a sharp tongue and a good sense of humour. She keeps trying to make notes in her little book, so eventually I confiscate it, and the conversation gets much more natural after that. By the time the pub rings the bell for last call, she’s cuddled between me and Josh, flushed pink and chatting up a storm. Josh and I both hold one of her hands as we walk her home, and by the time we get her back to our apartment building, she looks like most girls look after a date with me: horny.
Sounds like a knob thing to say, but she really does. Her cheeks are all pink, she’s leaning into my arm, and her eyes keep flicking between my mouth and my biceps. I make sure to flex, so she gets a good show, and her cheeks get even darker.
Who’d have thought it? Layla Thompson isn’t immune to muscles.
We pull up outside my door, and she pulls away from us, clearing her throat. “What now?”
Josh leans against the wall and looks at her silently. He honestly surprised me when he threw himself into the bar flirting role play — but now, he’s clammed back up again.
“Well,” I say slowly. “We end the date.”
Her eyes narrow. “How do we do that?”
Josh shoves his hands into his pockets. “Guess.”
She glances at her bedroom door. “We just… go home?”
I roll my eyes. “I ain’t done that since I was eighteen, love. I don’t tend to walk women to their doors and then just drive off.”
Maybe if I actually dated, I would. But it’s not exactly how one-night-stands work, is it?
She tilts her head. “What do you do?”
“Honestly?” I rub my beard, looking at my door. “I’d usually pick you up, toss you on my couch, and have my face between your legs before the door even swung shut. But I ain’t sure that’s the best method for this experiment.”
“Oh.” She pauses, but doesn’t try to move away. Interesting.
“I think the gentlemanly thing to do would be to kiss you goodnight,” I offer, ignoring Josh’s glare. Layla immediately freezes, her eyes widening.
I frown. “Uh oh. Here’s something.” I wind my arm around her shoulders, pulling her in. She’s stiff, her body suddenly tight with tension. “Wanna tell me what’s wrong?” I ask. “I know that it can’t be me you have an issue with. Never met a girl who didn’t wanna kiss me.”