I hand it over. Zack groans as she shuffles off his lap and checks the screen. “Seriously?” He flops back onto the bed. “Honey, we’ve talked about this. We don’t answer emails when we’re sitting on our boyfriend’s knob. Really, you should know this by now, it’s a week-one lesson!”
“Easy for you to say,” Layla mutters, flipping through her phone. “You guys get to clock out at the end of the day. Become self-employed, and see how often you get to put your phone on silent. I’m waiting on like, ten different emails.”
Zack huffs. Luke stretches out behind her, laying his head silently on her shoulder. Layla smiles, not looking away from her phone as she threads a hand through his hair.
Luke has changed completely since he finally gave in and started dating Layla. It’s like a dark cloud hanging over his head has just dissolved. I guess he’s had feelings for her for longer than he’d like to admit. Knowing him, they were probably eating him up inside.
He took her on their first official one-on-one date yesterday night. Apparently they went to a sky restaurant; ate some fancy dinner at the top of a skyscraper in central London. I’m sure it was incredibly romantic. It’s a bit unfair, really. Luke’s had way more experience in wooing women than me and Zack. Still, he joined the game so late, he has some catching up to do. I watch as he nuzzles into Layla’s neck, smiling into her skin.
It’s crazy how happy this one girl can make all of us.
“Hey. Spaghetti hoop. You good?”
Zack’s question brings me back to Earth. I turn to look at Layla. She’s tense against Luke, gripping her phone so hard her knuckles are white as she reads the screen.
“Layla?” I ask. “Something wrong?” She doesn’t answer, so I kneel in front of her. “L. Hey. What is it?”
“I got it.” She’s breathing hard.
“Got what?”
She takes a deep breath, not taking her eyes off the screen. “I got it. I… can’t believe it.”
I raise an eyebrow.
“Remember when we taught you about nouns?” Luke asks. “You were about eight at the time. Could you try using a few now? You got what, sweetheart?”
“The scholarship!”
It takes a few seconds for her meaning to click. “With Anna Bardet? The one you thought you couldn’t land?”
She nods, her face flushed with pleasure, and happiness shoots through me like a comet. Without even thinking, I wrap my arms around her and pick her right up, spinning her around.
“Layla, that’s amazing.”
“Put me down, you knob.” She kicks my ankle, but she’s smiling.
I pull her closer. “I’m so proud of you,” I tell her. She locks her arms around my neck and starts kissing the side of my throat, making me hiss.
“I’m not surprised,” Luke says from the bed. “She’d be mad not to choose you.”
“Damn straight,” Zack agrees. “Sounds like we got something else to celebrate.”
“Speaking of,” I say, dodging Layla’s attempts to lick my neck, and setting her carefully down on the carpet. “Come on. You need to get packing.”
She frowns. “I’m almost done.”
I glance down at the clothes carefully arranged in her pink suitcase. She’s packed for a pretty basic trip; she has one dress I’m assuming she’s wearing to the wedding, and then a handful of jeans and t-shirts.
Zack sniffs, poking at a black sweater. “You’ll want something fancier than this.”
She bats her eyes at him. “You’re taking me somewhere nice?”
“I ain’t saying anything.”
Layla turns to me, her eyes questioning.
“You might need some more clothes,” I tell her. “We have a surprise for you.”
FORTY-FIVE
LAYLA
We end up getting stuck in traffic on our way to the Chelsea hotel, but I don’t mind. I’m still reeling from the news about Anna Bardet. I emailed her back immediately accepting the scholarship, and her assistant told me that they’d get back to me today with a date I could fly out to the HQ in New York. I spend the whole car ride bouncing in my seat, obsessively checking my emails as Josh inches the car forward.
It takes over two hours, but we eventually make it to the hotel, pulling up outside a huge white building covered in ivy. As we step inside the atrium, my eyes are like dinner plates. The place is massive, with tiled floors and big marble columns supporting the high ceiling. There’s a waterfall splashing happily in the centre of the hall, lined with leafy foliage. One wall is lined by a whole fleet of shiny silver lifts; in the opposite corner, I hear clinking glasses and laughter coming from the hotel bar. Busy-looking people in expensive suits and dresses stride through the hall, talking on phones as they drag their suitcases behind them.