“I…” she licks her lips, glancing back at her own door. “It’s just…”
“C’mon.” I pet her cheek. “Tell us. You’ve got nothing to lose. We’re your best friends, we already love you.”
She sighs, her shoulders drooping. “I’m just not a good kisser.”
I stare at her. She stares back at me, her green eyes dark and dilated, her red-painted lips parted. She’s seriously standing here looking like every guy’s wet dream, telling me she’s a bad kisser.
No. No way. Nope. I’m not letting this slide.
I unlock the door to my apartment, gently pushing her inside. “In. We’re talking about this.”
“But—”
I shake my head. “I do not appreciate this kind of negative talk, Layla. There is no way you’re a bad kisser. We’re sorting this out. Now.”
Layla looks incredibly embarrassed as I march her towards the sofa and sit her down. Luckily, it seems like Luke is out — all the lights are off in the flat, so he’s probably at the library or something. I doubt he’d approve of what I’m about to do.
Slumping down by Layla’s side, I wait for Josh to sit in the armchair opposite, then wrap my arm around her waist. “Alright, pumpkin.” I squeeze her hip. “Tell your favourite boyfriend what’s wrong.”
She rolls her eyes, trying to shuffle away, but I hold her tight. “It’s like I said. I’m a bad kisser.”
Josh shakes his head. “No. There’s no way.”
“How could you possibly know that? You’ve never kissed me!”
“I know you have good dental hygiene,” he counters, “and I seriously doubt you try to lick the other person’s tonsils when you go in.”
She shudders.
“Exactly. So you’re not a bad kisser.”
“But I’m not a good kisser, either,” she protests. “I don’t like to do things okay. I want to get them right. But you can’t practice kissing on your own, and I haven’t kissed anyone in years. How am I supposed to be confident on a date when I’m not even confident at kissing?”
I’m confused. “Hang on. You ain’t kissed anybody in years? You said you have one-night-stands.”
She nods. “Yeah. But I don’t kiss them. It feels weird. We don’t even care about each other.”
“Do you like kissing at all?” Josh asks.
“No. It’s boring.”
I fix the strap of her shirt, stroking my fingers down her arm. “I don’t think you’re kissing the right people, babe.”
She frowns up at me. “Will you kiss me, then? So I can practice? Clearly I’m getting something wrong.”
My grin widens. “Oh, baby. I was thinking you’d never ask.” I pat my knee. “C’mon. Lay one on me.”
Layla glances back at Josh, who’s sitting opposite us, watching.
“Go ahead,” he drawls. “I can rate you from one to ten, if you like.”
Layla nods solemnly. “Yes, please. That will be very helpful.”
Josh pinches the bridge of his nose, looking like he wants to die.
I snort. “C’mon, honey. No time like the present.”
“Right.” She shuffles a little closer, awkwardness radiating off her in waves. I sit patiently as she tips her face up and slowly presses her mouth to mine.
It’s barely a kiss. Her soft lips ghost over mine, stiff and unmoving. I breathe in the warm orange scent of her as she gives me one long slow peck, then pulls back again.
I don’t say anything, eyeing her.
She pulls a face. “That was terrible, wasn’t it?”
“Not the best I’ve ever had,” I allow, trying not to smile. “Have you considered maybe participating a bit more? Sort of feels like kissing a CPR dummy.”
She scowls, and I sigh, pulling her a little closer. She feels ridiculously soft and small against me. “You’re holding your breath,” I say, trying to ignore my tightening jeans. “Relax, lass.” I squeeze her hip again, and she forces herself to unclench. “Great. Now, stop being so shy. We’re not seeing each other. You’ve got nowt to lose here.”
She takes a deep breath and nods. “Right. Can I—”
“Can you what, sweetheart?”
She reaches over and pushes apart my thighs. I part them easily, letting her climb onto my knee.
“Good girl,” I grumble, as she wraps her arms around my neck. She runs a hand over my jaw, stroking over my beard. “See, this is much better,” I mutter.