Faking with Benefits : Chapter 62

It takes a few moments for his words to sink in.

“So, let me get this straight,” I say slowly. A cold breeze whispers through the garden, sending goosebumps prickling over my bare arms. “You came here to sleep with me one last time, and then break up with me.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he says, his face a mask. “I had to… I had to check if I needed to end this. And I clearly do, if you think you’re in love with me.”

I study him as he tugs his shirt back into place, fiddling with his cuffs. I can feel my insides icing over.

“Give me back my key,” I say eventually.

His head jerks up. “What?”

“You have the key to my flat. Give it back. I don’t want you to have it.”

He looks at me like I’ve just slapped him in the face. “You’re mad at me,” he says hoarsely.

“Yes,” I say. “I am.”

He shakes his head. “Layla, that’s not fair. You know it’s not.”

“How is it not fair? It’s how I feel.”

“You promised.” His voice gets louder, shaking slightly. “You said you understood that this wasn’t going to turn into anything. You knew this would just be lessons, you said you were fine with it, so don’t look at me like that!”

“Like what?”

“Like… I’m the villain here. Don’t look at me like I’m hurting you—”

“I can’t help it!” I snap. “You are hurting me!”

He shakes his head slowly, his face dark with anger. “I told you I didn’t want this to get in the way of our friendship. You said it wouldn’t!” He jams a hand in his hair. “Is that it, then? I either date you, or I have to lose one of the best friends I have? Don’t you see how manipulative that is? You can’t force me to love you, Layla. And if you’re hanging out for that, you’ll be waiting a bloody long time. Because it will never happen.”

My mouth falls open. I can’t believe this is happening. “This hurts me, Zack! You hurt me! Do you expect me to want to hang out on your sofa and eat ice cream with you, after you slept with me and dropped me like a used condom?”

“That’s not what—”

“You came here to shag me one last time before you turned me down. You pinned me up against a wall, you came inside me, and then you broke up with me before you even did your belt up! No, we are not friends anymore!”

He doesn’t say anything.

I shake my head, trying to calm down. “Look, this spiralled out of control. We can both admit that. But I’m not going to apologise for something that you also took part in. This stupid ‘experiment’ didn’t require you to have your hands up my skirt 24/7. You chose to flirt with me constantly. To climb into my bed every night. To book us into a Honeymoon Suite like we’re a goddamn married couple. I didn’t make you do any of that! That was all you. So don’t stand there acting like I’m a crazy, overreacting, manipulative bitch when we both did this together!”

“This is unfair,” he whispers. “You’re being unfair. You knew what you were getting into, I told you these were just lessons—”

“No,” I cut him off. “You want to know what’s unfair? You made me trust you. You told me, over and over again, to open up and be honest with you. You made me feel safe and loved and comfortable. And now, when you’ve finally peeled away every defence I used to have, you’ve decided to have one last quickie with me, and then break up with me while your goddamn come is still inside me?! And you’re somehow telling me that it’s my fault, when you’re treating me like a fricking flesh light? What the Hell is wrong with you?! You’re not my friend, you don’t respect me at all! No friend would treat me like that!” I take a deep breath. “Hell, the guys back in high school hated me. They spread lies about me. They made me feel like a dirty, worthless slapper, but at least none of them tricked me into letting them inside me.”

I take a step forward, so we’re standing chest to chest. I can feel his heart hammering under his shirt. His hard eyes don’t leave mine. “That’s the cruel part in this, Zack. So stop lying to yourself, and get it through your thick head that you are just as much to blame as me.”

He doesn’t say anything. My voice dies away, fading into the still garden. Seconds pass.

Eventually, he presses his lips together. “So that’s it,” he says. “We’re not friends anymore.”

“No, we are not. Now get the Hell out of here.” He doesn’t move. I feel emotion bubbling up in my throat, a big salty seawave of sadness, and fight the urge to burst into tears. “Now!” I shout. “Get away from me!”

He clamps his jaw shut. His eyes are burning black holes in his face. Slowly, he turns and leaves, heading back the way we came. His footsteps crunch heavily through the grass. I wait until he’s completely out of sight, then slump back against the garden wall, pressing my cheek against the cold brick. Pain floods through me.

I don’t understand how this keeps happening. I don’t know why I’m always the easy option. There’s just something about me which makes men think it’s okay to use me. I don’t know why.

It wouldn’t hurt so much if it wasn’t Zack. Zack, who is, by all means, a grown-up Donny Pritchard. He’s the popular jock. The one that women fawn over. The one who could have any girl he wants. He goes through women like they’re disposable tissues, and I let him. After Donny, I swore I’d never fall for someone who would hurt me again, and I did. I did.

Tears fill my eyes, my cheeks heating as old memories from my teenage years flow back.

I try to reason with myself. I know it’s not the same thing. Zack is being a prick, but he’s not a sixteen-year-old boy trying to coerce me in the PE changing rooms. It’s not like he’s going to go around telling everyone that I’m easy.

Even if that obviously is what he thinks.

God. I’ve been such an idiot.

Bending over, I pick up my clutch from where I dropped it in the wet grass, pulling out my phone to text Luke and Josh.

Neither man responds. Whatever. I flick through my phone to a car service app, typing in the hotel’s address. I’m sick of tonight. I just want to go home. The nearest vehicle is fifteen minutes away, which is just enough time for me to pack, so I order it, then shove my phone back down the front of my dress, stumbling out of the alcove and back towards the hotel.

The ballroom blurs around me as I push my way through the party, weaving through people dancing and drinking like I’m in a dream. I’ve almost made it to the door leading to the hotel atrium when I hear my name.

“Layla!”

I turn to see Josh’s brother, Rob, stepping out from behind a drinks table, his expression concerned. “Hey. Are you okay?” I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. His face falls. “Oh. God. Um. Hang on.” He pats down his pockets, pulling out a travel pack of tissues. “Amy’s mum made me carry them,” he says sheepishly. “In case she cried. Are you okay? Want me to find Josh for you?”

“I’m sorry,” I mumble, backing away. “I’m really sorry, I need to go.” I don’t want kindness right now. It’ll break me. “Sorry,” I choke out again, and practically run past him, dodging through the huge wooden doors and out into the hotel lobby. Tottering over to the lifts in my heels, I stab the call button, then lean against the wall, trying to calm myself down. As the blood rushing in my ears fades away, I can dimly pick out two hushed voices coming from the other side of the elevators.

“Amy,” a man says, and I jolt upright as I recognise Luke’s low tones. “Stop. I’m not arguing with a bride on her wedding day.”

“For God’s sake, I’m trying to help you,” Amy hisses. “Listen to me. I taught Layla for years. I know her. And I can see that she’s got you completely wrapped around her little finger. She’s been doing this ever since she was a teenager — flirting with every guy she can get her hands on, manipulating them all. She doesn’t even have the self-respect to stay away from her own teacher, for God’s sake.”

Bile rises in my throat. I don’t know if I’m about to puke or cry or scream.

I hear Luke take a breath, but I don’t stick around to hear him defend me. The lift dings, the metal doors sliding open, and I jump inside, jabbing the button for our floor. Tears blur my eyes, and I wipe them away fiercely.

I need to get to the hotel room. I need to pack, and go home, and forget this wedding ever happened.