This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincendital.

Copyright © 2023 by Juliana Smith

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

First paperback edition May 2023

Book design and Map by Sam Palencia at Ink And Laurel

Line-editing by Beth Lawton at VB Edits

Proofreading by Amanda Chaperon

Contents

1. Blurbs

2. Dedication

3. Map of West Oak

4. 1. Prologue

5. 2. Luke

6. 3. Layla

7. 4. Luke

8. 5. Layla

9. 6. Luke

10. 7. Layla

11. 8. Luke

12. 9. Luke

13. 10. Layla

14. 11. Luke

15. 12. Layla

16. 13. Luke

17. 14. Layla

18. 15. Layla

19. 16. Luke

20. 17. Luke

21. 18. Layla

22. 19. Luke

23. 20. Layla

24. 21. Luke

25. 22. Layla

26. 23. Luke

27. 24. Layla

28. 25. Luke

29. 26. Layla

30. 27. Luke

31. 28. Luke

32. 29. Layla

33. 30. Luke

34. 31. Luke

35. 32. Layla

36. 33. Luke

37. 34. Luke

38. 35. Layla

39. 36. Luke

40. 37. Layla

41. 38. Layla

42. 39. Epilogue

43. Afterword

44. 40. Bonus chapter!

45. Acknowledgments

46. About Author

"If you've ever wished for a book with Jim and Pam vibes, this one is for you. Per My Last Email is the rom-com of the summer!" – Madison Wright, author of Just Go With It

“Full of swoon and snark, love and laughter, Per My Last Email is Smith’s best work yet!” – Amanda Chaperon, author of Every Rule Worth Breaking

"I truly have never laughed so hard at a book before getting my hands on this one. I’m in love. If you love a best friends to lovers, witty banter, found family, and slow burn, this bad baby is for you!" – Taylor Hughes, Goodreads reviewer

To the ones who make the jumps.

Suck it Janise.

To put it simply, I was a fool.

I was a fool for going to the interview. A fool for saying yes to the job. And I was an even bigger fool for thinking it would be anything less than degrading.

And yet there I was, making coffee for ten employees and fixing my boss's computer that was “eaten up with viruses.” Turns out he'd accidentally placed it on airplane mode.

If I had even an ounce of self-respect left in my body, I would have walked out the minute the human resources director sat me down and gave me a very detailed tutorial on how to operate a Word document. But it turned out I was lacking in the self-respect department, and since I couldn’t buy it easily with two day shipping, there I was—interning for a publishing company because the position was distantly related to my dream career. Therefore I would have to handle no self-respect, or respect in general, for a few months. Then, once I got the hang of behind the scenes work, I would be off to writing and publishing my own thriller novels. I may leave even sooner than that, considering how everyone in this office has that mummified when-can-I-retire look about them.

That first day was a long and awkward one, and I quickly came to realize from the dirty looks I received, that the employees at West Oak Publishing were not accustomed to newer employees. Between that and the lack of response to a friendly, “good morning,” I took the hint.

So I resigned myself to coming in, doing my work, and leaving without telling dad jokes or asking questions about my coworkers’ weekends. Sadly for them, they didn’t know what they were missing. I was an expert at weather small talk.

The position had been labeled office administration. Thinking administration meant more than being a personal butler for a group of snobby editorial staff, I applied. However, after sitting through an interview with a hippie hair-cut Chad—the boss—who spent way too long looking at my chest—I quickly realized office administrator was a fancy way of saying intern.

“Come on, new girl. We all have to start somewhere,” Nathan Huxley, the only person in this building who had more personality than a rock, said as he stood next to his desk.

My lips made a pathetic attempt at a smile, and I rolled my eyes. “I guess this wasn’t what I expected when I applied for the job.”

Nathan shrugged and set his coffee mug on his desk. His wavy, dirty-blond hair fell over his eyes as he looked down at his laptop.

Our clump consisted of three desks, but ours were the only two in use. That meant we had a lot of stray wanderers passing by who liked to sit in the empty chair and discuss their problems with me. These problems rarely involved me and typically had simple solutions, but for some inexplicable reason, the grousers all felt the need to make me aware of their unhappiness. Case in point: the short, hairy man from accounting complained the copies I made him weren’t thick enough. What that meant, I had no clue. So I simply nodded and assured him that next time, they’d be thicker than a Snickers. That didn’t garner even a chuckle.

Thankfully, the empty desk would soon have a full-time occupant. It could be Big Bird for all I cared, as long as it stopped the revolving door of discontent.

When Nathan had heard rumors of an upcoming job posting, knowing that person would join our group, he was determined to find “someone who wouldn’t bother him all day.” So he’d suggested his roommate for the position. I hadn’t heard much about the guy, but he couldn’t be worse than having Chad pop in regularly while the desk was empty.

Nathan had started a month before me, so he was slightly more accepted than I was. The women in the office never nitpicked when he made their copies. Probably because he shamelessly flirted with every female here. And thanks to Chad’s hiring abilities, a vast majority of employees were women. His go-to strategy, if I had to guess, was to put men in top positions and hire women for the rest.

In hopes of calming the irritation that clawed at me every time I thought of my smarmy boss, I blew out a long breath. This was only a summer job. In a few short months, I would be writing on a sandy beach and drinking cosmos.

I had been at West Oak Publishing for almost a week and still hadn’t made any sizable impressions on anyone here. Not to mention, I’d hardly learned anything about the publishing process. People watcher that I am, though, I had discovered three things:

1. Don’t sign into meetings under the name “Ben Dover.”

2. Don’t look Janise, the HR rep, in the eye.

3. No one will laugh when West Oak is referred to as “Westeros.”

Clearly, all the Game of Thrones fans were in the building next door.

“Team meeting in ten!” Chad’s voice boomed through the modern office, bouncing off the bare walls and concrete flooring.

I held in the urge to groan. His “team meetings” typically consisted of him touting his sales record, then reading half a dozen inspirational quotes he Googled while we all funneled in and got settled. Basically, meetings that could have easily been emails. The only enjoyable part was the warm freshly printed paper and the fifty percent chance that there would be bagels.

We gathered in the conference room, ready for the requisite emotional story Chad no doubt ripped off from a football movie he saw in high school. I took a seat next to Nathan and played with the hem of my oversized white button-up, anxious to get out of the room filled with judging eyes. Nathan was on his phone, ultra focused on his latest gaming addiction. As whispers and laughter filled every corner of the room, I slumped in my chair, feeling like the only one here without a work friend. Considering I had been nothing but friendly to the witchy attitudes in this room, it was like a slap in the face.

Chad’s obnoxious voice cut through the murmuring and interrupted my thoughts. “We’ve got a new guy starting today, so maybe he’ll pick up the slack of this one right here, huh?” Chad winked at me.

Every time the man winked, I shuddered like I’d touched the mushy brown spot of an old banana. It hadn’t taken me more than ten minutes to ascertain that Chad had been the type of kid who showed his affection for girls by pushing them down on the playground. Little did he know, I was the girl who’d hidden rocks in the shoes of those boys.

Beside my boss stood a good-looking young guy with short, freshly-combed hair, a neatly trimmed beard, and a cocky grin on his face. He tilted his head, peering over the frames of his glasses as he smirked across the room. His shirt looked a little off, tight against his broad shoulders, like maybe he’d borrowed it from a friend, but the imperfection was endearing.

My cheeks heated again, and I had to subtly wipe at my chin to make sure I wasn’t drooling over Mr. Tall, Kind Eyes, and Handsome.

Nathan had failed to warn me that his roommate looked like an alluring shampoo model. I would buy so many bottles from this guy.

The new employee turned straight toward me, and his smile widened. My eyes nearly bugged out of my head at the idea of having to speak to this person. But when Nathan chuckled beside me, I realized the new guy was grinning like that at his roommate and not at me, a random stranger.

Chad introduced him as Luke Wells, the team’s newest admin. Meaning he’d be working with Nathan and me.

Luke took the seat next to me, forcing me to clench my legs together and scoot closer to Nathan to create as much space between us as possible. Chad's voice faded to background noise as I focused solely on the attractive man looking past me to his friend. My palms went sweaty with his proximity. Heck, my entire body broke into a sweat. I wore deodorant, good deodorant really, but I couldn’t help but worry about how I smelled. Because when a Clark Kent-ish guy like Luke plops into a seat so close, one can’t be held responsible for their body’s reactions.

Luke leaned forward, giving me a generous view of that side profile, and shared a fist bump with Nathan. I relaxed back in my chair for any inch of space I could find. Must. Get. Space.

Nathan elbowed my arm. “Scoot over Layla. You’re practically sitting in my lap.” His attempted whisper was so loud, every woman in the room turned her head my way.

Janise from HR cut me a look that said she was two seconds away from writing a citation. I’d already gotten one warning in the last week because I apparently grabbed her mug for my coffee. As if her name was on it. Newsflash lady, no one knows you love Three's Company enough to claim that specific mug as yours in an office full of coffee drinkers. In conclusion: she was a dementor. A cold, lifeless, fun-sucker. A professional stealer of joy.

Heat bloomed in my chest and rushed up my neck. I had to be setting a world record for most times an individual has blushed from embarrassment during a single team meeting. I adjusted my long skirt and shimmied to the middle of my seat, sitting equally between the guys.

Luke angled close, his clean scent enveloping me, and whispered in my ear, a low husky tone. “Don’t worry. I won’t bite.”

The mischievous glint in his eyes told a different story than his words. Behind those glasses were the most captivating eyes I’d ever seen—light brown, the color of maple syrup poured over hot pancakes.

When I let my guard down and decompressed into my seat, his thigh brushed lightly against mine. I jerked back like I had touched a hot curling iron, but Luke didn’t move an inch. If I were to relax again, we would be resting against each other. But when he shot me with that warm, contagious smile, it was hard to keep my lips from curling into a grin.

The fifteen-minute meeting dragged on for what felt like an hour as Chad droned on and I attempted to avoid Luke’s heated gaze. Once the boss man announced we were dismissed, I sprinted out of the conference room, my feet moving quickly past the glass partition, honed in on my desk like a heat-seeking missile.

West Oak was by far the nicest place I’d worked to date, not that there was much to compare it to. Clusters of desks with monitors and white rolling office chairs were set up throughout the open area. The floors were light wood, and the fixtures were all black, making the space look sleek. Polished. Luxurious. It was nothing like my previous job as receptionist at the public library. I fit in here about as well as I would at a five-star restaurant in my I love DILFS t-shirt.

I passed several open groupings of desks until I reached mine and tossed myself into my swivel chair. Before the guys had made it to our setup, I had my latest work project pulled up on my computer, attempting to give it my full attention.

My cheeks were still pink from sitting next to a man who should have been gracing the pages of catalogs as a model, not working as an assistant alongside us. Perhaps I could blame my lack of composure on how long it had been since I’d been around an attractive man who didn’t spend his every breath discussing bitcoin. Was this what happened when a person went too long without dating? Do we become hyper-sensitive to good looking men in our vicinity? Maybe I’d been reading too much romance. Maybe it was time to put down the Kindle and pick up the Tinder.

With a huff, I snatched up my strawberry lemonade and took a long sip in an attempt to cool the fever singeing me from the inside out.

Nathan and Luke chatted casually as they made their way to my desk clump, paying no mind to me and my eccentric behavior. Luke took a seat at the desk to my right, giving him an adjacent view of me. I held back the urge to ogle the way his muscled arms stretched his button up, or how his glasses sat perfectly on the bridge of his nose.

Instead, I kept my focus centered on the spreadsheet in front of me, intently completing basic busy work for the other girls in the office.

While I was engrossed in the spreadsheet, checking the ebook sales of the day prior, a tingly sensation spread over my tongue and to the back of my throat. No, not tingly…painful. Drink in hand again, I took two more sips. Then I set the bottle aside and tried to not fixate on the blaze working its way from my tongue down my throat. Unfortunately, ignoring it only made it worse. What is happening?

I took one more sip and cleared my throat, the white-hot burning in the back of my mouth only intensifying. This was it, I would never recover. Seconds later, I was in a full-blown coughing fit. I chugged more of the lemonade, tipping it back until it was gone, but the cool liquid did nothing but feed the flames licking up my esophagus. I was panting, sweating like a dog who had just raced around the block.

Nathan patted my back lightly, startling me. “You good, Layla?”

I let out a strangled, “Y-Yeah.”

When Luke peeked over his monitor, I wanted nothing more than to melt straight through my chair and the floor below me. It was high school all over again, trying to hold in my cough while taking the ACTs so no one looked at me.

I continued my coughing spree, not wanting to meet Luke’s eye. But when I leaned back to inhale deeply, it was too late.

He zeroed in on me, shock spreading across his face. He cleared his throat and pointed to my empty bottle of lemonade. “Tell me that isn’t yours?” His voice was nowhere near as confident as it had been, but cracked and higher pitched.

I nodded, unable to speak, and took the water bottle that Nathan waved in front of my face. Once I’d chugged half, the searing pain eased to a low simmer.

“No, no, no,” Luke said, shaking his head violently. “I thought this was Nathan’s.” He raked a hand through his perfect hair.

Oh, no. He poisoned me. This was how I’d go. Death by hot stranger was not what I had planned for my epitaph. I always wanted it to say something like, Whoops should’ve tightened the strap on that roller coaster. Or maybe even, Allergic to pineapple, who would've thought?

Nathan shook his head and chuckled. “Nah, I finished mine earlier.”

Luke turned back to me, his cheeks flushed, eyes wide with fear. “I am so sorry. I didn’t know…I thought…I…”

The suave man who’d sauntered into the building this morning was nowhere to be found. He stumbled over his apology, stuttering and repeating himself as I sipped from the bottle of water and breathed deeply, hoping my face wasn’t terribly red.

Nathan’s chuckle turned into a full-on guffaw. “You pranked a girl on your first day?”

Luke whipped around to face him. “Shut up. I thought it was yours. It was payback for putting hot sauce in my drink last week.”

I looked between the two, bewildered and mortified. “You put hot sauce in my lemonade?”

Luke choked on his reply. “I-I didn’t think it was your lemonade.”

I fought back a grin. Demented or not, I was having fun at work. Hot, sore throat, may-need-to-chug-a-gallon-of-milk fun, but still. I hid behind my simple poker face, though, knowing I would have my payback before the day was over.

Luke's apologies didn’t stop all day. At first glimpse, I expected him to be calm, cool, and collected, but I could not have been more wrong.

First, he wrote, sorry I tried to poison you and can you ever forgive me? on pieces of paper. Then an instant message popped up on my computer.

LukeWells (1:57 p.m.): Are you still mad at me?

I fought a laugh and pretended I didn’t notice the message. Meanwhile, he didn’t complete a single task all day. When he wasn’t focused on me, he was talking to Nathan. I’m not sure how the guy even got hired judging by his work ethic, but I got a twisted sense of satisfaction at the way he continuously tried to make up for his earlier prank.

By early afternoon, my desk was covered in apologetic sticky notes. Luke still thought I was upset, and instead of correcting him, I patently ignored his puppy dog eyes. Every time he left the room, Nathan and I would have a laugh about it.

Later, when Janise called Luke into her office, I took the opportunity to retaliate.

Crouched like I was on a secret mission, I made my way to Luke's chair and sat in it so the pressure was pushing against the seat adjustment lever. I wrapped a zip tie I found in my desk—used to bind boxes of paper—around the lever and pulled it tight, then used his scissors to cut off the excess. Snickering the whole time, I tested it by standing, waiting for the seat to ascend, then plopping back down a half a dozen times to see if my plan worked. Every time I sat, the seat would fall to the lowest setting, and when I stood, it reached the maximum height.

I smiled to myself. Retaliation was my middle name. It was actually Ava, but retaliation sounded so much better. For a brief moment, I wondered if I could have time to run down to the social security office and change it. It was about time to spice things up around here, pun intended considering the hot sauce incident.

I went back to my busy work, waiting patiently for Luke to leave Janise's office. Deep laughter echoed through the open space as her door swung open and Luke ambled back to his desk.

As he passed, he tapped the space next to my computer twice with his knuckle, “No hard feelings, right?” He flashed his charming grin my way.

Holding in the giggles that bubbled inside me, I grinned back and replied softly, “No hard feelings.”

Luke placed his folders back on his desk by his laptop and pulled his chair closer using the armrest. Sure enough, the second he sat, the chair sank so low, his long legs awkwardly crumpled to the floor. He huffed and frowned in confusion. Once he’d clambered back to his feet, he turned and inspected the chair, bending at the waist and watching as it popped back up to the tallest height. He shrugged to himself and took a seat again, only to sink to the floor a second time, whispering, “What the—” to himself.

My bottom lip was raw where I kept it trapped between my teeth to hold in from laughing. When he stood a second time and watched the chair pop up again, he groaned.

A small snicker escaped my lips. It wasn’t loud enough for anyone else in the bullpen to notice, but the second the sound broke free, his eyes landed on me. I kept my attention on my laptop, pretending to work as I pressed my lips tightly together, looking like a turtle and praying I could keep my noisy giggles in.

Luke ignored my pig-like snort that came out of me and took his seat for the last time, his chair once more sinking to about a foot off the ground. He popped back up clearly frustrated as he muttered again, “Alright, come on—”

His sentence was cut off by my snickering. I curled my lips in and balled my hand into a fist to place it over my mouth in hopes of quieting myself, but it was too late. He looked back over to my desk, in shock and…was that amusement? With an exasperated sigh, he pointed at me. “Did you do this?”

I shook my head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” My words were strangled and a smile broke free despite my best efforts to rein in my glee.

Nathan’s laughter in the background didn’t help me with my attempt to affect disinterest.

Luke peeked over at Nathan’s desk and back to mine in disbelief. “You did this.”

I chewed on my lip in response. He laughed to himself and squatted low, taking in the zip tie around the lever.

With my arms lifted in a casual stretch, I threw his own words back at him. “To be fair, I didn’t think it was your chair.”

Up to this point, this office had been the dullest place I’d ever had the displeasure of working. No one laughed at my jokes, no one even cracked a smile when I tried, and certainly no one cared for pranks.

Until Luke Wells arrived.

Later that afternoon, the lights were dimmed, and only a few employees remained. After a trip to the restroom, I made my way back to our abandoned desk clump in the corner. Nathan and Luke were already gone for the day, and I was right behind them. I stretched down for my tote but stopped as something caught my eye.

Sitting next to my keyboard was a bottled strawberry lemonade with one last yellow sticky note attached to it. In barely legible writing were the words, you just brought piss to a shit fight, little one. The note was punctuated by a small smiley face at the bottom. I laughed quietly to myself and picked up the bottle, glad to finally have a friend at my new job.

I gathered my bag as I walked out of our offices to the elevators at the end of the hall. Quiet elevator music bounced off the four walls as I descended to the lobby.

Past the poor excuse for a coffee shop to my right, at the end of a long line of overtired editors and marketing team members, stood Nathan and Luke. The two of them towered over the rest of the crowd, making them hard to miss.

I smiled to myself and sidled up, sucking in a breath, prepared to make a joke along the lines of getting to put hot sauce in Luke's drink when my name slipped from his perfectly bowed lips.

“Layla?” He shrugged nonchalantly.

Something about the humdrum way he uttered my name warned me not to listen. Chances were, what he had to say would stick with me longer than I would like. Too bad I’d never followed my own instincts.

“Yeah. She’s cute, right?” Nathan tapped away on his phone, no doubt texting one of the female friends he bragged about so often.

“Yeah, for sure. Adorable. Just not what I need.”

Oh. My heart sank. Adorable? Sure, my style wasn’t for everyone. I hid behind my clothes a bit, mostly because it helped keep Chad’s eyes off me. Modesty was a lost art these days, what with mostly naked social media models and free the nipple campaigns. Long skirts and oversized casual button-downs weren’t the typical go-to in Philadelphia. Especially when surrounded by women in the workplace who were dressed to impress with their perfectly tailored pants suits and low-cut tops. My preference didn’t pull in men left and right. Or help me be seen as anything more than a cartoon bunny or a sitcom grandma. So why did the opinion of someone I’d just met bother me so much?

“Oh come on. She’s funny. She’s the only girl on our floor who has more than two brain cells working together.” Nathan might actually have a point there.

“You know how everything is right now. She’s just not what’s right for me.”

Ouch. I didn’t even know his middle name, so I wasn’t expecting a proposal or anything, but I thought we might have had a slight connection. Not like I was naming our future children—although they would have his hair and my eyes, but that’s besides the point.

He continued, his voice a little lower. “She’ll be fun to work with. Just not what I need personally.”

He didn’t stop there, his words rumbling low and deep, but finally, my self-preservation instincts kicked in. Before they caught sight of me, I silently backed away and left the building without looking back.

This was minuscule in the grand scheme of life, so why did my stomach churn as Luke’s words echoed in my head? She’s just not what’s right for me.

Besides, Luke and Layla? Way too close to Luke and Leia, and the George Lucas fan in me refused to entertain that.

With a deep, cleansing breath, I hopped on my small bike and began my short commute to my apartment.

I may not have been right for Luke in that way, but I could certainly be his friend. I could use another friend at Westeros.

And I would be the best friend he’s ever had.

Three years later

The elevator shook as I balanced a large pink box of Marlo’s doughnuts on my right shoulder and hefted my messenger bag up on my left. When the door dinged open on the eighth floor, I was met with the smell of freshly copied paper and a slight hint of mildew from our poorly insulated workspace. Despite the effort, modern light fixtures and boho rugs couldn’t mask what was likely growing behind the walls.

I shifted the doughnut box so I could open the door to West Oak Publishing. Upon entry, a voice I had come to know all too well rang out from down the hall.

“You promised I would get to do it this time!”

“No, I said I would think about letting you do it.”

At our cluster of desks, Nathan and Layla shoved at each other to get a better look at the desk in front of them. About once a week, they argued over who would get to shred the papers we didn’t need anymore. Usually, being the dad of the group—a role I did not go out of my way to possess and have tried to shed numerous times—I had to facilitate the conversation, which was more like confrontation.

“Good morning you two,” I said through a yawn, stepping past them and rounding my desk. My voice was still groggy from waking up later than usual.

Layla shoved her hip against Nathan, pushing him back a step so she could reach the shred pile. She beamed at me, her big, brown doe eyes bright, and sucked in a breath. Before she could speak, though, she caught sight of the notorious pink box in my hands.

“Is that Marlo’s?”

They were her favorite, and although we typically only had doughnuts on Fridays, every now and then I liked to surprise her.

Without answering, I opened the pink lid, putting the cinnamon sugar doughnuts in their perfect packaging on display. At that moment, I think a spotlight shone from the ceiling just for them. They deserved it for sure.

“You got the apple cider one, too, right?” Layla scrutinized me with narrowed eyes and one brow cocked, as if I didn’t already know her favorite flavor of heavenly fried dough circles.

“Like I would ever tease you like that.” I smiled down at her.

Today, she was wrapped in a long skirt and a button down with a cardigan. Despite the forecasted eighty-degree day ahead of us, Layla was dressed, as usual, like it was mid-November. She once complained to Janise that the office was too cold, to which Janise replied, “I’ll adjust the temperature as soon as you tell me who drew the obscene phallic picture in the women's bathroom stall.”

Let’s just say the indoor climate was not mentioned again.

With a clap, Layla jumped up and down. “This totally makes up for the morning I’ve had. Janise has been on my case since I got here.”

There was no doubt in my mind that Layla and our infamous HR rep would eventually have it out in the parking lot. And my bet was on Layla; she was surprisingly scrappy. One time, when we were leaving a Star Wars trivia night, she got into it with a middle-aged man who said that Yoda shouldn’t have fought in the Clone Wars. I had never seen a woman so passionate. It was equally mesmerizing and terrifying.

Layla was like a favorite hoodie: comfortable, sweet, and the most perfect sight at the end of a long day.

“What was it this time?”

Layla shrugged, “I may have told her that purple is her color.”

I cocked my head and regarded my best friend. What was so offensive about that?

She flashed me the wicked smile that always made my stomach seize. “She’s wearing blue today.”

Ahh, yes. Layla’s running prank. She’s been trying to convince Janise that she was color blind. She’d compliment her lovely red shoes when they were clearly orange. Janise would mention needing a blue file and then Layla would hand her a green one. There’s no way it was working, but she’s invested, so I’m pretty sure she’ll keep going anyway.

I shook my head and huffed a laugh. Layla was always planning something, and the old adage had never been truer: if you can’t beat her, join her. So, since the three of us had started working together, poor Nathan had taken the brunt of our pranks. He called us childish, but we liked to think of it as spicing up the office. Without us, West Oak Publishing would have been a crowd of granola-obsessed zombies. Though there were roughly thirty employees here, the majority of the behind-the-scenes work was done by our desk clump alone.

When I started three years ago, our tasks were intern-level, and so was the pay. But we eventually got promoted, which consisted of a slight title change and a lot more work. At first, we didn’t mind. We spent more time acting as personal assistants and less time getting coffee and making copies. But over time, we’d become the backbone of the office. They wouldn’t survive without us. Unfortunately, the pay didn’t reflect our responsibilities.

For example, yesterday, I was tasked with picking up the child of an editor from kindergarten, which was definitely not listed in the job description. And yet, from the beginning, I’ve never entertained the idea of leaving, because the thought of not working with Layla was gut-wrenching.

Layla happily plucked her doughnut from the box while Nathan sulked beside her. She rolled her eyes and pushed the stack of papers his way, taking another bite as she did so. Perking up, Nathan snatched the old files and ran them through the shredder one by one.

My throat was tight at the sight of Layla, who sat happily at her desk, eating the pastry I brought her. She was mesmerizing in her floor-length, bright-pink skirt, like a pop of color in a landscape of bland, neutrals. If her fresh face, sprinkled with freckles, and her long eyelashes weren’t enough, the way her laugh lightened the room certainly was. I cleared my throat and adjusted my round glasses so the frames blocked my view of my best friend.

When I started at West Oak, Layla immediately caught my eye. But I was fresh out of a long-term relationship, and I wasn’t looking for anything serious. By the time I realized how incredible she was, it was too late. So I watched her from the sidelines, discovering how many things we had in common. Soon, I was entranced by her big brain and obsession with books and writing. She’d always been pretty to me, with her long, golden-brown hair and soft features. But once our similarities became evident? Once I realized that her sense of humor was the kind I laughed randomly about at two a.m. when I couldn’t sleep? The way she hummed random, offbeat tunes while she focused on a project? Or even the way she doodled on the corners of her page to make herself look busy?

I was a goner.

So I bided my time, waiting for her to notice that I would have done anything for her. The strict no fraternization rules were one thing, but the number of times she introduced me as her best friend made it clear she didn’t reciprocate my feelings. Instead, I simply admired her from afar. Well…the next desk over.

“Did you hear that Chad has a big announcement?” Layla’s question was muffled by her mouthful of dough.

I scratched my jaw. “Yeah. I bet he has a new invention that’ll allow him to swipe right on Tinder while simultaneously ordering his regular from Chipotle.”

Layla huffed out a laugh beside me and held a hand in front of her mouth to avoid spraying doughnut particles on her desk.

“Team meeting in ten! This is a big one, folks!” Chad’s voice echoed through our open office while he drummed his fingers on the glass wall near us.

My phone buzzed, one notification after another coming through from a family group chat that I never signed up for and yet somehow found myself engaging in every day.

Crew: Anybody have an extra microwave?

Liam: Why would any of us have two microwaves?

Calla: Do I even want to know why you’re asking?

Marigold: Crew, don’t ask stupid questions and not expect us to make fun of you for it.

Me: Come on, let up a little. It’s probably because he blew his up again.

Crew: SCREW YOU GUYS.

Crew: But seriously, one of you needs to bring me a microwave.

I put my phone on do not disturb and set it screen down to avoid the inevitable hot mess about to commence.

“Why is Crew asking me for a microwave?” Layla asked, looking up from her phone.

I laughed. “Who knows.” Chances were, my younger brother knew that if anyone would bring him something last minute, it was Layla.

Soon enough, Chad began our meeting as he always had, with a quote about working hard—although he’d taken a two hour nap in his office the day before—and then waved Janise to the podium and stepped aside.

“Now and then, as we all know, we need a refresh—”

“In bed.” Nathan covered his mouth as he said it like by doing so, we wouldn’t know who’d made the inappropriate comment.

Next to me, Layla held back a snicker.

“Thank you, Nathan.” Janise cleared her throat. “We need to update our systems. We have fallen into old routines and it shows in our results.”

Our results have never been good, I thought.

“So we’ve set up a publishing retreat! Half the staff will go, and the other half will stay to keep things running here. The location is to be announced at a later date, but I have been cleared to tell you to pack your sunscreen and a hat.” Janise winked and shimmied a shoulder, garnering absolutely no response from the room. Probably because we all assumed this retreat would be somewhere lame like a botanical garden filled with dead plants.

“Since Chad here has been promoted to our New York branch—” The man of the hour picked at his fingernails, not listening at all. “—we’ll use the retreat as an opportunity to vet new manager candidates. After we return, we’ll announce our choice. This is a great chance to show us your professionalism and your ability to communicate as well as lead. The position comes with a hefty pay raise and other perks. We have a few people on our radar already so keep that in mind.”

Chad had previously mentioned a promotion opportunity, but I hadn’t paid much attention. I had been content right where I was, working with my best friend.

After the announcement, Janise went over old protocols for what seemed like the hundredth time. Meanwhile, Chad sat in his chair, homing in on the public relations girl’s chest.

Layla edged closer, sending her sweet vanilla scent my way. “How much do you want to bet he starts drooling?”

I snorted a silent laugh and whispered, “Ten dollars says he quotes Forrest Gump at the end.”

She lowered her brows like she was thinking, then murmured, “I’ll take that.”

That was how every meeting went, the three of us half listening and joking around. Though I acted like I hated them, the truth was they were my favorite part of the week. Parked next to Layla, watching her chest rise and fall with laughter beneath her sweater and basking in the wide grin that spread across her face at my jokes, was blissful. I’d do anything to see that smile.

With Nathan on my other side, I had everything I needed right there in this room. Although I’d once had bigger dreams, I’d be stupid to ever leave this simple desk job, right?

After a short bike ride home, I begrudgingly climbed up the three flights of stairs to my apartment. Between the ill-advised cardigan, the eighty degree weather, and the busy streets of Philadelphia, I was sweating like a turkey at Thanksgiving.

Out of breath, I unlocked my apartment door and was immediately hit with the lyrics of Alanis Morissette’s “You Oughta Know” blaring from my room.

After slipping my shoes off in the entryway, I dropped my keys on the kitchen counter and headed toward the racket. Only to see that my roommate, Rachel, was sprawled across my bed with my hairbrush in her hand, her record playing the Jagged Little Pill album I bought her last year.

“Rachel,” I said, hoping it would drag her out of the closed-eye state of mind she was in. She didn’t move.

“Rachel,” I said even louder.

She continued to shout lyrics of perverted minds and wrongful exes.

“Rachel!” I shouted over the chorus.

Finally, she dropped her makeshift microphone and opened her eyes.

With a flick of the wrist, I cranked down the volume on the record player she loved so much.

“Come on, you know you can’t interrupt my muse.” She sat up and patted the spot next to her on my bed like I needed her permission.

I took a seat next to her, and on autopilot, she began to brush my hair. Rachel and I have performed this routine so many times, we fall into it easily.

“How was work?”

I shrugged. “Pretty good. Luke and I turned down the mouse speed on Nathan’s computer a little more every time he wasn’t looking. How about you?”

She ignored my question and said, “It amazes me how the three of you manage to practically run that entire office.”

It was kind of incredible. I liked to think it was our work hard, play hard mentality. But truthfully, none of us have anything better to do.

Except write the book you’ve been avoiding for the last three years, that little voice in the back of my brain reminded me.

But some days I felt like the most productive of our group. Nathan spent most of his time flirting with the all-female marketing team or playing card games on his desktop. Luke’s day consisted of pranks and passing notes to me. How the office had come to rely on us so heavily was a mystery. Or, maybe it was because the rest of them were too busy filing their nails and updating their Amazon storefronts for their influencer social media.

“I have no idea. Luke literally does nothing but bug me all day, yet he’s given the most responsibility.”

Rachel hummed. “I wonder why…” She twirled a strand of her blonde hair between her delicate fingers, and her mouth twisted in a grin.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Not that I needed to ask. I’d heard her rants about Luke over and over again for years.

Luke and I had danced around each other since we’d met. From day one, he made it clear we could only be friends, but Rachel and her incessant little questions would get into my head.

Why does he always buy doughnuts for you?

Who else checks in daily to make sure you made it home safe?

Why does he always find some way to spend time with you?

Sometimes, I couldn’t help but let her never ending questions and assumptions about our friendship shift my thoughts, but anytime I’d allow myself to believe that maybe we were something more, he would call me his best friend and I was back to square one.

“That man is so hung up on you. But the two of you are happy residents of la la land, pretending like you don’t know it.”

I shrugged. There was nothing to say. I refused to set myself up for disappointment like I had the day we met.

“I‘ve never visited la la land, but it sounds lovely. Send me a postcard when you go.” I fiddled with my fingers and mumbled, “Besides, I’m still seeing Kyle.”

Rachel scoffed. “Yeah right, like he’s any kind of threat to Luke.”

She was right—Kyle was a five-foot-five wall of protein powder and Axe body spray—the exact opposite of Luke. Therefore, he was precisely what I needed. The crème de la crème of emotional fluffers, if you will.

“Oh come on, he’s…nice.” I hedged, attempting to convince us both.

“You think he’ll make it past your third date rule?”

It was hard not to scoff. I assigned myself the third date rule not long after I started at West Oak. I’d entertain myself with a couple of dates with a random guy from time to time, but by the third, I’d end things. Consider it self-sabotage, a way to say you’re welcome to future me.

“Yes.” No. “He’s charming. He could be the one.” The one who’ll make me want to stay single for the rest of my life.

Rachel cackled and laid back on my bed with her hands behind her head. “So you really think you are going to date him long enough to bring him back here?”

“I mean…sure.”

She cut her eyes to me, and I looked away. I couldn’t finagle my way out of Rachel’s accusations. She may only be twenty-two, but she was wise beyond her years. And unfortunately, that seventy-year-old woman inside her knew me better than I knew myself.

“Layla, there’s absolutely no way you’ll make it through one more date where all he talks about are his CrossFit gains.”

“I will have you know,” I said, crossing my arms and tipping my chin up, “he is taking me on a very romantic date tomorrow night. And after, I’ll more than likely bring him home so if I were you, I would go ahead and make plans to be elsewhere.”

Rachel stared at me, her mouth pulled into an unamused pout, eyes narrowed into slits.

“Cause you know…we’re gonna be loud when we take a trip to no pants land.” Shudder. That was actually the grossest thing that has ever left my mouth. I needed some soap for that one for sure.

She pulled her lips up to a smile, “Riiight. Have fun with Kyle and no pants. I’m sure it’ll be just great.”

Sadly, this meant I’d have to text Kyle and suggest going out instead of going with my original plan—ghosting him until he got the hint that girls do not like to be told to smile more.

“It’ll be lots of fun.” I scrambled to my feet and turned back to Rachel. “Just wait, I’ll barely be able to walk the next day.”

With my arms crossed over my chest, I stomped to the living room to text Kyle. As I pulled up our text thread, Rachel shouted, “You’re making plans with him right now, aren’t you?”

I scoffed and lied, “No, I’m texting your mom.”

“Good one, Lay.”

Me: Hey! Sorry I haven’t reached out, I’ve been super busy. Do you want to go out tomorrow night?

My gut wrenched when delivered appeared below the text bubble. But who was I if I didn't take the opportunity to prove Rachel wrong? Our roommate relationship relied on four solid pillars of friendship: proving each other wrong, eating expired yogurt together at two a.m., arguing over who has better taste in men, and crying as we watch 10 Things I Hate About You for the millionth time. It was how we survived living together without murdering each other.

I sank into our gray sectional, prepared to cringe at Kyle’s no doubt douchey response. When my phone buzzed, I dragged my eyes to the screen, knowing what I’d find was bound to scar me for life.

Skywalker: I finally started the D.B. Cooper documentary you wouldn’t shut up about.

Relief flooded my veins when Luke’s text greeted me instead, and I smiled to myself as I replied.

Me: Do you think I am as cool as him?

Skywalker: Much cooler. I think we need to get you some sunglasses like his, though.

Me: Maybe. Although Nathan has those Aviators I could borrow?

Skywalker: I think he burned them after you made fun of him in front of the receptionist downstairs.

Me: Who wears sunglasses inside? There was no way she was going out with him after that.

Skywalker: I don’t think the glasses are what killed the mood.

I chortled at his response and snatched my laptop from the coffee table. The open Word Document was titled “Work In Progress,” however, the progress itself was lacking. I’d added maybe three chapters in the last five months. My plots were planned out and I knew where the story needed to go, but when I sat down to write…nothing. Nada. Nothing but tumbleweeds rolling around in my brain. I would stare at a page, add two to three words, then shut it down, swearing to try again later.

Spoiler alert: trying again later was never any more successful.

Rachel walked into the living room, a glass bottle of cream soda in her hand, and plopped down on the end of the sectional beside me.

“Anything new?”

“Nope.”

“What if you jumped straight to the murder part? Maybe the excitement will get your mind ready to go.”

I’d considered that, but I knew it wouldn’t work. “I want to know the characters first. I can’t write a scene that monumental without knowing how each person would react.”

Thankfully my phone buzzed in my lap, distracting me from the dreaded manuscript in front of me.

Kyle: A new nutritional juice place just opened up downtown.

Ugh, this guy truly was the worst.

I fought not to roll my eyes. Rachel was watching, after all.

Me: I was thinking maybe something more like dinner? Could you pick me up at work?

“Sooo where’s Mr. Romance taking you tomorrow night? Do you want to borrow a dress?” Rachel asked, her focus fixed on her phone screen.

Rachel’s wardrobe was a lot more modern than mine was, with tiny Levi shorts, band t-shirts she had collected from concerts over the years, and dresses that made her look like a fairy princess.

My closet, however, consisted of overalls and floor-length dresses. She called me Meemaw when I wore cardigans over button-downs, but it did the trick. It kept Chad’s wandering gaze away from me. As an added bonus, my style was cozy and comforting. Scary news reports of girls gone missing never centered ones in cardigans; it was really a safety measure at this point.

“It’s a surprise. And no, I’ll wear my new dress.”

Rachel peeked up at me. “The yellow one?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t wear that one, it’s too perfect. It makes you look like Belle, and he doesn’t deserve to see you looking that good.”

I scoffed. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“It’s me telling you that Kyle is short for Gaston.”

“Whatever, I have self tanner to apply.”

I left the room, hoping to leave behind the disgust settling in over this date.

Because Chad had assigned me as his partner in a series of Zoom meetings—to help him when he inevitably screwed up in front of his higher ups—I had been stuck in the conference room all day and hadn’t so much as laid eyes on Layla. She was the brightest light in this office, and I was jonesing for my daily fix.

Chad always picked Nathan or me when he needed help, even though Layla was much more qualified. Probably because he was the kind of man who drooled over her physical assets instead of recognizing her assets in publishing. Or maybe because he wanted someone he knows will coddle him out of pity, which Layla would never do. She was always sweet, but genuine. And she wasn’t any better at faking sympathy than she was at playing mini golf. And she’s terrible at mini golf.

Damn, it was 4:48. An entire day of pranking had been stolen from me. I could only hope that Layla had switched the keys on Nathan’s computer so every time he typed N, a D would pop up.

“I’ll wrap up these notes and email them to you.”

“Alright brother, keep shooting, nahwhutimean?”

No. I did not. And I doubt he did, either. Nonetheless, I fist-bumped him when prompted.

I left the conference room in a hurry, hoping Layla hadn’t left yet. And when I entered the open area down the hall, there she was. She stood next to Nathan’s desk, her hip cocked against the side while he sat in his office chair. She tipped her head back to laugh, and her soft hair swayed behind her, seemingly in slow motion. Her perfect smile shone brighter than anything I’d seen all day. It was like I was ten again, watching Megan Fox leaning over a car in Transformers. My heart rate picked up speed, making my head spin and my palms itchy. She took over any room she was in. And she was…dressed up?

Layla never dressed up. On occasion, she’d wear a pantsuit to a conference with clients, but mostly she wore those linen overalls I loved so much. Today, she was decked out in a long yellow and white gingham dress with her dark hair curled to perfection. Was this what she’d looked like all day? And I’d freaking missed it? I could strangle Chad right now.

Her laughter quieted, and she looked up from Nathan, catching me gawking, probably looking like a fish with my mouth wide open.

“Hey! I wondered if he would ever release you.”

Why did she look so tan?

“Oh, yeah. You look great, by the way. Did you dress up for Froggy’s?” I waved a hand up and down, gesturing to the dress that had my brain going haywire.

We went to Froggy’s tavern every Thursday night. The beer was terrible, but the trivia was fun, and I enjoyed the company.

“Oh no, I um—”

“She’s got a hot date,” Nathan cut in without looking up from his laptop.

Date? My heart seized. Sure, Layla had gone out with guys here and there, but she’d never dressed up for them. Not like this.

“Oh?” was all I could say. I was still malfunctioning, and probably would be until I got home.

“Yeah, you should hear about this douche canoe. He told her how much he could bench not ten minutes after meeting her.”

A fire ignited in my gut. I didn’t necessarily want details about Layla's love life, but if this guy was significant enough to dress up for and mention to Nathan, why hadn’t she mentioned him to me?

“Hold on, you don’t know the whole story,” she said, defending the mystery man, only adding fuel to the flames scorching my insides.

“Oh right. Was that before or after he said you should work on your quad gains?”

Layla laughed and waved a dismissive hand at Nathan, but her cheeks were pink.

My stomach dropped. I wanted to be the one making her blush. But I swallowed thickly and went along with it. “You look great, so maybe the second date will be better.”

“Nah man, this is like their fourth date. And he’s still a complete jerk.” Sounded like Nathan hated this guy as much as I did. I liked to imagine someone with a top hat and a twirly mustache that screamed perv. It was easier that way.

Fourth? Does that mean she plans to…?

“You could come out with us after if you wanted?”

“Thanks, but I think I’ll be out pretty late.” The pink on her round cheeks deepened, feeding the growing jealousy in my stomach.

Since when did Layla stay out late? What is happening right now?

Nathan had his elbows propped on his desk and a wide grin on his face, no doubt thinking about how he would torment me with that information later. Because while my gorgeous best friend was sleeping with her hunky date, I’d be at the bar thinking of only her.

When I looked back up to Layla, her wide eyes were on me, searching. Like I had an answer to a question she longed for. Ask away, little one. Whatever she wanted from me, she could have. Those green orbs had me in a trance, stealing my breath and making my pulse race.

Her phone buzzed in her hand and she broke first.

“Hello?” Her voice wavered as she focused on the wall past my shoulder.

“I’ll meet you down there. Just stay in the lobby.” She pulled her phone from her ear and stretched to clutch her tote bag from where it was propped on her office chair.

I laid my hand over it before she could pick it up. “I’ll get it. I can walk you down.” My voice was almost a growl.

“No, no that’s okay.” She grabbed for the canvas straps.

Nathan cut into our tug of war. “We gotta go if we’re gonna beat traffic. Tony said whoever gets there last is buying.”

Once he’d shut down his computer, the three of us headed out, Layla's bag in my hand.

In the slow-moving elevator, I swore time froze. I had to see this guy, the one she was willing to break her third date rule for. Yeah, Nathan had drunkenly spilled those beans in my lap a few months ago. The information had sent relief coursing through me, knowing she wasn’t serious about any of them. But if this guy was truly someone she liked, and he was deserving of her time, I’d keep my mouth shut.

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open when we reached the lobby.

“Okay thanks, Luke. I’ll see you later.” Layla's small fingers wrapped around the strap of her bag but I tightened my grip.

“Hold on, little one. I want to make sure you get there safely.”

She huffed and Nathan laughed behind me. He knew I was screwed, and he’d torture me for it later.

Layla stepped into the lobby first, craning her neck, searching for her date. When she stopped in her tracks, I followed her line of sight, my jaw dropping. There, taking up half of the room, stood a tan man with arm muscles bigger than my head. He wore pink shorts and a short sleeve collared white shirt with the top two buttons undone. Who did he think he was, David Hasselhoff? And this was Layla’s type? Gym rats who subsisted on protein shakes? Guys who wore collared golf shirts and gold chains? Dudes who were my polar opposite?

I followed Layla to where he leaned against the tall table.

“Hey, thanks for picking me up. Luke, this is Kyle. Kyle, this is Luke. Okay, everyone good? Let’s go.” Layla rushed through her sentence like she always did when she was ready to leave.

“Wait a sec, babe. Lemme meet your friend,” Kyle said with a chin raise, like he was sizing me up.

I had to admit—Hasselhoff here was yoked. His sleeves stretched taut over his biceps, and I swore I could see his calf muscles from the front. If we ever had to duel for Layla’s love, I would be a crumpled ball on the floor. I hadn’t set foot in a gym more than once in the last year, but I had at least a foot on the guy, and good genetics meant I could get away with late-night Oreos and Marlo’s doughnuts on Fridays and still keep this lean frame. So he could suck it.

I stuck a hand out. “I’m Luke, Layla’s best friend.”

Translation: I’m the guy she’ll compare you to when you inevitably screw up. Try me.

The dude’s grip shook me. “Kyle.” Geez, what did this guy lift? Buildings?

“Dang, you’ve got a good grip.” I placed my hand over my mouth and said, “Someone call The Rock. He’s about to be replaced.”

Next to me, Layla laughed then stuck a fist over her mouth.

Kyle didn’t even crack a smile. “Huh, right.” He looked over at Layla. “Let’s get going, yeah?”

I stuck my hands in my pockets to avoid clenching them. Douche canoe was right.

Kyle stuck a hand out to Layla, and she slowly reached for him. I cringed as they entwined their fingers. This was too weird. I cleared my throat and tore my gaze away.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, right? Have fun at Froggy’s,” Layla said to me as her date tugged her toward the exit.

“Yeah,” I choked out, hoping she couldn’t see the way my mood soured.

And then my dream girl walked away, hand-in-hand with her jacked-up date. He opened the door but didn’t hold it for her, and she turned back to me. Her doe eyes met mine for a brief moment and my shoulders dropped.

“Oh, man. That was not what I was expecting,” Nathan laughed, sidling up to me and patting me on the shoulders.

“Yeah…me neither.” My voice was a low, unrecognizable baritone.

He chortled and said, “You are so screwed.”

I nodded without another word, my attention fixed on the exit where I’d last seen Layla.

“Come on, let’s go get you drunk.”

Sounds fantastic.

“You should try intermittent fasting.”

It was official. This was the worst date in history. I would be writing a letter to Guinness World Records when I got home.

I had never met someone so obsessive over their workout routine, or the gym in general. I got it, I did. Everybody had their thing. I probably talked about thriller novels and Anakin Skywalker too much, but my entire personality doesn’t revolve around that small subset of interests.

And newsflash, Kyle—I understood the importance of a healthy diet. I saw all the food pyramid posters in the cafeteria next to the Chick-Fil-A on my college’s campus. However, I simply did not care. Kyle loves the gym, and that’s fine, good for him really, but know your audience man. We could talk about literally hundreds of other things: weather, sports, his great-grandmother's recent colonoscopy. Anything but this.

For almost an hour, I tried to redirect the conversation and yet, every time I began to think I could actually like this guy, he had to mention how he was bulking up. Between my yawns and the number of drinks I’d ordered, I figured he would take a hint.

“Actually, I think I’m okay.”

I’m content with my body for now. I’d rather eat pasta and be happy with a little extra fluff than have hard abs and a tight butt and be miserable.

“I used to think this was all stupid, too. My friends would talk about protein powder and their latest PRs, and I’d roll my eyes.”

You don’t say?

“But then I saw the light. I realized how much fitness…”

The light? Were we on a date, or was this a gym spiritual awakening ritual? I tuned him out and checked my missed texts below the table.

Rachel: How’s it going? Made it to your destination of no pants land?

Skywalker: What does your date do for a living, throw cotton balls on roofs?

I scoffed a little at both of them. Peeking up from under my lashes, I made sure Kyle wasn’t bothered by my distracting device, but he was too busy talking to notice, so I responded to Luke first.

Me: Actually, I think he works for an animal shelter. He snuggles kittens all day long and then sings in a year round caroling group.

Lies. I had no idea what Kyle did, and it didn’t matter because after tonight, I would never see him again.

Skywalker: Yeah right, little one.

The familiar nickname made me smile. A couple of years ago, Janise had threatened my job—again—because I hadn’t updated her files quick enough. Afterward, Luke sidled up with a box of my favorite paper clips—the ones that fit just right around the paper. He’d attached a note to it that said, don’t let them get to you, little one. Ever since, I’ve melted every time he used the term of endearment. I still had the empty box and note in the back of my desk drawer.

The waiter approached and cleared away our plates. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

Kyle shot a cocky smile my way. “No thanks. We’ll have dessert at my place,” he said, followed by a poorly executed wink—or did he have a speck of dust in his eye?—to me.

The comment, though, was a bit presumptuous, especially coming from a man who’d casually mentioned tonight that he had three female roommates. In his defense, he followed up by assuring me that he’d only slept with two of them, so there shouldn’t be a threat there. Which was good, because clearly I was very concerned.

The waiter awkwardly wandered away, and I made a mental reminder to leave an extra tip for having to suffer through uncomfortable sexual innuendos.

“Actually, I’m gonna head home. I’m wiped, and you have to get up early for the Tough Mudder right?” I think that’s what he called it…

Without even looking down at the device in my lap, I sent Luke another text.

Me: Are you still at Froggy’s?

Kyle scowled, then studied the bill in his hand before bringing that stupid expression back up.

“You’re joking, right?”

“Umm no? Dinner was great.” Really, my compliments to the chef. “But I have to work tomorrow.”

“So that’s it?” He scoffed. “Wow. I figured you were playing hard to get, but you’re just a tease.”

It was my turn to laugh. Of all the names I had been called in my life, a tease had never been one of them.

“A tease? I hardly know you. I don’t even know your middle name. I don’t think that entitles you to anything. Especially not sex.”

My phone buzzed below me.

Skywalker: Come on, little one. Trivia is over but we’re still here.

“You know what your problem is? You and your 1920s grandma clothes think you’re better than everyone else. News flash sweetheart, no one’s going to balk if you show your ankle.”

Ha! Grandma? If that was the case, Myrtle was about to throw down.

I scoffed and stuttered, “I- You. Well,” I sneered, giving him a once-over, searching for an equal insult. The choices were endless, but in the end, I went for his Achilles heel.

“You count macros at a dinner date. Who does that? And newsflash to you, no one cares about your workout routine so stop filming them for your stupid vlog!” I jumped to my feet so quickly, my chair wobbled. “And you’re not that ripped. Your shirts are just two sizes too small.”

Kyle's face fell like I had told him his pet fish died. Shot to the heart, I was to blame. And with a metaphorical mic drop, I stormed out of the restaurant with my phone in hand.

Me: I’m on my way.

With my knee bouncing against the wooden bar, I swiveled on my stool every now and then, waiting for Layla to arrive. When the familiar chime of the door echoed through the space and heels clicked against the floorboards, I didn’t have to look to know. I jerked toward the sound, almost pulling a muscle in my neck in the process. And there she was, in all her yellow dress, perfect hair, soft smile glory. Only, the smile was missing. In its place was a flat line that told me her night had gone worse than I expected.

Nathan had been drunk enough for the two of us when Layla texted me. The familiar buzz of a text notification sent excitement flooding my veins. I’d convinced myself that she would be too busy doing who knows what with Hulk Hogan to answer her phone. So when she asked if we were still here, I felt guilty for spending the previous hour praying her date would go badly. Well, only half guilty. Okay, ten percent. Max.

I waved to her as she weaved between tables.

“There she is, the girl of the hour. Mother of dragons. Shredder of spare copies. Lover of apple cider doughnuts,” Nathan said, introducing Layla like a late-night talk show host.

Layla bowed humbly, then heaved herself onto the stool next to me. With slumped shoulders, she raised a hand.

“Can I get a whiskey sour, my dear Alex?” Layla sighed contentedly when the bartender nodded. “May you go your whole life without kidney stones.”

I chuckled and cleared my throat, shooting for nonchalance when I asked, “I’m assuming the date didn’t go too well?”

Coolly, I picked at the wet label on my beer bottle, but my brain cells were partying like they were at a rave.

“You could say that.” The bartender arrived with her drink, and she slid it closer and stuck a tiny straw in, then sucked it back like she’d just been rescued after being stranded in the desert. The liquid in the glass sank lower and lower a little too quickly, but she didn’t let up until she was sucking air.

“Here’s the thing, Laylay.” Nathan drunkenly slung an arm over her shoulder, “You can’t date boys who wear tiny, salmon shorts. You, my friend, need a man. You need a man in black dress pants. Or overalls. Or…Harry Potter sweatpants.” He looked at me and gave me a monstrosity of a wink.

Thankfully, Layla was too focused on the ice in her glass to notice. I raised a hand to my neck and dragged it across my throat as I mouthed, “STOP.”

“That sounds great, Nathan. Find me a man who loves all my favorite movies and doesn’t live in his mom’s basement, and I will hop on him faster than you can say forever alone.”

If only I had a t-shirt with big, bold letters that said OPEN YOUR EYES.

However, since I was a rational human being, I simply took another sip of my beer and asked, “What did he say?” I was hoping to divert the conversation before she launched into more details about how qualified I was to date my best friend who treated me like I was her brother.

“Oh, ya know. Just that I’m a grandma who’s too scared to show some ankle. But jokes on him. I wasn’t putting out anyway.” She was slurping through her straw again, unwittingly catching Alex’s attention. Yeah, he sensed the mood. He was already on his way back with another whiskey sour.

“He said what? Send me his cell. Where does he live? What's his social security number?” Nathan shouted, drawing the attention of several nearby patrons.

My voice was calm, despite the fire raging inside me. “Layla.”

She peered up at me, green eyes shining with unshed tears and cheeks stained pink like the stick of her favorite cherry popsicle.

“You don’t actually believe that, right? You know better than that.”

Layla's sad shrug and head dip made my heart sink. Half of me wanted to rub her back and tell her it would all be okay, and the other part was rolling up his sleeves, preparing to find her date so I could kick his balls up to his throat.

A second drink led to a third, then a fourth, and before I knew it, my tiny friend was reciting Dylan Thomas to strangers.

“Do not go gently into that good night, but rage, RAGE, against the dying of the light!” She leaned toward the white haired stranger on her left, and I pulled her elbow so she wouldn’t topple into him.

“I’m so sorry,” I said, peering over her. “She gets poetic when she drinks.”

I yanked Layla out of her seat and guided her to a booth on the other side of the room, keeping my hands on her upper arms to minimize the stumbling. I ordered two glasses of water and a pretzel, her favorite.

Brow furrowed, I looked around the bar for Nathan and the rest of our regular crew, but they were nowhere to be found. They’d probably all grabbed an Uber home by now. As I finished my search, a tiny hand poked my chest.

“Hey, Lukey pookey.”

Layla’s eyes were glazed, and her hair was wild. Her cheeks were rounded into the cutest smile I’d ever seen, her dimple appearing, begging me to press my thumb against it.

I grinned down at her. Layla rarely drank, but when she did, it was a treat. Witnessing events like this were up there with watching cute puppies trip over themselves.

“Hi, Layla bear.”

She scooted across the long leather seat and, with her finger still poking my chest, leaned in and inhaled noisily.

Was she sniffing me? Gah, I wanted to wrap her up and keep her forever.

“What do you think it is?” Layla drunkenly whispered.

“What do you mean?” Don’t ask why I whispered back.

“Why do I get all hot when I’m near you? Or when I touch you?” She pressed a hand to my chest, and my heart rate ratcheted up. ”And my stomach feels like I’m on a rollercoaster?”

Her lips were closer to mine than they’d ever been. Even closer than the time there were free cheesecake bites in the lobby and we were squished in a long line. Or when she would squeeze between me and the filing cabinet to snatch up a folder. Oh yeah, those may have been the most painful days of my life. But still, when we touched on rare occasions, it had never felt like this, like she wanted…more.

Is she…no.

But maybe…no.

Okay, but slight possibility—

My spiraling was interrupted by a loud gasp. “You know what, Lukey? We should go to Universal together! We could go get matching wands. You would match wands with me, right?”

I was too caught up on her previous questions to think of wands. “Yeah sure, Lay but go back to what you were saying before? You get hot when around me?”

I’m hot right now. So hot. My toes to my liver are on fire. Wait, could a person even feel their liver?

“Oh, I'm sure it’s nothing.” She slumped next to me in the booth, removing her long, pink fingernail from where it was embedded in my chest. “Don’t worry, I remember what you said.” She waved at me like she was conducting an orchestra.

“What do you mean?”

“I remember it, Lukey. I don’t want to, but oh, I do.”

What? What have I ever said to her that would stick like this?

“Oh well,” she pouted with a shrug. “I guess I’ll keep dating my hard and chunky short guys. There’s gotta be another one out there.”

I slid a glass of water to her, and spoke very slowly. “Layla, what are you talking about?”

She attempted another shrug, this one more like a shimmy. “It’s okay, I’ll still be your friend.” Her slender fingers tapped the fist I had clenched on the tabletop in front of me.

Let’s just say, hypothetically, there was a door that could lead to the possibility of Layla wanting to be with me. I would go through it faster than Usain Bolt could run a fifty-yard dash. No, that wouldn’t even do it justice. I’d straight bust through the door Kool-Aid man style, screaming, “Oh yeah!”

But she’d never acted even remotely interested. In fact, I specifically remember Nathan making a comment about us being like the Mom and Dad of the office and she said, “Eww, yeah right.”

The possibility of Layla’s rejection, which would inevitably ruin our perfect friendship, was my worst nightmare. So I’d spent years avoiding that door. It might as well have been a locked entrance to an attic filled with creepy dolls and walls dripping blood because I was not going there.

“Alrighty, I think you’ve had enough. How about we get you home?”

Her face lit up, cheeks flushed the most perfect shade of pink. With a quick nod, she scooted toward me, gesturing for me to get up.

“Yes, let’s get me home…” she replied, followed by what was probably supposed to be a wink and then an uncrossing of her short legs. She overestimated and slid too far out of the booth, almost crashing into the floor.

“Woah, okay. Let’s go to my car.” I offered her a hand.

She not so graciously took it and hopped up faster than she should have. “I love your car! It’s so warm and sturdy, like you!”

I chuckled and threw up a quick thanks to the big man in the sky for the small hand that was wrapped around my arm. As we made our way to the parking lot, Layla stopped and spun back to the bar.

“Goodbye, my dear, Alex! I thank you graciously for my drinks. Remember, there were two roads diverged in a yellow wood—”

“Okay, not again.” I tugged Layla toward the door with a wave to Alex, who was chuckling behind the bar.

After I got Layla buckled in, she leaned into the warm seat of my Jeep and smiled the sweetest, drunkest smile at me. With a wink, I closed her door gently and rounded the hood. Once I got behind the wheel, I took a minute to pull up a playlist I’d created of Layla's favorite music. As the app loaded, I caught sight of her fidgeting in my periphery, but she remained quiet. When I rested my hand on the gearshift, ready to put the Jeep in reverse, she turned toward me.

“What do you think about that new girl, Katie?”

I wracked my brain. Katie, Katie, Katie…

“Oh, the accountant?”

“Yeah. With the purple shoes and the Jenny-from-the-block booty.”

I chuckled; Layla had always had a way with words.

“I don’t think about her. I’ve met her once.” I couldn’t describe a single woman from the office except my best friend. And Janise. But only because she was basically Yzma from Emperor's New Groove.

“She asked me about you yesterday…”

“Oh really?” I smirked at Layla, who fiddled with her bracelet. “Maybe I should ask her out.”

Layla let out a burst of laughter. “It’s too late now. I took care of it.”

She took care… “What does that mean?”

A small shrug and a contrite smile was her only response.

“Did you poison her?”

“No. Unlike you, I don’t poison girls on their first day of work.”

That brought a grin to my face. That hot sauce mishap was the best thing that ever happened to me. It led to an all-out battle between us. Shortly after the incident, everyone in the office knew to steer clear of us unless they wanted to be drafted into our war.

“Then what did you do?”

She pursed her lips and smoothed her skirt. “I simply told her you weren’t dating…”

Oh?

“Women.”

Oh.

I choked on a cough and had to beat my chest to clear my throat so I could speak. “Wha—Layla, I…” I waved a hand, flustered. “W-why would you say that?”

“She was looking at you like you were a piece of meat. I didn’t like it.” Her green irises blazed, even in the dim interior of the car, though her expression was one of pure innocence.

“So you can go out with all these guys,” I barked, an unfamiliar anger slipping out with my words and ricocheting through the Jeep, “but I can’t even have one girl like me?”

Her eyes widened and her chest rose and fell faster than before. My breath quickened to match as we stared each other down, the thick tension filling the car making my temperature rise. She blinked once, twice, three times before opening her mouth then shutting it. Like she was trying but failing to come up with an explanation. The hair on my arms stood. Layla never looked at me like this. With the slightest movement, she pulled her hips closer to the center console that separated us. Her chin was raised and her cheeks were flushed cotton-candy pink. She licked her bottom lip and pulled it between her teeth.

Of its own accord, my body angled closer, caught in her gravitational pull, eager to follow her anywhere. My focus dropped to her full pink mouth, where her lipstick was partially smeared off, but I wanted her to stain mine anyway. She dragged her teeth along that bottom lip until it slipped free, eliciting a desire I fought to mask.

Why now? Why did she have to act jealous and…whatever this was now? Where was this three years ago? My heart sank as I studied her glazed-over green orbs of her eyes. This was the alcohol talking. She didn’t like me. She’d simply had too many whiskey sours tonight. She probably would’ve been like this with any guy; I just happened to be here. She had a terrible date and needed some reassurance afterward.

I pulled away, before I could brush against her smooth, delicate skin. If I discovered what she felt like underneath my touch, we might never make it home. With unsteady hands, I put the car in reverse, its rumble shaking me back to the present.

When we got there, I dragged Layla up to her apartment, having to occasionally distract her from pointing out weird stains in the carpets of the hallway that “remind her of Mickey Mouse.”

“Is Rachel home?” I asked quietly, careful not to wake the crotchety neighbor who’d once yelled at me for sneezing too loudly.

“No. I told her not to come home cause I’d be in no pants land.” I turned to find Layla in a puddle on the floor, a tangled mess of arms and legs.

“Yep. That’s more than I needed to know.”

So she’d planned to sleep with him. The admission had that fire reigniting in my gut and licking up my chest cavity.

“Come on, little one,” I said, crouching beside her and putting my hands around her ribcage to hoist her to her feet. “Where are your keys?”

“In my bag,” she said, then paused, patting her sides excitedly. “Wait…this dress has pockets. I knew there was a good reason I bought it.”

Fun fact about Layla: if it had pockets, chances were she’d buy it.

After a moment of jangling keys and awkward swaying, I got Layla's door unlocked and shuffled her inside. Her apartment was small but looked like it had come straight out of a magazine that used terms like mid-century modern.

The only thing out of place was an Abbey Road vinyl with the sleeve out on the sectional and an open record player sitting on the Aztec rug. Likely Rachel’s doing.

“I’m just going to change into something a little more comfortable.”

If seductive Layla showed up, I wouldn’t last the night. I had to get her to bed, then go home so I could slip into my favorite dream—the one where my best friend and my girlfriend were the same person.

My phone buzzed, pulling me out of my daze.

Liam: Any chance you want to watch the twins tomorrow night?

I shook my head and chuckled. My twin nephews were little tornadoes, and I was always glad to hang out with them.

Me: Hot date?

Liam: If only. I’m working a 16 hour shift and won’t be able to see them after Marigold drops them off.

Me: Definitely. Name the time and I’m there.

On my way to the kitchen to snatch a bottle of water from the fridge, the familiar scent of clean cotton hit my nose and I sighed. The plug-in air freshener on the far left wall always emitted Layla’s signature scent. Spring florals and clean linen were her trademarks. I didn’t hang out here a lot—maybe once every few weeks—but it was frequent enough for me to memorize the scent.

When she stepped back into the room, Layla had on baggy gray sweatpants and an oversized sweatshirt with a hole in the sleeve and said reading is sexy across the chest. The clothes draped over her, her style best described as Adam Sandler-esque. The contrast between her previously flirty tone and these pajamas was almost comical.

“You know,” I said, shaking my head. “Most girls wear those cute pajama shorts and tank tops to sleep.”

“No they don’t. That’s only on TV.”

She was probably right, but it was fun to tease her.

I chuckled and herded her back to her bedroom, the forbidden chamber that haunted me in all of my office daydreams. Layla bumped into the door frame, then proceeded to face the trim and jerk her head at it like she was ready to fight. I grabbed her shoulders to stabilize her and also remind her that fighting door frames was not on the agenda for tonight. It would be a miracle if I made it out of this Godforsaken apartment with my frazzled mental state still somewhat intact.

She plopped onto her white comforter—the room warmly lit by the soft glow of the Darth Vader lamp on the nightstand—and climbed under her blankets.

I let out a long breath. I was in Layla’s bedroom. The most sacred place for a person. The consecrated spot where she read fantasy romance books about hot bat men, where she woke up in her ugly, oversized pajamas, and where she’d cried to me on the phone the night her childhood dog died. It was also probably where she had planned to…lay with Kyle tonight. I shivered.

With a shake, I brought myself out of that doom spiral, only to scan the room and freeze at the sight of the hot pink bra lying on the green accent chair on the other side of her bed. Oh no. I had to get out of there, immediately. Seeing my best friend's bra? Yeah, that definitely violated unspoken friendship rules.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, I placed the water along with a bottle of Tylenol next to her Darth Vader lamp and whispered, “You good, Laylay? Everything you need is on your nightstand, and I plugged your phone in so you’ll hear the alarm for work tomorrow,”

“Mmmpurhh.”

“I’m taking that as a yes.”

I stood from that bewitching Purple mattress I’d helped her purchase a year ago and prepared to sprint out of the apartment. But before I could make my escape, a familiar tiny hand stuck out of the sea of blankets to grapple my arm.

“Stay with me?” she mumbled. “Just a little longer.”

Only Layla’s small head poked out from her thick comforter, her dark hair up in a tight ponytail from when she’d changed clothes. My willpower and my instincts were at war with each other.

Stay…don’t stay…

I was so unbelievably gone for this girl, who’d never seen me as more than a friend. A companion. Practically a brother.

“We’re Luke and Leia. Partners in crime,” she would say when anyone accused otherwise, slicing my heart in two with her verbal lightsaber. When I didn’t respond, she opened her eyes and pouted.

“Please?”

And that was all she had to say. Because when Layla tacked the word please on to any request, I couldn’t deny her.

“Just for a little bit,” I grumbled. Suddenly, my pants were too tight and my brain was cloudy with reminders of where I was. Standing next to where Layla slept every night.

“Tell me a bedtime story.”

“No. Go to sleep.”

“Please.”

“Fine. There once were two dogs that worked together. One of the dogs was really cool, it had the best taste in music and movies and all of the other dogs wanted to be it. The other dog was named Layla.” I let out a chuckle when Layla half-heartedly walloped my back. “Layla was a fun dog, too. She was a cocker spaniel and loved to make that’s-what-she-said jokes in the office. They became best friends and devoted their lives to torturing a Chihuahua named Janise and eating bacon flavored doughnuts. The end.”

Layla hummed, her eyes shut and the tiniest of grins on her mouth.

I patted the mattress and stood so I could finally get out of this torturous space.

“Wait,” she latched onto my wrist again. “What happens after that?”

“Nothing,” I deadpanned. “It was happily ever after.”

“No it wasn’t. They didn’t even kiss?”

I sucked in a breath and froze. “...Do you want them to kiss?”

“Maybe,” she yawned. “Every good story includes kissing.”

Though my heart beat faster than what was healthy, I smiled down at her. Layla’s breathing was steady, her mouth slightly agape. Since she’d mentioned a few times over the years how tight ponytails gave her headaches, I gently worked the tie loose. When her hair was free, I stood back and regarded her, listening to the tiny snores coming from her pillowy lips.

I bent at the waist, knowing she wouldn’t remember any of this tomorrow, and whispered, “I hope they kiss one day, too.”

I pulled her door closed silently, leaving Layla alone in her bed. An odd wave of comfort washed over me then, and I closed my eyes to revel in it for a minute. I was the one who’d tucked her in tonight. And because I was a petty man, I hoped that Hasselhoff was sleeping on a broken waterbed by himself.

I padded down the hall and back to the living room, turning the lights out as I went. When I made it to the door, I slipped my shoes on.

“Well, well, well.”

My spine snapped straight at the voice coming from the kitchen. “Layla told me she had plans for no pants land, I just didn’t think it would be with you.”

Rachel had a hip propped against the white counter and an Eagles mug in her hand.

“You nearly gave me a heart attack,” I breathed out, raking a hand through my hair.

I’d seen Rachel here and there. Sometimes Layla invited her to work events or to Froggy’s, but it had been months since the last time she’d been out with us.

“You seem fine now. I have to say, I did not expect this.” With a finger, she trailed a path through the air from my messy hair to my untied shoes. No doubt it looked as inappropriate as it felt to be in my best friend’s room at eleven p.m. on a Thursday. “Not right now, at least.”

Rachel took a long sip of whatever she had been drinking—I was a little scared to know now—and eyed me over the rim while I fumbled with my shoelaces.

“It’s not what it looks like. She had a bad date, drank too much, and needed help. I got her to bed and that’s all.”

She wiggled her dark brows at me as she smirked. She was just as bad as Nathan was.

“Oh, suuure.”

I sputtered out a breath and snatched up my keys. “Nope. I gotta go.” I stalked past her to the front door, my cheeks warm with her accusations. “I’m not about to stick around to be interrogated by you.”

“It’s pretty fun, watching the two of you dance around each other with your eyes closed.”

I didn’t even respond, simply closed the door gently and jogged down to my Jeep.

Layla’s eyes were closed, yeah. But were mine?

When did the world get so bright?

Has coffee always smelled so strong?

And why did my legs feel like jello?

Note to self: drinking like you did during your early college years yielded a completely different outcome nowadays.

I swayed back and forth in the elevator, the movement nauseating and the view in front of me a little too blurry. It was a wonder I made it here in the first place.

Bicycles and hangovers do not mix.

Last night was one of the most humiliating nights I’ve had in a while, and this was coming from the girl who once sang Tenacious D with Rachel at a Karaoke bar. When I woke up this morning, all I could remember was my terrible date with Kyle then going to meet Luke and Nathan. As I got ready, however, pieces of the night slowly flooded back. I told Luke I wanted him. Heck, I told him I was always hot around him. I might as well have laid out in front of him naked with a sign that said be mine.

I stumbled into the hallway, where clacking keys and trilling phones were deafening. Shoulders slumped and head down, I dragged my tote bag behind me and braced myself to face the day. My eyes were gritty, and I swore I was sweating whiskey.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Nathan said, rolling back from his desk, his hands behind his head, a smirk proudly lined across his face..

“Morning,” I grumbled, too dazed to think of a sarcastic response.

I hefted my tote onto my desk, next to a brown paper bag from Marlo’s. I cringed—doughnuts while hungover sounded pretty gross—until I saw a note.

The alcohol is strong in this one.

- Skywalker

Rather than doughnuts, the bag held two slices of my favorite quiche and a small bottle of orange juice. I bit my bottom lip and sat in my rolling chair, trying to contain my wide grin but failing miserably.

Maybe last night wasn’t as bad as I thought.

I twirled—slowly; hangovers and spinning don’t mix—and scanned the office in search of the present-giver.

“Where’s Luke?” I asked, stopping my chair with my feet and nibbling on a quiche.

Nathan’s smirk said more than his mouth did. “He had to pick some stuff up for Chad. He dropped by early to put that on your desk.”

Casually, I gave him a small shrug and a twist of a smile, but in my chest, my heart thumped wildly.

I turned on my computer and grabbed my headset, ready to get my workday started. I typically played music, but since my head was pounding, today I avoided it. As I clicked into my inbox, I noticed my screen had already been dimmed and the audio on my headset was turned down. Did Luke really come in early to do this…for me?

This was where our problems always lay. I’d finally convince myself that Luke and I would never be together, and then he went and did things like this. Attentive, sweet gestures that made my heart flutter, wishing only for him. But then, a week or so later, life would go back to normal. We’d revert back to our best friend status quo, and I had to remember that friends were all we would ever be.

When Luke came into the office later, he was wearing his standard white button down with a navy-blue tie and thin, round glasses. His appearance hadn’t changed—same thick waves of brown hair and dark, trance-inducing eyes. Holding his usual files with one hand and a coffee mug with the long fingers of his other hand; it was nothing new. Yet somehow, when he stepped in the room and our eyes met—things felt different. The air was thicker. And although he was several feet away, it felt as though he was close enough to touch. When he lifted his chin to meet my eyes, a jolt of heat struck me. It was brief—lasting mere moments before our contact was broken when a literary agent across the office called his name—but in those seconds, warmth radiated off my body.

As he spoke to Margaret, his eyes never left mine. He apprised me, up and down, with what I could only describe as a hungry inspection, like a lion preying on a baby gazelle. He’d never looked at me like that, his lips in a smirk, like he could see into my brain and knew all the unseemly dreams I’d ever had about him. It was brief, though, and before I knew it, the expression was replaced with his usual bright, innocent smile.

What in the hell was that?

I tried to divert my focus to work, but all I could think about was the yearning that tugged in my stomach. I shook my head. Spreadsheets. Spreadsheets and Word documents—those were what I needed to focus on right now.

Luke plopped into his seat without a word, whistling like Earth hadn’t just shaken while we watched each other from opposite sides of the room. Me, on the other hand? My leg bounced under my desk, my heart raced, and my palms grew slick with sweat.

“Hey Lay, can you pull up the sales report from last week?” His husky voice threw me for a loop.

“H-huh?”

He chuckled deeply, like he knew exactly what I was thinking. “The sales report. Can you pull it up? I want to review it before I send it to corporate.”

“Oh. Right.”

Was that my voice? All shaky and weird? If so, I was more hungover than I thought.

I pulled up the report and turned my monitor toward Luke. Instead of angling over to glance at it, he stood from his desk and walked the three feet to mine. He prowled close and propped his tall frame against my wooden desk, arms crossed and glasses pulled down the bridge of his nose while he stared at the sheet in front of us. I had to fight my body not to melt into a puddle at the sight. Luke rolled up his sleeves, displaying a cascading lightning bolt of veins running down his forearm, like they had been sent from the heavens to strike me in the chest.

Who knew spreadsheets could be so sexy?

Line by line, I pointed out the week’s most popular books for the breakdown to send to corporate, but Luke’s attention was clearly far from the screen. I could tell the dark swirls of his eyes were solely focused on me, and when I turned to study him, his gaze penetrated deep, like he was looking at a database of every inappropriate thought I’d had about him, flipping through hundreds of open tabs and history files that went back three years.

I cleared my throat, returning my attention to the green and blue rows and columns. But his attention didn’t waver. When I shifted my focus back to him, he regarded me with that same small smirk on his lips. Did I have something in my hair? Or maybe spinach in my teeth? Wait, when was the last time I’d eaten spinach? Was there spinach in the quiche? I clamped my lips shut and squinted at him.

“Why are you looking at me?”

“Am I not allowed to anymore?”

“No, not like I have something wrong with my face.” I scooted my chair back a few inches. He smelled too good, like clean linen and the cologne I’d bought him for his birthday last year. I had no business smelling my best friend.

Luke chuckled. “There’s nothing wrong with your face, Layla.”

His eyes bored into mine, eyes that I had spent hours looking into. Eyes that had watched me fall down the stairs that one time, that teared up at soldier homecoming videos. I knew them well, well enough to recognize that they had never surveyed me like this. Something was different. Something about how he looked at me with that knowing smirk.

“Team meeting in fifteen!” Chad boomed down the hall from his glass-walled office.

Forcing my chin down, I focused on my work. Luke lifted his weight off my desk, flashing his full navy-clad backside in my direction as he sauntered back to his own workspace. Good grief.

What was I thinking? That Luke was actually…flirting with me? Preposterous. Ridiculous. Humorous. And every other —ous word in existence. This was Luke. He didn’t casually flirt with women. In fact, I’d witnessed him turn down flocks of females like it was nothing. Over the years, girls in the office had made it clear they were interested, and every time, he gently but firmly let them down. So no, he was certainly not flirting with me.

I pulled my notebook full of tiny TIE fighter doodles, little scribbles of Star Wars crafts, and small notes like check pricing on 80 gsm opaque paper out of my desk and headed to the conference room. Nathan and Luke followed to our regular seats in the back, sitting on either side of me. Once they were settled in, Katie from accounting plopped her tiny waist and unrealistically large butt next to Luke. She scooted in close and whispered something that made his chest shake with a small chuckle.

No ma’am. I was the funny girl. Didn’t she know she wasn’t permitted to have a perfect butt and a good sense of humor? It was common knowledge God wouldn’t give that much power to one woman.

“Think this is about the trip? Where do you think we’re going?” Nathan asked from my right.

“Probably to see the world’s largest potato factory.”

“Or a museum of buttons.”

“Maybe a civil war reenactment, and we all have to dress up.”

“Oh, good one.”

From the podium, Janise cleared her throat and adjusted the clipboard she had tucked into the crease of her elbow. What did she need a clipboard for? Did people still use clipboards?

“If I can have your attention, please. That includes you, Layla.”

I cocked a brow and flared my nostrils, turning to Luke, who held back a grin.

“As I was saying, it’s time to announce the details of our office retreat! Drumroll please.” When the room remained silent, she sighed and stomped her dark purple heel against the marble floor below her. “Ugh, fine. We’re going to…” She paused for effect.

“Ocean City, Maryland!”

I perked up in my seat, sitting straight and lifting my chin. I adored Ocean City. The boardwalks, the restaurants, the shops. The beach that felt like it stretched infinitely along the coast.

My parents, who had always been too busy with work to have fun, took one weekend off when I was eight to take me. We didn’t have much money and mom had clipped coupons for weeks so we could save for the one and only vacation I had as a kid. I could still feel the sand under my feet and see the way everyone we came upon radiated pure joy, like life was so much simpler there. Everything was slower, with hardly any traffic, live music pouring down the streets, and bakeries with fresh breads and butter croissants calling to you.

I had to keep my lips pressed together to keep from cheering with glee.

“I take it you’ve been?” Luke’s gruff whisper kissed the tip of my ear.

“Once, but I don’t remember much other than how it felt to be there.”

“How did it feel?”

“Euphoric, like visiting one of those perfect desktop backgrounds. Nostalgic and sweet.”

He smiled down at me, his long torso giving him a height advantage even when we were seated. “You really are meant to be an author, little one.”

I beamed right back, falling easily into our usual harmony.

See? Nothing different here. Just regular old Luke and Layla.

“The retreat is in two weeks. If you’d like to attend, there is a sign up sheet up front.” She rambled on about trip details, but I tuned out. Because Ocean City—with Luke? And Nathan too, of course—sounded like a dream. Being there for a work event with other West Oak employees wasn’t ideal, but I could forgive that.

“Are you going?” Tinkerbell- I mean Katie asked from beside Luke, her hopeful eyes making me want to shove her into a drawer.

“Depends. Lay?” He turned to me.

I quickly nodded, clutching my hands to my chest.

He answered Katie while looking directly into my eyes. “Then, yes. I’ll be there. Wherever Layla is, that’s where I’ll be.”

Familiar streets lined with colorful pastel cottages led to my old house. The neighborhood was full of white picket fences, young couples walking with strollers, and children laughing in big grassy front yards. Mrs. Coleman, an older widow living a couple houses over, sat in her rocking chair on her front porch. She waved to me and I returned it, making sure to give her an extra big smile.

I pulled into the driveway of my family home, parking behind my siblings' cars and attempting not to groan at the fact that I was the last one here. Stepping out of the car, I took note of the perfect July evening sky, a canvas of violet and rich coral that reminded me of cotton candy, and walked right up to the canary yellow front door before knocking three times.

The door opened and I was greeted by the beautiful, shining face of my mother. “Well, well. It’s about time you show up.”

Dressed in a blue dress and bare feet, she had her hair curled and pulled up like she’d started to get ready for the day but got too busy and ended up throwing it into a bun She opened her arms and, despite being almost two feet shorter than me, squeezed me with the strength that only a mom could hold.

“I’m five minutes early, Ma.” She patted my back and took a step away, assessing me as if I had changed since she last saw me a week ago.

“You look like you haven’t slept. Do you need some elderberry syrup? I’ve got some fresh from Debra at the church.”

I was yanked inside without much of a choice and shook my head, smiling, as she closed the door behind me.

“No, I’m fine,” I said. “I’ve just been up working.”

Truth be told, I was having difficulty sleeping thinking about the upcoming trip, editing and fixing Nathan’s “to do list,” and wondering how I would possibly pull it all off, but I hadn’t thought I looked that rough.

I stepped into my childhood living room, the slightly outdated space familiar and comfortable as always. Painted wood paneling and Mom’s framed photos of us hung above the couch for everyone to see, including a huge picture from Liam and Marigold's wedding. Every time someone asked why she hadn’t taken it down after their divorce, she’d quietly respond with, “The Lord works in mysterious ways.” None of us questioned it much after that.

Mugs of tea sat on the coffee table—English breakfast if I had to guess; it was her favorite. Calla and Marigold were already sitting on the couch, whispering and laughing at something that I probably didn’t want to know. Liam and Adam were in the kitchen with my dad grabbing their own plates.

“Hey Lukey!” Calla called from her claimed spot when she realized I’d come in. “I heard you’re going out of town with my girl.”

I rolled my eyes. “I am going out of town, and Layla will be there as well. Don’t make it sound like more than that.”

Although taking Layla on vacation was high on my bucket list, right behind meeting Mark Hamill.

“Either way, do I need to sit you down and ask your intentions with her?” She leaned back and squinted her eyes at me, looking like a mafia boss if I ever saw one.

I scoffed. “My intentions are to work.” And maybe a couple other things too…

She didn’t let up, and she and Marigold looked at each other, eyes holding a conversation between them that I couldn’t read. Marigold tilted her head and widened her eyes, and Calla nodded back. They both shook their heads and turned back to me.

Shiver. “Can you guys stop doing that? It's creepy.”

Calla turned back to our ex-sister-in-law and rolled her eyes, then Marigold scoffed back. I’ve never understood how they managed to do that, and frankly, I didn’t want to.

“Girls, leave the poor boy alone. He’s in love,” Mom spoke up from the kitchen. “Where is that sweet girl anyway? Why didn’t you bring her?”

I sighed. “She’s, uh, busy.” That wasn’t technically a lie; she probably was busy. Busy doing Layla things such as talking to her plants and crying over fantasy novels.

“Besides,” I continued, “this is a family dinner, and Lay isn’t family.”

“Yet.” All of my siblings and my parents muttered in unison.

I couldn’t bring Layla to family dinners because it set…expectations. Ones that may never be fulfilled. And although my family adores the girl—a little too much sometimes—I can’t have them getting torn apart over her. Only one Wells family member was allowed to be heartbroken over Layla Wright, and that was me.

I pinched the bridge of my nose in frustration, eyes closed and head shaking.

“I’m going home,” I said. “You guys are getting on my nerves.”

“Sit,” Mom said firmly without taking her eye off the stovetop, where she was stirring something in a pan beside a huge crockpot that smelled like her old-fashioned pot roast. I plopped down at my assigned dining room chair immediately.

Dad spoke up from his spot at the island, swiping his finger into Mom’s sauce, and she promptly smacked his hand. “Where’s Crew? I thought he’d be here before you this time.”

I shrugged, and Liam answered for the rest of us. “He disappeared again. Went by his food truck today and he’d written a sign that said ‘out for the day’ with no other explanation.”

We all simply nodded and went back to what we were doing.

Crew disappeared a few times a year, going who knew where, before returning the next day. It became such a common occurrence that we didn’t bat an eye anymore. He always turned up eventually, sometimes with an odd bruise or crazy story to tell, but no one questioned it. It was simply how Crew was.

As I got up to get a glass of water, a door opened upstairs and feet tumbled down the steps. In unison, two of my favorite voices shouted, “Uncle Luke!”

I spun on my heel to see Dallas and Miles charging at me full speed. Before I could react, the boys tackled me, one of their tiny knees going straight into my groin and I grunted as blinding, white-hot pain shivered through my lower body.

“Boys!” Marigold scolded as Liam hunched over his barstool in laughter.

“Hey guys,” I said, my voice strained

“Momma bought us some new toys, look!” Dallas shouted at a level I was not prepared for.

“I got one too,” Miles whispered shyly, despite just charging at me like a bull focused on a red flag.

“Wow, that’s so cool, man.”

I had no idea what I was looking at. It appeared to be a mix between a transformer and some kind of alien, which is definitely something we would’ve played with at their age. I reached for Miles’ toy and moved its bionic arm back and forth, appreciating the plastic laser gun hooked to its bicep.

Holding the toy next to my face, I smirked. “He looks kind of like me, huh?”

He didn’t. He had plastic muscles and no glasses, not to mention a toolbelt with a tiny saw in it. But the boys bursted out into tiny giggles, and Miles muttered, “Not really.”

“Well shoot. Maybe ask your mom to get one that looks like your uncle next time.”

Marigold rolled her eyes. “You sound like your brother.”

Liam simply shrugged. “I tell them all the time I’m the only action figure they need.”

She scoffed a laugh. “I don’t think anyone wants a toy that looks like they haven’t showered in weeks.”

The boys laughed again, and their high pitched giggling filled the room, making the rest of us, even Liam, smile, too.

Mom brought dinner to the table, the warm scent of pot roast and seasoned vegetables washing over me and making my mouth water. The house soon filled with laughter as we chatted about our weeks. Well, except Adam. He simply shoveled food into his mouth, giving an occasional grunt here and there as a response.

“Calla, how have classes been?” Dad spoke from the head of the table.

My sister responded with a mouth full of food. “Ehh, okay. Got a couple professors that I’d like to meet in a dark alleyway sometime and show them what kind of pop quiz my fists can give.”

“Calla Wells!” my mother scolded, but Calla only shrugged.

“I mean, you asked.”

Dad grumbled, “Well, I wish I didn’t.”

I snorted a laugh. “Just two more semesters, right?”

Calla excitedly nodded. “Yup, I’ll be moving back into my old room before you know it.”

Mom choked on her water.

***

Stomach full and eyes heavy, I stumbled my way through the living room. Mom’s food held some kind of magic that made you instantly drowsy, like she had a gas leak in the house.

Calla slipped out early, saying she had to go back to her dorm before her movie-obsessed roommate turned her side of the room into a shrine for Pedro Pascal. Liam took the boys to his house, and Marigold left shortly after. Adam was always out the door as soon as he finished eating, with a kiss to Mom’s head and a pat on Dad’s shoulder. He didn’t have to say anything to the rest of us; we knew how it was.

When I was the last one left, I attempted to help clean up the dishes. Mom pretended not to notice the tiny streaks left behind on the mostly white dishes. She simply patted my arm and said, “I’ll do the rest sweetie. I know you’re tired, why don’t you head home?”

Her voice, sweet like honey, relaxed my shoulders, and I nodded. There was no sense in arguing with her. Once her mind was made up, that was it. Also, I was exhausted. Too little sleep combined with a stomach full of home cooked goodness made stumbling home my only mission.

I kissed her cheek and walked to where my dad was almost passed out in his own recliner. Seriously, did she put melatonin in these meals? I gave him a pat on the shoulder, and he nodded my way with a slow smile.

On the drive home, I couldn’t help but think back on my family's nagging about my relationship with Layla. Relationship was an inadequate word for whatever was between us, but it would have to suffice. I let myself envision Layla at the table with us, her giggles mixing with ours, helping my mom cook and entertaining my dad as he showed her his baseball card collection. I pictured her hand in mine as we sat on my family couch, fighting with my siblings over long games of Monopoly. It was too easy to imagine. Too easy to let my heart run wild with the fantasy of our fingers intertwined. Way too easy for my heart, but far too difficult for my brain.

The realistic part of me knew that it could never happen. That our work lives and friendship would face the demise anything more would bring.

For now, I would simply let my brain rule over my heart, knowing it was the only option I had.

“How many collarbones do you have?” Layla asked, her fingers pausing their race across her keyboard.

I tilted my head. “Um…I would assume the same number as you?”

Every few months, Layla, Nathan, and I stayed late to file our quarterly numbers. Type, print, staple. Enter data, add a new row, enter again. Easy but tedious work. You would think it would be annoying to me, being forced to do things that could be taken care of by the other staff members, but, truth be told, they were some of my favorite days of the year.

We would order pizza—Nathan and I get pepperoni, and Layla got barbecue chicken because she says it's “good to spice things up.” We’d play some music or have a movie on one of our monitors as we spent a few hours tying up loose ends and preparing our numbers to give the bigger branches. The three of us together was always a good time.

Tonight was even better because it was just me and Layla Although I loved hanging out with Nathan, he made it hard for me to get any further with Layla so long as he was around. Due to him teaching guitar lessons tonight, he wasn’t able to stay late. I wasn’t about to complain, though. A few hours alone with the girl I desire in a dark office watching Attack of the Clones, eating pizza, and doing mindless busy work sounded like paradise.

Layla rolled her eyes and bumped her hip into me. “No, just answer how many you think you have.”

I chuckled. “There’s no thinking because there’s only one answer. Everyone has two collarbones.”

“Well that’s debatable.”

“It’s…really not.”

She shrugged and propped one hip on her desk, her long floral skirt fanning out far enough to brush across my knuckles. I clenched my stack of folders tighter, forcing my body to ignore its instinct to lean into her, to grip that floral fabric in my fist and pull her into my arms. Holding onto the files was the next best option.

She cocked her head to the side, staring off at the monitor on Nathan’s desk. “I guess I always thought you only had one, you know? Like they’re connected. But now that I’m looking at it, it seems like Hayden Christensen definitely has two.”

I chuckled and sat in her chair. It was significantly closer to the ground than mine, so my lanky legs sprawled against the floor. I sighed, leaning back, needing to put a little distance between us so my heart would slow down. From my position, I had the rare opportunity to study her features from a novel point of view. Layla's caramel brown hair framed her oval face perfectly, and her makeup worn off so those pretty, fresh-faced freckles sprinkled across her nose shined. My eyes snagged on her neck, the most exposed part of her body, which made it that more enticing. It was strong and smooth, begging for me to trace it with my fingertips. A white, scoop-neck sweater hung low enough for me to see traces of her collarbones. It was such an infrequent sight, and one that I had been indulging in throughout the day.

With a slight smirk in her voice, she shifted her position on the desk. “Are you counting them?”

I forced my heavy eyes back to her face. “Hmm?”

“My collarbones. Are you counting them?”

I had completely forgotten about our conversation. Clearing my throat, I did my best to keep my attention above her neck.

I choked out a dry laugh. “Uh, yeah.”

She smiled softly, placing her hands behind her and leaning onto them.

“Well, apparently, I have two. So there you go.”

How was she so beautiful? I could tell she was tired, her movements slow and eyes blinking heavily. But it didn’t matter; she kept smiling and finished up our work like she didn’t have anywhere else to be.

I stretched my neck side to side, popping the tension from being at a desk all day.

“Do you think if we ask Janise and Chad, they’d let us come in around lunch tomorrow? Since we stayed late tonight?” Layla asked hopefully. I hated to let her down, but I knew better.

“Nah. Knowing Janise, she would send something like per my last email, blah blah blah. Basically cussing you out in the most diplomatic way possible.”

I didn’t mind coming in at the normal time tomorrow, not when Layla always walked in shortly after I did, and I immediately got to assess her mood for the day. Slow, staggered movements meant it had been a rough night, and I probably should help her where I can. Swift smiles and giggles right away meant it’d been a good one. Those are always my favorites.

Layla snorted. “You think?”

I smiled at her naivety. “Absolutely. Saying per my last email is the equivalent of suck it.”

“So next time I want to tell Janise to suck it, I should just say something like per my last email?” She quirked her brow, and I nodded.

“Yup. Doesn’t have to be an email, though. Could be text, phone call, smoke signal. You know, anything like that.”

Layla's giggles filled the room, and pride surged warmly in my chest knowing I caused them.

“I will definitely keep that in mind.”

We’d finished our work, and Layla put the last of our folders away, so there was no reason for us to still be here. Yet, there we were, sitting in our office chairs, leaning toward each other as we watched as Yoda and Count Dooku battled it out on screen as if it wasn’t the one hundredth time we’d seen it.

Under her breath, Layla muttered, “Much to learn, you still have.” I didn’t think she even realized she was doing it, just like when she mumbled the lyrics to her favorite song.

I bit my lip in an attempt to keep my smile hidden. What a nerd. I wanted to keep her all to myself.

“Do you want some popcorn or something?” she whispered, like we were in a movie theater and not our office.

I tried not to snicker. “Sure, but only if you’re putting on the—”

“Garlic parmesan seasoning, I know.” She stood and smirked over her shoulder as she bounced to the kitchen. My eyes caught on her ankles, noticing she’d lost her shoes at some point during the movie.

When she came back, we'd pushed our chairs closer to share the popcorn. But there was only ten minutes left of the movie, and an empty popcorn bag between us, yet we still sat close, our knees gently brushing. Every time her skirt swiped against my pants, I sucked in a breath and prayed for strength. It felt like the longest movie I had ever seen.

Right as I was about to stand and throw our trash away, Layla’s head softly fell to my shoulder. The scent of her hair swept up my nose, like warm vanilla and home. I tilted my head forward and saw her mouth was slightly open, short steady breaths slipping past her lips. Her eyes were closed and her long lashes would flutter anytime I attempted to move.

Skywalker: SOS. Need you, now.

That odd text from Luke at six thirty p.m. had me rushing to slip on socks and scrounge around for my barely held together Ugg boots.

I yanked a hoodie over my tank top and called him immediately.

I knew this would happen one day. He jogged around sketchy neighborhoods too often, and I’d told him countless times that even though he was as tall as Big Bird, he could still get mugged.

My phone nearly slipped as I pulled up his contact, ready to dial his number while working through the logistics of picking him up on my tiny bike.

“Layla?” he answered on the first ring, his voice almost drowned out by unruly noise in the background.

“What happened? Where are you? I told you to only run on city approved streets—”

“I’m fine. Physically anyway. I have the twins tonight and they’re unhinged. I need some Layla magic.”

I sighed and wiggled my foot into my boot. “You nearly gave me a heart attack. Are you at Liam’s or your place?”

“Liam’s.”

“Yes, hurry,” a tiny voice came through the speaker. “And bring pizza!”

Thirty minutes and one large pizza later, I hopped up the porch steps of Liam’s tiny cottage. Before I could knock, the sage-green door flung open and Things One and Two came running at me like I owed them money.

“Layla!” The hoodlums, Miles and Dallas, yelled as they rushed to my side, almost knocking me and the pizza over in the process.

“Hi boys,” I said hoarsely, due to lack of oxygen after being bombarded by little bodies.

When Luke came to the front door, I nearly dropped hot slices of pepperoni on the gremlins below me. In gray sweatpants—which were, let’s be honest, every woman’s dream—and no shirt, Luke stood in the doorway in all his tall, golden glory. My jaw unhinged like a snake at dinnertime. Shoulders. Chest. Stomach. Arms. Veins. Oh, the veins. A glorious view that should cost a minimum of twenty dollars to behold after having to wait in line for thirty minutes. Visions of smooth, tan skin and rigid muscles were guaranteed to haunt me for years to come. I wanted him to stand like a statue in a fountain while I threw pennies at him and made wishes.

I had never seen him without a shirt, even during tag football games at our company picnics. With his tall frame, I always assumed he would be built like a Slim Jim. But there he was, broad chest, trim waist, pecs to spare. He was a human equivalent of the hot people from Avatar, and I was here for it. His hair was an unruly mess, like he’d spent the last hour running his hands through it, and his glasses were missing, giving me a rare, unobstructed view of those striking brown eyes.

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you coming. I was trying to change shirts since they”— he gave his nephews a mock glare—“spilled paint on my other one.”

I nodded and spoke directly to his abs. “That’s okay.”

The rambunctious boys each gripped a leg and bounced, jostling me and the pizza, drawing my attention away from the half-naked man before me.

“How was your day?” I asked them.

“Uncle Luke brought us LEGOs.”

“But we can’t play until after dinner.”

“Is that pizza?”

The four year olds fired off questions one after the other without so much as a breath between them. Ready to get inside and appease my growling stomach, I raised my brows at Luke.

Come get your nephews.

He smirked and shrugged. You’re on your own.

Huffing a breath of air, I lifted my left leg—along with Dallas—and then my right—bringing Miles with it—slowly until I crossed the threshold of the adorable cottage. My muscles strained to pick the wild children up, reminding me that in reality, I wasn’t as strong as I thought.

Luke laughed and corralled the boys, hefting one in each arm. Sometimes, after watching him sit at a desk all day, I forget how strong he is. I supposed there was that one time he carried a crate of copy paper across the office effortlessly, a memory forever etched into my brain and one I recall when I can’t sleep at night. His sleeves were all rolled up, the light blue button down showcasing his summer tan, forearms flexing against the strain of the boxes. When he set the heavy crates down, he let out a small grunt and lifted a hand to wipe the sweat threatening to drip down his forehead.

Such. A. Good. Day.

“Alright boys, let’s give Layla some space.” He dragged them inside, and I shut the door behind us.

I had been to Liam’s house on several occasions like this. He had flipped the tiny threebed, two-bath cottage after his divorce a couple years ago. With white and navy walls and refinished hardwood floors, the home was cozy and masculine. It was still a bit of a bachelor pad, though, complete with a frumpy gray couch, Top Gun poster in the living room, and the pile of dirty dishes in the sink.

“Liam working tonight?” He was an account manager at some swanky business downtown.

“Yeah. He had a late night, and Marigold can’t pick them up until morning.”

The boy's mother, Marigold, was the embodiment of her name. She was pure sunshine, with golden-blonde hair and an internal light she brought everywhere she went. My connection to Luke gave me an excuse to be friends with her, despite her marriage to Liam not working out.

Luke set both boys down in the living room while I made my way to the kitchen island. Once he joined me, we moved rhythmically. He’d open cabinets and hand me paper plates. Next was the cabinet that held glasses. We danced around each other like our moves were choreographed as we prepared our quick dinner. Luke tossed slices of pizza on plates for Miles and Dallas as I poured them each a drink.

“Thanks for coming,” Luke said, sliding both plates off the granite countertop. “They always do so much better when you’re around.”

Everytime Luke watched them, he’d text, complaining about how the boys were hyped up on candy—because he couldn’t say no—and whining about being shot at with Nerf guns. When I watched them with him, they were always on their best behavior. I liked to think it was because they saw me as someone obviously way cooler than Luke so they had reputations to uphold.

“It’s because they like me more.”

Luke snorted, his nose scrunching adorably. “Sure. Can you set up a movie for them? I’m going to steal a shirt from Liam’s closet.”

I cleared my throat and took one last longing look at my nice little show. “Yes, clothes would be nice.”

The corner of his mouth may have perked up a little before he disappeared down the hallway.

In the living room, I plopped onto the sunken couch and was quickly joined by a twin on either side. Grabbing the remote, I cued up Toy Story 2, because it was clearly the best of the Toy Story movies, no matter how much Luke argued with me.

“Are you having a spinnanight party with us Layla?” Dallas asked from my right, his words running together in the most adorable accent.

“No, but I’ll be here until you go to bed. And maybe we can convince uncle Luke to let us stay up late?”

Both the boys perked up, and Miles asked, “Do you think he’ll stay awake until then? He goes to bed at the same time Nana does.”

I tried my best not to snort out a laugh, but ultimately failed. “He is kind of a grandma, isn’t he?”

“I can hear you!” Luke shouted down the hallway.

We giggled quietly, and I hit play. By the time the Pixar lamp jumped on the letter I, Luke had ambled back into the room.

He took a seat next to Dallas, and the four of us sat smooshed together on the tiny couch with an immense amount of pizza and soda. Marigold may not like that last bit, but Uncle Luke could never say no to all three of us. In my periphery, Luke glanced at the little boy cuddled into the crook of his arm. A tiny smirk touched his mouth as Dallas chewed his oversized bite of pepperoni and cheese before looking back to the movie he’d watched multiple times with them already.

Strangely, it felt like I was getting a glimpse of my future—snuggled up with my husband and our kids, shoveling unhealthy food down our throats in a Disney induced bliss. I could only hope that one day I would find a man who really saw me and who wanted the same things I did.

Thirty minutes into the movie the boys were restless, jumping on couch cushions and begging us to play floor is lava. The only problem was that the room contained almost no furniture. Problem solver that he was, Luke tossed pillows across the living room floor. We jumped from cushion to cushion—some of us more strategically than others—sweating and out of breath as we stretched our legs to avoid the scorching hardwood of doom. It was a very serious game. When Luke’s heel slipped off a pillow, shouting in panic, the boys and I belly laughed until we were clutching our stomachs.

The game had been exhausting, sure, but it had paid off. Eventually, we settled back into the couch and returned to the movie, and before long, both boys were out cold. Though I’d drained my power reserves already, I hefted one little guy while Luke took the other, and we carried them to their rooms. Liam had completely renovated the boys rooms recently, creating secret closets hidden by bookshelves and a firemans pole coming from the loft between them. It was a testament to how devoted he was to his boys, another quality I hoped I could find in a man one day. I’d have to create a list soon, because it was getting hard to keep up.

Luke and I met back on the couch, plopping down in exhaustion. Though my presence was no longer needed, I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to wrap myself in a blanket on this old couch and quiz Luke until he told me every tiny detail about himself I didn’t already know.

I yawned. “Man, they really suck all of the energy out of you, huh?”

Luke mimicked my yawn.”No wonder Liam is always exhausted.”

“Especially when he works so much. How does he function?”

“This must be why he never wears matching socks.”

“Or why he hasn’t bought a new couch since college.”

Luke laughed and flopped back into said couch. He spread his long legs and propped his bare feet on the handmade coffee table, settling in and sighing like he was about to fall asleep.

“I guess I should head out…”

He straightened. “No. I mean, just stay a little longer. If you want. We can finish the movie.”

“Why not?” I shrugged and grabbed the blanket that Miles was previously wrapped in, placing it over my lap.

Crossing my ankles in front of me, I pressed play on the remote and lowered the volume to avoid waking the boys. I scooted a couple inches closer to Luke, and in the dimly lit room, where the only light came from the movie, the only sound the soft voices, my other senses came to life. As though my body was extra aware of Luke’s being so close. Like the force bounced off him straight to my chest. Okay, that was a slight exaggeration, but our proximity was ultra stimulating.

“Hey Layla?” Luke murmured next to me, sending chills up and down my spine.

“Yeah?”

He cleared his throat. “Do you think I can pull off a cowboy hat?”

I giggled and twisted toward him, only to find him already watching me. I squinted like I was assessing him.

“Hmm. Maybe? But only if you had the boots, too.”

Luke nodded. “I knew it.”

We turned back to the movie, and feeling a hint of boldness, I rested my palm on the cushion beside my lap. It wasn’t an invitation per se, but I wouldn’t mind if Luke took it as one.

Minutes passed and my eyelids drooped. My head lulled to my shoulder, and I yawned. As I drifted into a dream state, Luke wrapped his pinkie finger around mine, holding me in the only way we ever have.

Liam: Guess who I caught snuggled up Friday night?

Calla: If the answer is anything other than Luke and Layla I will be severely disappointed.

Crew: It’s gotta be those two. The double Ls.

Crew: No, I can do better than that.

Crew: L squared.

Crew: L + L

Crew: The L lovers.

Crew: Actually all of those suck. Forget it.

Liam: It indeed was Luke and Layla. I should’ve snapped a picture. Mom would’ve loved that.

Calla: Oh my gosh I KNEW IT.

Calla: When’s the wedding?

Crew: Can it be an October wedding? I look best in fall colors.

Luke:: “Snuggled up” is an exaggeration.

Liam: I dunno, you looked pretty cozy on my couch when I came home.

Calla: Fall wedding for sure.

Luke:: See what you’ve started? We were just watching a movie.

Crew: What movie?

Luke: Toy Story 2.

Crew: Oh yeah, that’s what I’m talking about.

Liam: They were holding pinkies.

Calla: PINKIES??

Calla: swoon

Marigold: Nice one, Luke. But next time you and Layla decide to get it on I wouldn’t do it anywhere near that couch.

Liam: That couch is a legend.

Marigold: Some legends need to die. Or in this case be doused with gasoline and set on fire.

Luke: Since when did holding pinkies become getting it on??

Crew: it’s the ultimate ”I like you but I’m too scared to tell you” move. Chicks dig it.

Luke: Since when?

Crew: Since the dawn of time. Since Adam and Eve. I’m pretty sure the Bible specifies they held pinkies first.

Calla: It really, really doesn’t. But it’s still cute.

Adam: Why am I in this family

“Family group chat?” Layla’s voice behind me made me jump and bobble my phone. She laughed. “Sorry,” she said, setting my favorite NASA mug on my desk. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

I flipped my phone screen-down on the desk, praying to every deity I could think of that she hadn’t caught sight of her name in the thread. “Oh thanks, yeah they’ve been blowing on my phone all morning.”

Layla shook her head. “That’s what she said. Also, it’s blowing up your phone, not on.”

I shrugged and picked up my coffee.

Today, Layla wore a long black skirt with white polka dots that billowed out a little as she rounded her desk. Her pink shirt was tied into a tiny knot at her stomach. With white Keds on her feet and minimal jewelry, she was the epitome of The Girl Next Door. This was always my favorite look on Layla.

Everything about her was beautiful, even her irritation when I’d get phrases wrong or win yet another game of solitaire. In fact, I was mildly obsessed with the new way she flushed when I irked her. Watching the color spread up her neck and into her cheeks only made me want to do it all over again. Poke every one of her buttons and watch the transformation. That look alone ran circles in my mind all day long. My childhood crush on Hermione Granger was blown out of the water by this girl; the Hogwarts posters in my old bedroom were now laughable.

She plopped into her rolling chair and twisted side to side as she stirred her own drink—a concoction containing ninety percent creamer and ten percent coffee. Layla liked everything sweet, and I liked everything Layla. Until I started at West Oak, I thought I hated coffee. But after the first time she brought me a cup, I was hooked. Except that when I ordered it elsewhere, it was never the same. I used to tell myself it was because of the specific brand we carry in the office, but I’m pretty sure Layla’s touch is what makes it perfect. She was too sweet for me to enjoy anything else.

“I’ve been thinking about the trip…” she said, trailing off while examining the coffee in her mug.

“You’re still going, right? I didn’t buy flamingo swim trunks for nothing.”

Tipping her chin up, she laughed. “Tell me you didn’t.”

“They’re on the way to my apartment right now. I should’ve gotten Nathan a matching pair.”

“Hey, don’t bring me into this,” Nathan countered from his desk, where he was catching up on the weekend emails.

“I’d pay good money to see you in matching swimsuits.” She angled back in her chair with a grin, her head tilted back like she was daydreaming.

“Ew Layla, stop.” Nathan threw a crumpled purple sticky note at her.

Her smile was bright and shining in this dull room, and I had to force myself to look away. This was my constant conundrum: I could admit to Layla that I’ve been crushing on—fine, utterly infatuated with—her since the moment we met, only to have her let me down gently. Or I could keep what we had—weekly doughnuts, bar trivia, and scheming up mischievous acts against Nathan. I preferred to have the latter.

When I first came to West Oak, I’d been trying to scoop up the pieces of my broken heart. My high school sweetheart, the “love of my life,” had dropped me like I was nothing, only to turn around and date a hockey player she met at a frat party. I’d quit my job at the bar downtown so I wouldn’t have to run into her and her toothless boyfriend all the time. Nathan had hooked me up with a simple job to pay the bills for a few months, then I planned to move on. All I wanted was a mindless occupation while I looked for open shift leader or manager positions at other local bars. That was it.

So when I started, Layla truly was the last thing I needed. If I wanted to actually like a girl, I needed someone who was the polar opposite of me. Someone who preferred Say Yes To The Dress instead of The Phantom Menace. Someone I didn’t have to worry about getting too close to. But in walked ol’ Layla, with her oversized cardigans and mad coffee skills. I was doomed from day one.

Watching her joke with Nathan, hiding tiny paper swans in his things until he slowly went insane, or signing into meetings as Phil Miup was practically torture. Because with Layla, everything I ever wanted became the one thing I could never have.

“What were you going to say about the trip?” I tipped forward and dropped my elbows to my desk.

“Oh, uh. Could we ride together? Katie mentioned riding with you, so I wanted to make sure there was enough room for me…” She fiddled with her gooey periodic table mouse pad, her chin tucked once again.

I had to hold back a chuckle at the ridiculousness of that thought. “You can take up the whole Jeep if you want to. It’s all yours. If we have room for anyone else after your overpacking, then we can worry about extra passengers. You come first,” I reassured her.

“What about me?” Nathan tossed another purple sticky note in my direction.

“You can ride on the top.”

He pursed his lips and cocked his head to the side, feigning consideration. “Actually, that sounds kind of nice.”

That settled, we continued through our work day, but my mind kept drifting back to what Layla said.

I wanted to make sure there was room for me.

I had nothing but room for her.

That night, propped up on our leather couch, each with a plate of leftovers from Crew’s food truck, Nathan and I watched the Phillies game. I didn’t really care for baseball but Nathan tended to hog the TV, so I settled for zoning out while he watched.

“Do you think I should grow a beard?” Nathan asked, scratching his chin with his lips tucked between his teeth.

“You don’t have a hard time pulling women without one. If it’s not broken, don’t buy it.”

Brows furrowed, he shook his head. “Nope. It’s if it’s not broke, don’t fix it.”

Really? “But that’s what that store owner told me when I broke that glass ornament.”

“Oh my gosh, no. She said if you break it, you buy it.”

I chuckled. “Ha, yeah that’s it.”

With a mouthful of pulled pork slider, Nathan said, “You’re lucky Layla finds that shit cute.”

I froze mid-chew. “You think she finds it cute?”

“You’re a moron.” He threw another whole barbecue slider in his mouth, his cheeks puffing out like a chipmunk.

I swallowed an oversized bite of Mexican street corn and frowned. “What?”

Mouth stuffed so full his words were almost unintelligible, he muttered, “When are you going to man up and tell her?”

The corn on my plate was suddenly captivating. The contrast between the golden corn, the green of the cilantro, and the red-brown of the chili powder was fascinating.

“It’ll make things weird between us and then one of us will eventually have to quit,” I said, still not willing to make eye contact with Nathan. “Plus, there’s the potential promotion. If that happens, HR wouldn’t allow us to date anyway.”

Nathan huffed out a laugh. “When has Janise ever stopped you and Layla from doing stupid stuff before?”

He’s got a point. Janise was scary in an I might spit in your water kind of way, not an I’ll fire you for seeing your coworker way. But you never know.

“I missed the window of opportunity so I’m stuck in the friend zone.” Where I would happily stay. The friend zone can be nice. It was like M&M’s in popcorn and old soccer hoodies from high school: familiar and comforting.

“You’re definitely in the zone, but I’ve witnessed the escape before. Leaving it isn’t entirely impossible.” Were we talking about the friend zone or Alcatraz? “Something just needs to shift. Change just a little…” he scratched his nonexistent beard, then his eyes lit up. “What about the trip?”

I shrugged, and took another bite. “What about it?”

“She loves Ocean City. It’s the perfect opportunity to make a move. Drop a few hints over the next week and then lay it on thick when we get there. That way, if she rejects you can just be like, ‘don't blame me, blame Maryland for being too sexy.’”

He had a point. Not about Maryland being sexy, but about making a move while we’re out of town.

“What if we come back and things feel weird?” Did I really want to risk our friendship on a maybe?

“It won’t, trust me. Have I ever steered you wrong?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, here and there, sure. But when it actually mattered?”

I went back to studying my corn. “No.”

“Exactly bro. Layla’s a cool girl, and if she wasn’t willing to go there, she wouldn’t let it ruin your friendship.”

I stood and tossed my plate in the trash as I passed the kitchen on the way to my room.

“Where are you going?”

“I gotta put pen through paper.”

If I was going to do this, I was going to do this right. I needed to get my life together and organize my rambling thoughts before I came barreling at the girl.

“First off,” he guffawed, “it's pen to paper. And trust me, you’re going to need help.”

I turned on my heel. “How?”

“When’s the last time you went on a date?”

I paused and studied the popcorn ceiling, counting. One month, two, three…

“If you don’t know off the top of your head, it’s been too long. You need help.”

I groaned and dragged my hand down my face, knowing he was right. Women hit on me pretty often, but I was far more adept at letting them down gently than actually taking them out.

Then again…“I haven’t exactly seen you go out much either.”

Nathan shrugged and sipped his drink. “Do as I say, not as I do.”

I rolled my eyes and began to argue, but truth be told, he probably did know more than I did. Despite the fact that our apartment was pretty much always vacant of women other than Nathan's guitar—which he named Rosita— and my college poster of Natalie Portman.

Rooting around in our junk drawer in the kitchen, I found a crumpled Target receipt and nearly dried up pen.

“Okay. Hit me.” We each claimed a barstool at the island as I shook out my hands, readying to take notes from Nathan…on dating. A mission I hadn’t planned to take on tonight, but the game playing behind us was even less enticing now that this idea had lodged itself in my head.

“First things first: let her know you’re not just friends. But don’t go confessing your love to her either. Just make it clear you think she’s hot.”

“Okay.” I nodded and scribbled down: make sure she knows I find her attractive.

“The next part is gonna take some time because you’ve tunneled so deep into the friend zone. Thankfully you have me. Otherwise you’d be stuck there.”

“I didn’t dig myself in that bad.”

“You took her with you to buy groceries last week.”

I cringed. “But she picks out the best produce.” Seriously, she was like the avocado whisperer.

Nathan rolled his eyes. “I’m not even going to acknowledge that.”

“Fine. What’s next?”

“Step two: light touches. Just here and there. Liam told me you were holding pinkies the other day.”

Seriously? So much for loyalty.

“That's a good place to start, but it’s time to up your game. Casually put your arm around her. Tuck her hair behind her ear. Ask her about her perfume and then lean in to smell it. Be subtle. You want to confuse her just a little. Throw her off track.”

I eyed him warily. “Since when are you an expert at this?”

“Let’s just say I have friends.”

I eyed him. “Female friends?” I asked dubiously.

“You don’t know what I do in my free time,” he scoffed.

“Whatever. Step three.”

“Right. Next, give her a little space. You’re always together. Always talking. Back up a bit and let her soak in what time without you looks like. That way she’ll have the chance to miss you. Don’t be a jerk about it, but stop texting her every five minutes. That kind of stuff.”

At that precise moment, my phone buzzed in my pocket. Layla, of course, and he knew it. He lowered his eyes and squinted. “Yeah, some space would definitely be good.”

I nodded and added to the list. The idea of taking a step back from her made my heart squeeze painfully in my chest, but if Nathan said it worked, it probably did.

“But what happens when—”

“Trust me. She’ll miss you, and when she does, so long as you hang back, she’ll come to you. I’ve watched how she looks at you. This feeling is definitely mutual.”

I held back a grin at the thought of actually having a chance with Layla. “But what if she doesn’t, though? What if this really is one sided?”

Nathan tipped his drink back and set the glass bottle on the counter with a clink.

“Then you have to let her go. But you’ll never know if you don’t make the jump.”

We plotted out the rest of the trip, going as far as brainstorming ideas for places to take her in Ocean City and excuses to touch her. Maybe it was excitement about the upcoming trip, or maybe Nathan’s craft beer had expired, but I sensed something was about to change.

If there was a competition for World’s Worst Packer, I would win that trophy in a heartbeat. I could already picture my acceptance speech. I’d like to thank my procrastination for this award.

The contents of my closet were tossed across my bedroom floor with an unhelpful Rachel lying on my bed. She watched me painstakingly pick out clothing while we binged our favorite true crime show, one where we acted shocked every time the case wasn’t solved—despite it being called Unsolved Murders.

“It’s probably going to be hot,” Rachel said, popping a piece of popcorn in her mouth and scanning my choices.

“Yeah?”

“Uh-huh. And these are all fall clothes.“ She waved her hand over the pile of garments I’d selected. “You’re gonna sweat your tits off if you wear sweaters and jeans.”

She picked up my favorite beige cardigan—I have many—and waved it in front of me to prove her point.

“Nah, I’m used to it,” I said, but secretly, I was racking my brain for ways to hide sweat stains around Luke. Maybe I’d try one of those crazy deodorants that guarantee to stop people from sweating altogether and would probably cause mesothelioma ten years down the road.

She picked her phone up off the duvet and wiggled it in front of me. “Have you even checked the forecast for the next week?”

Unfortunately, yes. Beautiful, sunny, highs in the eighties. I’d packed a few long dresses that could work, but Rachel was probably right.

When I went back to sorting through outfits without responding, she hopped off the bed and wandered down the hall. “Let me see what I’ve got!” she called. “We should be the same size…minus the boobs.”

Instinctively, I looked down. I did have great boobs.

My phone buzzed on my floor, the name that popped up on the screen making me smile.

Marigold: Heard you’re going on a work trip tomorrow. That’s exciting! Be sure to torture Luke while you’re gone.

Me: Don’t worry. I’m an expert at that by now.

Marigold: Atta girl

Rachel tiptoed in with an armload of clothes and tossed them on my bed, then began rifling through the pile.

Soon, cut off Levi shorts, tiny skirts, cropped t-shirts, and band tees as far as the eye could see. Which was just to my bed, but still. It was a lot.

She held up items one by one for my approval.

“No. No. Absolutely not. How does that even fit you?”

“Foo Fighters concert three years ago,” she said with a shrug, like that explained everything. “It’s a good one.”

She continued flashing articles of clothing, throwing one arm out, then the other in rapid succession.

“I can’t wear these, I’m not—”

“Built for them? That’s a load of crap. You’re a young woman, you have a killer body, and you are entitled to some attention. I know you hate the spotlight, but you never had issues wearing stuff like this before you started at West Oak. Just this once, consider the fact that you won’t look like this forever. Soak it up, my friend. In thirty years, we’re going to look at our wrinkly old butts and wish we’d showed off some more.”

I opened my mouth and shut it again. I guess I didn’t hate the idea of some of these outfits…

“I’m not saying change your whole wardrobe, just pack a couple pairs of shorts. You’ll only have that hot, young body for so long.” She sighed longingly. “As we age—”

“You’re twenty-two,” I interrupted, one brow cocked.

“Just consider it. You never dress up anymore. Don’t you miss wearing stuff like this?”

I sucked in a breath and blew it out, letting my lips trill noisily. I loved Rachel’s sense of style, and we did wear similar sizes, but…“I’m okay with what I’ve got, but thank you for the offer.” I snagged a piece of her popcorn from her bowl and popped it into my mouth.

She smirked and waved a hand. “Fine, fine. Luke likes you as you are anyway.”

I threw a t-shirt at her head, and she laughed.

When my phone buzzed on the dresser, I dropped the sweater I was folding and nabbed it.

Mama B: How’s my girl doing?

My heart squeezed with affection. Sweet, loving Mama B, always looking out for everyone. At some point, Luke must have told her about the lack of relationship I had with my own family. Every couple weeks, she’d text or call to check in—which was a lot more than my own mother could say. The checking in texts and her treating me like one of her own was something I’d grown fond of. Luke was lucky to have such caring parents and siblings who all adored one another, even when they annoyed him.

Me: Packing and hoping I can get away without having to bring seven suitcases.

Mama B: If you need an eighth, I have a very stylish duffel bag from the 80s. I believe it’s coming back in style.

I sent her a laughing emoji and locked my screen, but before I could toss my phone on the floor beside the mountain of items I was packing, it vibrated once again.

Skywalker: So…hypothetical question. Let’s say you’re going on a work trip. On a scale of Chad to Janise how unprofessional would it be to pack this?

A picture of an american flag speedo laying next to an open suitcase and a bottle of sunscreen spray came through next.

I sputtered a laugh and replied.

Me: I would say somewhere around Nathan.

Skywalker: Hmm. Maybe just in case?

Me: I’m concerned about why you own that in the first place.

Skywalker: Left over from a bachelor party. Just can’t bear to part with it. It’s too special.

Me: I can see why. You’ll get all the girls on the beach with that.

Skywalker: Including you?

My heart stuttered. Including me? I looked back up at the contact name to make sure I still was talking to the right person.

Skywalker: Kidding, sorry. Nathan and I had a few beers.

Me: Packing stressing you out?

Skywalker: No, but traveling with him does. He won’t stop coming in here and asking which Hawaiian shirt is most likely to get him laid.

I tossed my head back and cackled, only to find Rachel scrutinizing me from her perch on my bed.

“You two are disgustingly cute.”

I squinted at her, and in return, she shot me a frown full of sympathy.

“Quit looking at me like that.”

“I’m not looking at you like anything.”

“You have that disappointed grandma face.”

She scoffed, but pity still shone from her face. I wanted to smack it off.

“At a certain point in life,” she said, her voice uncharacteristically gentle, “you have to take jumps.”

“I jump! I jump all the time. Last week I went to the regular check out instead of the self-checkout, remember? And I called Ikea to cancel that order the other day.”

She shook her head. “No, Layla. Real jumps. Have you written anything lately?”

I deflated at the reminder. “I’m just not feeling inspired right now.”

“You’re never going to feel inspired if you don’t sit down to write. You have to do the work. Words don’t just show up on pages right?”

I grumbled and crossed my arms like a toddler who’d been scolded for eating too many cookies. It wasn’t unheard of for words to just show up on pages; technology was getting pretty impressive nowadays.

“Layla, look at me.” She scooted to the edge of the bed and dropped her feet to the floor.

Pouting, I obeyed, taking in my dear friend’s warm eyes and sweet smile. “If you don’t start grabbing at life, it’s going to pass you by.”

Tilting forward she ran a hand through my hair, instantly sending a wave of relaxation through me. She tipped her chin to my phone, which was still unlocked with Luke’s conversation pulled up.

“Another example. You’ve obsessed over Luke for the last three years, but you still won’t make a move.”

I reread our last few texts and frowned.

“Let me see.” She held out her hand.

I recoiled and pulled the device to my chest. “No, I can’t. It’s priv—”

She slapped my elbow, and my phone flew out of my grip. Triumphantly, she caught it midair.

“Rachel! How do you know how to do that?” I yelled and jumped up.

“Oh my gosh, he is so in love with you!” she said with a squeal darting away when I stretched for the phone. “This is pathetic. I’m sorry, but I have to take charge.” Her fingers flew furiously over my screen as she beelined for the living room.

Hot on Rachel’s heels, I stumbled after her. “Do not text him!”

In a panic, I leapt onto the couch and dove for her. I hopped on her back and wrapped my legs around her waist like a spider monkey. With my ankles locked together at her belly button, my hold was unbreakable. I had the high ground.

“Good lord, why are you so strong?” Her voice was strained as she carried me around our living room and kitchen but held the phone out so I couldn’t reach it.

“I took taekwondo lessons for three months when I was twelve.”

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s it.” She was impressively sarcastic whilst nearly being choked out.

With her arms still locked out straight in front of her, Rachel stomped to the couch, straining to type out a text. Then she dropped to the cushions and leaned back, squishing me against the soft fabric with her tiny body.

“Rachel!” My shout was muffled against her Johnny Cash sweatshirt.

After a few seconds of struggling, she sat up so her butt was no longer pressing against my stomach, and the loose strands of her hair were removed from my mouth.

“You’re welcome.” She tossed my phone on the floor. “Can’t say I never did anything for you.”

With that, she scurried to her room, slamming the door and locking it behind her. She was lucky I gave up those taekwondo lessons.

I scrambled for the device, butterflies swarming in my stomach.

Me: I’m planning to wear this one night.

Attached was a picture of the tight fitted black dress that Rachel had pulled out earlier. One I had zero intentions of wearing. I was going to kill her.

Skywalker: Wow. You’ll look great in that.

Me: I guess you’ll find out. ;)

Skywalker: I don’t have to see you in it to know.

The skin on the back of my neck broke out into a blazing heat and my heart raced. As I read the exchange over and over, I grinned. Maybe I wouldn’t kill Rachel. For now, anyway.

Even as a kid, I’d always wanted to be a dad.

I’d picture myself driving a big white SUV to soccer games, two children in the back fighting over who’d get the bigger half of the last Marlo’s doughnut. I would then threaten to “turn the car around,” though it would be an empty threat. They always were. Meanwhile, my beautiful wife would be buckled into the passenger seat, trying not to laugh at me. I would educate them on film history, and they would call me nerdy. Dad jokes would be sprinkled throughout most conversations. It was a nice little daydream.

What I did not dream about was being stuck in a car for three hours with Nathan and Layla while they argued over control of the radio. Repeatedly, I had to remind myself it could’ve been worse—I could have been stuck with Chad, listening to sports podcasts that used an overabundance of terms like “fumble” and “receptions.” But when I’d envisioned this little road trip, Nathan was sleeping sideways in the backseat and I’d finally worked up the courage to hold Layla’s hand.

“No one likes Nickel Creek.”

“The Fox is a classic and you know it.”

“Hand me the aux so I can pla—”

“So you can play what, Nathan? EDM remixes?”

“That’s not what—”

Boy, was I wrong. Nathan and Layla were as bad as siblings. One minute they were arguing and the next they were thick as thieves. It was hard to keep up some days. They were going to give me gray hairs.

“Guys,” I said, interrupting their bickering. “We need gas, so let’s find something we all want to listen to while we’re stopped, okay?

With grumbled assent from both parties, I pulled into the closest gas station.

After clicking the pump in place, I opened the driver’s side door and was bombarded with cry-laughing so loud, I winced. Nathan was sitting on the edge of the back seat, sprawled over the center console, while he and Layla watched an apparently hilarious video on his phone. Yeah. The sibling one-eighty. Hard to keep up.

“Do you want anything from inside?” I asked, hiking my thumb over my shoulder.

Without even a glance in my direction, they both said no.

My shoes clung to the sticky floor with each step as I perused the aisles of various snacks. Without a doubt, this trip called for an energy drink, so I snagged one from a cooler, then picked out drinks for the children waiting on me in the Jeep.

I stood in line next to an end cap stuffed with bags of chips and plastic cups full of Oreos and there, next to the Chips Ahoy, was a bag of Chocolate covered pretzels. Bingo. I tugged a bag from its hook, along with a can of Pringles. Nathan would undoubtedly be jealous if I didn’t bring him something, too.

“Aww, Luke.” Layla smiled, her brown eyes shining with gratitude when I held out her pretzels. “These are my favorite.”

“I know you well enough by now,” I said with a shrug and a smirk, hoping it seemed casual even as I fought the urge to jog back into the store and purchase every last bag just to see that smile again.

It was taking all of my willpower to stick with the not just friends plan Nathan and I had come up with. In theory, it seemed logical, but now that I was actually attempting this army crawl out of the friend zone, I realized how challenging it could be. I couldn’t be too much, or it’d be too obvious, but I couldn’t be normal because then nothing would change.

A catch 23 for sure.

“Yeah, thanks Lukey,” Nathan said in a baby voice as he opened up his can of chips.

Layla laughed, but I ducked out to hang the nozzle on the pump again without a word. When Nathan knew he’d found a button to push, he’d poke at it incessantly. It was pretty fun to watch when you weren’t the victim of it.

Thankfully, Nathan fell asleep not long after we got back on the road. His mouth was wide open and his head was tipped back against the window, he held the can of Pringles against his chest like a security blanket. Layla kept looking back at him with mischief in her eyes. She wanted to throw something in his mouth, but she refrained. Her mental strength was impressive. I never would’ve lasted this long if I hadn’t been driving.

“Any plans for when we get there?” Layla asked, bringing a pretzel to her mouth. “We have that team building thing later tonight, but what about before that?”

Like she’d been doing since we left the gas station, she sucked the chocolate off the pretzel, then bit into it. I tightened my hands on the wheel and stifled a groan. Watching her mouth do those things was serious torture.

“I was thinking about going down to the beach. I haven’t been in…“ I blew out a breath and counted back. “Ten years now? Crazy to think about.”

Layla placed her elbow on the console between us, still eating those God forsaken pretzels. Why had I thought it was a good idea to surprise her with them?

“Just haven’t made the time for vacation?”

More like I hadn’t needed a vacation since paradise was only one desk away.

“I guess so,” I shrugged. “It’s a cliché, I suppose. Saying I want to travel but always feeling too busy or like I should save the money. Year after year, that’s the way it goes.”

Layla hummed and looked out her window so I could only see the side of her face. “Do you think I don’t take risks?” she murmured.

I cocked a brow, not taking my eyes off the interstate in front of me despite the fact that I wanted to scan her face and gauge her mood. “What do you mean?”

She sighed but didn’t turn back. “I’ve been saying I’m going to write this book for what, four years now? I only took this job so I could get a feel for what happened behind the scenes of publishing. But here I am, still working for West Oak, and my first draft isn’t even close to complete.”

“Where is this coming from?”

In my periphery, she fidgeted with the zipper on her thin jacket. “Rachel made a comment about life passing me by. She said I don’t take risks or make jumps, and it kind of freaked me out.”

Was that why she’d sent me that picture? To say it was unexpected was an understatement. It took me a very long time to finish packing once I envisioned her in that tight black dress.

“What do you think? Do you want to take more jumps?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know,” she said, her voice almost a whisper. “I like where I am in life. My job is okay, and I have good friends and a nice apartment. Most of the time, I feel like I’m doing alright. But then I think back to where I was four years ago, and where I wanted to be by now and realize I’m nowhere close. I thought I’d have published multiple books at this point. But I’m still just… here.”

And now I felt guilty, because I wanted Layla at West Oak with me.

I cleared my throat and sat a little straighter. “If you’re unhappy with your life, change it. If you want an opportunity, then make it. It’s easier said than done but it’s the only way you’ll make those jumps you keep talking about.”

She popped another pretzel into her mouth and smiled.

“When did you become so philosophical?”

I huffed out a laugh. “Maybe I’m just getting old. Or I’m listening to too many motivational podcasts in the morning.”

She giggled, her laughter a sound I’d grown so incredibly fond over the years, and pointed at a sign on the road. “Look, it’s you.”

On the billboard was an ad for a local dentist. The image of a grinning donkey with missing teeth wasn’t one I would have chosen, but each to his own, right? This was one of our games. Pointing at the ugliest characters in our favorite movies or shows and saying, “It’s you.” She got ticked every time we played, yet she usually instigated. Her laughter was classic Layla, laughing at her own joke. It echoed around the small space and vibrated through me, shooting straight to my big, dumb heart. Curse the obsessed organ.

“Very funny, little one,” I deadpanned.

“I only do it because of how untrue it is. And because it’s fun to press your buttons. You don’t have many so I have to choose them wisely.”

“I can get angry when I need to. Kinda like the Hulk.” I tipped back my energy drink, hoping it would get us to the hotel faster.

“Oh, I’m sure you can,” she said sarcastically.

I cocked my head. “You don’t think I can get mad? I get mad all the time.”

She had the audacity to guffaw—guffaw!—then tossed me a pursed lip, raised brow look that said bullshit.

“Can you get loud? Or a little annoyed? Sure. Like when they put tomatoes on your burger after you asked them not to. Or when that old lady took your parking spot at Froggy’s. But mad? No way.”

She’s probably right. Overall, I’m not an angry person. I’ve always been calm and collected. Except…

“I got mad at Kyle.”

With that admission, she spun toward me so quickly I worried she’d given herself whiplash.

“You did?”

“Of course I did, Lay. I’ll get mad at anyone who upsets you.”

She gave me a half grin, then studied her shoes, and I smiled to myself, too.

Maybe one of us would make that jump before we headed back home.

“Wanna play twenty questions?”

The license plate game clearly wasn’t cutting it anymore. Luke swore I was only winning because he was driving but in reality, I’m just faster than him. It’s why I always end up with the good pens in meetings. I snatched those babies up quick.

I scoffed out a quiet laugh. “And ask what? I already know everything about you.”

With a quick glance, he tossed me a smirk, then focused on the road again.

“You’re a smart girl. I have faith you can come up with something.”

His tone was so different today. Light. Almost charming. And I was here for it. I was loving this fun and flirty Luke, and I wanted to keep him around all the time. I propped my elbow on the center console and rested my chin in my hand, settling closer to him than before.

I hummed. “What’s the best gift you’ve ever gotten?”

His right dimple appeared, mischievously, like he knew something I didn’t. “Next.”

Sitting up straight, I chided, “You can’t do that! You wanted a question, I asked one. So honor the rules.”

He tapped a little rhythm on the steering wheel and side-eyed me. “What rules?”

Waving a hand, I sputtered, “The unspoken rules of twenty questions! It’s up there with don't ask about bathroom details and never repeat a question.”

I nearly choked when Luke stretched out and put his hand behind my seat. He craned his neck to look for traffic, then he merged into the lane to our right so he could follow the signs to the highway we needed to be on next. Broad shoulders, messy, brown hair that I was dying to run my hands through. And that sweet smile, oh that smile. I wanted to carry it around in my pocket and baby talk to it throughout the day. In a word, the man was edible—and I was starving.

The plastic of the Jeep where my arm rested shook when he cracked up, making me feel lighter than ever. Had we broken a spell now that we’d escaped West Oak? We hung out all the time outside of the office, but nothing had ever been so…amorous between us.

“Well then,” he said after he’d merged onto the highway heading south, “let’s each get two vetoes. And I veto that question.”

“Fair enough,” I conceded. “Next question: if you could do anything right now, what would it be?”

He hummed, the sound so deep it resonated through my body. “Other than being in a car with you while Nathan is snoring in the back?”

I peeked back at the sleeping passenger I’d somehow forgotten about. “Yes.”

He switched lanes in silence, like he was working through how to answer. “If we’re talking in the grand scheme…” He bit his lower lip and sat up straight, leaning his forearms on the steering wheel. “I’d love to be managing a bar right now, or even have one of my own. Make craft beers, test out IPAs and lagers. Figure out what that feels like.” He took a deep, comforting breath and let it out, his chest rising and falling along with it. Then he turned to me, his eyes sincere, honest. “But, at this moment? I don’t think there’s much else I’d rather be doing.”

My face must’ve given away my surprise because he almost chuckled at my reaction.

“You’re my person, Lay.”

Heat crept up my neck, and I ducked so he wouldn’t see my cheeks when they inevitably went pink. Because even though we couldn’t be together, in this moment, I really did feel like I was his person. His girl.

Instead of responding—because what could I possibly have said to that?—I fidgeted with my phone case in my lap. “Next question…”

His focus remained on the traffic ahead of us, and he was relaxed back in his seat again, one forearm on the wheel. “If you could make up any word to put in the dictionary, what would it be?”

Only he would think of a question like this.

It was a tough one. So I picked out my favorite letters and squished them into the oddest fake word I could conjure on the spot like this.

“Romfuzzled.”

“Oh yeah?” There went the dimple. “What would it mean?”

“Hmm.” I tapped my chin. The English language was a robust one, and I didn’t want to steal a definition from something simple like “confused” or “excited.” But often, I’d get this feeling. One I could never find words for. Like reminiscence and nostalgia, but over something I had yet to lose. It was like living my best days, knowing the sun will eventually have to set on them. Impermanence mixed with utter infatuation. It described my days with Luke. The best friendship I would ever know, and the one that would kill me the most to lose.

Playing with the fabric of my skirt, I smiled softly to myself. “It means to be in the moment. To appreciate the people around you.” Not exactly, but as accurate as I could get without delving into my feelings for the man.

“Ahh,” he nodded in understanding. “Hakuna matata.”

I snorted. “No. Not hakuna matata. Romfuzzled.”

Without letting that grin slip, he simply rested his forearm on the center console, brushing against mine ever so slightly. He nodded. “Romfuzzled.”

And with our arms barely touching and our knuckles millimeters apart, neither of us moved the rest of the drive.

Sometime later, my phone lit up in my lap with a text from Marigold. Then another from Calla, and a handful from Rachel, but I didn’t flinch to check them so as not to break our slight touch.

We fell into a natural silence after that. He turned the volume up on an easy going, Sunday morning kind of soundtrack, as Rachel would call it, that permeated the air and lulled me to sleep.

Have you ever woken up from a nap in the car simply because you’d turned down a familiar street close to home? Like your body just knew? That was exactly what happened when we reached Ocean City.

My body woke before my brain could process my surroundings. All I knew was, wherever we were felt like home. Like nostalgia or maybe even romfuzzling. Either way, I perked up at the sight of people waving at one another on the sidewalks and in passing cars, and the smell of salty air filling the car.

My back straightened. “We’re here?” I asked even though I already knew the answer.

Luke chuckled beside me. “We’re here, little one.”

I propped my feet up on the seat, my knees pulled up to my chin and bounced impatiently, waiting to see the shoreline come into view.

“This is where we’re going?” Oh yeah. Nathan. Forgot about him again. Oops.

I turned, still crouched awkwardly, my movements restricted by my seatbelt. “Oh, hey. You’re awake.”

He didn’t acknowledge me. Instead, he looked out the window at the…not so glamorous streets. “Layla, you acted like this place was Disney World.”

I snickered. Okay, maybe Ocean City wasn’t the perfect getaway for everyone. It had its issues. But when I was a kid, my parents couldn’t afford a big fancy trip, only simple vacations. We’d pack sandwiches when we ventured out, and only drink water on the rare occasion we did eat out. Dad spent a lot of time on the phone with his boss, even when we were sight-seeing, and Mom would sneak out of our room at night to get to her laptop. But all in all, Ocean City was paradise to me.

“It’s similar to Disney World. Instead of riding Space Mountain, they have a Ferris wheel.”

Nathan puffed out a breath, making an obnoxious sound with his lips. “Yeah and instead of meeting Mickey Mouse, we can get autographs from a street performer who thinks yelling into a traffic cone is worth my five dollars.”

If I hadn’t been so excited, I would have smacked him, but Luke had my back. “Don’t be in a bad mood just because you’re hungry.”

Nathan’s begrudging hmph in reply signaled that he was indeed hangry.

Up ahead, the main road that led to the bridge. We were so close. When had I last seen the shore? Or felt the sand beneath my feet as the salty air filled my nose? Far too long.

The big body of water gradually came into view over the horizon as we slowly worked our way toward the bridge, and I couldn’t hold back a squeal.

Luke bumped my elbow with his. “I don’t think I’ve seen you this excited since they gave us an extra appetizer at Froggy’s because they made too many mozzarella sticks.”

That was a good moment. I leaned forward to get a better view. “I just can’t wait to see it again. But I do love their mozzarella sticks.”

He was looking over at me, but I didn’t want to process what his facial expression meant. I was too caught up in the euphoria sweeping through me at the familiarity of this town.

We crossed the bridge and turned onto the main highway. Over the boardwalk, the Ferris wheel came into view, the beach visible on all sides. I craned my neck as far as I could and braced myself against the dash.

“What are you do—”

We passed a sign that said Welcome to Ocean City!, and with my arm hanging out the window, I shouted, “I’m the first one there!”

So what if it was cheesy? We didn’t leave town much when I was a kid, but when we did my dad would stick his hand out as far as he could so he could be the first one to arrive at our destination. Old habits died hard.

Luke and Nathan laughed at my expense, but I couldn’t care less. I was just glad to be here. Luke shook his head at me, but he had a wide smile plastered to his face. Pretty sure he muttered “cute,” too. My stomach flipped, right before my heart sank a little. I didn’t want to be cute to him. I was sick of being cute. Why couldn’t I be a hot fox or a sexy gazelle rather than a cartoon chipmunk in a nude cardigan and pretzels stuffed in her cheek?

When we pulled up to the main entrance of the tallest hotel in the city, Luke put the Jeep in park and hopped out to check us in. With the windows down, the sounds of kids laughing at the pool behind the hotel and suitcases rolling through the parking lot created a soothing soundtrack. My stomach had an entire zoo in it, and I was so excited for a break—even one that included some work here and there.

Rachel would sometimes drag me along with her on day trips when she was in the mood to go to the history museum or something. But, like Luke, I never really planned vacations. I was a creature of habit and stuck to my routine.

When Luke came back, he maneuvered the Jeep through the parking lot so we could unload. Still floating on cloud nine, I yanked my suitcase out of the back, swearing it felt lighter than when I’d packed it the previous night. I snagged my keycard from Luke and led the way to the lobby, taking in the shiny tile floors and high ceilings once we stepped through the automatic doors.

Luke stretched then pulled out his phone. “Chad texted. He won’t be here until the conference tonight. I haven’t heard from Janise or Tony, but I assume we’re the first ones here. Katie texted earlier to say they were running late.”

Katie had texted him? Why did she even have his number? And why was I so pissed off about it? Okay, fine. I knew the answer to that last one, but I’d never admit it.

My cheeks warming, I pulled my lips in and turned, pretending to study the lobby again so I didn’t have to face Luke.

Oblivious to my reaction, Nathan groaned. “Good. Now we can eat without them. Let’s change and get food. I’m starving.”

I nodded and inspected my shoes, still avoiding eye contact with Luke. “Yeah, I need to get a shower after that drive. See you guys in a bit.” My tone was lower than usual, more subdued. I hoped neither of them noticed. I didn’t need Nathan pestering me about Luke on this trip. Rachel alone was bad enough; the two of them in cahoots would be my worst nightmare.

On the way to my room on the twelfth floor, I did my best to forget Luke’s comment about Katie. It was time to live in the moment. Romfuzzle, if you will. When I held the key card to the scanner at my door, the little light flashing green and the sound of the lock unlatching sent a much needed hit of serotonin coursing through me.

The room was standard: two queen beds with neatly pressed white sheets and a blue-gray carpet with driftwood accents on the dresser and above each of the headboards. I bit my lip and rushed through the room when I caught sight of a sliding glass door that led to a deck, which overlooked the pool and shoreline. The room was small but the view was exceptional. Thankful that I was alone, I squealed to myself and face planted into the bed closest to the large windows. I rolled onto my back and giggled at the stamped ceilings.

After admiring the view and messing up my perfectly made bed, I got up and shuffled into the bathroom. The hot spray of the shower relaxed my muscles, easing the tension from the car ride. With a playlist Rachel made me filling the empty room, I wrapped myself in a towel and wandered out of the stuffy bathroom to pick out my outfit for tonight. Unzipping my suitcase and humming, I went through my mental rolodex of outfits. Tonight I’d go with casual: my baggy overalls, a pair of converse, and maybe a cute necklace. Only when one side of my suitcase flopped on the ground, my eyes snagged on an unfamiliar blue top and lacy unmentionables scattered I didn’t remember purchasing.

This was not my suitcase.

It was stuffed full of denim shorts, low cut shirts, and tiny tank tops that weren't…

Crap. This was my suitcase, but these weren’t my clothes.

Maybe she’d thrown a few outfits in on top of mine. That had to be it. I tossed booty shorts and crop tops and strappy sandals over one shoulder and then the other, only stopping when I found a note amidst the mess.

Throwing one hand to my chest, I gasped at my roommate’s betrayal. I scrambled to my phone and pulled up Rachels contact, it rang twice before going to voicemail. That sneaky little rat. I texted a photo of her annoying—albeit incredibly cute—wardrobe scattered across the floor.

Me: So…you repacked my suitcase.

Rachel: Moi??

Me: Yes, you.

Rachel: Shouldn’t have left your door unlocked. Have fun jumping. Your long legs will look perfect in the Levi’s. You’re welcome.

I scanned the pile of stylish and form fitting clothes, finding the cut-off shorts on top.

Well, if I was doing this, I guess I was doing it right.

While we waited for Layla, Nathan and I shared an oddly shaped, shell-looking chair that I was pretty sure was only meant for one person. Our legs almost overlapped, probably giving passersby the wrong idea about us, but Nathan refused to give up the chair, and I wasn’t one to easily hand things over, either. Nathan tapped away on his phone, smiling and keeping the screen tilted so I couldn’t see who he was messaging.

“You writing a novel over there?” I asked.

He chuckled and shook his head, “Nah, don’t worry about it,” Nathan said, which only piqued my curiosity more.

Wisely, I chose not to push him. I wasn’t in the mood to sit through a speech about whatever he was texting about. While he messed with his phone, I took in my surroundings. The lobby was full of families headed to dinner in color coordinated outfits and business men and women carrying fancy briefcases and wearing shiny shoes. Considering we were only heading to a sports bar down the street from the hotel, Layla was taking an exceptionally long time to get ready. Normally, she was always on time, so this development made me twitchy. Maybe I should have walked her to her room or texted to check that she’d found it. I pulled out my phone to do just that, but Nathan mumbled next to me and elbowed me in the ribs, distracting me from my mission.

“Well, hot damn.”

Scowling at him, I grumbled but followed his line of sight to a tan woman with long legs walking our way. She was decked out in tiny shorts and an equally tiny t-shirt. I did a double take because although I certainly did not know those legs, I’d know that honey-brown hair anywhere. It was Layla. My Layla.

My jaw dropped as she sashayed across the tile floor. Layla had never so much as worn a skirt that went above her knee in my presence, and now she’d shown up in cutoff Levi’s I swore were hand-tailored to drive me wild. She’d paired the shorts with a tight, light blue t-shirt that hugged her curvy waist.

I nearly choked on my own spit as I watched this indescribable woman make her way to us. My untouchable best friend, the one who’d once called me to cry because she’d seen a squirrel on the side of the road that kept dropping his nuts. The woman who’d spoken so gently to an older man who was lost at the lobby of West Oak. But right now, that girl was nowhere to be found, and this version of her practically had me panting.

Layla had always been beautiful. I’d noticed that the day I met her, if only in passing. But that wasn’t what had drawn me to her, what caused my infatuation. No, it was her smile, her joyful laughter, how she lit up every room. Once she’d lured me in with those qualities, that’s when I really noticed how gorgeous she was. So when she strutted toward me—in slow motion, I’m pretty sure—with that perfect grin and her tighter-than-ever clothes, I knew I had no chance of surviving this dinner. Maybe I’d fake an illness. Something non-contagious that gave me an excuse to return to the room.

Sorry, can’t make it Lay. I have a raging UTI that won’t give in no matter how much cranberry juice I drink.

Nathan wolf whistled next to me, pulling me out of my head. “And who is this?” He stood and draped an arm around Layla’s shoulders.

She barked out a laugh, head tilted back, hair flying behind her.

“Layla bear, you're all grown up. Loving the shorts, although I already miss your frumpy overalls.”

Layla pushed against Nathan’s chest, and he ruffled her hair as he staggered back dramatically. A second later, he’d all but forgotten us. He was on his phone again, typing even faster than before.

Me, on the other hand? I still hadn’t moved. I didn’t know Layla even owned clothes like that, and although I had always prided myself in being the type of man who didn’t openly check women out, my eyes were being pretty selfish at the moment.

“Rachel repacked my bags last night when I was sleeping. It’s her way of forcing me to get out there I guess.”

Nathan responded, but his words didn’t register. I was too focused, or was it unfocused? Either way, it was incredibly wrong. If Layla had even a glimpse into my downright filthy thoughts, she’d revoke all of my rights as her best friend. Goodbye Marlo’s dates and perfectly made coffee. It was nice knowing you.

“You ready?” she asked, tugging on the hem of her shorts. The flush on her cheeks belied her confidence. She was getting used to these clothes, exactly like I was.

My reply wasn’t even proper English. It was more like a muttered, “Mmphkay.”

Nathan chortled behind Layla, but I didn’t have it in me to come up with a witty response. I simply stood and walked—no, floated across the floor because I knew my feet weren’t working properly.

Layla, oblivious to my shorts-induced daze, turned around with a spin and strode out of the lobby.

Beside me, Nathan said, “This should be fun to watch.”

I didn’t bother with a response. Instead, I gave myself a pep talk. I was a grown ass man. I could handle looking at a pair of shorts, I had seen women in a lot less. So why was I so flustered? It was ridiculous.

With a shake of my shoulders, I continued my float walk out to the jeep.

We let Nathan pick our lunch spot since he was “starving.” It was easier that way. Arguing with a hangry person never went well. He chose a small sports bar on the pier. The second I pulled open the door, the smell of fried food and cheap beer hit my nose. Every available inch of space on the walls was covered in large TVs playing one sport or another. And a surprising number of patrons wore beach attire. A guy at the bar was barefoot, his shirt unbuttoned all the way down, even though the sign outside said ‘No shoes, no shirt, no service.’ Ahh, America.

A waitress carrying a tray full of bacon cheese fries and two Bud Light bottles greeted us and said she’d be right back. The cheese fries looked surprisingly good. After the drive I’d had, I was fully prepared to shovel greasy food and crappy beer down my throat.

Layla, who I was still avoiding making eye contact with, bounced on the tips of her toes beside me. She worked her way from right to left as she took in the room like it was Cinderella’s castle rather than a run-down sports bar. Her eyes sparkled, and she blinked fast as she scanned every inch of the room. Her reactions to every aspect of this town so far were comical. What we saw as average was extravagant to her. Layla was romanticizing it.

The waitress sat us in a separate area where worn wooden tables were adorned with hundreds of names written in Sharpie, colored dollar bills were stapled to the walls, and bras hung from the ceiling?

Layla sat next to me, and Nathan plopped into a chair across from us. Her leg bounced almost uncontrollably while she perused the menu, but I was too distracted by her proximity to even piece together the letters in front of me. How would I focus on anything other than her smooth, perfect, never-before-seen legs while we were here? I’d have to make it my life’s mission to burn those shorts. Or possibly build them a shrine; I hadn’t decided yet. Either way, a candle and those Levi’s were going to have a field day sometime soon.

She hummed along to the music playing over the poor quality speakers and tapped her pink-painted nails on the laminated menu. When the waitress came back around, I snapped out of my Layla-induced trance—damn thing wouldn’t let me be. I hadn’t looked at the menu, so when Nathan ordered, I got the same, hoping he hadn’t picked anything too disgusting.

My phone buzzed loudly atop the wooden table, the notification visible before I even lifted my phone.

Katie: We should be there in the next two hours or so. See you soon!

I didn’t know why that irritated me. When she texted me that morning, I was utterly confused. I hadn’t given Katie my number, and surely Janise would’ve scolded her if she’d even considered looking at my HR records to find it. Either way, it was spooky.

Without responding, I locked my phone back and slipped it into my pocket.

“So um, what do y’all want to do before they get here?” Layla asked, her thumb tracing the edge of the table in front of her.

Nathan answered before I could. “I’ve been working on this six pack since last summer, so we better be heading to the beach so I can show it off.” He flexed ridiculously, making Layla giggle.

I cleared my throat. “We’ve got all week to go to the beach. Let’s do something different before tonight’s meeting.”

Nathan’s eyes cut to me. “Nah, bro. You’re just jealous cause I’m gonna steal all the attention with my sculpted pecs.” He took a sip of his beer and attempted to smoothly lean back in the chair. But he tipped back too far and nearly fell over. The look of shock on his face and the way his hand flew to his chest like he’d had a near death experience sent Layla and I rolling with laughter.

When she turned to me, her knees brushing against mine, the hair on my arms stood up. “Maybe you and I can go do something. We could go to the pier? Or maybe to that doughnut place we passed by on the way here, not that it’ll be as good as Marlo’s.”

I smiled down at her, feeling a little more comfortable than I had in the last hour—though all the tiny Lukes in my brain were still running around trying to piece a normal sentence together.

“Sure, or we could go back to the hotel and wander around until six,” when we were all supposed to meet. “You know, shoot the shot.”

“It’s shoot the shit, Luke.“

I shrugged. Close enough.

“Yeah, that.” I angled closer to whisper to her while Nathan was distracted by some kind of action on the TV. “I may need your help figuring out what to do with his stuff while he’s gone.”

Layla laughed beside me, and the sound alone made my shoulders relax. The stupid shorts had thrown me off. They created a mirage, like the woman next to me was an Instagram model instead of the best friend I’d ever had. Ridiculous. She was still my Layla. Now that I could see what she’d been hiding under all those layers, my brain was malfunctioning, that’s all. But I was here to make jumps, and I couldn’t jump if I was frozen in place.

“I heard about this cool bar downtown that you might like.” She took her phone out. “Maybe we could go there sometime this week?”

Layla held her phone out so we could both see the screen, her web browser showing an article about the top places to visit in Ocean City. The tension in my shoulders eased a fraction more. My Layla always did her research. She’d read reviews for the hotel on the way here and bookmarked a few nearby restaurants and bars.

She scrolled to the Captain’s Lounge, the pictures showing a nautical theme with light-blue walls, and driftwood accents and nets hung from the ceilings. It was cute, though it wasn’t the direction I would’ve gone for my own bar.

The bar I daydreamed about would have a hard maple bar top and industrial style shelves full of top shelf liquor behind the counters. It would be outfitted with modern gold light fixtures and dark green accents to match the pool tables in the back room. Masculine for sure, but softened by the abundance of plants Layla would inevitably bring in. I’d have special drink menus depending on the week and once it was established, I’d brew my own craft beers.

None of that would actually happen, of course, but it’s nice to dream. I had no plans to leave West Oak anytime soon, but I couldn’t help but wonder what was on the other side.

“Sure. I’m down for whatever.” As long as it’s with you.

Nathan waggled his brows at me suggestively, as though he heard my unspoken words. Thankfully, Layla was too engrossed in her phone to pay attention to him. He held up his own device and shook it.

Now that I was thinking a little more clearly, I took the hint and pulled it out of my pocket.

Nathan: Lay it on thick.

I rolled my eyes and looked up, silently conveying my annoyance. He dipped his chin in Lay’s direction as if I had no idea who he was talking about.

Me: I’m trying.

Nathan: Well quit staring at her and do something about it.

Again, I didn’t answer, though he was probably right. While we were here, my mission was to become more than just friends with Layla, but so far all I’d done was give her chocolate covered pretzels and watch her saunter everywhere we went. My instinct was to go slow and see how she reacted to each slight adjustment. But was that enough? I only had five and a half more days to express how I feel. I’d already had three years, and look where it had gotten me. Without Nathan’s pushing, I could have all of eternity and probably never move past bringing her doughnuts and buying C-3PO socks for Christmas in hopes that she would catch on.

After we ate, we strolled lazily back to the hotel. The sidewalk was bustling, the road beyond clogged with traffic.

Nathan stretched his arms above his head and yawned. “Man I’m beat. I think I’m gonna rest up before the conference starts.”

Layla tilted her head, her forehead wrinkling adorably. “It’s only two, and you’ve been asleep more than you’ve been awake since we left home. How are you still tired?”

He shrugged and scoffed. “You know…road exhaustion and all. Plus I didn’t sleep last night; I was too excited.”

Seemingly content with his explanation, she nodded and curled a small smile as we continued our trek. “I wonder if we’ll have enough time to actually go out after our sessions this week.”

Layla’s short stature meant I had to shorten my stride so Nathan and I didn’t leave her in the dust. “If Janise was in charge of scheduling, we’ll probably have to watch keynote presentations all week and eat pre-packaged lunches full of who knows what.”

She laughed, and everything weighing on my chest was suddenly much lighter.

On our short walk back to the hotel, Nathan took the opportunity to check out every female that walked by, then he’d proceed to trip over his oversized tennis shoes. Layla giggled every time, and I couldn’t help but join in when Nathan, humbled and disappointed when he hadn’t gotten anywhere with the women he’d stopped to chat up trudged up to our hotel room.

“I told him those shoes were too big, but he wanted to make his feet look bigger. Because, in his words, bigger feet mean…well you know.”

She snorted as we stepped up to the bank of elevators. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

I swung my arms back and forth and snapped my fingers. What do I do now? Why do I suddenly feel so different around her?

Layla examined the whole lobby, eyes passing over everywhere except where I stood. People passed by us on all sides, but we stayed frozen.

“Sooo…” I dragged out the word, unsure of what to say.

“So..” she parroted. “Want to go down to the beach? Or watch a movie in my room since Nathan’s probably wallowing in self-pity in yours?”

I gasped. “An unwed man and woman hanging out in a hotel room together? Janise would lose it. She’d tell everyone, and it would be a West Oak scandal for weeks to come. They’d distribute a newsletter and staple it to the bulletin board.” This got a laugh out of her, and I made a mental check on my to-do list for this trip.

Along with steps one, two, and three scribbled on a Target receipt, Nathan had helped me create a to-do list for my relationship with Layla. He said, “You need a to-do list so you can check off the important things before you inevitably hit your goal, which is to do Layla.”

That resulted in me throwing a pillow at him.

Either way, now that I could think straight again, the list would keep me on track to achieve my final goal—getting closer to her. The list consisted of tangible actions such as making her laugh, tucking her hair behind her ear, brushing my hand against hers, making more eye contact—in a not-creepy way—and big things like putting an arm around her and kissing her.

“It’s just a movie! People do that all the time on trips. We could watch a scary movie and say it’s research for my book.”

I swallowed down the lump in my throat. Being alone in a hotel room with her was at least thirty steps ahead of where I was on the list. But like she said, it was only a movie. An innocent showing of horrifying crime scenes and possible ghosts doesn’t mean anything is different just yet. This could still be considered slow.

“Oh, um, yeah we can do that.” I smirked and tilted my chin to meet her eyes.

The look we shared sent a wave of warmth coursing through me. We didn’t break eye contact for a long moment, making that warmth ratchet up to a temperature I was sure would make me combust.

The way she fidgeted and her pink cheeks told me Layla could feel it too.

Layla broke eye contact to press the up button on the elevator, and I took the opportunity to wipe my sweaty palms on my shorts. Why was it so hot in here? By the time she turned back, I’d affected my signature calm grin because, according to the list, I had to hold onto my confidence even when, inside, I was screaming. After the door shut behind me, I shook my shoulders. That was definitely not how I pictured my afternoon going.

We squished into the elevator with a family of five and all of their luggage. I backed into the far wall so we’d all fit, but somehow Layla ended up mashed between me and a cart full of red and black suitcases. When the elevator began its ascent, the buggy rolled, forcing her to back straight into me. When her backside made contact with me, she froze and then tilted her head back. She mouthed “sorry” and shot me a nervous smile. I shook my head and grinned even though the little Lukes in my brain were having a full-on moshpit at the slight contact. Heat coursed through me, my gaze landing on everything except Layla and where her body pressed against me.

Never in my life had I endured such a long elevator ride. Meanwhile, Layla’s decadent scent crept into my nose. Sweet and citrusy, like summer and sunshine. Like everything I’ve ever wanted wrapped up like a gift I wanted to fully unwrap and keep all to myself.

The elevator eventually came to a stop, punctuated by a ding and a robotic voice that declared, “Floor Nine.” The family gathered their bags before fumbling out, and when the doors closed again, Layla took a step away from me, my body deflating at the loss of her warmth. I almost whimpered.

I propped myself up against one wall and stuck both of my hands in my pockets to hide my sweaty palms. Being so much taller than her, I couldn’t clearly read Layla’s expression. She was eye-level with my chest and her cheeks were still flushed, probably because she’d been forced to love-tap me in an uncomfortably hot elevator. In the time it took to move from floor nine to twelve, I swore we could have watched Titanic—maybe twice. When the doors opened again, letting in a modicum of cool air, I felt like I could finally breathe.

This was ridiculous. I had been alone with Layla hundreds—maybe even thousands—of times, yet the simple thought of touching her had me nearly trembling. Or maybe it was because I hadn’t been in a woman's room, besides the recent drunken incident with Layla, in…too long to figure out.

The list. Remember the list.

When Layla stepped into the hall, I followed, swallowing my fear because damn it, I was a grown man. I could flirt with a beautiful woman without having a panic attack.

There was a couple standing outside the doors so I took the opportunity to place a hand on the small of Layla's back. My hand was big enough to splay over the width of her petite frame. Yeah, that discovery would be dangerous when I was alone later. She didn’t freeze under my touch like in the elevator, instead relaxing into it like it was second nature.

And it did feel natural, like putting on my favorite pair of sweats or watching my favorite sitcom. Layla felt like home. Although the encounter lasted mere seconds—only long enough to help her get by the couple in front of us—I swore time slowed. And I longed to stay there, in that time warp where I had an excuse to touch her. To brush my thumb brush against her back dimple and rest my pinkie on the waistband of her shorts.

A few feet from the elevator doors, the moment ended too soon. The silver lining was I could mentally check another item off my list.

She fished through her wallet for her keycard as we walked down the hall in silence. She unlocked the door to a room that was the mirror image of mine. Except the bed closest to the glass doors was already unmade. Pillows were strewn across the floor, and the crisp white sheets were tangled.

With an amused huff, I turned to her and said, “Let me guess, you jumped on the bed the second you got here.”

She shrugged sheepishly. “I can neither confirm nor deny.”

The hint of a smile teasing her lips gave her away. I laughed and slid my shoes off by the door, the action oddly domestic, as if Layla and I were on a trip by ourselves and not with a good chunk of our coworkers. That was another fantasy I’d probably dream about later tonight.

I moved past the still-made bed to the one she’d clearly claimed and leaned against it. There was an open suitcase on the floor between the two beds that had been rifled through rather violently.

Layla was attempting to hide the mess by shutting her hardsided, pastel-yellow suitcase and kicking it under the bed.

“Rachel repacked your suitcase, huh? Why doesn’t that surprise me?” I plopped down on the edge of the bed, trying to make myself seem more at ease than I was.

She let out a puff of air, “Yup. She tried to get me to pack clothes that were…different from what I normally wear, and when I said no, she repacked the whole thing while I was asleep. I haven’t decided how I’m going to get her back yet. Maybe scratch her favorite White album.”

I winced and sucked in a breath through closed teeth. “It’s your funeral, little one”

She chuckled and sat across from me, her long legs stretching out to the floor and her hands planted on either side of her to hold her up. Desire bloomed in my gut as her citrus scent wafted toward me, and I instinctively licked my bottom lip. When she turned toward me, our eyes met, and a blaze of passion surged through my veins. I was in this room alone with Layla.

“I…” she gulped, her throat bobbing up and down.

I couldn’t take my eyes off her, which was probably rude, but this had nothing on putting hot sauce in her drink thirty minutes after meeting her.

“Why don’t you pick? Want to watch Wheel of Fortune or something?”

“Just because I don’t write murder scenes for fun,” I teased, “doesn’t mean I’m an avid Wheel of Fortune watcher.” How does she know I secretly love that show…

“Mmmm sure.”

She tossed the remote my way, and it bounced on the mattress beside me. When I didn’t reach for it immediately, she cocked her head in its direction, urging me on

With a shake of my head, I picked it up, then flipped through channels, determined to find the scariest show available. After a great deal of scrolling, I settled on one with a dark, odd-looking cover of two half-naked people in the back of the car.

It Follows.

I wasn’t sure what “it” was but regardless, nothing was going to climb out of the screen. Unless it was that girl from The Ring. I shuddered in remembrance of my teenage self absolutely losing it after that nightmare of a movie.

“You want to watch this?” Layla asked with a scoff.

“Yes. Looks good enough for your twisted mind.”

She laughed and scooted toward the headboard. “Go on then. But it’s too bright in here. Turn off the lights and close the curtains.” She tossed her hands behind her head and got comfortable.

Turn off the…okay.

I followed her commands, making the room as dark as it could be in the mid-afternoon. On my way back from pulling the black-out curtains closed, I stubbed my toe on something hard and plastic. Sharp pain shot through my foot.

“Dolly Parton, that hurt,” I whisper-shouted and hopped on one foot while holding the other.

In the glow of TV light, Layla giggled behind a snort. “Did you use Dolly Parton as a cuss word?”

I didn’t respond because she already knew the answer. “What did you leave sitting in the middle of the floor?”

Her blankets rustled as she sat up. “Oh that’s my noise machine. I need soft wind and rain to sleep.”

Hobbling back to the vacant bed, I mumbled, “Soft wind and rain. Wow, I feel sorry for your roommate.”

I made myself as comfortable as I could without messing up the pillows or climbing under the blankets and hit start on the supposedly scary movie.

You know when you’re watching a movie with your parents and a remotely sexy scene pops up, so you stare at the ceiling or decide it’s the perfect time for a bathroom break? It’s a hundred times worse when it’s only you and your best friend, who you’ve been crushing on for three years straight. And the lights are off. And she’s in shorts. Maybe that last part isn’t weird, but I still hadn’t gotten over it.

A half hour in, I was confused and honestly terrified of ever being intimate with a woman again.

“Let me get this straight, you hook up with someone, and then this thing follows you and kills you?”

Layla shrugged. “Yeah, I guess,” she mumbled while chomping on something crunchy. It was too dark to tell, but I was willing to bet she’d broken out the pretzels I bought her earlier.

“Wow. I guess I’m celibate now.”

She snickered, her blankets rustling again. “It’s not that scary, Luke. You just don’t watch enough horror movies.”

“And I’m not about to start,” I said, shivering.

The more I watched, the more I hated this movie. How could this sweet, innocent, angel of a woman who wouldn’t hurt a butterfly—fly? Whatever—be utterly obsessed with gore and horror? You know what they say…it’s always the quiet ones.

An hour later, Layla was snoring sweetly on the other side of the room while I was one more jump scare away from shamefully ruining the mattress beneath me. Between the eerie music, dark room, and sudden flashes of “it,” I had a feeling the scare factor was only ramping up before the conclusion.

With each new jump scare, each running scene, my chest rose and fell faster and faster until each time, I had the feeling I was definitely the next one to be taken out.

When the movie got to where I could barely handle it, when my knees were embarrassingly shaky, I couldn’t stop myself and whispered to the strongest person in this room.

“Layla.”

No answer.

“Psstttt. Lay.”

Silence.

I was tempted to throw a pillow at her head, but she was sleeping so soundly I figured she must need the rest. Also, I may have been too scared to extend my arm for a pillow. So I huddled against the upholstered headboard, in the dark, keeping my rapt attention on the scenes I was sure would give me nightmares the rest of my life.

On screen, a girl sat on her bedroom floor, knees pulled up to her chest and tears soaking her face. She shook with fear, her cheeks red and her bottom lip trembling. No doubt I’d be joining her soon.

I sucked in a breath and held it when there was a knock on her door. When it opened, all the air whooshed from my lunges. It was only her mom. Okay, okay. This isn’t so bad.

Suddenly, a seven-foot tall man with white skin and black eyes crept up behind the mom. And that was all she wrote. I couldn’t hold it in. I kicked the covers off and jumped for the remote. The TV echoed my scream at the exact moment the hotel door sprung open.

I shouted, “No!” and chucked the remote at the demon sent here to kill me. Maybe I was a bit of a pansy, but I wouldn’t go down without a fight. The remote hit its target and fell to the ground with a triumphant thud.

“Ow! What the hell?” A shrill, feminine, familiar voice said.

When the creature didn’t continue its rampage, I lowered the pillow I’d hidden behind. The light from the hotel hallway lit up not a demon but…oh…Katie, holding her head and wincing.

“Katie?” My voice cracked like a puberty-cursed teen.

She nodded. “Yup.”

Layla shot up from her bed, where she had supposedly been sleeping, and cackled so loud the sound echoed off the walls. “I…you…I mean…” She gasped between words and laughed hysterically, holding her belly.

After a knee slap—was that really necessary?---and some deep breathing, she went on. “Do you always have to torture the girls you work with?”

I rolled my eyes and turned to her, my hands on my hips. And dang, she still looked perfect, even as she wiped away tears of laughter. “The hot sauce was three years ago, Lay. When can we let it go?”

“Never. It will live rent free in my mind for all of eternity.”

“I didn’t even mean to. You know what I should’ve done? I wish I had—”

“Excuse me,” Katie shrieked from the door, holding her forehead and scowling. “Is no one going to help me here?”

It was hard to take her seriously with the angry red bump forming on the right side of her forehead. I untangled my legs from the sheets and stood, dizzy from the fast movement.

“Sorry, Katie.” I cringed. “I thought you were a—you know what, nevermind. I’ll just grab your bags for you then get out of your hair.” I slid past her and grasped the handle of her heavy suitcase, tossed her duffel bag over my other shoulder, and lugged it all over to her bed.

Layla shifted in her bed and pulled her lips into her mouth like she always did when she tried not to smile. Her wide eyes said busted, and I had to look away to keep from cracking up.

Katie stood just inside the door, her eyes narrowed and her attention darting from me, to Layla, then back again. “What are you guys doing in here together anyway?”

My voice pitched a whole octave higher than usual, I stammered, “Oh we just—”

“Movies and scary stuff.”

“Nowhere else to go so…”

“Demon STDs and tall men.”

Layla and I sputtered out random words one after the other, not a lick of coherence between us. Katie pursed her lips and crossed her arms but remained silent.

I cleared my throat and hiked a thumb over my shoulder. “I’m gonna go back to my room. I’ll see you later tonight.”

I didn’t look up from the floor when Layla murmured, “Bye Luke.”

The last five minutes of my life had been a testimony to my ability not to laugh myself to death. But I was almost there.

Witnessing Luke throw that remote at a girl who definitely had a crush on him was satisfying right down to a deep little crevice in my heart. It was like an itch in my brain had finally been scratched. I couldn’t help it. Katie hadn’t done anything wrong of course—she’d simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time—but I was certain those were definitely not the plans she’d made regarding Luke on this trip.

“Looks like we’re roomies?” I tried to sound cheery, even though I probably would have preferred being with Janise over this tinker bell.

Katie huffed out a breath and stared at her bed, which was unmade thanks to Luke.

“I guess so. We probably won’t see each other much anyway. I've signed up for a tax seminar series this week with the rest of the accountants, and then the big conferences, so you know…” She pulled her phone from her pocket mid-sentence and began typing.

Well, okay.

I mimicked her actions and shot Luke a quick text.

Me: I can’t believe what I just witnessed. I have so much to tell Nathan now.

Skywalker: I am mortified. It’s all your fault. Watching that awful movie about sex monsters had my brain foggy.

Me: You’re the one that picked it! The whispered vows of celibacy when you thought I was asleep were the best part.

Skywalker: I take those seriously. My body and I are retired.

I bit my lip with a smile. Take the jump, Layla.

Me: What a shame…

I locked my phone and shoved it under the pillow to avoid the temptation to unsend the message. Then I jumped from the bed. Time to get ready since Chad signed us up for the team building seminar before the actual conference began.

“I’m going to get ready,” I said, squeezing my body between the wall and Katie’s bags. “I’ll be quick. I’m sure you want to unpack and all since you just got here.”

Her response was a hum, and she didn’t even bother to glance up from her device. That device that Luke’s number was programmed into. I tried my best to forget about it, but the knowledge kept coming back like a severe case of toe fungus. Would she notice if her phone suddenly fell off the balcony at two a.m.? It was worth some consideration. I was willing to bet Katie was the type of person who blots a paper towel on her pizza slice and shows it to you, saying, “See? Look how much grease you’re eating.”

I’d already showered, so all I had to do to get ready was change my shirt and wipe away the mascara that had smudged under my eyes when I cried tears of laughter. I brushed my fingers through my hair and made myself as presentable as I could considering I looked as though I’d just awoken from the dead.

When I dug my phone out from under my pillow, I had a response from Luke.

Skywalker: Sorry to disappoint, little one. ;)

My stomach fluttered and cheeks warmed. He was so cute I couldn’t stand it. I wanted to squish him into a ball and stick him in my pocket.

By the time I made it downstairs, Luke, Nathan, and Chad were standing in a group with a few other coworkers outside conference room B. Luke wore a gray henley, sleeves partially rolled up to show off his delightful forearms—hallelujah and amen.

I slowed my pace to a snail-like speed, taking in the sight of him but also dreading the inevitable team building, hand holding, tug-of-war, and shouting nonsense.

Chad’s loud rumble of laughter bounced off the walls and carpet of the hallway, making my eyes roll involuntarily. Judging by Luke and Nathan’s uncomfortable help me glances, he’d made one of his usual jokes about women or sports.

When I got close and called out, “Hey guys,” and Luke and Nathan both dropped their shoulders with relief, like they had been waiting for a savior to distract Chad. I smiled at Nathan, who grinned back like he knew something I didn’t. When my eyes met Luke’s, he was also wearing a grin, but it was different, warmer. Like he hadn’t seen me in ten years, despite leaving my room only thirty minutes ago.

“Hey Layl—ooohh. Look at you in normal people's clothes.” Chad ogled me shamelessly, eyes trailing me up and down in uncomfortable caresses. “How does it feel to not be weighed down by all those long skirts? Gotta let your legs breathe, girl.” My boss, who was a good two decades older than me, punctuated that remark with another exaggerated once-over that gave me the heebie-jeebies.

“Hey Chad.” I tried to leave out the groan, I really did. “How was the drive?”

He gave a long winded answer about stopping for gas and how many Corvette Z06s he spotted on the way. I nodded my head and did my best to disguise my boredom since I was the one who’d asked. Luke and Nathan had the opportunity to slip away and wander to a high-top table in the middle of the room where they were immediately swarmed by female attendees. I watched as Nathan opened his mouth, saying who knows what, and the women slowly backed away. Poor guy. Luke didn’t look phased, so whatever pickup line his roommate used must have been a regular.

While Chad droned on about the trip—a three-hour trip, mind you; how much could he really have to say about it?—I kept my eyes on Luke. He removed the lid from his water bottle and took a sip in a manner I found oddly seductive. His forearm flexed as he screwed the lid back on with his thumb and pointer finger. His white t-shirt spread across his wide chest and a smile shining brightly on his face while he listened to what Nathan was going on about. I couldn’t help but grin watching him. That smile was contagious, anyone he blessed by it had to reciprocate. No exceptions. Simply watching him was enough to bring any sane person joy.

Blessedly, Chad was cut off when the speakers around the room crackled.

“Alright everyone, find a partner. It’s time to get started,” the disembodied voice called.

Chad opened his mouth, but before he could rope me into teaming up with him, I rushed out, “I promised Luke I would be his partner. But I bet Nathan would love some bro time.”

He nodded. “It’s probably good for the men to talk anyway.”

Ugh, he was as bad as Kyle.

Before Nathan and Luke could pair up, I scurried over and grabbed Luke’s forearm. When my fingers wrapped around the exposed skin, a zing of electricity raced up my arm. My heart beat faster, but I schooled my expression so he wouldn’t see how such a small touch affected me.

“Be my partner,” I pleaded, tugging him closer.

“Okay.” He grabbed my hand without another thought.

Nathan held up both hands. “Aw come on, man.”

“Sorry,” I mouthed as I dragged Luke to the middle of the open room.

I bit my lip to keep from smiling when I peered down at our interlocked hands. Our fingers laced together so naturally, as though it was a daily occurrence. As if I hadn’t only dreamt of this for years.

Clearing my throat, I mumbled, “Thanks for saving me. I don’t think I would have made it through the torture of being Chad’s partner.”

Luke squeezed my hand, his grip tightening so our palms collided, and tipped closer. “I’ll always save you Layla.” His voice was light, but the words rang true. He was always there to save me. Whether it was a hangover-induced bad mood, or if he needed to distract Janise while I strung all of her paper clips together, he was always there—my Skywalker.

“Such a hero.” I put my hand over my heart, leaving the other still entwined with his. There was no way I’d be the one to break the hold, but he hadn’t made any attempts to let go either.

“Okay does everyone have a partner? Are we all settled?” The couple on the makeshift stage upfront held microphones as they searched the crowd for single people.

Luke dropped my hand at the sound of other people's voices, and I winced at the cold air replacing where his skin was.

“Looks like we’re all good. Okay. Hi everyone, I am Jackie, and this is Todd.” Todd did a small bounce where he stood in his loafers. “Today we’re going to lead you all in some fun get to know eachother team building exercises. How’s that sound?”

Her energetic voice was not matched by the crowd as everyone muttered a dry, “Okay.”

She bounced on her toes a little and the man, Todd, took over next. “This first exercise is called toucan or toucan’t.”

I looked up at Luke and saw he was trying his best not to laugh.

“Do you think we get to squawk and peck each other?” I mumbled.

“I’m going to be severely disappointed if I don’t get told to squawk at least once,” he said while managing a straight face.

I laughed and looked back up to the directors to see them getting into an odd position. Jackie was standing with her arms spread wide, Titanic style, and Todd perched behind her, pulling a blindfold over her eyes.

“This is all about putting your faith into your partners and trusting them with your whole body,” Jackie said smoothly through the microphone.

“You’re going to have your partner help you fly like a toucan.” Todd put both hands on Jackie's waist and leaned her forward. Instinctively, she fell, and he guided her so she could look as though she was flying.

“It’s up to you to decide if tou-can.”

Luke let out a snort of a laugh, and when eyes turned our way he cleared his throat. “Sorry. Allergies.”

Everyone turned back to the stage and watched the directors finish their…forward trust fall? Honestly, I wasn’t sure what I would call it, but it was downright weird. What kind of work conference had you doing trust exercises that involved hands on hips and blindfolds?

They stood back up, and the people around us clapped as Jackie took off her blindfold. Why were they clapping? Did they think she actually flew?

Luke crossed his arms. “Why is everyone clapping? Did they think she actually flew?” I laughed at him saying my thoughts out loud and shook my head.

A girl with a yellow vest held out a tray that had blindfolds on it. Who had given her a vest? And when had they turned on this plinky plunky yoga music? The lights lowered slightly and the directors stood next to each other again.

“Now it’s your turn. Pick who will fly and who will wear the wings, then you’ll swap.”

I grabbed a blindfold as the vest girl walked by and handed it to Luke. He looked at it then back to me.

“I’m not about to put a blindfold on with you around,” he said with a distrusting laugh as he handed the blindfold back to me.

“There’s like fifty people in here. What could I possibly do to you?”

He lowered his brows. “I’m not sure, but you would definitely find something.”

This made my giggle. He was probably right. “Alright fine, I’ll be the bird.”

I lifted the blindfold and tried tying it around my head, struggling to get the fabric to cooperate. A warm hand reached up to stop my movements.

“Let me do it.” Luke’s voice was a dark whisper, making me feel things that one should never feel while on a corporate retreat.

“I—okay.” I lowered my hands and let him place the blindfold properly around my eyes. We were close enough that I could smell that same cologne he always wore. I could hear his breathing and practically feel the light rise and fall of his chest only inches away from my back. After he tied the blindfold, he extended his hands around to the front of my face and pulled my hair back. Shivers traveled down my neck and chest. Luke always had this power over me, the ability to make time stop with a single touch of his hand.

When he was done, he tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around to face him as if I could see.

“How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Hmm. Three?”

He gasped. “Wow, you know me so well.”

I laughed excitedly. “Oh my gosh really?”

“No. It was two.”

I smacked what I assumed was his shoulder but immediately regretted it because his body was a lot harder than I pictured.

“Okay now everyone, get close together. I really want to see you and your partner connecting spiritually.”

I tried to distract myself as Luke pressed up behind me, his arms coming around my waist. I could tell he was unsure of where to put his hands, and I figured he needed a distraction.

“Please tell me what Nathan is doing right now.”

There was silence for a moment, then Luke laughed loudly.

“He may or may not be staring me down while Chad has his arms held out wide, ready to fly.”

Luke awkwardly settled his hands on my hips, barely touching me. I reassured him by placing my hand over his. He relaxed as we got all of our giggles out. It was so comfortable having him like this, as though this was something we did all the time.

“Now, toucans go ahead and start to lean forward.”

I did as Jackie instructed, and Luke kept a steady hold on my hips. I kept leaning my forward, my feet staying rooted into the floor and waist poked out till I backed myself up into Luke.

I was about to mutter a small apology when I felt something poking against my backside. I leaned a little more, you know, for investigative purposes. Long, hard, and…no. No no no. That was physically not possible. There was no way I was leaning against his sequoia tree-sized…nope.

“Luke Wells…” I drew out his name quietly enough where no one around us would hear. “Is that a lightsaber in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”

“That would be my phone. Although, you never know when the empire is nearby.”

His nervous chuckle made me smile. I leaned away from his body and the…lightsaber previously mentioned and followed as Jackie had done on stage.

“Now remember everyone, this is all about putting your trust in your partner. These are the people you work with. You need to know that you can count on them, and vice versa.”

I took in a breath and moved all the way forward; Luke’s grip remained firm on my hips.

“I have to say, I did not expect to be doing this the first day we got here. I was thinking of more of a get to know you icebreaker kind of deal.”

“Yeah, but when are we ever that lucky?”

I laughed at his response, apparently too loudly because Todd spoke up.

“Everyone please be mindful of others at this time.”

Luke whispered behind me, “Oooh. Layla’s in trouble.”

I flicked one of his hands on my waist, garnering a smile in return. He pulled both hands from my hips, and I gasped, scrambling for something to hold on to and grasping his forearms tightly. He chuckled and caught me as I wobbled. When I regained balance, I hefted myself upright and smacked his chest. Our laughter rebounded off the walls of the awkwardly silent room, undoubtedly drawing attention to us. But in the moment, no one existed but the two of us.

When I ripped my blindfold off and faced him, Luke was studying me through his round-framed glasses, a half smirk kicking up one side of his lips. Without looking away, he lowered his hands to my waist again, and I leaned into his hold.

“Great warm up everyone! Now for our next exercise.”

Next exercise?

“That’s the warm up?” Luke said, dropping his hands.

This was going to be a long trip.

You know what it was like as a kid when you’d wake up the morning of a field trip? How different everything felt? The air smelled sweeter, water tasted better, the breeze was almost majestic. Like the universe had shifted. And you knew it would be a good day.

That was my morning. I woke up to light filtering through the cracks of the curtains and my alarm quietly sounding on the nightstand beside me. I shot out of bed like I’d already had my morning cup of coffee, reaching for my phone to check for a text from Layla.

After the team building exercises, which had gotten progressively worse as the evening dragged on, Layla went back to her room to rest, and I was itching for another hit of her.

No matter the situation, Layla made the best of it. Whether it be a dingy restaurant on the cusp of condemnation or a conference room where we were forced to take notes on market trends, Layla was going to have the time of her life. Thus, I found myself getting up unreasonably early. I couldn’t wait to see her.

And like I’d hoped, the first notification on my lock screen was a text from two a.m.

Layla: Tinkerbell snores like a full grown man. I think she may be worse than my dad.

Nathan rolled over, taking his blanket with him and exposing a pair of black boxers adorned with avocados.

“Turn that alarm off before I throw your phone into the ocean,” he grumbled, sounding remarkably like my nephews when they had to get up for school.

I’d already turned the alarm off, but I knew better than to argue with six a.m. Nathan. He wiggled into the covers, shoving his avocado butt into the air as I shuffled toward the bathroom.

“Nice boxers.”

“Yeah, your mom thought so, too.”

And there it was.

While I waited for the water in the shower to get hot, I answered Layla.

Me: You snore too you know.

Her response came immediately.

Layla: Since when have you heard me snore?

Me: When I tucked you in last week, it was like putting a baby buffalo to bed. I’m grateful I’m not your roommate.

Layla: You wish you were my roommate.

Me: Maybe a little, just so I could enjoy the thrills of scary movies and stubbing my toe on the crap you leave all over the floor.

Layla: Are those the only reasons?

I bit my lip. Were we doing this again? Whatever this was? Crossing this imaginary friendship line, unsure of how it’d end up?

Me: Maybe a couple other reasons too.

After I was showered and dressed, I slung my backpack—stocked with a notepad, my laptop, and a second bag of chocolate-covered pretzels for Layla—over my shoulder and forced Nathan up by sticking a wet q-tip in his ear. He screamed like a twelve-year-old girl, and I was almost sad I didn’t record it to show Layla later. After he’d begrudgingly gotten ready, we made our way to the lobby.

Layla stood in the middle of the sunlit space, smiling so brightly passersby couldn’t help but turn her way, like the sunlight streaming through the windows shined only for her. In a short, white, floral dress and sandals, she twisted her hips from side to side, making the skirt flow around her thighs. Her hands were wrapped around a large cup of coffee that was no doubt packed full of sugar and artificial flavors. She chatted with Matt, an older man who worked in customer service down the hall from us. She nodded along as he rambled, sipping her coffee and listening intently. Regardless of the topic, Layla always reacted as if the conversation was riveting. She had the ability to make anyone feel like the most important person in the room. I could only hope I made her feel that way, too.

Layla paused her back and forth swaying and scanned the lobby until her eyes met mine. She beamed at me, her smile so bright I swore I saw a glint of light reflect off her teeth, like one of those cheesy gum commercials. The reaction struck me in the chest, and I had to suck in a breath to maintain my composure. She waved and bounced excitedly on her heels like we hadn’t seen each other in weeks.

I puffed out a laugh and walked toward her, leaving Nathan to hit on the concierge behind us. With a hand on Matt’s forearm, Layla excused herself and practically skipped my way.

“That’s quite the large coffee, little one,” I said when we met in the middle of the lobby, nodding to the enormous paper cup clutched in her tiny hands. “Sure you can handle all that energy?”

She nodded a little too emphatically. “I slept about two hours last night. Trust me, I’ll need it.”

“Two hours? Does Katie really snore that loud?” I hooted as a mental image of Layla smushing pillows over her ears to drown out the noise came to mind.

“No…” She bit her lip, and I wanted nothing more than to snag her chin and watch that lip pop free from her teeth, or maybe take it between mine instead. ”I spent almost the whole night writing.”

I paused. Writing? She hadn’t written in months.

“Really?”

She nodded and dropped her chin. “The whole remote debacle inspired me, I guess.”

I flashed her a cocky grin and crossed my arms. “You’re saying I inspired you then?”

“No. Your twelve-year-old girl freak out inspired me.”

I nodded and rubbed a palm across my cheek. “Uh-huh. I see.”

“Seriously. So quit letting it go to your head.”

“That’s a shame, because if I was an author’s inspiration, I’d gladly bring her chocolate-covered pretzels for the next three hours of torture we’re about to endure.”

Layla’s shoulders snapped back, and she regarded me with a flutter of her long lashes. “Did I mention that I’m dedicating my book to you?”

I opened my backpack and pulled out the pretzels. “Uh-huh. That’s what I thought.”

She snatched them from me, and when I wrapped an arm around her shoulders and ruffled her hair slightly, she giggled and shimmied closer. We were in a blissful little bubble made of sunshine and all things sweet.

The clearing of a throat behind us filtered through our euphoric haze, so with my arm still firmly draped over Layla’s shoulders, I spun, bringing her with me. Janise was approximately three feet away, arms crossed and tapping her foot.

The bubble popped.

I let go of Layla, and she brushed her fingers through her hair. “Oh hey, Janise.” I spoke in the most professional voice I could muster, considering I’d just given Layla a noogie.

“Good morning. May I speak to the two of you—” She cocked a brow and frowned, “—privately?”

I darted a glance at Layla, whose cheeks were turning pink. In unison, we nodded and followed her to the edge of the room, out of earshot of our coworkers.

“It should go without saying that being on a corporate retreat does not negate our no fraternization policy.”

I stuttered out a string of unintelligible words.

“We understand that,” Layla said, coming to my rescue. “I promise it is not an issue.”

“Very well then. So I won’t hear about the two of you alone in a hotel room again, correct? We are all professionals here, so let’s act like it.”

After corresponding solemn nods, we did the walk of shame back to our group. Well, that was mortifying. We’d been scolded for being alone in a hotel room and hadn’t even gotten to the good stuff. Worst walk of shame ever.

“Tell your friend thanks for snitching on us.” Layla crossed her arms, her cheeks still the prettiest shade of pink.

“My friend? Uh-uh. I hardly know the girl. I’ve spoken to her maybe five times, and one of those was when I almost knocked her out with a remote.”

Layla’s tone was quiet when she responded. “She had your number somehow,” she said with a shrug, “so I figured you must be pretty close…” She picked at her pink painted nails, studiously avoiding my gaze.

My heart stuttered, my mouth opening before my brain could really process. “Are you jealous?”

“Of what? Her? I mean—” She scoffed “Yeah right.”

I wanted so badly to wrap an arm around her, to pull her against me and take in her warm vanilla scent. To feel that steady spark that ignites anytime my skin grazes hers. But with Janise still glaring daggers at us, I refrained.

“Don’t worry, little one, you’ll always be my best girl.” I winked, and her already-pink cheeks darkened. I didn’t miss the smile she tried to hide, either.

Layla and I attended different conferences all morning, then met up in conference room B for the afternoon. Although I’d dreaded returning to this place after last night’s events, Layla, as always, made the best of things. She folded various origami birds, which she snuck into my pocket so I could stick them in Nathan’s suitcase later. Then she doodled Star Wars figures and passed me notes every time the men on the panel on stage said something questionable about the publishing industry.

Soon enough, Janise caught on that Layla, Nathan, and I weren’t paying attention. She gave us her tried and true disappointed mom look, and we eventually had to pay attention.

Layla was tapping away on her laptop, matching rhythm with other attendees around us who were also taking notes. Only when I angled over and peered at her screen, the words “Chapter Ten” jumped out at me. No wonder she was typing so fast.

I subtly straightened in my seat so I wouldn’t pull her out of her zone, but damn, I was proud. Though unlikely, I liked the idea that I had something to do with the switch that had flipped overnight, and if she was making jumps on this trip then so was I.

I was on fire.

Figuratively speaking.

Today, my fingers had typed more words than they had in the last six months. Maybe last night’s movie had compelled me, or maybe it was Rachel’s speech the other day. It could have been being in Ocean City. All I knew was that I was on a roll, and nothing was going to stop me. Call me Matthew Wilder because ain’t nothing gonna break my stride.

After “taking notes” during three hours of lectures, my fingers were cramping and my eyeballs hurt. As they dismissed us for the day, I closed my laptop and gathered my things.

Before I could heft my tote over my shoulder, Luke snatched it out of my hands.

“Let me help you,” he said in that deep tone. I had to fight back a full-body shiver. I loved his voice. Maybe I would get him to narrate my audiobooks one day.

Nathan caught up to us while we waited for the elevator. “What do you guys want to do now?”

Luke turned to me. “We’ve got the rest of the day, and you’ve been here before, little one. Why don’t you choose?”

I smiled at them. “I have the perfect idea.”

Nathan shook his head so forcefully his cheeks jiggled. “Uh-uh. I don’t like that face you’re making. I’m not going skydiving with you.”

I laughed and shook my head. “No skydiving I promise.”

***

My favorite part of Ocean City was the boardwalk.

There was food, shopping, and laughter bouncing all around, plus perfect views of the beach. The smell of the food wafting from food trucks and hole-in-the-wall restaurants was incredibly enticing. The shops were filled with everything from beachy clothing to gimmicky Ocean City trinkets. For me, the best part was the laughter—from couples walking hand in hand, kids playing in the sand, or teenagers out for fun, all with the backdrop of waves crashing on the beach, that makes this one of my favorite places on earth.

Somehow, I convinced the boys we should rent roller skates from a man with the longest beard I’d ever seen. They agreed without too much complaining, though it wasn’t until we donned the skates that I discovered how uncoordinated Luke was. And not in the way that he simply needed to get used to being on the blades. No, the man could barely stand.

Nathan and I took to the skates immediately, gliding around the boardwalk with minimal effort. Luke…not so much. With his arms spread wide and his knees shaking, he moved at a snail’s pace, and it took every ounce of self-control I had not to make fun of him.

Nathan didn’t have that issue, and when he snorted at Luke, I hit his shoulder. “Don’t make fun of him. He’s trying his best.”

Luke shot a death glare at both of us, but I simply smiled back. “It’s actually reassuring to know that you’re bad at something.”

That earned me a small grin. I skated over to him and grabbed his hand, loving how his long fingers instantly enveloped mine. His touch was warm and comforting while simultaneously sending sparks shooting through me—like tension had been building for the last three years, and my body was ready to explode from anticipation. I swore if I ever got to kiss Luke, I would spontaneously combust.

Hand in hand, we skated—poorly on his part—down the wooden dock. Nathan grumbled something about third wheeling, so I jerked my head, signaling that he should join us.

“This is the last time we let you pick what we're doing.” Luke squeezed my hand as his free arm pinwheeled and he did his best not to fall.

“See? We shoulda gone to the paintball place,” Nathan piped up.

I squeezed Luke's hand back. “Just breathe and relax.”

My reassurance didn’t do either of them good judging by Luke’s nervous expression and Nathan’s side eye, but they followed along beside me anyway.

The three of us glided past popcorn stands, balloon vendors, and kiosks with the most delicious-looking funnel cakes. The air smelled of salt water mixed with fried foods and my favorite memories. Every now and then, I stopped to watch the waves crashing against the shore. It was all so nostalgic, so…well, romfuzzling. Luke was finally getting the hang out skating, yet he never let go of my hand. If I readjusted my dress or fixed my hair, he’d reach for me again when I was done.

Nathan begged us to stop for funnel cakes, so we worked our way back the way we came and traded our skates for our regular shoes. He practically skipped to the funnel cake stand while Luke and I plopped onto a bench facing the ocean.

“I’m going to be so sore tomorrow,” Luke groaned like an old man as he leaned back into the wooden bench.

“We barely even did anything.”

“You underestimate how little physical activity I get.”

Luke stretched his arm across the bench behind me, and even though it wasn’t technically around me, I considered it a small win.

“Don’t forget I’m the one who watched you almost faint the day the elevators were down at work.”

He puffed out a breath. “Oh man, that was rough.”

“We only had to climb up three floors.”

“You’re just proving my point.”

Giggling, I laid my head on his arm, and he slowly snaked it around my shoulders. My face heated, my stomach swirled, and I was pretty certain there was a neon sign floating above my head flashing I’M IN LOVE WITH YOU. But if there was, Luke was oblivious. He had been noticeably more touchy over the last couple of days, and though I hated to admit it, I partially had Rachel to thank. Curse her for always being right.

I sighed and rolled my neck so I could see him. Our height difference had always made me wonder whether positions like this would be comfortable. But Luke’s body was the best pillow I could hope for.

“What else do you want to do today, little one?”

Little one. I was of average height, but Luke—giant that he was—liked to believe that I was the abnormal one.

Though he’d steadfastly sworn for a solid ten minutes while we skated that I would never get to pick again, here he was, asking me what I wanted to do.

I twisted, searching for Nathan, quickly finding him standing near the food vendors, shoveling french fries and funnel cake down his throat like a man consuming his last meal. “How about we let him choose the next one? He seems a little down today.”

Luke glanced over his shoulder. “Yeah, I don’t know what’s up with him. He was typing up a storm on his phone last night, and he was cranky when he woke up this morning.”

“Girl problems, maybe? You should go talk to him about it.” I poked him in the ribs.

He squirmed, his cheeks going pink. “I’m not exactly an expert on women,” he muttered. “I doubt I’d be any help.”

I raised an eyebrow. “No? You seem pretty smooth to me.”

Was something in the air in this town? The flirting had come so easily since we’d crossed that Welcome to Ocean City line.

I smiled as I looked toward the ocean. It was only a little harmless flirting and two best friends wrapped around each other, but it felt like so much more.

“Alright.” I placed a hand on his leg and stood. “Let’s take him to play laser tag.”

I waved at Nathan and headed his way, Luke trailing behind me.

We spent an hour watching Nathan shoot people—young or old, he didn’t discriminate—with his laser gun. It was equally embarrassing and hysterical. My favorite part was watching him act like the hero by jumping in front of Luke and I every time someone aimed at us. The small indoor laser tag venue had black walls and floors with strips of neon yellow, pink, and green throughout. There were black obstacles spaced sporadically across the open area to provide coverage, but it hadn’t done me any good. We were only six minutes in, and I had already been shot two of the three times allotted.

“I may be bad at skating,” Luke huffed, “but you are downright terrible at laser tag.” He bent at the waist, sucking in short breaths.

I laughed, then coughed due to my lack of oxygen. I was dying a little bit; these twelve-year-old boys were ruthless.

“Look out, old man!” one of the boys cloaked in black shouted from behind a boulder right as a red laser glowed against the wall behind us, barely missing Luke’s shoulder.

Luke’s jaw dropped, and he turned to me with wide eyes. “Am I the old man?”

I patted him on the shoulder. “I would assume so.”

Luke poked his head out of our hiding spot, his gun pointed toward the group of kids, and yelled, “I still listen to Harry Styles, you little shits!”

He pulled his trigger multiple times, but I couldn’t tell if any shot landed on any of the boys.

“Come on, let’s get closer.” He grabbed my hand, but I recoiled.

“I am not going out there with those…hoodlums.”

Luke’s visor shielded his eyes, but based on the scoff, I could only assume he was rolling them in annoyance.

“I’ll make sure no one gets you. Come on.” He reached for my hand again.

There was no way I’d deny an excuse to touch him, so I clasped his hand and let him lead me to the next obstacle. As we crossed, the sound effects from laser tag guns and a cacophony of pre-pubescent boy voices overwhelmed my senses. We’d completely lost Nathan, whose primal instincts must have taken over the moment we entered the room because he was acting like a chimp.

As we rounded the next obstacle, a loud beep sounded in my headset and the light on my chest flashed red, signaling that I was now out of the game.

“Aw, man.” I slumped my shoulders and did the laser-tag walk of shame to where they corralled the losers.

“Sorry little one, I tried,” Luke called from where he was crouched.

“It’s alright, I’m sure you’ll be out soon.” My reply made him smile.

As I trudged to the exit, Nathan jumped up on a block from whatever third dimension he’d transitioned from.

“No one hits my friend!” he shouted, somehow in possession of two guns.

If I hadn’t been in shock, I would’ve been honored.

Using both guns, he took out two of the boys, who were still firing our way, leaving only one left. Luke popped up to stand beside him, and they turned back to back to take down the final enemy.

“I will avenge you, Layla!” Nathan bellowed as he aimlessly shot at the young boys, even though the majority of them were out.

Luke was biting the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling, and I brought my hands to my chest, touched. These two really were the best friends I could ever ask for.

A loud buzz sounded then, and green lights flashed against the ceiling.

“Team Westeros is the winner,” a guy mumbled over the speaker, obviously not impressed.

Luke turned to me and opened his arms. There was no way I was passing up on that hug, so I held my weapon to my chest and jogged to him. Before I got there, Nathan dropped both his guns and jumped into Luke’s hold. Luke cradled Nathan like a baby, patting his back and shaking his head at me.

When he dropped his legs, I went in for a hug, arms outstretched, but Nathan repeated the song and dance, jumping into my arms next. Cradling him in my arms was out of the question, so he settled for a hug.

“We’re so badass.” He pulled back, beaming. “Wasn’t that badass, Laylay? Did you like how I dedicated that last shot to you?”

I patted his back. “Yeah bud, you did great.”

When he stepped aside, I reached my arms out to hug Luke. You know, for celebratory reasons and all. He wrapped his arms tightly around my waist with no hesitation and lifted me off my feet, spinning me around in the air. I laughed and threw my head back, my hair flying behind me.

When he set me back on my feet, I was dizzy—from spinning or his touch, I was unsure. He didn’t pull his hands away from my waist, and I tipped my chin and regarded him as I placed mine on his chest.

Take a jump.

How I’d spent every day of the last three years around Layla without giving her more than a side hug or a light punch to the shoulder was beyond me. Now that I knew how rewarding it was to wrap my arms around her lithe body, and how that same soap she used for years smelled up close, I stood no chance of going back to the way things were. I’d been spoiled, ruined, professionally retired from having anything less than this with her.

Layla laid a blanket on the white sand, spreading it far enough for her to lay out under the bright mid afternoon sun. She grasped the hem of her cover up and pulled. The second I got a peek of black bikini bottoms, I turned to watch the waves. My swim trunks would have left little to the imagination if I paid too much attention to her body, and I didn’t feel like embarrassing myself anymore today. I lifted my head to the sky, my prescription sunglasses blocking the harsh rays of the sun.

After laser tag, Nathan announced he needed a nap, giving me a wink behind Layla’s back. So we decided the beach would be the best place for us to spend the afternoon. And when I say we decided, I mean Layla shouted, “Let’s go to the beach!” and left little room for argument.

A rainbow kite flew high above us as a father and son cheered, the little boy tugging on the string and grinning at his dad. The scene reminded me that it had been too long since I’d spoken to my parents. Unlike my siblings, Mom and Dad hadn’t figured out group chats, and texting was a lost cause, especially when they mistook “lol” for “lots of love.” Case in point, when our great-aunt Ruby passed away, mom sent a text saying, “Ruby is gone. LOL.” She didn’t find it as funny as the rest of us did.

Layla dropped to the blanket, pulling her knees to her chest as she scanned the beach. Waves crashed along the shore, providing a natural source of white noise. I laid back on my own towel in an attempt to keep my nosey eyes to themselves. She was rifling through her tote bag if the rustling sounds were any indication.

I closed my eyes, willing myself to think of anything besides her in a bikini. Anything at all. Navy blue front doors, craft beer, check engine lights. Anything other than Layla’s perfect body practically laid out for me.

“Luke, can you put sunscreen on my back?”

I was going to die, right here, on this beach. When I opened my traitorous eyes, Layla was looking over her shoulder, a lopsided smile on her face. Thankfully, she couldn’t see my eyes behind my sunglasses as they trailed down her smooth shoulder and her feminine back. They snagged on a black smudge right below her bikini tie. It was so small I had to squint to make out what it was. And when I did…I clenched my fists against the heat that sparked in my veins.

Layla had a tattoo, a tiny one in the middle of her back. It was minimalistic, with a circle and two lines on either side of the focal point. Most would probably write it off as an abstract shape or symbol. But I knew my Layla. That was a tie fighter.

And that was it. Not only could I not imagine being just friends with her again, but I was ruined for all other women. She was it for me. She was everything.

“Oh, yeah sure.” My voice cracked and my hands shook, but I got to my knees and shuffled over.

Layla smirked. She had to know what she was doing. There was no way someone could be casually this sexy. Even Chris Evans couldn’t top this act.

I grabbed the brown lotion bottle from her and studied the label.

“This is only SPF 10.”

She shrugged. “And?”

“And there’s no point. You’re going to get skin cancer if you don’t protect yourself from the sun.” I’d seen too many horror stories, and I refused to let anything hurt Layla, even the damn sun.

“Here, use mine,” I said, withdrawing the SPF 60 I’d stuck in Layla’s bag when we met in the lobby.

She groaned. “How am I supposed to tan with that?”

“You have perfect skin,” I said. “Don’t ruin it trying to look like every other girl on this beach. Just keep using that fake tanner that smells like rotten bananas.” I twirled my finger in a circle, telling her to turn around.

“I fully intended to leave this beach looking like a crisp Golden Graham.”

“I happen to really like your Cheerio look.”

Laughing at me, she turned and pulled her hair over her shoulder. I squeezed a reasonably small amount of sunscreen in my hand. Why? Because if it wasn’t enough, I’d have to go back for more and I’d be forced to touch her longer. Logic.

Starting with her shoulders, I massaged the sunscreen into her smooth skin, holding my breath when she hummed in appreciation.

“How come I didn’t know you had a tattoo?” I rasped.

“Oh.” She tipped her head to one side, then the other. “I got it a couple of years ago. We’ve never really talked about tattoos. Rachel told me I should get one because life is too short. But then when I suggested she get one too, she said, ‘my body needs to be timeless.’”

That sounded about right.

“It’s cute. Tie fighter, right?”

She nodded and dipped her chin like she was hiding a smile.

“Yeah, the guy that did it was kind of shocked. Turns out he was a huge Star Wars fan, too.”

I cringed at the thought of a stranger seeing her bare back laid out on a table, like a blank canvas for his eyes only.

“You should’ve told me. We could’ve got matching ones.” I chuckled like I was teasing, but I was one hundred percent serious.

“Yeah right. You’d probably chicken out on me, too.”

I stilled and rested my hands on her warm back. “Let’s go right now. We can get each other's names on our butts.”

Her laughter filled my ears and lifted my heart.

“I would be honored to get your name on my butt, Luke Wells.”

With another dollop of sunscreen on my hand, I went back to work, loving how my big hands covered the majority of her petite back. I slipped my finger under her tight bikini strap, rubbing back and forth. She shivered when I hit certain spots, and I noted them for later, like I was marking my way across a map.

“Careful what you wish for, little one. I will ruin you for all other men. “

She looked over her shoulder again, that sweet smile still tugging at her lips. I couldn’t see her eyes behind her sunglasses, but I had a feeling they were trying to bore straight into mine.

In a low, sultry voice I’d never heard before, she replied, “Promise?“

Had I been standing, my knees would’ve buckled. This game was the best I’d ever played, even if I wasn’t sure whether we were having harmless fun or being serious.

I couldn’t stop myself. “Oh, you have no idea.”

Dropping my chin and lowering my eyebrows, I kept up the massage. The sunscreen had all been worked in, but I moved my fingers back up her shoulders and to her neck, rubbing small circles in her soft skin.

She let out the tiniest moan of satisfaction when I hit the juncture of her neck and shoulder. So that was the spot—the one that would drive her wild when I inevitably got her alone. Good to know.

“Are we still talking about tattoos?“ Her voice shook.

“You tell me.“

She tipped her head forward and bit back a smile. I reciprocated the expression. I had no idea what was happening between us, but there was no way I’d be the one to stop it.

She leaned back, and I met her halfway, the knot of her bikini top pressing into my abdomen. Arousal passed through me, and my heart banged against my ribs.

I craned my neck to get a better look at her face, taking mental pictures of the way her mouth curved. She raked her teeth over that bottom lip and let go, the flesh swollen from the abuse. I wanted nothing more than to suck that lip into my mouth. Drag my teeth across it, too. Memorize it. Paint it. Write a book about it. Those lips would be the death of me one day; it was only a matter of time.

Testing my luck, I inched forward, leaving almost no space between us.

I couldn’t kiss her for the first time here, right? We had talking points, topics we should cover first. In retrospect, I wish I’d prepared a twenty-point slideshow to present to her before I kissed her. I wasn’t a sixteen-year-old on his first solo date with a girl. I was supposed to be the one to drive her wild, but I should’ve known I never stood a chance.

Layla nestled closer, giving me a direct view of her chest in the miniscule triangles of her bikini from over her shoulder, but my attention remained zeroed in on her lips. Only a couple more inches…

“Well isn’t this cozy?”

An all too familiar voice—and one I was getting awfully tired of— interrupted what was surely about to be a core memory for me.

Janise.

I had never contemplated murder before. How crazy would someone have to be to end another person’s life?

But now? Now, I understood.

Janise towered over us, her arms crossed and a scowl marring her pasty complexion. She wore a pantsuit with a button up blouse and ballet flats…on the beach.

Layla jumped away from me faster than I’d ever seen her move. She put a good three feet between us and fumbled for the sunscreen bottle.

“Luke was just rubbing my sunscreen in. You know how he is, so selfless!” she said, too loudly, filling her palm. “Thanks again Luke. I’m going to put the rest on and jump in the ocean.“

She stood and smeared globs of sunscreen all over her arms, chest, and stomach. Without rubbing it in, she dashed to the surf. Covered in white smears, she looked unhinged as she swung her arms and hoofed it past dozens of beach-goers. If Janise hadn’t just interrupted what was bound to be the best kiss of my life, I would be laughing at the scene.

“Need I remind you that we have company rules?” Janise grouched. “Our HR guidelines apply here as well as at the office. And you’re in the running for a promotion that would not permit any form of a relationship between you two.”

My stomach twisted. I knew the rules. But they weren’t enough to keep me from Layla. If they fired me over what could potentially be the greatest love story of all time, so be it.

I could find another job, but I would never find another Layla.

”No ma’am. I promise only innocent friendship here. You do not have to worry about a thing.”

Her frown said she was unconvinced, but she dropped her hands to her sides, and her shoulders relaxed slightly, the pads in her jacket lowering back to their rightful spots.

“Good, because I would hate to have to file any complaints from others.“

By others, she obviously meant Katie. Everyone else at West Oak was too engrossed in their phones and own lives to even notice us. And Nathan couldn’t care less about our relationship. If anything, he was rooting for us.

“Yes ma’am. I definitely would not want that,” I said, struggling not to be sarcastic.

Without another word, she turned and clomped her way back to the hotel, her floaty pants flapping in the wind.

Once she was out of sight, I took off my shirt and waded into the ocean after Layla. She was laughing and tossing a beach ball to a group of teenage boys in the water nearby.

The boys were whispering and covertly checking her out. I knew exactly what they were thinking because it was exactly what I was thinking. And my thoughts were far from innocent.

Layla looked like she might as well be in a bikini calendar on an auto body shop wall. The water trailing down her skin glistened, and her long damp hair flowed down her tight back to a round backside that could give the Kardashians a run for their money.

For the first time, I allowed myself to truly look at her like this. This was my Layla. The girl who helped me wrangle my nephews, who made me laugh every single day. My best friend and the one person I could go to about anything. She was confident, bright, showing her big smile to the world as if to say here I am. She’d always been perfect, but over the last couple of days, it was like she’d finally realized it herself.

I scowled at the group of teenagers, but they were too busy to notice. When Layla turned around, one of them accidentally threw the ball her way again.

“Sorry miss,” he said, then he and his buddies crowed as she gave them a full show when she bent over to pick up the ball.

And that was all I could take.

I made my way up to Layla and took the ball from her hands. I considered popping it, but I wasn’t that much of a jerk. Instead, I chucked it back to the group of boys a little harder than necessary. It hit one of them square in the chest, knocking the wind from him. Oops.

Layla snickered then covered her mouth with her hand as I pushed past her, deeper into the water. When I turned around, she was watching me, wearing my favorite sweet smile. I jerked my head for her to follow.

Come on, play with me, little one.

She obeyed, splashing happily as she followed, hopefully making it clear to the guys that she was mine. And she should be mine.

When she was almost close enough for me to reach out and touch, she splashed salt water right in my face. My hair was soaked and my eyes burned a little behind my glasses. She bent over as she laughed at my shocked expression.

I scoffed, looking down at the water then at her, wiping my eyes before starting her way.

She backed up a few steps, holding her hands up in front of her. “Wait, it was an accident.”

“Oh yeah?” I challenged.

She nodded and bit her lip, arms still outstretched.

I put my hands under the water and splashed her back, the wave soaking her, the salt water melting off what little makeup she had on.

My humor turned to concern when she doubled over in a coughing fit. She gasped for air, and her face turned red. Another cough and gasp. I stepped closer and, with my hands on her shoulders, ducked low so I could see her face. “Layla? Are you okay?”

Her eyes were misty. From tears or the salt water, I wasn’t sure; either way, I felt awful. Way to go Luke. You only show your interest in a girl via poison or drowning.

When the coughing continued, I wrapped my arms around her and spun her toward me so I could examine further. I didn’t think I splashed her that hard, but she’s so much smaller than me. I thought—

Cradled in my arms, Layla sputtered out a laugh and pointed at me, “You should’ve seen your face. You looked like you were about to have a stroke.” She was still gasping for air, but only from laughter now.

“You think that’s funny?”

She nodded, cackling.

“Alright. You asked for it.”

“Asked for wha—oh!”

I lifted her into the air and tossed her into the ocean. She recovered quickly, popping out of the water with wild hair and dripping mascara.

We were both howling with laughter, but what was new?

We swam and chased each other like kids. She would splash me, and sometimes nearly drown me- note to self, never get on Layla's bad side. Every now and then, she would jump on my back and wrap her legs around my waist. Then, I would tread through the water with her as my backpack.

Sometimes, she’d swim closer to the shore in case of sharks, but I’d read somewhere—probably in the hotel pamphlet— that sharks are scared of the citizens of Ocean City, so I would assure her it was fine and drag her back out, then the fun would resume. When the sun sat right above the water, we traipsed back to our spot on the beach, exhausted from playing like kids in the sun that drained all of our energy.

We dried off and gathered our things. I pulled my phone out of my shoe—always a good place to store electronics on the beach, FYI—and was greeted by one hundred fifty-six missed texts in the family group chat.

Calla: Let’s say I hypothetically hit someone’s side mirror off their car when I was parking…can I go to jail?

Liam: Did you leave immediately after?

Calla: I left a note.

Liam: What did it say?

Calla: I made up a poem for them. “Roses are red, violets are blue. Your side mirror is gone, and I am too.”

Marigold: That’s the best thing I’ve heard all day. Even better than when the boys told me that babies come from mommys butthole.

Crew: I mean they aren’t that far off.

Crew: Cal, I think you’re supposed to leave like a $20 or something for them.

Crew: Or maybe your number.

Crew: no cause then they can track you down.

Crew: can’t have that.

*Adam left group chat.*

*Crew added Adam to group chat*

Crew: ADAM.

Adam: I don’t have time for this.

I didn’t bother reading more. There was no way I’d catch up at this rate. I did however notice two other missed texts.

Nathan: Have fun with your girl. I’m in our room so don’t come over here when you get in the sugar walls.

Me: Please don’t ever refer to a woman’s body as sugar walls again.

Katie: I’ll be back at the resort in 20 minutes. Would you want to get dinner with me?

My body physically recoiled at the thought of dinner with Katie. She was okay, I supposed. But she’d obviously snitched on Layla and me. Not that anything had happened between us, but you know what they say: snitches get itches.

I didn’t bother answering her text. If she thought I would break fraternization rules for anyone but Layla, she was sadly mistaken.

“Is your family blowing up your phone, too?” Layla asked, her attention fixed on her own device. Looked like the group chat between Layla, Calla, and Marigold was active today. I loved how comfortable she was with my family. She’d fit in perfectly from day one.

“As always,” I replied.

I slung our towels over my shoulder and hooked Layla's beach bag on my arm, then headed in the direction of the resort.

“I can get that, you know?” she said, holding her arm out and making grabby hands at her tote, but I pulled it tighter against me.

“Nope. I’m gonna walk you to your room.”

I wasn’t ready to part ways. I had so much to say. So many things I should’ve said a long time ago. It was time for me to get over my fear of losing her and take what I’d wanted for years.

But…there was one small problem.

“Katie is probably going to be in your room in the next fifteen minutes or so. Better get you back up there in case she starts another West Oak scandal for Janise to write up.”

“Oh…did you hear from her again?”

I hit the elevator button and hiked her bag higher on my shoulder. “Yeah, I had a message from her when we got out of the water.”

She hummed but didn’t respond.

The whole way to her room, I gave myself a silent pep talk. The worst she can say is no, in which case you can run away to Mexico. I’d heard Cancun is nice.

When we reached her door, I slid her bag down my arm and held it out, my fingers brushing her shoulder as I looped the strap around her arm. We were close but not touching, her body only inches from mine. I could kiss her here. Now. And she probably wouldn’t even kick me in the balls if I tried. Only, I needed more with her. I didn’t want a rushed kiss at her door, especially knowing Katie was on her way back.

No, I’d wait. I wanted it all with her.

“So…” she drawled, peeking at me from under her lashes.

“Let’s go out tomorrow,” I blurted before I could think twice.

Her eyes went round, and she tilted her head like a curious puppy. “Out?”

“Yeah, out. Like to eat…food. And other stuff.”

This was by far the worst way to ask a girl on a date, but I was committed.

She gave me a shy smile, a pink flush dancing over her cheeks.

“But we’re just—”

“Say we’re just friends, Layla Wright. I dare you.”

After today, after the way she melted into my hands when I applied her sunscreen, and how her sweet round eyes looked up at me with such admiration, I knew there was no way we could be just friends. Deep down, she knew it, too.

Layla's mouth opened in a mix of shock and excitement, but she quickly closed it in a grin.

“Okay,” she said, soft and gentle.

I smiled back. “I’ll make dinner plans. You pick what we do after.” I tipped forward and planted a kiss on her forehead.

As she rested her forehead against me for a beat, her bag slid off her shoulder and to the floor. Then I stepped back. I needed to be far away from here when her temporary roommate got back.

“Good night, little one.”

She backed into the door. “Night, Skywalker.”

Sticking my hands in my pockets, I pivoted, ready to head back to my room, but then her arms were around my waist, halting me, squeezing me tight.

“Thanks for today,” she said quietly.

Then, without waiting for me to hug her back, she backed over the threshold into her room and let the door shut in my face. Except, her bag was still out in the hall. I was poised to knock, my fist inches from the door when she flung it open, grabbed her bag, and closed it in my face again.

With a chuckle, I strolled to my own room.

What did it mean when a girl accepted a dinner invitation, then closed the door in your face?

That night, I dreamt of tie fighter tattoos and sunscreen application.

I was up until nearly two a.m. writing. I couldn’t be sure whether it was the change of scenery or the spell Luke had cast over me yesterday afternoon, but I wrote nearly ten thousand words and was approaching the second act in the story.

Writing a novel was one thing. Writing a novel when you need everything to be absolutely perfect was another. Every few paragraphs, I obsessively reread everything I’d previously written and critiqued myself. The author podcast I listened to said I shouldn’t edit as I write, but I did have a bit of a rebellious streak.

After Luke walked me to my room, I couldn’t turn off my brain and ended up passing out with my face plastered to my unlocked phone. There were almost one hundred Ns following the last intelligible text I sent Luke.

Katie came barreling in less than a minute after I shut the door on Luke's face and cried out, “What happened?”

Her question confused me until I caught sight of my wild hair and pink cheeks in the mirror. I was so disheveled, like a crazy Yeti man had attacked.

To make matters worse, this morning she woke me up at four with headphones on and a yoga mat laid on the small space between our beds. Then, she proceeded to stretch and contort herself into poses as she breathed deeply. At one point, she widened her legs so far that she almost did the splits. Don’t ask me why, but something about that had my blood boiling. I had so many questions. Why had she packed a yoga mat? Why were her legs so bendy? Who does yoga on vacation? Who got up at four a.m. by choice?

I wasn’t a judgemental person by nature, but I had no intention of befriending the kind of person who exercises in her hotel room while on a trip to the beach. And after all that? She had the audacity to complete the most in-depth skin care routine in history before sashaying out of the room decked out in a matching sports bra and leggings.

Not to be outdone, I hauled myself out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom, where I began my own morning routine. I brushed my teeth, rubbed my face haphazardly with a makeup wipe to remove the remnants of yesterday’s, and thrust my legs into a pair of leggings with a hole in the knee. I even donned a pink sports bra…under my Vote For Pedro shirt. Without a pair of running shoes at my disposal, I slipped my feet into my converses. I chugged the melted ice from my drink last night and shoved three mini muffins down my gullet before jogging out the door.

I made it to the gym and immediately regretted my decision. The facility was chock-full of hot people, and not everyday hot people. I’m talking about poke-them-to-see-if-they-are-real hot people. Large, muscular men were grunting as they lifted weights. Slender, dainty women ran on treadmills with their ponytails swaying synchronously.

I stepped in, took one look around, and made an about-face, heading straight to the breakfast cafe in the lobby. I swiftly ordered a chocolate-covered, cream-filled doughnut and the largest coffee in existence. Then I dropped into a seat near the lobby so I could people watch. I considered it character research.

An attractive woman with a briefcase sauntered by while talking on the phone, then a man in jeans and a t-shirt passed, phone to his ear, too. In fact, most of the people coming and going had devices in their hands. The realization had me thinking about my phone, which somehow led to thoughts of my mother. How long had it been since we’d last spoken? I dug my cell out of the side pocket of my leggings—greatest invention ever, am I right?—and pulled up her contact: Bernese Wright. My phone had automatically saved her contact as her full name and I never felt compelled to change it to Mom.

I pressed the call button, and the phone rang, blasting through the tiny speaker, once, twice, three times, before it clicked.

“Hi, thank you for calling the Wright One, where you are always right. I’m currently unavailable. Our work hours are daily from eight a.m. to six p.m. Please leave a message and we’ll get back to you. Have a perfectly Wright day!”

I found myself mouthing the familiar words with her recorded message as if I was a groupie. It was almost a formula now, call three to four times to get simply one text back. Call ten to twelve times to get a call from her assistant. When the beep indicated I could leave a message, I took a deep breath.

“Hey Mom. Sorry I missed you,” I said, affecting a convincingly positive tone to hide my disappointment. “I’m, uh, on that work trip I texted you about last week. Luke’s here, too, so that’s nice. I guess I just wanted to check in on you guys. Talk soon, bye.”

Owning a successful business required a lot of attention, and being an only child meant I suffered through the growing pains of shifted focus. Rather than a new sibling being the cause, in my case, it was a newly lucrative tech company. But she deserved the success—she and my dad both did. For years, I watched my parents work their asses off, taking extra shifts to make ends meet, counting change to purchase much-needed shoes when my old ones were too worn. When their business finally took off, I refused to be anything but happy for them. They’d earned every penny.

My shoulders slumped as I pulled up my mom’s contact again so I could shoot her a text. But really, what was the point? She and Dad weren’t bad people; they were simply busy. Too busy for news from me.

Instead of wasting my time, I tapped on Rachel’s contact.

“Well hello my precious flower,” she trilled over a rustling in the background.

“Good morning. You missing me over there?”

“You wish. Now tell me everything. Has Luke put you in your place yet? And by put you in your place I mean has he laid down that big—”

“Nope. But something is different between us. Last night, I swear he was going to kiss me, but Janise popped up and ruined it. And then he asked me out.”

She gasped. “On a date?”

I twisted my lips and lifted a shoulder even though she couldn’t see me. ”Um, I’m not sure?”

She sucked in a breath and sighed. “Ahh, young love. I remember being all nervous and jittery. Oh, and those sweet first kisses.”

I scoffed. “Rach, go on a date if you miss having a guy so much.”

The rustling was back, a little louder this time. “I don’t have time for a man. I’m very busy maintaining this body.”

“What are you doing? It sounds like you’re running a wood chipper.”

“Oh that? Don’t worry about it. You won’t be home for a few days anyway.”

“A few days? What are you doing?”

She laughed quietly. “Have a fun trip, my beauty. Go get that good di—”

I hung up before she could finish and turned my attention to the glorious doughnut in my hand. It wasn’t apple cider, but it would do. I was mid-bite when a voice spoke up behind me.

“Not as good as Marlo’s, is it?”

A glance over my shoulder revealed Luke standing nearby, coffee in hand. He wore a white button up shirt with his navy work pants and brown shoes. He was all cleaned up, and I had doughnut cream coming out of the corner of my mouth. I swallowed and wiped the excess filling off my face with a napkin before I tried to respond.

“Not even close. Don’t tell him I’m cheating on him.”

Luke took the seat next to me and held up three fingers. “I would never. Scout’s honor.”

“Why are you dressed up so early?” My phone read seven a.m. “I thought our next conference didn’t start until ten?”

He took a drink from his to go cup—with Batman scrawled on the side of it. I almost giggled at the thought of them calling his order out like that.

“Yeah, I’m kind of bright eyed and bushy flailed this morning.”

I shook my head. “I can not keep having this conversation with you. If you don’t know the correct phrase, just don’t say it.”

He shrugged. “Janise wants me to go with Chad to his meetings to take notes since you and Nathan can handle the other meetings.”

My heart sank. I’d been weirdly excited about being stuck in a conference room with him all day. I liked passing him funny notes or making inappropriate jokes with him about the speakers.

“Oh. You won’t be with us at all today?” Crap. That sounded clingy. I wanted to smack myself. I really had to work on holding myself together better.

“Sorry, little one. But I’ll pick you up right after we’re done. Last one ends at four, I think.”

He sounded as excited as I felt. As if it really was a date…with Luke. The thought made me giddy.

He tipped close and took a bite of my doughnut, white cream getting all over his face so we were both a mess. Chuckling, I rubbed the filling from his mouth and set the balled up napkin on the table.

“Do you think Janise is making me go to Chad’s meetings because of…” he cleared his throat. “yesterday?”

Ahh, yesterday. I’d tucked every detail of the day away so I could replay it again and again. I’d taken some of Rachel’s advice about seduction, and the result had been pretty incredible.

“Oh, maybe. Sorry if I got you in trouble. I didn’t think about it like that yesterday.”

He waved a dismissive hand. “I don’t mind. But I am disappointed that I don’t get to spend my whole day watching you type and look up synonyms for stab.”

Covering my doughnut-filled mouth, I chortled. “I didn’t think you could see that.”

“I’m always paying attention. Thought you knew that by now.”

I did. I knew Luke better than anyone, and he knew me better than I knew myself.

He tapped his phone screen and sighed. “I’ve got to go. Text me when you’re done, alright?” He leaned closer and dipped his chin.

“Mhmm.” I dipped my head to avoid his gaze and hide my blush.

He chuckled and patted my back. “It’s just us, Layla.”

Just us. He was right; it was just me and Luke. Us going out for food together was nothing new, no big deal at all.

He stood and snagged his coffee from the table, taking a sip and shaking his head.

“Still not as good as yours,” he muttered, then turned and strode away.

It hadn’t even been six hours and I missed Layla like it had been months.

Thankfully, Chad fell asleep about ten minutes into the meeting so I didn’t have to pretend to take notes. The people nearby were either typing, scribbling notes in notebooks, playing Sudoku on their phones, or scrolling social media.

I pulled my phone to make myself look busy as well.

Me: Do you ever feel like you might die from boredom?

Layla: If that was possible, I would’ve croaked when the keynote speaker said “Welcome.”

Me: Maybe I could paint eyeballs on my eyelids, so when I fall asleep they think I’m awake?

Layla: like Jack Sparrow?

Me: kind of. I think I could make it work.

Layla: I’m sure you could

A throat cleared, and my head shot up, scanning the room, expecting Janise to confiscate my phone like I was a teenager texting in class. But it was only an old lady up front, probably trying to keep herself from dozing through the annual market trends presentation.

My phone buzzed again. This time it was a link to a commercial property for sale.

Liam: Only twenty minutes down the road. Good price and doesn’t need too much work. I’m ready when you are.

I sighed and locked my screen instead of looking at the listing. I’d been avoiding this topic for over a year now.

When I was a teenager, my family visited a cool brewery that served spectacular food and its own craft drinks. The place was industrial, with brick walls and solid metal beams across the top. I don’t know what happened to me in that brewery but it lit a fire in me. Liam, who is a few years older than me, noticed my fascination and hadn’t let it go since.

Over the years, the idea of opening my own brewery became more and more of a pipedream for me, though. Opening a business was a lot more than a twenty-four year old living paycheck to paycheck could handle.

Liam: At least look at it.

I hated that he knew me so well. I opened the text again and clicked on the link simply to satisfy him…and my own curiosity. The price was good, the property was better—a historic building one block over from a busy street full of shops. I’d seen this place before, and unfortunately, it was too perfect.

Me: not really in the market anymore. Thanks though. You should buy it yourself.

Pursuing a dream like this meant leaving West Oak, and that meant leaving Layla. We were finally, hopefully, moving past friendship, and I wouldn’t let that opportunity pass to take a risk that may or may not be successful.

Liam: I just need an investment. You know that. I don’t want to handle the business side.

It was an arrangement we’d discussed after too many beers at one of Crew’s bonfires. Liam had money in a savings account accruing little interest, and I needed a sizable loan to get started. He’d charge me a low interest rate on an owner's finance until I could pay him back, and he’d collect a percentage of profits. In theory, the situation was ideal, but I couldn’t know for sure that the business would be successful, and I was comfortable at West Oak. Though I didn’t love the company, the job, or the pay. But I can always accomplish bigger goals after I retire, right? I did some mental calculations, and realized that was forty-one years away.

Me: I’ll consider it.

I wouldn’t. But Liam was a stubborn guy, and I was too tired to argue with him.

As a woman in a blue jumpsuit approached the podium to discuss potential economic values for the following year, I hit my breaking point. I could fake an illness, I’ve got a great acting cough.

I closed my notebook and put my unused pen in my pocket. Before I could stand, my phone once again buzzed.

Nathan: Layla said y’all are going out tonight. Is this like a date? Did my checklist work?

Me: I have no idea if she thinks it is, but in my mind, definitely. Not exactly sure if the checklist was the cause but it didn’t hurt.

Nathan: Who's the man?

Me: I’m not answering that.

Nathan: Come on. For old times sake.

Me: You da man.

Nathan: Yeah I am. Where are you taking her?

Me: Actually I need your help with that.

Nathan: You need my love expertise again? Man, I’m the gift that keeps on giving.

Me: Meet me in the bathroom outside conference room C.

Nathan: geez at least buy me dinner first.

I didn’t bother answering, simply stood and crept into the hallway. The gold light fixtures and muted paint in the hall were a nice change from the harsh fluorescents I’d suffered under for the last several hours.

Waiting for Nathan in the restroom got awkward when a man stepped out of a stall and washed his hands while I stood against the wall.

Nathan dashed in. “I came as fast as I could,” he panted, slapping his hands to his thighs and bending at the waist.

“Did you seriously run here? It wasn’t an emergency.”

Who was I kidding? Nathan never did anything halfway.

“You know what, nevermind. I need a favor.”

The older gentleman washing his hands eyed us through the mirror, then rushed out without drying his hands.

“Shoot.”

I sighed. “I need you to take Katie out tonight.”

A loud, sharp laugh left his mouth, and he shook his head. “Nope.”

“Please? Everytime I get close to going further with Layla, she pops out of nowhere. And she’ll tattle to Janise if she knows we’re hanging out late.”

He blew out a breath, letting it trill his lips obnoxiously. “I’m supposed to play DND online tonight. Can’t you find someone else?”

“Oh yeah, who? Chad? You know he’ll be at the hotel bar working on making every woman alive uncomfortable.”

Nathan put his hands on his hips and turned away. I turned with him and pleaded. “Come on. As my closest friend, will you please do this for me?”

“I thought Layla was your closest friend.”

“Fine. As my closest friend who doesn’t turn me on?”

He scowled, and I mimicked him.

With an eye roll, he whined, “Fine. But I’m not taking her anywhere nice. And you’re paying.”

I patted his shoulder. “Deal. I owe you.”

Tonight had to be perfect. It could be the last one we had together before I potentially destroyed our friendship.

I’d never admit it to her, but I was beyond grateful for Rachel repacking my suitcase at the moment.

Without her, I’d probably be wearing an old pair of ripped jeans and an oversized sweatshirt. Instead, I was decked out in a lavender, spaghetti-strap midi dress with a slit in it all the way up to my mid thigh. My earrings were simple, and I’d curled my hair to make it all come together. I was lucky that Rachel’s feet were smaller than mine, because she’d ordered these gorgeous white sandals in the wrong size, so they would be sticking with me forever.

It had been a long time since I looked in the mirror and thought dang.

I snapped a picture of my reflection and sent it to Rachel.

Me: Have I told you how much I love you?

Her reply came as I was adding a layer of gloss to my lips.

Rachel: Yes but tell me again. You look incredible. Can’t wait to hear all the details.

While I waited for Luke to knock on the door, I stood at the doors to the balcony and watched the waves crash to the shore. Surprisingly, Katie hadn’t been back since our classes ended for the day. I expected her to be up here making fancy green juices or doing some kind of meditation, but I wasn’t going to complain.

Finally, the knock came, I almost peed a little. When I’d left my conference room an hour ago, we’d made plans via text, but knowing he’d been here at four diluted the shock that washed through me.

With one more look in the mirror, I bounced on the balls of my feet, hyping myself up. I flipped my head over and teased my hair with my fingers one more time before I flipped back up and messed with it until my dark strands laid perfectly.

Only then did I skip to the door.

Luke wore a blue button-down and had one hand stuffed into the pocket of his black pants and his elbows spread, showing off his wide frame. The other held a single red rose.

I smiled at him. “Hi,” I said quietly, and I don’t know why I felt the need to whisper.

“Hi,” he whispered back as he gave me an appreciative once-over that made my heart race.

He extended the rose, and I picked it out of his hand gently. “You didn’t have to do that.” I brought it closer so I could inspect the soft petals. “Where did you find a single rose?”

He shrugged. “Don’t look too closely at the arrangement on the front desk.”

I giggled at the image my mind created of Nathan distracting a receptionist while Luke pilfered a rose. Holding up a finger, I turned and placed the flower on the dresser, then picked up my small purse and room key.

“You look…” Luke murmured, then sucked in a breath, “really good.”

I elbowed him in our walk to the elevator, my face warming at the compliment.

“Thank you. You look…good, also.”

For a beat, we watched one another, neither of us capable of speaking.

Luke eventually cleared his throat. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah,” I said with a small smile.

I couldn’t be sure whether this was a casual date between friends, a first date that could lead to something more, or a hey bud let’s dress up and go down to the Red Lobster. And though I wouldn’t mind any of those options, I’d jump at the chance for one in particular in a heartbeat.

“So where are we going?” I bounced a little in the passenger seat of his Jeep as we cruised the main road with the windows down.

“I figured we could have dinner first since I’m sure you’re starving. Then I’ve got a couple other stops planned.”

I cocked my head. “How did you know I was starving?”

At a stop sign, he watched the traffic coming from our left, so I couldn’t see his reaction when he replied. “They served turkey sandwiches and barbecue chips in our room for lunch,.I assume yours was the same, and you hate turkey. I’d bet you haven’t had anything but chocolate covered pretzels and coffee since your doughnut this morning.”

“You’re very…attentive, you know that?” I said, fiddling with the hem of my skirt.

He took a left turn and then glanced over at me with a lopsided grin, his glasses perched on his nose in my favorite way.

“Only when it comes to you.”

I hummed. “What about Nathan? Or your brothers? You’re invested in what’s going on with them. And Calla, too.”

“I pay attention to the people I care about. But I notice every single detail about you.”

I dipped my head to hide my grin.

He cleared his throat. “So, how was your day? Learn about any new systems that’ll make us more than glorified receptionists?”

I laughed and shook my head. “Not at all. Although they did mention giving the illustrators a raise. And possibly hiring a new line up of literary agents, too. Seems like the entire company is set on it.”

He nodded. “Definitely need to give the illustrators a raise. They put up with almost as much crap as we do. But I’m surprised about the literary agents, though. West Oak has always been stingy with those positions. Do you think they’re firing the rest—” He clamped his mouth shut and shook his head, his wavy brown hair swaying and filling the car with his delicious woodsy scent. “Actually, no. No more work talk. I think we both could use a break. ”

“Definitely.” I shifted in my seat to face him. “I could never hear the word ‘stats’ again and feel perfectly fine.”

From there, the awkward silence dissipated, and we fell into easy conversation. He admitted that he thinks Greedo shot Han first in A New Hope, and I argued against that theory with solid evidence.

With every mile we drove, I relaxed a little more, soaking in the sound of Luke’s throaty rasp when he got overly excited, or the way he tapped on the dash when one of the songs from his travel playlist had a particularly catchy rhythm. He threw his head back and laughed when I snorted—obnoxiously loud, might I add—at his jokes. That laugh traveled through my body, lighting me up on demand like he had a remote linked directly to my nerve endings.

My chest felt lighter with him, the weight of my annoyingly long work day now replaced with the simple joys of spending time with him. He was all things cozy but exciting; he was cotton candy and Ferris wheels. He went on passionately about plot holes in Lord Of The Rings, favorite snacks, and “who even uses bidets?” but it was hard to focus on his words when I watched the way his soft lips tilted up in a smirk or how that little divot in his chin shifted from time to time. I wanted to reach out and touch him, simply to make sure he was real.

I was half convinced the government made him, this male robot with perfect teeth and a laugh deep enough to make a girl fall to her knees. They’d sent him out into the world to study how modern civilization would react to a flawless specimen.

Then he said that strawberry pop tarts were superior to all other flavors, quickly reminding me that he was, indeed, real.

Luke pulled the car over a few streets from the downtown area. With the windows down, chatter from tourists wandering down sidewalks and in and out of shops wafted in on the breeze.

I flexed my feet to keep myself from bouncing in the passenger seat and scanned the scenery outside. We had gone out for dinner hundreds of times before: trivia nights at Froggy’s, shouting answers, whether we were right or not; the days we’d meet up at Marlo’s because one of us had ordered too many treats from their website and needed help carrying them, and a hundred more times like them.

Those were all practice, trial runs before this night. After the beach yesterday, I wasn’t sure we’d ever be just friends again. But did he feel the same way? Regardless, I would take every moment I could get with Luke. Even if it meant having to keep my hands—and let’s be honest, my dirty thoughts—to myself for another three years.

Luke shifted into park and shot me a clueless smile, having no idea the effect he had on me.

“You ready?”

Was I? I wanted to be. Ready for more, but prepared to wait if I had to. Ready for the kind of comfortable relationship where we snuggled on a big couch in silence, my feet in his lap as I typed, his attention locked on the second person shooter game on the TV. I wanted to be ready to confess all the things I felt for him, ready to shout out that I love him like I love the smell of rain on asphalt. But for now, I would take these small moments.

So, I smiled back and, with a quick nod, I replied, “Yes.”

Ever have a friend at school that made even your least favorite class fun? No one liked geometry, but if that really funny kid was there, it wasn’t so bad. Or how about that one actor who has a lot of talent that keeps you from crawling between the seats in an uncomfortable theater to escape the cheesy play on stage?

I like to think of those people as switchers. They switch the mood into what they need it to be. They have that it doesn’t matter what others say, it only matters how I react mindset. Switchers held this undeniable power to create pure positivity itself, no matter the situation.

Layla was a switcher. Not only was Layla a switcher, but her brand of switching was top-tier. She could romanticize anything. Appreciate every brushstroke in a twenty foot canvas painting. Observe the way the cracks in the concrete aligned to make a cool design for her to step through. Her brain naturally took in information and shone a rose-colored light on it. It was utterly intoxicating, not to mention super attractive.

“Luke, it’s a violin player!”

“That shirt looks like something Nathan would wear. Should we pop in and get it for him?”

“Oh! Homemade candy canes? In July?”

On the way to the restaurant, we strolled past the shop windows and,very minute or so, she’d stop and point out tiny details she noticed. There were your classic souvenir shops, seashells on tiny keychains and airbrushed t-shirts hanging on the back wall like it was spring break in PCB, 2006. There were local stores with hand-painted signs out front boasting their hand-stitched items or events featuring local artists. What it was didn’t make a difference to Layla; they all excited her.

Every new discovery she made, I followed right behind her, my hands itching to touch her. I could easily envision the way my fingers would spread wide along the small of her back and curl themselves into her soft flesh. Would she jump? See me as a whole new person and run? Or would she sink into it and let me chase my hands up her back and around her shoulders until my fingers could dig into her brown, coconut and ocean scented hair?

Layla came to a stop in front of a pet shop window, where a playpen of French bulldog puppies ran in circles and nipped at each other's tails. The sign above it said to come inside for prices, and Layla reached for the door immediately. I gripped her elbow to stop her, trying to ignore how her soft skin felt under my touch, or the way her responding pout gave me a caveman urge to give her whatever she wanted if it put a smile back on her face.

If we went in there, I couldn’t be sure she wouldn’t leave with a puppy, and it was unlikely that the hotel staff would casually go along with Layla smuggling in a puppy.

She kneeled in front of the window, her eyes watering as she watched the puppies play, paying no mind to the people giving us looks and dodging us while whispering. When she got really excited, she would press her nose against the glass and fog it up. When the fog obstructed her view, she would simply shuffle over a few inches and do it again.

“Which one should I get?” she asked.

“None of them.”

“Okay, but hypothetically, which one?”

I rolled my eyes and scanned the tiny smushed noses. They were all super cute, but one stood out above the rest. A blue gray puppy with its tongue poking out. Its tiny legs slipped out from under it, causing it to do the puppy splits.

I choked on a laugh and pointed. “That one.”

Layla gasped and put her hands together, raising them up to her chin in adoration. “Oh yes, she’s perfect.”

“Okay little one, we should get going…” Though I hated to drag her away from all the adorableness.

“Probably.” She didn't move.

After several more minutes, which Layla filled with coos and giggles, I sighed. “Alright, tell your friends bye. We don’t want to distract them too much.”

I don’t think it made a difference to her, but she backed away anyway.

“Okay,” she pointed to our favorite Frenchie. “I’m coming back for you.”

No she wasn’t. But I kept that to myself.

I pointed to where we were headed, guiding her down the sidewalk and making sure I walked closest to the road.

“Tell me something happy so I don’t think about that puppy all night,” she said, her shoulders drooping as she moped.

I wanted to comfort her, to wrap my arms around that curvy waist and promise to buy her ten puppies. “Hmm…okay, so Calla texted. She said she’s been reading romance books about blue aliens. She went into extreme detail about how hot they were.” I blew out a breath. “Then she texted, ‘just kidding’ in all caps. Probably because she realized she was texting me and not one of you girls. Then she listed a good ten reasons why it’s not that uncommon for people to daydream about extraterrestrial life.”

Layla gasped a laugh. “She didn’t!”

“Oh, she did,” I crowed. “She made me promise not to tell anyone. And I didn’t have plans to, but then I remembered she told my grandmother I was the one who broke her front porch swing when we were kids. I figured this is a good time for payback.”

Layla snickered, the sound like flowers blooming in spring, waves crashing onto the beach in the summer, and colored leaves floating to the ground in the fall. I wanted to quit my job and make a living producing that laugh.

She wiped a happy tear from her cheek and sucked in a breath to stifle her uncontrollable giggles. “I’m saving that for the next time I’m bored in a meeting. I’ll text her a gif of the hot guy from Avatar and see what she says.”

Sometimes, I regretted introducing Layla to my sister, like when they’d team up to make fun of how ugly my orange ties are, or how I should have my eyebrows trimmed by a professional. But for the most part, I loved how close they were. Layla didn’t have siblings, but I had more than enough and was happy to share, especially when I needed a break from them.

When we finally got to the restaurant, I was thankful to see there wasn’t a line out the door. Reviews online said this place got packed quickly, and after our puppy delay, I worried we’d be stuck waiting outside. Layla mentioned this place when we first got here, saying she liked that they had live music and fried mac and cheese—a combination that was undoubtedly set to make her fall in love with it instantly.

The entrance was exposed brick with hard wood plank ceilings. Edison bulbs in black light fixtures softly lit the space, reminding me of a rich, blonde ale. Tall ceilings and exposed ductwork gave the space a commercial building vibe, but the dark green accent chairs and wooden stools made the whole place inviting. The bar itself was longer than most, with a cherrywood top and another brick wall behind it. Liquor sat on clear glass shelves, and a mirror hung between them to make the space feel bigger.

Layla and I followed the hostess through the crowded restaurant to a wooden table with benches on either side. Once we’d settled, we perused drink menus full of Ocean City-themed cocktails. Our waitress, a young woman with bubblegum-pink hair and a tired smile popped over to get our drink order, then walked back behind the bar.

Layla bounced in her seat, a big smile spread across her face. She scanned the room, taking everything in with wide, excited eyes. “Sooo, what do you think? I told Nathan that this place would make you fall in love with the idea of being a brewpub owner again. I was right, wasn’t I?”

I nodded, a little uncomfortable with the whole brewpub topic. It wasn’t a sore subject, exactly, but I wasn’t sure it would ever happen. It was probably best for me to simply visit and appreciate places like this one rather than investing in one.

“Oh yeah. I can definitely appreciate the style they went for. But it’s just not in the cards for me. Maybe eventually? Once I retire?”

I studied the menu to avoid her disappointed gaze. Our neighborhood in Philly could use a brewpub, and I would love to bring something like that to life. But owning a small business was time consuming and would be a hefty challenge. Plus, Layla was at West Oak. That was all that mattered.

When our server returned with our drinks, Layla snatched up both straws and tore at the wrappers. She plopped one in my drink and gave me a sassy look that said you’re welcome before I could even say thanks.

She sipped on her deep-orange drink, which was some sort of blood orange and gin concoction I didn’t catch the name of over the cacophony of typical bar noise. I was suddenly thirsty for a taste of it, but only from her lips. She swirled the glass gently, the ice clinking, and brought the straw to her pink, painted lips.

The list. Where was the list? What would it tell me to do in this situation? Screw it. I’d wing it.

I took a deep breath through my nose and stole the glass from her. To her credit, she didn’t even flinch as I lifted the glass to my nose.

I sniffed, taking in the ingredients my brain knew all too well from past bartending jobs. “Vibrant sunrise?” I guessed with a lower of my brow.

She gave me an impressed look, eyes wide and lips quirked up, that told me I was correct. I liked that look on her. A lot.

Without another thought, I brought her glass to my mouth, making sure to place my lips directly over the stain from her lipstick on the straw. Her cheeks pinkened and her mouth formed the cutest little O as I took a long pull. The drink was good, though I would’ve added an orange slice on the rim to finish it off.

I set her glass in front of her, then brought my surprisingly steady fingers to my own straw. Water was my drink of choice tonight since I was driving, but also because I blabbed too much when I drank. No need for mistaken confessions tonight.

“Y-yeah,” Layla stuttered a bit. “I suppose when you retire you could.”

Confused, I tilted my head and racked my brain for the topic we’d been discussing before her mouth distracted me.

Her next question sent it flooding back. Brew pub, retirement, West Oak. “Do you think you’ll retire from Westeros or do you want to go somewhere else eventually?”

An uncomfortable heat crawled up the back of my neck. I didn’t know what the future held. I simply hoped whatever it was included Layla.

“I’m not sure. I don’t love it there, but with the promotion and stuff coming up, maybe that will change.” Not that I wanted Chad’s job—though I’d have a fancy office and could probably get away with more since my boss would be states away.

I’d still have to deal with Janise, though, and it would mean no longer sitting with Nathan and Layla.

I took a sip of water and continued. “It’s probably like you and your book. Once, I had other aspirations. So, maybe eventually.”

The sadness in her eyes when she nodded hit me square in the chest. Was it something I said? Before I could ask, our waitress came to take our order.

When she was gone again, Layla remained silent, and I kicked myself for the somber look on her face. Hoping to distract her from my idiot move, I pointed to the small stage in the corner where a few guys were setting up equipment.

She spun, and her shoulders lifted instantly. “Oh, I love live music!”

I sighed in relief. Live music was guaranteed to lift her spirits. We used to meet up at Froggy’s most weekends to watch one of their bands. She would invite Rachel, and together, they would sway back and forth to the music. Rachel would ask them to play a song from the sixties that no one had heard of, and Layla would laugh and nod along like she knew the words, too. When she didn’t know the lyrics, she’d make them up as she went, belting out random words that didn’t belong. It wouldn’t even rhyme most times, sounding more like a garbled mesh of off-tune syllables than an actual song.

The band introduced themselves and jumped into a CCR cover. Layla bobbed along to it, and the Eagles cover they performed next, singing some of the words correctly—probably because Rachel had played the album a thousand times.

The dance floor slowly filled, the crowd jumping into some kind of line dance. Layla looked across at me and smiled.

“Dance with me?” Her eyes sparkled, and she nibbled her lip. When I didn’t answer right away, she tilted her head and tacked on, “Please?”

As if I could ever tell her no.

The soft strum of a guitar mixed with the bit of alcohol in my belly made me bolder than usual. Asking Luke to dance, especially to such a slow, romantic song, was something ten a.m. Layla would never do. But this was eight p.m. Layla, and sometimes, she got a little jazzy and confident.

Luke stood and stretched a hand out to me. My lips turned up without my permission. There was no way I was missing out on this. So I placed my hand over his, sure to brush my fingertips over his palm so they rubbed the most sensitive spots.

Why yes, Luke. I am but a dainty fair lady and I need your strong, tough hands to help me out of this chair so I can properly dance with you. Said in my best British, Lady Layla, accent of course.

He shuddered at the touch and wrapped his hand tightly around mine. He pulled me to an open spot near the speakers, so all I could hear was the steady beat and lyrics that compared a woman to Tennessee Whiskey. Hesitantly, Luke placed a hand on my hip, his touch light, but the heat of his palm searing. I ignored how hot my face was as I stepped closer and planted my palms on his broad chest. He scrutinized me, his brows raised in what looked like shock. Testing my luck, I dragged my hands from his chest to around his neck, stroking small circles right below his hairline, silently telegraphing the things my mouth couldn’t say.

Luke’s Adam's apple bobbed in a heavy swallow, and he let out a grunt, then palmed my other hip and pulled me closer so my chest was pressed against his and our faces were inches apart. As we swayed, eyes locked, I finally understood what Rachel means about music’s power to take a person away. Because here? At this moment? It was only the two of us, me and Luke, in a corner of this bar, no one else to be found. The world around us could collapse and we’d never know. All I cared about right now was the way his chest rose and fell against mine. I inched closer and rested my head against his shoulder, breathing in his cologne, woodsy and fresh, comforting and oh-so-right. I sighed and nuzzled his neck. He was warm and cozy, like home.

My body blazed at the light pressure of his chin atop of my head. The tiny kiss, and then the way he laid his head on mine might have seemed like a small gesture. But from my Luke? It was everything.

I smiled into his shirt, wishing the moment never had to end. This? This was what romfuzzled felt like. I wanted to stay in this state of bliss until my legs gave out and Luke had to carry me out of this bar, bridal style.

We clung to each other through a second song, then a third. We stayed wrapped in each other’s arms until the band jumped into an upbeat song. I lifted my head and tilted my chin, catching sight of a smudge of my makeup on his shirt. I pretended I didn’t see it because all I wanted to do was get lost in his eyes.

“Thank you, Layla,” he whispered, his voice a rasp.

Confused, I asked, “For what?”

He smirked and shook his head. “Just for being you, I guess.”

Well, that oughta do it.

I sucked in a breath and tried to keep my face impassive as he slid his hands up my forearms and tugged them away from his neck. He turned toward our table, then dragged me by the hand to our seats.

Since my drink was watered down and looking sad, I slid Luke’s water closer, dragging it through the ring of condensation it had left on the table while we danced.

I leaned forward, closer to his seat and spoke over the loud music. “Thanks for taking me out, I’m glad we can get away from work for a while.”

He smiled at me and shook his head. “Thank you for putting up with me.”

We ate our wings, laughing at each other’s poor table manners and the sauce spread across our faces.

On our walk back to the Jeep, Luke patiently waited every time I stopped to point out different shops. Now that it was dark, the street was lit in a soft glow.

A block from the parking lot, I caught sight of a vintage music store.

“Do you mind if we go in? I want to find something for Rachel.”

“Not at all. Maybe I can find something for Nathan, too, so I don’t owe him a favor for the rest of my life.”

The store was filled with beach apparel, funky sunglasses, and beach towels that cost more than I’d ever pay. But near the back, there were boxes and boxes of records, each with a price sticker barely affixed.

I flipped through the records, unsure of what to get Rachel but knowing she’d appreciate the thought anyway.

“Find anything?” Luke peered over my shoulder at the records I’d pulled out.

“A few. Not sure if she’ll like them, but she can resell them if nothing else.” I shrugged and looked at him to see his hands empty.

“Nothing for Nathan?”

“Not unless you think I should get him a pink shirt that says ride the waves with pineapples and a flamingo on it.”

“Personally, I think he’d love it.”

He chuckled and flipped through the albums in the box next to me until we found a couple worth buying.

After checking out we walked toward his car, passing a stage in the street with loud live music playing in speakers around us.

“So, tomorrow's our last day here. Any big plans?”

He looked at me with confusion, his eyebrows falling and head cocking to the side.

“What?” he shouted louder than necessary over the music, which made me giggle.

Enunciating each word, I repeated, “What are you doing tomorrow?”

Still unable to hear me, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me into him, his forearm muscles flexing as he did it. My chest brushed against his abdomen, and I sucked in a breath.

He leaned close to my ear, his husky voice sending shivers down my spine. “What were you saying?”

What was I saying? It seemed pointless now, with his mouth an inch from my neck. My mouth dried out.

“Oh, uh, since tomorrow is our last day here, do you have any plans?”

He pulled back and nodded in understanding. “Ahh, not really. I’ve got meetings most of the day and then Chad mentioned wanting to introduce me to some people he knows. Why? Is there anything you wanted to do?”

I shook my head, inspecting the band in front of me to avoid his gaze, which had lingered on my face all night. I could practically feel his stare like a light touch across my flushed cheeks.

“No, not necessarily. Since it’s our last day, I thought maybe we could get in one more trip to the beach or something?”

Memories of the beach sent a flurry of emotions through me. Absolute elation when I’d thought Luke was going to kiss me, then utter disappointment when he hadn’t.The disappointment lingered, because while this was a work trip, I’d still had high hopes that things between Luke and me were going to change. But that transition couldn’t happen while he was in conference room A and I was in B

“I don’t think I can. I’m kind of booked all day, and then we’re heading home late in the afternoon. I’m really sorry, little—”

“No, no. Don’t worry about it.” I waved him off. “I’ll just go with Nathan or maybe I’ll come back next summer or—”

“Let’s go tonight. We can do all the things you still want to do before we leave Ocean City.”

I smiled up at him. “Really?”

“Whatever you want to do, I’m all yours”

“Anything?” I asked with a devious smile.

“Anything.” He confirmed.

Yeah, he was going to regret that.

I was regretting the word ‘anything’ a whole lot right now.

In her defense, I never told Layla that I was scared of heights— partially because it wasn’t something one told his crush, but also because I didn’t want to give her that ammunition for pranks in the future. Knowing her, she would have devised a plan that consisted of tricking me into skydiving or parasailing. For the sake of my cardiovascular health, those were definite nos in my life.

“Isn’t this so pretty?” Layla bounced beside me, making our seat rock. The Ferris wheel car emitted a creaking noise when she did it, reminiscent of an old lady’s cackle.

To her, a ride on the one-hundred-and-eight-foot Ferris wheel that sat on the wooden boardwalk was a great idea. How did I know it was one-hundred-and-eight feet? I googled it the second we were close enough to read the warning labels. The noises it made proved it was far too old to still function, and surely it was no longer up to code.

I’d take her word for it. She was probably scanning the boardwalk and the dark water along it. However, I was more concerned with the important things, like who would catch us if we fell? And what the cost of hip surgery was these days, and what I would look like with a plastic butt.

When the young guy who pulled down our lap bar didn't answer when I asked if we were locked in tight enough, I should’ve known. He had headphones in, nodding along to a beat when he stepped back and pressed a flashing green button. As the circle of death began its cycle, lifting our seat higher and higher, the bolts and metal creaked ominously. I was second guessing all the late night snacks I tended to sneak when I couldn’t sleep. Damn that Ben and Jerry. Where was a backspace button on life when I needed it?

I looked up to the sky, coated in pink and blue, asking God to beam me up any moment now. I was ready to see great-aunt Ruby again.

“Um yeah. Really pretty,” I choked out, my knuckles turning white where I was gripping the lap bar. According to the website I found while we were in line, an average Ferris wheel ride lasted three to four minutes, so I started counting down from two-hundred-and-forty.

Two-hundred-and-thirty-nine…

Two-hundred-and-thirty-eight…

Layla laughed at my tense grip, her voice an anchor for my chaotic mind. She wrapped both arms around my bicep and rested her cheek on my shoulder, the touch bringing me back to Earth despite the terrifying height. Her soft, honey brown hair caught the wind and blew against my neck. With one hit of her sweet vanilla scent, adrenaline coursed through me, making me feel invincible for only a moment. The height no longer mattered because, with her arms pulling me close, all I could focus on was her. Our seat rocked, swaying against the cool summer night, and even the creaking didn’t break the spell. Right now, with Layla wrapped around me, there was nowhere else I’d rather be. And despite the one-hundred-and-eighty-foot death trap, I couldn’t think of a single complaint.

“You should’ve told me you were scared of heights.”

“It wouldn’t have made a difference. I’d probably go skydiving as long as you were there.”

She chuckled, the vibrations shuddering through me.

“Watch what you say. I’ll take you to the moon and stars with me.” She nestled closer.

My chest tightened at the sentiment, because what she didn’t know was I was already there with her.

Giving into temptation, I planted a kiss on the top of her head and rested my chin on the same spot, wondering how much longer I’d be allowed to hold her. I really, really hoped the ride was more than four minutes. Actually, I kind of wanted to yell to the guy down below, ask him to press the big red stop button, and leave us up here for a couple hours.

When our car started its descent and the ground rose to meet us, my heart rate picked back up. I fought the urge to kiss the pavement as my feet hit the metal platform. Layla tucked her hand into mine and squeezed in reassurance.

“That wasn’t too bad, right?”

I shrugged, still trembling from adrenaline. “Yeah, for sure. Not bad at all.” My voice was as shaky as my hands were, but Layla didn’t call me out like I expected.

Instead, she perked up and said, “Let’s go down to the beach?” I nodded because I knew better than to argue. Also, the closer to Earth we stayed, the better.

We ambled down the wooden ramp and stopped at the edge of the beach to remove our shoes. Sandals of all sizes were scattered around us. Rather than adding mine to the pile, I kept them in my hands and turned to suggest that Layla do the same. Only, she had already tossed hers into the heap and skipped toward the ocean, bunching up her skirt and kicking up sand as she went. Pure joy rolled off her and hit me straight in the solar plexus. I picked up her shoes, because I was not as trusting of this town as she was, and beelined for her.

She waded ankle-deep into the water, her head bowed so she could look at what was below her. Nearby was an unoccupied pair of wooden lounge chairs for the hotel next door. I tucked our shoes under the chaise and caught up with Layla in the ocean. She crouched and stuck her hand in the water, stirring up sand like she was testing what it would do. Then the prankster splashed water all over my button down. When the salty water hit my lip, I fought back a smile.

“Really?” I waved both hands at my wet shirt, but that only made her giggle more.

I trekked through the surf to her side and snagged her by the waist, pulling her against my wet shirt, dampening the back of her dress. Her squeals turned to laughter as I lifted her against me and spun her around. While I had hold of her, I hauled her out of the water and dropped her into one of the wooden chairs.

Tugging on the front of my damp shirt to pull it away from my skin, I flopped into the seat next to her and reclined. I focused on catching my breath, my heart pounding in my ears, drowning out the seagulls squawking in the distance and the roaring ocean waves.

Layla leaned back next to me, our shoulders barely touching.

“Hey Luke?”

I rolled my head along the back of the chair to look at her. “Yeah?”

She was staring out into the ocean, like she was deep in thought and the sea held the answers she needed. “Do you think we’ll always be best friends?”

“I hope not,” I muttered out of the corner of my mouth

“What?”

“Nothing.” I cleared my throat. “Yeah I do. You’re too important to me.”

She hummed and dropped her gaze to her lap.

“Why? Is everything okay?”

She turned to me and nodded. “Oh, yeah. I just…I guess with the possibility of your promotion coming up, I’m nervous you’ll be too busy for me.”

The idea was almost comical. “Little one, I will never be too busy for you.” I blew out a breath. “Let’s not talk about any of that. How’s the book going? Did you write any more today?”

Before she could answer, her body answered for her. She perked up, straightening her back and practically glowing with pride. She slammed her hands on the wood beside her and propped herself up.

“Sure did. I’ve written almost twenty-five thousand words since we got here. I don’t know what’s gotten into me, but I’m just going with it. This is the first time my characters have really spoken to me.”

“You know,” I waggled my brows, “I like to think I have something to do with that.”

She laughed, pulling at my heart further. “Yeah, maybe a little bit.” She scanned the shore, watching a flock of birds hop along the wet sand. “The new environment has helped put me in the right mindset, too, you know? Like, since we’re not at home, I can take bigger risks.”

When she said bigger risks, she turned and studied me intently. She had no idea how much I understood that statement. She wasn’t the only one who wanted to take risks. Big ones, too—big enough to change our relationship.

“I’m proud of you. Those first steps into making your dream come true are the hardest.”

Layla gave me an appreciative smile. “What about you?”

I shifted to face her and she mirrored me, our chests nearly touching, our faces close.

“What about me?” I asked

“Maybe you could also work on some of your own dreams while we’re here? Or I could help you look into business licenses when we get home?”

I shrugged. “Ehh, yeah I’m kind of letting all of that go for now.”

“But I thought that was your dream? You’ve wanted to own a bar since before I even met you.”

“I don’t know,” I said, shrugging one shoulder. “My dreams changed.”

They became you.

She narrowed her eyes in a way that was reminiscent of the look my mother gave me when she didn’t believe me. “Oookay. But I think it’s still worth looking into.”

I hummed noncommittally.

We stayed like that for a while, listening to the waves crash and the gulls sing. The moon rose higher into the dark night sky, yet I couldn’t force myself to leave this spot. If tonight was all we had in Ocean City, I wanted to savor every bit of it with her.

At one point, she lifted her hand to me, curled in a way that indicated she wanted to play thumb war. I accepted the challenge and wrapped my hand around hers, grateful for any excuse to touch her. With the universal “one, two, three, four,” we declared our thumb war. Because of the size difference of our hands, I typically dominated the game, but every now and then, I let her win simply to see that pretty smile.

Tonight, I had to be careful, because her nails, painted pink with tiny white, were distracting, and if I lost my focus, she would use the opportunity to slam my thumb down—a little harshly, I might add.

Eventually, the wrestling subsided, but we didn’t break contact. Instead, I traced the pad of my thumb over her skin, and she did the same. Then I fully slid my hand against hers, sparks lighting up my palm as our fingers rested together. My fingers stretched beyond hers, a reminder of our size difference but also a reminder of how much attitude and humor was wrapped up in such a tiny package.

Layla's breath hitched when I squeezed our hands together, drawing my attention back to her face, where her eyes were wild and searching my own. I fought the urge not to roll her under me, to let my hands explore all the areas of her body I’d been studying for years. To run my fingers through her smooth hair and finally find out if she tasted like that chapstick she was always applying. But then I imagined her jumping back the second I tried—in which case, I would simply dive into the ocean and accept my life as a cranky pirate, prepared to board the ships of anyone who’s ever been in love and steal their heart right from their chest.

“Luke?”

“Hmm?” I asked, not pulling my focus from our joined hands.

“Your phone.”

“Hmm,” I repeated, more of a statement this time.

Layla pointed to the device by our feet. “Your phone’s ringing.”

“Oh.” I shook off the haze I’d been floating in and sat up. The name on the screen had me pulling in a sharp breath and preparing for the worst.

I slumped against the chair and sighed, then slid my thumb across the screen. “Hey man—”

“I hope you have a good excuse.” Nathan growled, angrier than I’d ever heard him. “Do you even know what time it is? Or what I’ve had to endure tonight?”

I pulled the phone away to check the time and winced; it was almost midnight. “Sorry, I got uh—” I looked up at Layla, her hair wild from the ocean breeze and makeup a little worn off, “distracted.”

A deep chuckle rang through the tiny speaker. “Yeah, I’m sure you did, Casanova. You better be back in twenty minutes or so help me, I am snitching.”

I stood and waved at Layla to do the same.

“No one likes a whistle-goer—”

“Whistleblower,” Layla interjected automatically, adjusting her dress.

I mouthed thank you. “Whistleblower, Nathan.”

Deeper and more menacing than I thought possible, Nathan whispered, “You have nineteen minutes.” Then the line went dead.

Slipping my phone in my back pocket, I held my hand out for Layla and took a silent second to enjoy the tingles that shot up my arm before hauling her to her feet.

Her jaw opened in a yawn, and she stretched her arms overhead, mumbling, “What’s wrong with Nathan? Does he need you to tuck him in?”

I was momentarily distracted by the slit in her skirt revealing a length of smooth thigh, but I shook myself out of my stupor and snorted a laugh. “No, he was on Katie watch.”

She paused in her stretch. “Katie watch?”

“Yeah, since she seems to freak out every time we hang out, I asked Nathan to take her out so she wouldn’t be nosy.”

I bent down to grab our shoes, and when I straightened, Layla was smiling up at me, her lips curled softly at the corners.

“What?” If there was food in my teeth from earlier, I was going to be pissed.

“Nothing.” She kept that small smile to herself as she turned and strutted toward the boardwalk.

Huh, okay.

I trailed after her, mesmerized by the way the string lights in the distance framed her silhouette. Narrow waist, curvy hips, long legs, all swaying across the sand in a way that almost dropped me to my knees. I forced my jello legs to push on as her hair blew in the wind, long, warm-brown strands flying behind her. Like a mirage in the stretch between me and the boardwalk, she was the one thing I’d always wanted, and the one thing still out of reach.

“I hope you had a good night, because it was your last.”

Nathan sat in the desk chair with his arms crossed over his chest and a foot tapping against the geometric patterned carpet. He’d perfected the disappointed mother look, and I could easily picture him in a fluffy bathrobe, half-full glass of wine in hand, waiting into the latest hours of the night for her son to come home. An apple pie scented candle burnt down to a small, blackened piece wick and a puddle of melted wax. He wore a glower so unfitting of him, a sign that I should tread carefully through the small hotel room, which was a tiny space for a battle between us. Hopefully, there wasn’t enough room for him to pull out his cannons.

Despite his menacing presence, I fell back onto my bed, arms and legs tossed out like a starfish, replaying my wonderful, perfect, never-wanted-it-to-end night with Layla.

She’d been an angel, an absolute vision in lavender and white. Until today, I thought the whole caveman phenomenon was a myth, but it seemed like everywhere we turned all night, all eyes were on her. As much as I loved the beautiful, curvy view I’d had a front-row seat to all night, I didn’t love other men taking peeks at her.

But when she looked at me with those soft eyes and a timid smile, like I could possibly be more than a friend, with our fingers interlocked, every bit of worry and self doubt I had about us had vacated my mind. She kicked the word “friend” out of my vocabulary with those white sandals she’d sauntered around in all night. What is this word, frrr-end? I wasn’t sure, but it certainly no longer defined my relationship with Layla. Nuh-uh, we were remedying this ASAP. As soon as plausible.

I sighed and put my arms behind my head, relaxing into the uncomfortable mattress.

“Hey,” Nathan snapped his fingers. “I’m talking to you.”

He’d even perfected the mom nag.

“Hmm?”

“At least one of us is happy, because I just had the worst night of my life. You owe me, big time.”

I hooted and sat up. “Alright, alright. Tell me what happened.” I tried to focus on my friend, but I was still riding a Layla-induced serotonin high.

He shoved himself to his feet, the rolling chair flying into the wall behind him. “What happened was your psycho little friend nearly cost me my life!” he shouted, his hands balled into fists at his sides. “I didn’t think I was going to make it out of there alive tonight.”

I played along. “She’s definitely not my friend. And what are you going on about?”

He waved his arms wildly, like he was conducting an orchestra. “She took me to a hot yoga class. I thought hot yoga meant, like, hot people doing yoga, so it made sense that she’d suggest it for me.”

I snorted and rolled my eyes.

“Luke. You don’t understand. They make it all hot like a sauna in there, and not the good kind. Then they tried to put my legs behind my head. My balls are so sore I don’t know how I’m going to walk tomorrow.”

Nathan on his back and tiny Katie pushing his thighs to either side of his face as he screamed in pain? Now that was a vision. Red, splotchy dots sprinkled across his cheeks as he tried to keep from fainting. It shouldn’t have been as funny as it was but I couldn't stop myself. I threw my head back and roared with laughter. “That’s not too bad.”

He puts both hands on his hips, face stern. “Oh, it gets worse. After that, I said we should go sit down somewhere. She said that was fine, but when we did, she showed me hundreds of pictures of the hamsters she’s had over the years. It was concerning. I had so many questions: where did the hamsters come from? Where did they go when they…you know? Why did she have so many? Was it a collection? I mean, it was insane.”

It took everything in me to hold it together. “So she likes hamsters? Is that all?”

He widened his eyes, and he shouted, “Is that all? That was enough without the yoga! She’s a maniac. She may look all cute and innocent, but those eyes have seen some things.” A shiver ran through his body.

I shrugged. “Sorry, man. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

“Laundry. For a year. And I want breakfast in bed every Saturday for at least the next six months. Two meats, three sides, and at least one fruit.”

I rubbed my eyebrows. “Yeah, I’m not doing that. But I’ll find something. I really appreciate what you did for me. I don’t think we could’ve left the property without her knowing since Layla is her roommate and all.”

He nodded. “One day…I will find the perfect opportunity to get you back. Just wait.” His eerie tone kind of terrified me, but we’d cross that bridge when we got there.

He sat again, holding an ice pack I hadn’t noticed before to his crotch. “Now go on and tell me all the wonderful, magical things that happened to you tonight.”

I puffed out a breath and brushed my hand through my hair. “It was…” I searched for what to say, but not a single word in the English language could encapsulate how great our date was. “Let’s just say I think the list is working.”

Nathan leaned back in his rolling chair. “My man…” he said, his grin wide and crooked.

It was hard not to smile back. “Yeah, it all was perfect until you called. I was planning on making a move and then you—”

He closed his eyes and shook his head, a hand held out to me in a pause symbol. “Wait. Are you saying you haven’t even made a move? Like at all? Have you even kissed her?”

I paused. “We’re…taking it slow?”

“You had the entire night. Did you at least get any further out of the friend zone?”

I ran back through the events of the evening. My hands low on Layla's waist as we slow-danced. Her head on my chest, my kiss to the crown of her head. The way her fingers tangled with mine, our eyes caught on eachother.

I rubbed a palm down my cheek. “Yeah, I definitely got further.”

“So,” he smirked, “what do you think that means for when we go back tomorrow?”

“I should probably figure that out, huh?” I laid back, my head hitting barely missing the pillows.

Nathan snorted. “Probably.”

I was a new person. I might even take a multivitamin, or maybe throw back an apple cider vinegar shot at the cafe downstairs. I was at my peak. If I were ever going to win in a fight against Mike Tyson, this morning would’ve been it. The adrenaline from the previous night still coursed through me, and I might never come down from the high. I might as well accept my role as a rich house wife whose full time job is to be uber healthy, have a perfectly decorated home, and make her kids extravagant lunches in themed bento boxes.

To my surprise, Katie was still sawing logs when I hopped out of bed. As I pulled an outfit out of my suitcase, I caught the edge of a blue mouth guard between her parted lips. I wasn’t going to lie—it was oddly satisfying to know she wore a mouth guard. Made her more human. Did that make me a horrible person? Maybe.

I got ready in record time, washing my hair and applying my makeup like it was an Olympic sport. Ten points for speed, eight for accuracy. When I stepped out of the elevator in the lobby, Luke and Nathan were already there, both with paper to go coffee cups and their laptops in hand. Luke looked up from their conversation and smiled, warm and bright, like a cozy blanket I wanted to snuggle in all day. In an adorably awkward move, he waved, his fingers stretched taut and spread about as far as they’d go. Skittish, excited Luke gave me hope, and my heart buoyed. I floated their way courtesy of cloud nine, my focus tunneled on my destination—his side. The result of said tunnel vision was ramming into a decorative column and nearly falling face-first into the marble floors. I could feel eyes on me, probably gawkers wondering what kind of hallucinatory drugs I took this early in the morning. But when I looked back at Luke, he was chuckling, smile spread wide and eyes crinkling. I was only embarrassed for a moment before I joined him in laughter.

“Hi.” I bounced on my toes once I reached the two of them.

“Hi,” Luke replied, neither of us taking our eyes off each other.

We were in a time warps, a Luke and Layla black hole, sucking each other into the inevitable trance and possibly taking others with us. It was dangerous, this kind of passion.

“Oh, would you look at that, my phone is ringing,” Nathan declared, reading the room. “Hello? No, the monkeys are supposed to be delivered on Thursday.” Nathan scampered off.

Luke shuffled his items to one hand and rubbed the back of his neck with the other. “Yeah, I don’t know how he got to be the way he is.”

Nathan was now pacing and passionately talking into the phone, which was upside down.

“It’s kind of sweet, though.”

Luke followed my gaze and blew out a breath. “Maybe.”

I peered up at him, wondering if he could see my pupils transforming into tiny heart shapes and the cupid's arrow sticking out of my chest. If he could, his manners wouldn’t let him say a word.

“How was your night?”

Memories flashed. The way he gripped my hips, his long fingers curling into my skin as we danced.

“It was really good.” I angled toward him on my tip toes. “I wrote a bunch before I went to sleep.”

When I got back to my room the night before, it had been empty. The lights were out and the curtains were still open, so when I flipped on the desk lamp, my laptop beckoned me from where it was charging on the small table in the corner. I swore it chanted my name, the rhythym slow and steady, like waves lapping on the shore. Laaylaaa….

So I turned my phone to Do Not Disturb mode and buried it under my mountain of comfy blankets and sheets. Then, I dove head-first into the world I’d created. A world full of mystery and wonder, thrills and excitement, with no inconsistent parenting to be found. My fingers flew, tapping away at keys as if they had a mind of their own. I was merely the host. These characters, this story—it was writing itself. I hadn’t felt that way in years, like the details of my life faded to the background and my surroundings transformed into my fictional world. I was no longer in the hotel room; I was a new detective in a dark alley, quietly searching for a perpetrator on the run, my combat boots splashing through puddles of muddy water. The street lights were out, the moon my only companion.

But the moon and I were not alone. My palms were sweaty, and chills skated down my spine. A rat scurried out from under a dumpster like it could feel the tension, too. I prowled closer, my steps slow and even, my senses heightening. My heartbeat was so loud, I couldn’t hear anything else. So close. So close to the door that could lead to what I needed to solve the case. My free hand, the one not resting on my holster, reached for the rusted handle. I wrapped each finger around it one by one, then tugged on the heavy door, opening the window of possibilities only to find—

“Layla?” Luke said, his deep, questioning tone anchoring me to the real world.

“Hmm?” I peered up at him.

A grin split his face. “That good, huh?”

I bit my lip. “Yeah. I feel like I’m finally getting into my character's head. It’s hard to explain. I can only plan the storyline so much before my characters speak to me. I’m just over halfway, and my characters won’t stop telling me all their secrets.”

Writing was almost impossible to describe. It took up space in one’s brain and held itself there. It was unlike anything else I’ve experienced.

He nodded. “Ohh, I gotcha. I guess that makes sense?” He leaned forward, long arms relaxing at his sides. In his charcoal suit pants, he looked more professional today than he had the rest of this trip.

“When can I read some of this glorious book?”

I chuckled quietly. ”When it’s been through eight rounds of editing and no longer sucks, how about that?”

He groaned. “Ahh but it’s just me, little one. I’m supposed to be the first one to read it.”

I ducked my head. “Maybe when I finish, I’ll let you read the first draft. Although, Rachel would kill me if she knew you got to read it first.”

He hummed. “We can’t have that. How about you finish that book, do what you need to do, and when you’re ready for me, I’ll be here?

I let out a nervous squawk of laughter and pushed his shoulder, which was a mistake because it was hard as a rock, and he wasn’t even phased.

“Luke,” Chad called from behind us. “I want you to meet some people.”

Luke widened his eyes in a ‘help me’ look, then he schooled his expression and turned.

I held back a laugh at his dramatics, but let me tell you, it was a challenge. “Hey Chad. How are you doing?”

Chad turned his attention from Luke, his brow furrowed. “Oh, hey Layla. I’m glad I ran into you,” I perked up a little. Would I get to meet the important people too? I wasn’t up for the promotion but it would be cool if I could—

“Would you grab a couple coffees for me and Stephen?” He patted my shoulder and then gave it a weird squeeze.

And there it was. The reminder that I was nothing but a lackey in his eyes. A reminder that my job at West Oak was not permanent. That I had never intended to stay this long.

“Oh.” I did my best to mask the disappointment, not missing the way Luke pulled frowned. “Uh, sure.”

Chad nodded and led Luke away. Luke glanced back and gave me sad, apologetic eyes, but all I could do was shrug. This kind of treatment wasn’t anything new.

When I got to the conference room, coffees in hand, there were rows of chairs already set up, and what looked like the majority of the West Oak staff in attendance. The sales and accounting departments had claimed seats near the front. Nathan sat a few rows back, slumped low, his head craned back against the chair like he was ready for a nap. Luke was talking to Chad and his associates closer to the stage.

“Ah, Layla.” None other than the bane of my existence, Janise, stood with a clipboard in her cold, purple-tinged hands. Her hair was slicked back into a tight bun, and she wore her signature scowl.

“Good morning, Jan. Loving the hair.”

She cleared her throat like she wasn’t sure whether that was a compliment. “May I have a word with you?” She gestured to an empty space near the back of the conference room.

I peeked over my shoulder at Luke, but he was facing away from me. Without him there to save me, I simply nodded and followed her.

She cleared her throat. “Luke is up for the district manager position.” Of course he was. Other than Nathan—who hardly seemed interested in it—Luke was the only one qualified enough. “That said, the antics taking place between you two are setting him further and further away from that opportunity.”

Antics? We weren’t even together.

“I—ah…” My cheeks burned.“I’m sorry?”

She huffed. “If you and Luke have anything other than a professional relationship, he will not get this promotion.”

Oh.

“Oh, we aren’t,” I said, clearing my throat. “We aren’t like…together. Luke and I are just friends.” It sounded more like a question than a statement as it left my mouth.

With one brow cocked, she eyed me like she didn’t believe me. “Look, I’ve given you both multiple warnings. Figure out whether you want to be with Luke or whether you want to keep your job. That is what it boils down to. At the end of the day, either you or Luke is going to have to leave West Oak.”

My stomach twisted in mortification. Janise had always wielded empty threats, but this felt real.

“I-” Deep breaths. You will not cry in front of her. “That wasn’t my intention.”

She maintained her straight posture, chin high, coffee gracefully held in one hand. “I’m sure it wasn’t. But it’s time for you to see that your misbehavior affects those associated with you. I say this because your colleagues notice the way you two behave. This promotion requires my approval, and I can promise I’ll choose the best candidate. So think long and hard about what that means to you and your friend.”

What? Was that a threat? I had never once felt threatened by Janise. Maybe once when she caught me replacing sugar with salt, but she’d never done more than give me a warning. And now my friendship with Luke could cost him this promotion? One that came with a hefty pay raise and benefits he more than deserved? My tongue was thick in my mouth, my throat tight. And though my arms were covered in goosebumps, I was also somehow sweating.

“I, um.” I was at a loss, my anger creeping higher and higher.

Janise continued. “Ask yourself, Ms. Wright, what matters most? Being with Luke, or having your job?”

I glanced back at Luke, who was surrounded by executives—men in business suits and short hair cuts, guys with deep, throaty laughs that screamed I have enough money to buy an entire city. Chad gripped Luke’s shoulder and shook it a little, like he was experiencing a proud dad moment. A look at what I have been working on kind of motion. Luke chuckled along with him, his shoulders bouncing and head thrown back. Dressed up like he was today, he fit in with that crowd perfectly. Of course he did, because he was Luke—charming, sweet, passionate, good-at-his-job Luke, who could keep that white-collar mentality up when he wanted to.

The decision was an easy one; there was no question.

Janise turned away without waiting for my response, the gesture churning the concern in my belly to a raging boil, and before I could second-guess myself, I tossed the words out.

“I quit.”

I was sore, mentally and physically. After being introduced to nearly twenty businessmen, my brain was a jumble of names and faces I’d never remember, like I was caught in the middle of a swirling tornado of expensive cologne and phrases like how’s the market?

When I finally got a chance to sneak out, I went straight to my room, fighting a twinge of disappointment. Layla had texted me to say she had a headache and was going back to rest. She’d had a late night, so chances were she was hangry, too. It didn’t surprise me, but that didn’t mean I liked it.

I pushed through the door to our room and found Nathan laid back on his bed in swim trunks and no shirt.

He was zeroed in on his phone, oblivious to my presence, wearing the biggest grin I’d ever seen from him.

“Who’s got you smiling like that?”

Nathan startled at my voice, dropping his phone to his bare chest.

“Nothing. Don’t worry about it. Mind your business.” He said all three sentences squished together in one fast breath while he scrambled to pick up the device.

“Hmm. That isn’t suspicious or anything.” I raised a brow.

He put his phone face down on the comforter and shook his head. “Nah, just side work stuff. How was the rest of the conference? I took off not long after Layla did.”

“It was alright,” I said, dropping to the edge of my bed. “But the second speaker spit all over the place when he spoke.” I shuddered. “But he kept calling Chad by the wrong name, so that was refreshing.”

I chuckled, but Nathan didn’t join. He was eyeing me curiously, like he was studying a calculus equation. He shook his head and looked back at his phone.

“What?”

He shrugged. “Nothing…nothing.”

“No, what?” I moved closer and crossed my arms. “You’re freaking me out.”

He stretched and heaved himself to sitting, his attention still on his phone. “Nothing, I was just looking at houses for sale, and…oh would you look at that? An industrial building at a reasonable price and—”

I groaned. “Nuh-uh. I’m not doing this right now.”

“Liam sent me the listing. He said you won’t even consider it. It’s the perfect location, only needs a few updates, you have investors waiting on your call, and yet you said no.”

“Not this aga—”

“I know you don’t want to take a risk. Just like with Layla. At the end of the day, you have no reason to turn down this opportunity, yet you’re still clinging to a mediocre desk job because you don’t want to admit you’re scared.”

I stood and clenched my fists, anger heating my blood. “If I did it, everything would fall back on me. Everything. When it failed and my brother lost his entire savings, it would crush me. I couldn’t do that to my nephews. If you helped me out and the business folded, I would never forgive myself.”

“That’s the thing, though. You’ve got the experience and the education. You’ve done the research and have seen firsthand the bad habits and poor decisions that bring small businesses down. You know how to do this. You spent every minute you were bartending studying what customers like, how to hire the right bartenders and servers, how to treat employees and patrons, how to handle the money, all of it.

“And don’t pull the ‘I can’t afford it’ crap, because you have an entire tribe of people waiting for the chance to invest in you. Not just in your business or a commercial building, but you. We all know you were meant to do this. Yet, I’m watching one of my best friends throw away his dream for Chad’s job? Nah, ain’t gonna happen.”

Holding my key card by its corner, I flicked at it, watching the plastic spin. Raising a brow, I asked, “One of your best friends?”

Mouth flattened into a straight line, he cut me a look. “Out of everything I said, that is what stuck with you the most?”

I pulled in a long breath and let it out in a huff. “Nah, I’m just a little offended is all. But I’ll keep it all in mind.” I sat at the foot of my own bed, letting my shoulders sag a little. Maybe I did need the verbal slap in the face. “Now tell me who you’ve been texting all week.”

He flopped back and went on about a girl he’s been talking to, but I didn’t hear a word. My mind wandered to a magical place where I had my dream girl and my dream job. This whole time, I’d been afraid to leave West Oak because I didn’t want to leave Layla. But maybe, just maybe, there was a possibility I could have both.

The ride home was nothing like the ride to Ocean City had been.

Nathan still slept in the back, legs sprawled out and covered with a plaid blanket that looked tiny stretched over his big body. But Layla wasn’t her usual bubbly self. There were no billboard comparisons or a single game of twenty questions.

When we’d left the hotel, she was quiet, but her sweet smile was still intact. She was still on a roll with her novel, so she pulled out her headphones and laptop, promising that she wasn’t ignoring me but wanted to get words on the page. The heads up was sweet, but the smile she’d given me was half-hearted, and those doe-eyes swimming with an emotion I couldn’t understand. I nodded, telling myself she was probably dreading returning to our normal lives at West Oak. I knew I was. Once we were back in Philly, this bubble may pop, and I’d have no idea what to do then.

I spent the entire drive overthinking, as anyone in my position would. Layla typed nonstop, and I was glad for her. When she got into the zone, there was no stopping her train of thought. Her attention never wavered from her computer screen, though every time I peeked over, her hands were shaking. From excitement or nerves, I didn’t know. I had to fight the urge at least a dozen times to reach over and calm her with my touch. And although I would’ve loved to ease her anxiety or point things out to her here and there along the way, I hated the idea of interrupting her focus.

Still, my mind couldn’t help but pick at those raw questions eating at me.

What changed? Why was she acting so different?

I wasn’t exactly an anxious person, but when it came to Layla, my brain switched gears, so I couldn’t force myself to think of anything but her. Had I inadvertently upset her? Had our flirtation truly been a one-time, vacation thing for her? If that was the case, I’d never recover. She was my best everything, and there was no way I could let things between us return to the way they used to be.

As we drove, I made a point to tap my thumb against her knee or push a strand of hair behind her ear once in a while. She would look at me with those sweet doe eyes and soft smile, the look sending a reassuring warmth through me. We were okay. We would have to be.

Fifteen minutes from my apartment, I swatted at Nathan’s leg.

“Hey, Nate. Get up, man, I gotta take Layla home.”

He scrunched up his face. “I don’t want your bunny rabbits. No means no.”

I hit him harder. “Nathan.”

His eyes popped open, and he scanned the interior of the Jeep in a panic, like it was an alien spaceship. “Huh?”

Layla took her headphones out and placed them in her case. “Come on, bud. We’re home.” Her voice was soft and calm. Maybe nothing was wrong, and I was simply being paranoid.

Nathan sat up and rubbed his eyes like an overtired toddler. “Mmmm. Why are you dropping me off first? Can we run through Starbucks or something?”

“No, I want to make sure Layla gets home okay. It’s too late for Starbucks. I can bring home something else on the way back.”

Geez, I sounded like a dad.

He yawned and checked his phone. “Okay.”

After I helped Nathan get his luggage out of the car and gave him a bro handshake, he sleepily stumbled inside, and I pulled out of our parking deck, ready to take Layla home.

“Are you almost done with it now?” I asked, nodding at her laptop as she stowed it in her bag. “Looks like you got a lot written on the drive.” She probably saw right through my lighthearted tone..

“Yeah, I’m pretty close. I got to the most exciting part, so it really got me into the story, I guess.” Her voice was quiet, almost shy, like when I first met her.

“That’s good. Straight home then, right?” I turned on my signal toward her apartment.

Watching out the passenger window, she confirmed, “Yup. Just home.”

And we were quiet once more. Why was the silence so loud?

I could practically feel her slipping through my fingertips, like the sand we had traced our hands in on the beach. Layla was as fleeting as the wind, and I had no idea how to stop it.

When we arrived, I carried her things up to her apartment despite her insistence she could do it herself. But she didn’t know me too well if she thought I’d let her take any of it from me.

When she opened her apartment door, I followed her in and set her bags in the entryway. But when she didn’t invite me to stay—that’s when I hit my breaking point.

“Layla,” I huffed, my tone was serious. I was done tiptoeing around.

“Yes?”

“Please tell me what’s going on.”

My heart ached at the look in her eyes. They swam with fear and something like deep longing. For me or something else, I couldn’t be sure. But I was sure that whatever she needed, I’d give it to her.

She avoided my darkened gaze, choosing to study her feet. “I…I don’t-”

“I’m gonna stop you there. Don’t pretend like nothing has changed and that you’re okay. I know you better than anyone, and this—” I waved a hand up and down the length of her body, “—is not normal. If you’re mad at me or…I don’t know. Just tell me. Look me in the eyes and tell me what you’re thinking. Please.”

The heavy tear that rolled down her cheek was all the answer I needed. She was really going to do this. Tell me she wanted to stay just friends. I braced myself for the blow. I could take it. I didn’t want to, now that I knew what her touch felt like. Now that we’d shared gentle and intimate moments, I’d hold on to those memories forever; they were mine to keep. But if she only wanted friendship, that was okay. I’d survive. I’d done it pretty well for the last three years.

“Luke, please, you have to understand how difficult this is for me,” she pleaded, her chest heaving, eyes still locked on the floor. Then her shoulders shook, and it nearly broke me.

Chances were, when I left this apartment, I’d leave my heart in her hands.

I grasped her chin and gently tipped it so she was forced to look at me. “Hey,” I rasped. My own tears threatened to fall but I blinked them back. “Tell me what you’re thinking. I want to know every little thing going on inside that big, beautiful brain of yours.”

She sucked in a breath, and I prepared myself for the worst.

This was it. I was doing it.

One big jump down—leaving West Oak. One more to go, and I was not about to stop halfway.

The thing about taking jumps? The lead up is the scariest part.

Standing at the open helicopter door, fingers tight around the handle bars, white-knuckled and shaking. Fourteen thousand feet of blue and white beauty between me and the earth. What happened the second I leapt was unknown.

This was my lead up, that moment right before I decided, this is it. I am doing it. The unknown of how it all would end was the scariest.

Will I land safely on the ground?

Will he tell me he loves me too?

There I was, still holding tight to the helicopter, because it was so much safer than the freefall between us and the ground.

My head was forced up by the gentlest of touches until I was pulled in by a dark gaze full of questions. He probably thought I was insane. Because to him, nothing had changed since the previous night. He was blissfully unaware of my forced career change and the terror that swirled in my gut as I worked through how to profess my love to the best friend I’d ever known.

But I couldn’t think that way anymore. I was too far gone, tears sliding down my cheeks, my breathing erratic. There was no way to play this off as a funny prank, or a joke that we would laugh about for years to come. There was only one solution here and it was honesty; my time had run out.

I gripped his shirt as tight as I could, wrinkling the dark-gray fabric, still holding onto that metaphorical handlebar. I wasn’t ready to jump.

“Hey.” His voice, an anchor if I had ever heard one before, locked me in place. There was no going back. He deserved to know. Every prank, every joke, every sticky note thrown at his head had led here. It was all done with the intent that one day maybe I could have him as my own, as more than my best friend.

“Tell me what you’re thinking. I want to know every little thing going on inside that big, beautiful brain of yours.”

I sucked in a breath and prepared for the worst.

“Luke, I have had this thing and…it’s uh, complicated.”

He held me as if he was afraid I would sink to the floor—which was a valid concern.

“There’s nothing too complicated that I can’t help you with.”

His confidence was admirable, and I wished he could share it with me. That we could split it in half like a Marlo’s apple cider donut. Warm, inviting, and so, so sweet. I wanted that with him.

“I am leaving—”

A deep vibration against my leg cut me off.

Luke didn’t flinch, though, still waiting for me to drop this verbal atomic bomb.

“Aren’t you going to get that?” I gestured to his pocket.

“No.”

Man, I really could have used the excuse. I needed a minute longer. No jumping yet, please. Get me off this helicopter.

A second after the buzzing stopped, it picked right back up.

Luke groaned and dug his phone out of his pocket. “I am sick of this. I’m just turning this off.”

But his eyes went wide with panic when he looked at the screen.

“Luke—”

“It’s Adam,” he whispered.

My heart sank. I could count on one hand the number of times Adam had willingly reached out to his siblings in all the time I’d known Luke, and each time it had been an emergency.

Adam was reserved. He’d show up to family dinners, only staying long enough to eat and assure everyone he was alive and well. Then, he would retreat back into his cave of a house.

Luke looked up to me, as if asking for permission, and I nodded without a second thought.

“What happened?” Luke's greeting was shaky and unsure. I assumed the worst, as well.

A deep voice, growly and blazing, responded. I couldn’t make out the muttered words, but Luke’s brows knitting together and the confusion in his eyes made my stomach sink. He opened his mouth to reply but nothing came out.

“Okay…” he finally forced out. “I uh…” He studied me, his face etched with sorrow. He frowned, a silent apology. “I’ll be there soon.”

“What happened?”

“Crew’s missing.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed. “But not like the other times. They tracked his phone and found it in the parking lot where he parked the food truck.”

“What?” My voice cracked. Leave it to Crew to interrupt my confession of undying love for his brother.

“I have to go. I…” He grabbed my hand and squeezed it. “I really, really, don’t want to leave right now. Please know that. But my mom and Calla are losing their minds and someone needs to hold them together.”

Without hesitation, I reached for the keys hanging on the hook beside the door.

“What are you doing?” Luke tucked his phone back in his pocket and stepped back.

“I’m going with you,” I said, already sliding my arms in the sleeves of my light-brown, woven cardigan.

“No, I can’t ask you to do that. I’m sure he’s at Froggy’s or something. It’s too late for you to be barhopping, looking for a missing twenty-three year old.”

I shook my head, “I’m not tired. Come on, let’s go.”

That was a lie; I was exhausted. But I wouldn’t willingly send Luke off into the night without support.

“You’re putting on your cardigan inside out, and your eyes are about to cross. You aren’t going. I’ll send updates, I promise, but I can’t focus on finding him if I am worried about you, too.” His low tone left little room for argument.

Acquiescing, I reluctantly stepped back.

He looked between the door and me then groaned. “I really, really don’t want to do this. Just—” He clicked his teeth in frustration. “Don’t forget what you were going to say. We’ll talk tomorrow, alright?”

Solemnly, I nodded and saw him out the door, wishing him and his family luck.

Believe me, I wouldn’t forget.

I sped through the streets of Philly, praying I wouldn’t get pulled over. When I found Crew, I was going to kill him. Mentally, I ran through the ways I could do it, imagining I was a character in Layla’s book. My idiot brother had a habit of losing his phone and falling off the face of the Earth, but I’d never forgive myself if he was hurt, so I’d join my family in the search. Even if it interrupted what could have been the most important conversation of my life.

The white siding and yellow shutters of my parents’ house was usually a sight for sore eyes. Tonight, though, I was too tired and desperate to go back to Layla’s apartment to experience the sense of peace that usually came over me when I stepped into my childhood home. Inside, Calla was on the couch, hands clasped and sniffling. Marigold sat next to her, patting her back, and Liam watched over the two of them. He raised his chin in a hello as I passed the doorway, and I reciprocated.

My parents and Adam were gathered around the kitchen island. Mom had her hands wrapped around a steaming cup of tea, though the mug was still filled to the brim like she hadn’t taken a sip.

“Luke,” Mom said, she sounded relieved despite the fear and anger swirling in her eyes. “Thank you for coming. I need you to look at this.”

Adam had his laptop open in front of him, a map of the city dotted with several colored pins pulled up.

“What’s this?” I asked, peering over his shoulder.

“Places Crew could be,” he said without taking his eyes off the screen. “We need to split up so we aren’t all out all night.”

I nodded and pointed to the Froggy’s pin.

“I’ll start here.”

My oldest brother nodded and reached for his own keys, both of us prepared to do whatever it took to get Crew home. Because he would come home, and when he did, I was going to kick his ass.

***

For twelve hours we searched, bouncing from place to place, asking everyone we came across whether they’d seen a guy with dark-blond hair wearing a Hawaiian shirt. He wasn’t at the bakery that made his favorite cinnamon rolls, or the plant nursery where we found him last time he disappeared, or at any of the bars he and his employees frequented after hours. When the sun came up, we still hadn’t found him. And the search slowed to a crawl along with the early morning Philly traffic.

At four p.m. on Sunday, when we still hadn’t found him, my anger transitioned to fear. Worry weighed on my chest. He had never been gone this long. I hadn’t slept in over twenty-four hours, and I missed Layla. I texted her updates here and there, and she’d respond with encouraging messages like, “he’ll be okay” and, “we’ll talk soon, focus on family.” It was a comfort knowing she was waiting for me.

When I shuffled into the kitchen, Liam and Adam following behind, Mom stood at the kitchen counter, frosting one of her famous coconut cakes.

“No luck?” Her voice was laced in disappointment and fear that matched my own.

We shook our heads, too scared to say the words out loud.

She sniffled. “He’s never gone this long, not without warning us. What if he’s really in trouble this time? Oh my gosh…what if he was in an accident?”

She was right. I can’t imagine Crew purposely running away without a single word to us. Not like this. The other times were never like this.

Her voice became more frantic. “Do you think he went out of town? Have you called Jose?”

I sank into a barstool and propped my elbows on the countertop. “Yup,” I said, dropping my chin into my hands. “Jose didn’t answer, and chances are, if he went out of town, Crew went with him.”

Jose worked for Crew, and the two of them went on late night adventures all the time. Afterward, we’d all have to listen to Crew tell us about how he got chased by a squirrel across Ms. Johansson's yard or some other ridiculous tale.

Adam ran a hand through his black hair in annoyance, the tattoos wrapped around his forearm shifting as he did.

“Where are the girls?” I asked, hoping Calla and Marigold hadn’t been out looking too late.

“Marigold had to pick up the boys, and Calla went to make sure Crew wasn’t at her dorm. I haven’t heard from either of them yet.”

Nothing made sense. My brain was fried from lack of sleep, and the strings that led to the places my brother could possibly be were being clipped one by one. By the time it was dark outside, and when Calla came back with no news, we’d gone from worried to petrified.

“It’s been far too long now. We need to inform the police,” My dad declared from his seat on the couch. We’d all made our way to the living room to regroup and strategize.

Normally, I would disagree. Crew had a habit of running off, making a mess, then showing up the next morning like he never left. He never could stay in one spot, and he had a wandering mind that told him to push the envelope. But it wasn’t like Crew to be gone this long, with no contact whatsoever. The fact that his phone was missing was a constant pain in my mind as well. He wasn’t addicted to the thing, but he wouldn’t just drop it in a parking lot and run.

“I agree, we need to file a report. When was the last time any of us saw him? And what was he wearing?”

Unlocking my phone to open the notes app, I noticed multiple notifications from Layla. They were texts with Bible verses about peace and comfort, jokes about how we will look back at this and laugh, pictures of her through her day saying she missed me and couldn’t wait to talk soon. It wasn’t what I should be focused on, but knowing she was there relieved some of my fears.

“Umm, I think it was his pink hawaiian shirt with the white flowers—”

“No, they were blue!”

“You weren’t even there. How would you know?”

“Because he never wears the white ones. Pay attention.”

“Maybe I’d pay more attention if you guys weren’t always getting in the way.”

“Don’t bring me into this!”

My siblings and parents shouted over each other. Liam and Adam agreed that we should have noticed he was missing sooner. Marigold held her hands up, reminding us that she didn’t talk to him daily like the rest of us did. Calla laid back against the couch, watching the yelling.

The front door opened and closed, and light footsteps echoed down the hall.

“Hey guys.”

The cross-fire conversation came to an abrupt halt, and all heads turned toward the entryway, where Crew stood, a Dum Dum in his mouth. His face was a sunburnt pink around a clear white outline where sunglasses once sat. He was wearing a white shirt with black writing that said what happens in Cancun stays in Cancun.

He pulled the sucker out of his mouth and stuck his free hand in his pocket. “What’s everyone yelling about?”

Silence followed. Such loud silence. My ears rang, and a burning fury churned in my gut. But before I could say anything, Adam beat me to it.

“I’m going to kill you.”

My six-foot-five brother strode to Crew with purpose, a wrath unlike any other in his eyes, and his tattooed arm flexed as he pulled a hand back.

“Adam!” Mom shouted, hopping from the couch and darting across the room to hug Crew.

She squeezed him to her chest and rocked back and forth. “Crew, honey, what happened? Are you okay? Did they take you somewhere?” Mom’s questions came tumbling out between relieved sobs.

“Who? I’m fine. Jose and I took a quick trip to Cancun. He knows a guy with some really great—” He locked eyes with my dad and clamped his mouth shut.

“You’re really okay?” Mom breathed, patting his chest and arms like she was making sure he’d come back in one piece.

Crew nodded. “Yup, all good. I brought back a keychain for you.” He dug into his back pocket and pulled out a novelty keychain with a ‘Welcome to Cancun’ sign on one side and a cartoon woman who was basically topless on the other.

Mom narrowed her eyes and dropped her arms. “Adam, you may finish.”

She stormed into the kitchen, ignoring the shouts as two of her sons—youngest and oldest—fought it out on her living room floor.

“Would anyone like a piece of cake?” Her voice was eerily sweet and calm.

In unison, the rest of us nodded, leaving Adam and Crew to it and following her into the kitchen where coconut cake waited for us.

After I inhaled a piece, I could hardly keep my eyes open. I dozed on my stool at the island, and Crew’s shouting “NOT MY EYE!” and Adam’s Tarzan grunting became white noise that lulled me to sleep.

Resting my cheek on the cool granite countertop, I faded into a deep slumber, full of dreams of Layla and coconut cake.

When I was a kid and fell asleep watching a movie, I’d wake up in my bed the next morning wondering how in the world I’d gotten there. Those memories were comforting, knowing my parents had tucked me into bed when I fell asleep in a weird spot.

Some things never changed, I guess, because when I woke from the deepest REM sleep I’d ever experienced after being up for almost forty hours, I found myself on the couch under a throw blanket, a glass of water next to me on the coffee table, and my phone charging nearby.

I stretched and sat up, grabbing my phone. I needed to call Layla and tell her we found Crew. Except when I unlocked my phone I realized I had to be at work—across town—in thirty minutes.

I stood quickly, my vision was blurring and tiny dots dancing in front of me. Rubbing my eyes, I squinted at the phone in hopes that my half-awake brain had read the time wrong. Nope. Oh, Layla was gonna roast me once I got in the office, and I couldn’t wait. Hopefully, I’d have a chance to pull her to the side to continue our conversation from Saturday night.

“Morning, hon,” Mom chirped from the kitchen. “Do you want a piece of monkey bread before you go to work?”

I spun in a circle one way, then the other, searching for my glasses. They were wedged between the couch cushions but, thankfully, undamaged.

“Can’t, gotta go.” I called, frantically sliding them on and rushing out of the door. The second I slammed it, I threw it open again and shouted, “Love you!” then closed it again, gently. Knowing my mother, if I left without a proper goodbye, she’d hit me with a frying pan next time she saw me.

I pulled up to West Oak five minutes early, ran a hand through my dirty hair and rubbed at the dark bags under my eyes.

Janise, Chad, and an older exec I’d met on the trip were all settled in Chad’s office when I stepped off the elevator. Chad was behind his desk, using a spoon as a mirror to check his hair. The other two sat across from him, talking quietly.

I knocked sharply on the open door. “Morning.”

Chad put down his “mirror” and cleared his throat, taking note of my disheveled outfit—yes, I was still in the clothes I’d been wearing when the search for Crew began. “Hey, Luke, we were just talking about you. You remember Stephen, right?” He held out an arm and gestured to the older man.

Steven stood and gave me a firm handshake.

“Absolutely. How are you doing sir?”

He nodded and mumbled something about wishing he could have retired a decade ago. I gave a quick smile to Janise, which she returned.

“Sit down, son. This won’t take long.” Stephen waved his wrinkly hand at the chair in front of them.

I took a seat, though I wouldn’t need it for long.

“After much deliberation, we’d like to offer you the promotion,” Janise said with a straight-laced smile. “I know this is all very exciting, but before you go celebrate, I’d love to go over the next few steps. First we will need to update—”

“Actually,” I said, and it felt far too good to cut her off mid-sentence. “I’m flattered, but I have to decline.”

Janise gasped far too dramatically, and Chad recoiled.

“Luke, I…what? We’ve been grooming you for this position. All of the training and introductions we made for you—”

“---were greatly appreciated,” I cut in. “Really. I’ve learned a lot since I started working here. But I’m going to pursue another business opportunity. one I think will be a better fit for me.” I stood, taking in the shocked faces and holding in a chuckle.

When the metaphoric crickets started chirping, I backed toward the door. “Really, thank you so much. I would highly recommend Nathan or Layla for the position. They are both incredible. Either one would would do an amazing job here.”

With that, I spun on my heel, laser focused on exiting the office.

As my foot hit the hallway leading out, Janise’s shrill voice stopped me cold. “You know Layla quit, right?”

My stomach sinking, I turned back. “What?”

“She put in her notice on Saturday morning. We gave her permission not to finish out her final two weeks since her position will be easy to fill.”

My face ran hot, my heart dropping to my stomach. I sucked in a breath. “She…quit…” I pointed to the empty bullpen. “here?”

Janise folded her hands in her lap and lifted her chin. “I told her she had to choose between her relationship with you and her job. She chose the former.”

No, no. This wasn’t adding up.

“Layla and I aren’t in a relationship.”

It felt wrong airing out our dirty laundry without her, but I needed answers.

“Either way,” she shrugged, “she made it clear that if she was forced to pick between the two, she’d quit.”

Layla quit? For me? Was that why she’d been so nervous on Saturday? Why her hands had shaken, her face had been all pink, and voice so warbly? Was she going to tell me that she planned to quit so we could be together?

Without another word, I backed out of the office, feeling like I’d just woken from the Matrix sleeping pods into a whole new world.

“I have had this thing and…it’s complicated.”

“I am leaving—”

She’d tried to tell me. But before she could, I had to run off to find my blockhead brother, only to discover he’d taken a last minute trip to Mexico.

Before I reached the exit, there was one last thing I had always wanted to do when I quit. I had one more thing to say to Janise. So I stomped—in the manliest, most grown up way possible—back to her office where she’d retreated and swung the door open.

Her mouth formed a slight O in surprise, and I was prepared to mentally smack it right off.

With no context, I pointed right to her and loudly spoke. “PER MY LAST EMAIL.”

Janise stood there, brows furrowed, slowly shaking her head. “What does that even mean?”

I leisurely backed my way out of the office, not taking my eyes off her when I whispered mysteriously, “I think you know.”

Once I got to the elevator with other businessmen there in their suits and ties, I couldn’t help but laugh to myself, surely looking like a maniac. But I’d probably never see these people again anyway.

I was coming for Layla, and I was ready to make up for lost time.

“Okay, and then what happened?” Calla practically shouted through the phone.

This morning, I’d sent a text to the girls that said, “I almost told Luke.” Which resulted in a four way phone call and lots of screaming from all sides.

“We got interrupted. I was about to tell him about quitting my job and wanting to be with him, but then Adam called and you know Crew went missing—”

“OF COURSE HE DID!” Marigold shrieked.

“But what was the vibe like before then? Was it hot?” This came from Rachel, who was stuck at work.

“He totally would have said it back,” Calla piped up. “He hasn’t told me as much, but I know he loves you. I feel it in my nuggets.”

I sighed. “Guys, how am I supposed to tell you anything when you’re all shouting at me?”

Silence.

One-one-thousand…

Two-one-thousand…

Three-one-thousand…

“Thank you. He could tell something was up, so he flat-out asked me. I was about to tell him my stomach hurt or that I was vitamin deficient, but he knows me too well. He grabbed my chin, and I think he was about to kiss me, but then Adam called.”

The silence stretched, and I tapped the screen to make sure we hadn’t gotten disconnected.

“That’s it, really.”

Someone gasped, then Marigold was back to shouting. “That’s it? So what happens now?”

I shrugged as if they could see me and paced my room. “I don’t know, really. We haven’t spoken since then. He’ll find out I quit when I don’t show up for work today.”

I’d considered texting him, but the conversation felt like one we should have in person. And I thought we could have a rational talk once he got off around five.

Three sharp knocks on the front door had me sitting up from where I’d been sprawled on the couch. It was probably another delivery that needed a signature. Rachel was always ordering old vinyls and collectibles from eBay.

“How have you not talked at all since then? It’s been almost two days,” Rachel said.

“I didn’t know what to say and, to be fair, I spent most of that time sleeping.” Liar You were not doing any sleeping. “But someone is at the door so I gotta go.”

I checked my reflection in the mirror in the entryway to be sure I wouldn’t scare the delivery person. Thankfully, despite my fretting and pacing, I still looked put-together. My white Keds paired perfectly with Rachel's black shorts and neutral button up. When she eventually asked for the clothes back, we may have to fight to the death, and I wasn’ one hundred percent positive she hadn’t shed some blood in her past lives, if you catch my drift

I pulled open the door and almost dropped my phone at the vision in the hallway. It wasn’t a delivery man with brown cargo shorts and a package from Vinylsarelife73 like I’d thought. Instead, there stood Luke, huffing deep breaths, sweaty and in the same outfit he wore home from Ocean City. His hair was, well, a mess. His usual waves were damp and curling at the ends, his chest heaving like he’d run up the stairs rather than waiting for the elevator. He pressed against the doorframe, knuckles white. His tall figure towered over me, and his eyes bored into mine with purpose. Like he could see inside my brain and was sifting through all the dreams I’d had about him over the years.

“I gotta go,” I slowly muttered and lowered the phone to my side

A distant IS THAT HIM? rent the air, but I hung up before they could continue.

I cleared my throat, “Oh, hey. Did you leave work earl—”

“You quit.” His voice was raspy, deep and certain.

Mine? Not so much. “I, uh yeah.”

“You quit for me.”

Well that’s embarrassing.

“Yes?” I answer-asked, fidgeting with my phone case.

Without another word, Luke strode to me, his eyes dark, purposeful. He gripped my head, tightly threading the fingers one hand through my hair and palmed my lower back with the other, his long fingers grazing exposed skin where my shirt had ridden up. Lowering his head, he angled closer and pressed his lips against mine.

It only took a second for my body to react, the phone in my hand finally dropping to the ground with a thud. I rested my palms on his wide chest and moved my lips against his. A million thoughts ran through my head, every one of them focused on Luke’s delectable mouth. Soft, luscious, tasteful, sweet, familiar. I knew this mouth well, not from kissing it, but from studying it for far longer than I was willing to admit.

Needing more, I raised my hands from his chest to his neck and pulled him closer. In a silent plea, I whimpered against his lips, and his guttural moan in response was utterly delicious. He released his hold on my hair and traced a path down my spine to my waist, gripping it tightly in his firm palms. I was wrapped up entirely in this man, who held me like he was scared I would slip through his fingers.

At the sound of a gasp outside the opened door—likely one of my neighbors—Luke pushed me further into the apartment. Without so much as pulling away, he kicked one foot back and slammed the door behind him, as unconcerned as I was about the audience.

In total privacy, he released the untamed beast he had been hiding from me for the last three years. My calm, collected Luke was replaced by an intense, fervent barbarian who was on a desperate mission for something. Apparently, that something was in my mouth. He let out a satisfied grunt when our tongues clashed and lifted me off the ground. I don’t even think he realized he did it. Too focused on the perpendicular tilt of our heads, the way our lips meshed perfectly, how together we tasted like my watermelon chapstick and his mint gum. Sweet and summery, intense and spicy—our kiss a representation of our past few days together.

Our lips danced in sync with one another, as though we had done this a million times. Fire danced in my chest, and the new sensations sent sparks through my veins. I had pictured this moment hundreds—no, thousands of times.

Would our first kiss be fast, and passionate? What would I say? What would he taste like?

But nothing could have prepared me for the real thing.

He let his hands traverse my body, exploring parts I’d forgotten existed. Delicate traces on the skin behind my ear, a tight grip on the back of my thigh, palm pressed flat to my chest where my heart beat wildly. He left little to his imagination as his hands roamed wherever they pleased. My body was a map he wanted to study inside and out, memorize every little bump and curve along the path to his ultimate destination.

Pulling away slightly, he ran his hands up and down my arms, squeezing as if to assure himself I was really there.

When he spoke, his voice was a deep rumble. “I can’t believe this is real.”

His long fingers left my arms and trailed further down, squeezing every soft inch on the way to my hips before settling on my backside.

Our lips collided again, and I let out another whimper, so annoyingly desperate, but I couldn’t have stopped it if I tried.

He pulled away just to shift his mouth to my neck. When I moaned a sigh, he mumbled against my neck. “Is that it? The spot that’ll make you as crazy as I am for this?”

I didn’t answer with words, because how could I? I moaned an odd version of a yes, and relished the way his fingers dug deeper into my skin.

Arousal burned through my core, but I shoved it down.

This was about so much more than arousal and the burning desire to pull him in my bedroom that tried to take over. This kiss was more than simply his lips on mine. It was throwing notes during meetings, how he always kept a stash of my favorite pretzels in his desk, the moment our pinkies touched on Liam’s couch, bonding over movies and books. Three years of memories, interactions, conversations.

It was about being longed for—savored—and I never wanted it to end.

He pressed his lips to mine in a final firm kiss before pulling away enough to rasp, “I could kiss you all day.”

Ditto, my friend.

I moved in for another kiss, mumbling, “When…would…we…eat…doughnuts?” against his lips.

Our teeth clacked together when we smiled.

“I could kiss you twenty-three hours out of the day.”

I laughed against him, reveling in the way his long arms wrapped me up, how his hands gripped me and his teeth tugged at my lower lip. I was in my element. Every measly, sad, awkward bumping kiss I’d experienced had led to this moment. This beautiful, unbreakable, so unbelievably hot moment that I had no choice but to vocalize it.

“What took you so long?” I whispered as he trailed slow, soft, open mouth kisses across my jaw and down my neck.

“I was so sick of pretending,” he said, his tone pained. Like he used up all of his energy on our kisses and this was his last sentence before the force in him died. When I didn’t answer, distracted by the tiny bite he gave my collarbone, he muttered, “Aren’t you?”

“Yes, yes.” The second yes was more of a moan than an answer. I was sick of fighting this undeniable connection between us—of pretending we weren’t put on this Earth to walk it together, hand in hand.

Luke lifted his head, slipping his hands up to my jaw and tilting it so our eyes locked.

“Be with me, Layla. Be mine.”

I simply nodded, unable to speak.

He continued, not blinking. “I want to live together. I want your messy clothes on my bed and our donuts on the kitchen table. I want to come home to the sound of your fingers typing your next book. I want to have George Lucas marathons and eat chocolate-covered pretzels with you in your oversized fluffy pajamas that really shouldn’t be a turn on but they’re all I can think about some nights.”

I choked out a laugh, tears forming in my eyes. The only response I could come up with was, “I want a dog.”

He smiled brightly. “Let’s get two.”

I nodded. “We can name them Chewie and Amidala.”

With a shake of his head, he looked at me in awe.

“God, I love you.”

I laughed, pulling him down for another kiss.

We didn’t have anywhere to be, and I was going to soak this in for as long as I could.

Never in my life had I felt so brain dead.

Error 404: Luke does not compute.

My barely-functioning brain cells were short circuiting, and I’m pretty sure I was slowly dying.

Only in my wildest dreams did I picture myself here, like this, with Layla.

Sitting on her living room floor, we had white takeout containers fanned out in front of us. Sweet and sour pork, chicken teriyaki and rice, sesame chicken, a mountain of egg rolls; we ordered enough food to last us three weeks. And truth be told, if I had it my way, we probably wouldn’t leave until we were forced to make another food run. I wanted to keep her wrapped in fluffy blankets and stuffed with sesame chicken, with reruns of her favorite horror movies playing all day and night. But if we did that, then I guessed we couldn’t have donuts. So, for now, I’d settle.

Stuffed, I propped myself up against her couch. When Rachel came home from work, Layla and I were forced to stop making out in her living room like teenagers. We invited her to join us for dinner, but she mumbled something about young love only lasting so long and swept off to her room.

Then I made the mistake of asking Layla details about her feelings for me.

“Remember when I texted you that picture of Marlo’s donuts from my apartment, and you called me fifteen times but I kept sending you to voicemail? And then when you showed up, you were all sweaty from running here and you nearly mowed me over just to get to the box? Yeah, that was when I knew for sure.”

I huffed. “Seriously? That had to be your first moment?”

“Yup. And I replay it in my mind all the time.”

My grunt was almost drowned out by the muffled Tracy Chapman song coming from Rachel's room. By the way she’d had music blaring since she slammed the door, she must have thought we were doing far less innocent things than chowing down on Chinese food and reminiscing.

“I think mine was when you first told off Nathan for stealing your favorite pencil. I believe it was the, ‘get your own Ticonderogas, dipshit,’ that got me. I remember thinking to myself, this is it. Nathan‘s met his match.”

Layla laughed, her head thrown back, her smile wide. “Yeah, and then you stuck a bunch in his seat so he would get poked when he sat down.”

“You had to know that I was utterly gone for you.” I tipped forward and pressed a kiss to her temple. “There’s no way it was a secret. Every time you mentioned candy you loved, I’d stock my desk drawer with it to have on hand for when you got cranky. Looking back, I’m kind of judging you for not realizing sooner,” I joked, but it was a little concerning she’d had no clue this entire time.

Her voice was velvety, almost shy, when she spoke up. “I just thought you were being nice. That you did those things for me because you were my best friend.”

I sighed, rubbing the space between my eyes. “I think I died a little more every time you introduced me as your best friend. I have only ever wanted more with you.”

Layla's cheeks turned pink beneath her tiny freckles. Her smile was soft and shy, like she wanted to keep it to herself. Too bad, I was taking it all in. I selfishly wanted to hoard all of them.

“You were the first girl I ever thought looked sexy in long, polka dot skirts.”

“Is that right?”

I hummed. “Mhm. Since day one.”

She gave me a once-over, her mouth pressed into a straight line and her eyes narrowed. A silent accusation.

“Sure,” she said, voice heavy with sarcasm.

I laughed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Since we are both terrible with chopsticks, she used a fork to pop rice in her mouth and shrugged. “Oh, nothing.”

I pulled back so I could take her in. “Oh no no no, little one. We’re not just going to leave it at that.”

She chuckled. “I just…Please don’t feel like you have to say you’ve liked me since day one. It’s okay that it took you a little longer.”

I straightened my spine and stuck my chopsticks into my container of sweet and sour chicken. “Layla, I’ve loved you for years. You want proof?”

Wide-eyed, she shrugged. “It’s fine, I’m just messing with you.”

On a mission, I stood, because there was no way this girl could go another second believing this. I’d stand before a judge, representing myself, and toss evidence around like this was the trial of the century.

In the kitchen, I scanned the counter for the spot where I’d casually tossed my wallet after ordering our food.

“What are you doing?”

“To prove you wrong.”

“Ahh, the words every woman longs to hear.”

I rolled my eyes. “Listen here, smart ass.”

I snatched up my brown leather wallet, and with prideful strides, I made my way back to her.

I opened my well worn wallet and pulled out a tiny pink sweetener packet that had seen better days and waved it in the air.

“See!”

Layla frowned at the evidence. “Umm, that's a sugar packet?”

“Technically it’s Sweet’N Low.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I still don’t know why you’re waving it around like that. It proves nothing.”

I tossed the packet on her lap, and she held it up between her thumb and forefinger, inspecting it with a scowl. To her, it probably looked like an old forgotten about wrapper.

I sighed. “Do you remember when we were driving to Ocean City? You asked me about the best gift I’d ever gotten? And I pleaded the fifth?”

She tilted her head. “Luke, why am I holding this?”

“My second day of work, I was still mortified about the lemonade incident. But instead of being angry or making fun of me, you laughed and smiled at me like I was already your best friend. I was nervous, and when I poured myself a cup of coffee you came up with three of those.” I pointed at the Sweet’N Low packet she was still holding. “You said that there was nothing something sweet couldn’t fix. I used two, but I saved the last one. I guess it felt…significant at the time. Because you were special, probably the most special person I’d ever met.”

What I didn’t tell her was that I went home that night, daydreaming of her, and hadn’t stopped since. There was a line between being romantic and creepy, and I had a feeling I was toeing it. A small sweetener packet wasn’t creepy, but add in how much I thought about her after that, and it may have bordered on stalkerish.

She still wore a frown, but her eyes were soft, mixed with confusion and tenderness, like she couldn’t wrap her brain around it.

“Wait.” She shook her head. “What about what you told Nathan?”

“What do you mean?” Who knew what he could have done.

Her voice lowered an octave. “That first day of work. When I was leaving, I saw you guys in the lobby. I was going to talk to you but I overheard you tell Nathan I was the last thing you needed.”

I would’ve done anything for a time machine at that moment. I’d go tell Past Luke to keep his mouth shut and see what happened.

Instead, I scoffed. “Layla, you were the last thing I needed. I was straight out of an awful relationship. I’d just had my heart ripped out of my chest, and you…” I blew out a breath. “You had the potential to piece it completely back together with a simple chair prank. You scared the shit out of me because from day one I could see myself loving you. And that wasn’t what I needed.”

Maybe it wasn’t the smoothest way to confess exactly how much I loved her. Maybe I could’ve rehearsed the moment or written her a letter, or bought her some kind of fancy jewelry. I hadn’t really done this before. Was I supposed to give her my hoodie? Do guys still give girls their hoodies when they like them? I think they only do that in highschool.

Layla watched me, tears welling in her red-rimmed eyes. I wanted to kiss them away as they fell.

“You’re telling me we wasted three whole years by not being open with each other?” she breathed out, and the defeat in her tone shot an arrow through my heart.

But I shook my head, grabbing her face in my hands and forcing her to look at me.

“No, none of it was a waste. You may have not technically been mine, but every moment I’ve spent with you was one I’ll always remember. Three years, thirteen years, thirty, I don’t care; I would’ve waited them all if it meant I could have you.”

She sniffled. “I really didn’t think I’d ever get to hear this from you, to have you hold me like this.”

“Lucky for you, I have no plans of letting you go.”

6 months later

Today was going to be…interesting.

This day was one I’d dreamed of for longer than I was willing to admit. Now that it was here, I was struck with a wave of imposter syndrome.

My release day.

After a solid six months of stressing, four rounds of edits, an overwhelming supply of coffee, and the world’s most supportive boyfriend, I’d done it. I’d officially self-published my own book. It wasn’t easy, and I was pretty sure Silhouette in Darkness was still a hot mess, but it was my hot mess—and a published one, at that.

Rachel had a hook up with Sip N’ Spin, our local coffee shop slash bookstore slash record store, and after a heavy dose of pleading, they agreed to let me have a book signing there.

Speaking of hot messes…I had no idea what I was doing. I spent the morning of the book launch inspecting every outfit I owned, and everytime I thought I had the perfect outfit I would overthink everything.

Is this actually cute or is it only cute because you want it to be cute because you’re tired of looking?

Needless to say a few hours—and a dozen or so screams into a pillow—later, Rachel popped into my room and helped me get my life together. At that moment, I promised myself that if I became even marginally successful at this authoring thing, I’d force her to work as my personal life sorter. Is that a real job? If not, it was about to be.

She knocked softly, probably worried that the next garment I threw would be aimed at her.

“Good morning, my little sunshine. How does it feel to be a published author?”

I spun, my rat's nest of a bun flopping and the twisted turtleneck sweater—so what if the high was eighty today?— I was trapped in forcing my arms into uncomfortable angles.

“Oh, honey.” There was the sad Grandma face I was used to from her. And instead of pushing away her sympathy, I indulged in it.

“Help,” I whispered, my lower lip trapped in the neck of my sweater. I was pretty sure I just swallowed a piece of fuzz.

She shook her head and set her mug on the dresser, surveying the mess that was my floor with a sigh.

Thirty minutes later, Rachel had worked her magic. Not only did I look professional, but the outfit was a little sexy, too. I wore black tights and a form fitting tan mini skirt with a tight long sleeve black shirt tucked into it. When she pulled it all out of her closet, I had my doubts. But now that I stood in the mirror, ready to face my biggest achievement and also biggest nightmare, I loved the way I looked. I felt good about myself in a way that I hadn’t since my book went live, and hopefully that would be enough to inject some confidence in these veins of insecurity. I could admit I’d been a little bitter that Luke and I weren’t moved in together. We were waiting for our new place to be ready and for our finances to line up. But then I remember how incredible Rachel was in moments like this, and I was kind of glad for my last few weeks with her as my roommate.

On my way to the living room to grab my things, a wolf-whistle rented the air.

“Oh man, I am good.” She circled me, unashamedly checking me out as I reached for my phone off the coffee table. “Wait until Luke gets here…actually, it’s probably best if you don’t see him yet. I don’t want him to rip this skirt.”

I hit her arm. “I was not planning on doing any…celebrating with him until after.”

“Hmm.” She waggled her brows. “I’m sure you weren’t.”

Taking one last look at my reflection in the entryway mirror, I panicked a little.

“I don’t think I can do this. The last time I went to a book signing at Sip n’ Spin, people were lined up out the door.” I spun to Rachel. “Wait, what if no one shows up to mine? What if its just you, Luke, and random people off the street wanting free snacks? I can’t do this. I’m staying in.”

“Layla.” Rachel put her soft hand on my shoulder and squeezed, stopping me before I could dart to my bedroom and lock myself in forever. “Deep breaths with me.”

I mimicked her, my chest filling with air and deflating slowly, my heart rate slowing.

“There you go, in and out.” She nodded. “Let’s get all of our things. We’ll work on affirmations in the car. You’ll be so hyped up you’ll feel like you’re Mike Tyson going into a fight. Calla and Luke have been setting up all morning. I can’t wait to see what the two of them managed to put together.”

I chuckled and moved to the dining nook to retrieve the box of books I’d ordered, but they weren’t there. Panic settled in. I had all of my copies right here, all of them. I know because I vividly remember riding the elevator with a sixty-pound box then shuffling down our hall, breathing heavily, knuckles aching.

“Where are my books?” I shrieked. “Books don’t just disappear. I don’t have time to get more printed. I have to be there in less than an hour and—”

“Layla.” Rachel once again brought me back to Earth. “I already took care of them. C’mon.” She waved me over, her smile soft, eyes twinkling.

“Did you take them down to the car for me?” I asked, following her to the door.

She shrugged a shoulder. “I had some free time this morning, and you deserve to relax today. The hard parts are over. This is a day of celebration, and it’s all about you.”

“But your hands…”

She took immaculate care of her hands and neck because they’re the first to show signs of aging—as if she hadn’t recently celebrated her twenty-third birthday.

“I’ll be fine. It’s probably good for me to strengthen my grip anyways. Wouldn’t want to be totally unprepared next time you tackle me for your phone. Plus, you need to save your hand strength for all that signing you’re about to do.”

Of all things, that one small gesture had my eyes watering and my bottom lip trembling. I threw my arms around her neck, squeezing her tight.

“Thank you. For everything.”

She returned my hug and patted my back. “Oh Lay, I forget you’re such a softie.” She said dryly but there was a sniffle back there too. I loved this old soul more than she would ever know.

She released me and smiled. “Now, let’s go sell some books and drink some coffee.”

She didn’t have to tell me twice.

Rachel’s pep talk along the way kept me mostly calm, though I couldn’t stop myself from checking my phone for notifications that came in waves.

Skywalker: Hey beautiful, heard there’s an amazing author coming to Sip n’ Spin, thought you should know.

Crew: Happy release day! Does this mean I’m friends with a famous person now?

Marigold: You’re going to do amazing, the boys and I are so excited to see you.

Nathan: I hope you don’t mind that I’m crashing your gig today, can’t have a party without the life of the party you know.

Mama B: Happy launch day my dear. Proud is an understatement. I have some treats for you when you’re finished. And I promise I won’t let Nathan eat them all.

Calla: I told you my balloon arch skills were badass.

Calla: Wait, can we have alcohol at this? Spiked coffee = more sales??

I chuckled at the onslaught from so many of the people I loved most. Last week, my mom promised to have her assistant reach out if she could make it. I had been feverishly checking my emails and texts, but hadn’t gotten a single one from either of them. My heart sank a bit at the thought that neither of my parents would be there today. After twenty-four years, I should have been used to it. But the absence of even a simple congratulations text stung.

I shook off the self-pity and sat a little straighter in the passenger seat. Today was about the positive. And although I was positive that I would fall on my face in these heels or stutter through my entire speech, there was so much to celebrate today.

The chalkboard sign outside Sip n’ Spin said Local Author: Layla Wright book launch party in the most beautiful calligraphy, along with the date and time below it. Through the large windows, the navy and gold decorations that coordinated with my book cover were visible, and a handful of people were setting up chairs and running around with armloads of books and trays of refreshments. This level of organization had Calla Wells written all over it.

“You ready?” Rachel's voice was calm and collected.

“Yes,” I breathed, and it was the truth. Then I stepped over the threshold.

Calla had really outdone herself. There was in fact a twenty-five-foot balloon arch gracefully hung on the shiplap wall over a long wooden table that faced chairs in an audience. The remaining two-person tables had been moved to the back, and the vinyls were pushed to the walls to make room for all of the chairs. There was room for about a hundred people to sit. It would look funny when there were only ten of us here, but I appreciated the effort.

“There’s my girl.” I jumped and turned at the sound of my favorite voice.

Luke, handsome in a brown button-up and black pants—my favorite of his looks—smiled proudly at me, like I was his greatest accomplishment. Butterflies…no, zebras raced in my stomach at the sight of him. We’d made things official six months before, but he still gave me goosebumps and that nervously excited feeling in my belly that made me feel like I had to pee. Yeah, it was odd, but I loved it.

“Hey, you.” I skipped to his side and wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him in tight.

Luke gripped my waist and held me out at arm’s length, “You look perfect, I like this skirt. I would love to—”

“No ripping it. It’s Rachel’s, and she already warned me that you’re not allowed to destroy it.”

He cocked a brow and gave me a thorough once-over. “I make no promises.”

I giggled and kissed his cheek, leaving a tiny pink lipstick stain behind—which I didn’t bother wiping off. It was a good look on him.

“It looks amazing in here.” I glanced around the room, taking it in another time. It was so weird to see my name on the featured sign.

“Calla’s been bossing me and Crew around since we got here.”

As if to prove Luke’s point, Calla’s voice sounded through the open space. “Okay a little to the left. No wait, my left, your right. Yes, there! Okay now take the tape…what do you mean? I handed you the tape two minutes ago. Ugh, Crew, are you good for anything?”

I followed the sound of her voice and found Crew standing on a ladder while she stood several feet behind him, arms crossed and foot tapping.

“Hey guys,” I said.

“Oh there you are!” Calla cheered, running for me. “You’re early, aren’t you?” She looked at her phone and gasped, “Oh gracious! I thought I’d be done by now. Crew, get your act together and finish hanging those.”

Crew rolled his eyes and turned to me with one hand on the ladder to keep him steady. “Hey Layla? Please take my sister anywhere other than right here.”

I pulled her arm. “Come. Show me everything.”

“If you insist,” she teased. Then she paraded me around the venue, showcasing every little decoration she put together for me. Her excitement alone made me feel like all of this was worth it. The decor was classy and timeless and minimal, but every piece coordinated perfectly with my cover. There were even a few detective name plates scattered around the tables.

When we looped back around to where my seat was, all two hundred copies of my book sat on the table—as daunting as ever. They were stacked high, spines facing out, beckoning to me to sign them.

My palms were clammy, and my forehead broke out in a light sheen of sweat. Why was I so nervous?

“Because you’re thinking too much.” Behind me, Luke answered the question I hadn’t realized I asked out loud. He ran his hands up and down my arms, comforting me in ways only he could.

“Today is all about fun, so forget about sales numbers and who isn’t here and focus on the people who are.” Calla smiled brightly at me and adjusted her hair to give it more volume.

Shortly after, people started trickling in. First Mama B with the biggest coconut cake—a Wells family favorite—I’d ever seen. Then Nathan, who I think sensed the coconut cake was there. Soon it was Marigold and the boys with Liam trailing behind them. More people I knew and loved filtered through the door and even some folks I didn’t know. I kept my nervous hands busy with a water bottle, twisting the cap on and off as I made small talk.

Once the official event time hit, the room was full. Every chair was occupied, and there were even people standing around the aisles and back of the room. My heart raced faster. I was grateful for an audience, but the bigger the crowd, the more witnesses I’d have when I inevitably tripped.

Beside me, Luke touched my elbow. “It’s time to go up there. Do you need anything else?”

I shook my head instinctively, but it was a lie. With panicked eyes, I looked at my rock, my foundation, and pleaded silently. I needed him up there with me.

“You’ve got this, little one. I’m right here.” He smiled so big his dimple appeared. “Take your jumps, alright?”

The stage was only a foot or two off the ground, but it was intimidating nonetheless. Here I was, once again, at the edge of the helicopter. I nodded and slowly climbed the steps.

Once I was situated in front of the microphone, the chatter simmered but I cleared my throat to alert the few people who hadn’t caught on. All eyes were on me, and my tongue was too heavy to move. Where were they? Though I told myself not to, I couldn’t help but search for my parents in the crowd. I scanned the rows of people, looking at every chair, and my heart sank when I didn’t lay eyes on them. When I finally opened my mouth to speak, nothing came out. No wonder they didn’t show up. How was I supposed to do this?

A throat cleared, eyes watching me. Waiting. Waiting for some sort of hey, thanks for showing up. And I couldn’t deliver.

“Layla.” A dark whisper, from a man in a dark brown button up, with perfect dark hair, who stood just offstage, watching me with loving eyes. “You’ve got it.”

He was here. That’s what mattered. Luke gave me a half smile, one that said that’s her, that’s my girl. And that look gave me every bit of confidence I could need.

Words flowed from my lips before my brain could process my thoughts.

“Hi everyone. Um, in case I don’t know you, my name is Layla Wright and this is my debut novel, Silhouette in Darkness.” I held up a copy sheepishly, my hands shaking and my cheeks warm. I felt utterly alone on this stage, but I went on. “The story follows a young female detective who’s just been assigned her first case. She's underestimated and…Actually, I could talk about this book all day long. I won’t spoil it for you. Instead, I want to tell you about how this book came to be.” I looked at Luke as I spoke, like he was the only other person here.

“For a while, I didn’t feel like I had much of a purpose in life. I went about my time as I should, working day in and day out at a job I didn’t love, all the while wondering why I’d been put here. I was nothing more than flesh and bone. No soul, no heart.

“But then I found my solace, the one place where I could escape. And it was in the presence of someone very special to me. Even when I wasn’t writing, when I would go through slumps and had no inspiration, he silently pushed me along. So if you have a person like that in your life, someone who inspires you, who lights you on fire, stick around them.”

Luke smiled brightly up at me with a twinkle in his dark eyes. Next to him, Nathan stood, one hand on Luke’s shoulder. Then Calla and Rachel. Mama B beamed at me with her hands clasped at her chest, with Jerry by her side. Next the twins and Marigold and Crew. Even Adam and Liam stood behind them.

And that’s when it hit me: this group of people was my foundation. And I would lean on them as long as they would let me.

Family wasn’t defined by my blood. Family consisted of the people around me, who loved me and cheered me on. And this group, this incredible, life-changing, odd but so sweet, group…they were all the family I needed.

“I know I will.”

Six months later

Smooth, soft music played in the background as Luke quietly drove to an undisclosed location. I hummed along, looking out the window at the summer sun shining down on the busy streets, people walking with their dogs on leashes, and babies in strollers. There would be an occasional tree or group of flowers in the city’s landscape that grabbed my eye. The whole time, Luke never let go of my hand, stroking small circles on the back of it with his thumb. Our ride was quiet, I supposed, because we didn’t need more than each other's silence. We had each other's hands together, and although it wasn't much, it was us. And I was more than grateful for that.

Luke turned down a random road I hadn’t been on before, and I did a double take.

“You know if your plan is to murder me and leave me in an alleyway, you could have just done it way back there. Everyone’s going to suspect you anyway, so good luck with that.”

He shook his head with a confident smirk. “Nope. No murders on this trip, little one. Only surprises.”

Luke pulled into a parking lot at an old commercial brick building. The sign up front was too faded to see a business name, and there were boards up on some of the windows to block nosey viewers.

He took the keys from the ignition and squeezed my hand. “Let’s go. I’ve got some things to show you.”

When I woke this morning to a text that simply said ‘I have a surprise for you’ this wasn’t exactly what I was expecting. Maybe a fun popsicle or a t-shirt that said Grandpa est: 1993. Those were the kind of surprises Luke liked to give me.

Instead of second guessing him, I gladly hopped out of the car and followed him across the gravel parking lot to the abandoned building.

He pulled out a huge carabiner full of keys that I had never seen before, searching until he found the right one and unlocked the heavy vintage doors. As he opened it and turned on the lights, I was overwhelmed with the beauty inside.

Strung lights and old fixtures hung from dusty cobwebbed wooden ceilings. Judging by their rough shape, the aged hardwood floors must have been original, but their color was immaculate. Although mostly empty, the building had a long bar, enough to seat fifteen or maybe even twenty bar stools comfortably. Above the bar was a huge white board—which reminded me of West Oak team meetings—that had a drink menu beautifully drawn onto it. Instinct told me that Calla was the one who drew it.

Right on top in perfect calligraphy said Welcome to Romfuzzled.

I’d known this was coming. I’d overheard his phone calls with Liam and a realtor, conversations that included words like closing and keys. I’d watched as he and Liam ran numbers and discussed resources for repairs and upgrades, ways to save them the most money in the renovations. When I pushed for details, dying to know how Luke was pulling this together, he’d say something along the lines of, “Wouldn’t you like to know?” Which irritated me, but also he knew how much I loved surprises, so I was glad to sit and wait for him to tell me when I could see it.

I sucked in a breath and a tear sprang from the corners of my eyes. “Oh Luke…it is just beautiful.”

An understatement. The whole building was overwhelming, knowing that I was finally seeing Luke’s dream coming to life. In the same way he’d witnessed mine unfold in front of me, this was his—what he’d been working toward this whole time.

It still needed a lot of work, painting, updated lighting, new doors, and a whole slew of other things.

I wondered how he managed to do this. I pictured the entire Wells sibling clan running around here, picking up old tables and throwing them out, building this new bar, hanging string lights where they could. I couldn’t see Mama B knowing Luke was working up here and not coming to bring him and a whole work crew pitchers of lemonade. And the white board with drink names had Crew and Calla written all over it.

My eyes snagged back on that drink menu. I choked on a laugh. “Oh my gosh.”

Luke scratched the back of his neck nervously and smiled. “Yeah, I thought you might like that.”

Westeros

Conference Room

Sticky Notes

Ocean City

Little One

Every drink name was a variation on one of our inside jokes. But my favorite by far topped the list, marked by a star: My First Day.

My First Day - a strawberry lemonade cocktail spiked with vodka and a tiny drop of hot sauce. For those first day jitters when you see a cute girl and decide poisoning her is a good idea.

I laughed loudly—and not in a cute way either. In a my-hands-on-my-knees, tears-springing-my-eyes, snorting-like-a-pig way.

“I can’t tell if that’s good or not.” Luke looked absolutely terrified, probably because I had been mostly silent then had a sudden outburst of psychotic laughter.

I wiped my tears and sniffled. “It’s perfect. I can’t believe you did all of this, Luke.” I turned and playfully shoved his shoulder. “How did you keep this from me?”

He grinned proudly. “I love surprising you. Seeing you light up like this is well worth it.”

I shook my head and looked deep into his eyes. “I am so proud of you.”

He jerked his head towards the bar. “Come on, let’s sit.”

Luke

Having Layla finally in my own bar, sitting there perched on a barstool looking like the prettiest thing that will probably ever come in this place was so surreal. She kept turning her head, taking in every last view of the building.

It still needed a lot of work: last-minute cleaning stuff, some more marketing signs, fixing the parking lot. And I was still getting shit from the city on this place. They didn’t exactly love the idea of a new business opening, especially one with owners who don’t have as much experience as some of the big time investors around here. But still, it was mine. It was entirely messy, imperfect, and lacking some light due to the boarded windows, but it was mine. And I hadn’t realized how proud of that I was until this moment.

It wasn’t until I saw Layla with a bewildered look in her eye like she couldn’t believe this was mine that it all hit me. I had been working with my eyes closed, metaphorically of course. Head down, no distractions work wasn’t super fulfilling mentally, but it was getting the job done. And now, having her here has opened my eyes and yeah, I was pretty proud. Because I didn’t do this only for me. I did this for us. For us to have a chance in this life to achieve the things we’d dreamed of for years. For us to never wonder again what if I hadn’t given up?

“How much left do you have now?” Layla spun in her stool, her skirt raised a few inches higher as her legs crossed.

“Let’s see…I’ve got to finish the rest of my license stuff for the city. Get all the last minute supplies, hire a cleaning crew, get the sign for outside. Should probably open up the windows, fix the parking lot, and make this place look more welcoming. But that’s all the easy stuff. The hard things are pretty much over with.”

I reached below the counter and grabbed her a room temp water bottle out of the case that I kept here for me and the rest of the crew.

“Sorry it’s all I’ve got up here for now.”

She looked up at me with gratitude and took it with gentle hands. “That’s perfect, thank you. What do you think the hardest part has been so far?”

“Oh..um…probably when I first got the keys. There were old cabinets and an ancient bar here that were basically falling apart. And there were all these wasp nests in them. I convinced Nathan to come help me, but it was tricky. He came up here with an entire hazmat suit, a hammer, and some bug spray and told me he could handle it for me. Said it was my Christmas gift, in August. So I stood in the back kitchen with the door open and watched him try to take it all out with sporadic swings. He got absolutely torn apart. Screamed like a little girl, and they chased him around the parking lot. Remember when I had to take him to urgent care? He told me to tell you it was because he fell off the ladder painting Chad’s old office? Yeah no, he made me hold his hands while he cried, and this nurse he found cute kept putting ointment all over his stings. He took Benadryl and passed out in my arms that night. In a way it was kind of sweet, like a bonding experience.”

Layla laughed hard enough to bounce in her seat and she hit the new bar with her hand. “That is the most Nathan Huxley story I have heard in my entire life.”

“Yeah, I need to keep that one in mind as a wedding toast whenever the poor guy gets married.”

“God bless her soul.”

I laughed and went around to her side of the bar, leaning over her seat and pressing my lips to hers. She sighed into me as my hands naturally fell on her hips. My heart hammered in my chest, racing wildly as I felt her relax into my hold. Her soft, pink lips like pillows against my own gave me everything I had been falling asleep to thinking of. Heat coursed through me with her soft, pink lips against my own, and her tiny, breathy moans told me she felt it, too. I slid my hand further back her head to lace delicate strands of hair against my rough fingertips. I kissed her like it was the last chance I would get, because I never knew when it would be, and I’d never want to waste a single one.

Layla pulled back, and I kissed the corner of her lips before she could get completely away from me.

“I love you.”

Three words that may as well have been a Beethoven symphony the way they played melodiously in my mind. I breathed in through my nose, taking her sweet scent straight to my heart like a serotonin shot.

“Mmm. I love you more.”

I wondered if she knew how much more. If she knew the endless capacity of my love for her.

The way her eyes shined in pure bliss, smiling at me like I had just given her the best news in the world—I knew there was no way she’d ever know how deep my love for her ran.

ONE YEAR LATER

There was nothing sexier than watching my fiance in his element. In a navy suit with no tie and top two buttons undone, he mingled with friends and family, that dimple on full display and his eyes full of joy. I nearly had to fan myself every time I looked at him. Luke moved gracefully across the old hardwood floors from group to group, shaking hands and kissing babies—okay not really, but pretty close. While I stood back, ogling him, cheeks pink and drooling.

He stood under a big calligraphy sign that Calla had made. Romfuzzled opening night: featuring live music! I leaned against the tall table behind me for support in case I did in fact swoon while I watched my betrothed thrive in here. Luke looked my way, despite being involved in a lengthy conversation with a guy he went to highschool with. He smirked and brought his beer bottle up to those lips that I was fully prepared to attack once we left here. That crooked brow, that twisted smile, and those darkening eyes told me exactly what his intentions were with me, and I was counting down the minutes until we could leave.

Luke patted the guy on the back and started my way, instinct kicked in when he got to me and I wrapped my arms around his neck.

“How are you so good at this?”

He kissed my temple and murmured, “How could I not be when you’re beside me?”

I hummed and pulled him closer, taking in the sight of all of his accomplishments. The bar was filled with people, all of our family and friends gathered around each other to support Luke’s big night. The process had been long and tedious, but right now, I knew it was worth every headache and the scrambling necessary to pull together licenses, signs, liquor, and employees before the opening night. The question on everyone’s mind? What did the sign out front mean? Romfuzzled. When asked, he’d light up, the light he emitted as bright as the sun, and dive right into the story, like he got more proud each time he told it.

***

“They love it.” I swayed in Luke’s arms to the steady beat of the band.

“You think so?” He lifted his head from where he’d buried it in the crook of my neck and scanned the room, “Looks like Crew is having the most fun.”

I turned my head to see his youngest brother playing flip cup with a bunch of strangers, then raising his hands and shouting when he won. I laughed, “Yeah, I think he is.”

Even Adam had shown up, and getting him to leave his house in New Hope is a feat in itself.

Luke pressed a kiss to my forehead and another to the crown of my head, pulling me closer and continuing to move to the music. He was always more touchy-feely after a few beers, making sure his hands or lips were on me at all times. Give the man a blonde ale, and he’d turn into a snuggly koala bear.

I squeezed his arm, “I’m so proud of you. I knew you’d do it.”

“Because of you. And Liam, I guess. I think he would’ve killed me if I put it off any longer.”

I chuckled and popped up on the tips of my toes to kiss him only to be interrupted before our lips met.

A guy with a porn stache tapped Luke on his shoulder, “Hey man, sorry to bother you but Alex needs you.” The mustached man pointed his thumb to the bar, where our favorite bartender had a line of patrons waiting for drinks. One of Luke’s highest priorities was recruiting Alex from Froggy’s. It didn’t take much convincing once he found out that Crew’s food truck would be parked here on weekends, apparently he loved the elote corn enough to make the switch.

Luke frowned and stepped back, “I’ll be right back, don’t move a muscle.”

I gave his bicep a firm pat, “Just go, I’m coming home with you either way so no need to butter me up all night.”

He laughed and shook his head before taking a final sip of his beer and rounding the bar.

In spite of his instructions, I meandered over to where Nathan was stationed near the pool tables in the back. He stared through the crowd, his eyes hazy. I followed his gaze to where Calla was propped up on a bar stool, in a tiny skirt and a low cut shirt, her wavy brown hair perfectly wrapped behind her ear.

He didn’t notice when I pulled up a chair and plopped into it. He was still focused on my future sis-in-law with more intensity than I’d ever seen from him. I cleared my throat to announce my arrival, “Luke’s sister is pretty cute, huh?”

He jerked his head to me, eyes confused and a bit wild. “What? No. She’s loud and looks like her brother.”

I chuckled, “Hmm, sure.”

He took a sip of his beer and scoffed, “At your book signing, she told me that I looked homeless. I prefer women who don’t insult me the second they see me.”

I laughed loudly and leaned forward in my seat, “Whatever you say, my friend.”

He averted his eyes to the opposite side of the room,

The night continued on, the guests dancing, drinking, and laughing the night away. Luke, his brothers, and Nathan laughed and joked, Marigold and Calla danced while Rachel broke in the karaoke machine with an AC DC song, even Mama B and Jerry got a little wild and almost knocked a table over in a game of beer pong. My cheeks were sore from the perpetual smile I wore, and my heart was full.

In the car on the drive home, Luke squeezed my thigh. “I’m so glad tonight went well. I swear pulling everything together these last few weeks shaved a few years off my life.”

I placed my hand over his, “Everything was perfect and we somehow managed to make it through the night without Crew breaking any windows.”

“Yeah, that’s a miracle alone.”

“Do you ever feel like you were put on Earth to be part of specific moments? Like those pivotal, impactful moments?” I’d had a few drinks throughout the night, so my philosophical thinking could have been attributed to the buzz I was feeling.

Luke hummed and took a right onto our street, “Maybe. Why do you ask?”

“This feels like one of those moments, one I want to hold on to.”

He pulled into the driveway of our new home and turned to me, “All I know is that I want to be there for all your big moments.”

Just when I thought I couldn’t love him more, he had to one-up himself.

And as we were crawling into bed that night, I caught sight of my original first copy of Silhouette in Darkness. I smiled softly at the book I had grown so fond of. It wasn’t perfect, it was actually kind of a mess. But it was my mess, and I knew my writing would only get better from here and I was more than excited to finish my next piece.

The mattress dipped beside me as Luke slid under the blankets, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to my shoulder.

“I love you.”

“I love you more.”

His cheek lifted against my shoulder in a smile before he settled into his pillow. I grinned to myself and opened my book to its dedication one last time before falling asleep next to my person.

To Luke: Thank you for every romfuzzling moment you’ve given me. I’ll cherish them forever.

THE END.

Keep reading to see a bonus chapter in Calla's point of view for the next book in the series!

Thank you all for reading Per My Last Email, the first book in the Wells Family Series. I have got some incredible stories coming up featuring all the siblings and some side characters you saw throughout this story. If you want to see more about what is coming soon, head over to my instagram @author.juliana.smith for bonus scenes, merch, extra content, and more!

Thanks for reading!

Calla (Age 12)

To shiny.objects@gmail.com

From lilypad10@gmail.com

To my new friend,

Hello, howdy, bonjour,

My teacher gave me your email as my assigned partner in our penpal partnerships group.

Since we have to keep this “anonymous,” you can call me Lily. It’s not my real name. Don’t worry. And since we are supposed to email weekly for the next six months, I want to ask you the following questions to get to know you. No point in really working hard on this if we don’t even like each other. There is only one right answer to each, so watch your mouth…or your words, I guess.

1. Which pop tart flavor is the best?

2. What would you name your pinkie toe if it suddenly became its own person?

3. Who would you cast to play you in a movie about your life?

I have more but I decided I’ll go easy on you.

No pressure but these questions will determine if we can truly be friends or not. And I’m pretty cool so if I were you I would think wisely.

Much luck.

Your new friend, Lily.

Chapter One:

Did you know there are over sixty ways to combine English cuss words? And I used almost all of them in the last five minutes.

“Come on, you piece of metal donkey, MOVE.”

I banged my hands on the steering wheel, willing it to allow only forty more feet to the gas station pump. In response, my car shakes and gurgles in its own version of some odd combination of cuss words back at me. I gasped audibly, appalled by my vehicle's attitude.

I decided to take a different approach, good cop, bad cop style.

“You are not a donkey, sweet angel, you are a stallion. A race horse ready to refuel and recharge, in need of a massage and some aromatherapy. I gotchu sis, just keep pushing.”

Miracle of all miracles, my Corolla reaches pump nine. Once we’re there, I hear another gurgle, a tiny pop, and a sigh coming from my engine. I can only assume it’s my car's equivalent of taking her bra off at the end of a long day. I patted the steering wheel, telling her to relax.

I pulled out my wallet, certain a moth flew out. Or maybe a tumbleweed. In the scrawny leather sat thirty-four dollars in cash, a Starbucks gift card with maybe seventy-two cents left, and a business card for a traveling mens barber. The other side of the wallet held things most adults considered practical: my drivers license, debit card, and gym membership card. But none of those would help me, considering I was pretty sure the balance in my checking account last was negative forty-three dollars.

I pulled out a twenty, and tapped my steering wheel again.

“Good job, Lola. Man, I didn’t think you were gonna let me through there for a sec.”

Lola didn’t reply in any kind of way, but she didn’t have to; I knew she was ready to rest.

I took my keys from the ignition and swayed my way through the parking lot and inside of the questionable gas station. It smelled like stale Triscuits with a hint of cigarette smoke, a glorious scent considering about ten minutes ago, I was thinking I’d be stranded forever off the highway, forced to survive on roadkill and a deep breath.

Spending sixty percent of my remaining money on gas felt like a knife to my chest, but then I passed by a tiny stand on the way to the counter that had pecan clusters in it. They were only three dollars, so really once I added it up I was making good financial decisions. It was an investment. I needed to fuel my car, then fuel myself with the cluster.

I think it was when the cashier handed me my change and I didn’t leave a single penny in the donation box that it hit me: I was truly broke. It was time to download fancy financial audiobooks and try to not fall asleep on the drive. I may have spent my entire recent paycheck on my first student loan payment, but I had a framed sports marketing degree and a box of granola bars my roommate left behind in the back that said I was doing just fine soon, thank you very much.

Once I was back on the road and close enough to Philadelphia to get good cell phone reception, I called the first person I wanted to see.

One ring later,my brother answered and grumbled, “You better be on your way. Layla‘s been talking about wanting to see you since she woke up.”

I smiled at the thought. “Of course she has been, I’m her favorite future sis-in-law—”

“Only future sister-in-law.”

“—is coming to see her,” I finished my rudely interrupted sentence.

I’d been making these plans for weeks now, preparing myself to pack my things—which was only a few boxes and my favorite pillow—and come back to Philadelphia. Back to family.

“What time are you getting here? We get pretty slammed around six or so.” I could hear the smile in his voice; he was excited to see me, too.

“I am about…” I looked at the ETA on my GPS, “thirty minutes away. Are you sure you guys don’t mind me staying?”

He chuckled and I heard a muffled voice in the background, which I assumed was his fiancé.

“Layla already has scented candles and new pillow cases set up in our spare room for you.”

I sighed. Ugh, love that girl. I pushed so hard for their relationship when Luke and Layla were just friends, and now that they’re together, I’m wondering if he is even worthy enough.

“Tell her that she deserves better than you.”

He groaned. “I’m not telling her that.”

I sing-songed, “Just saying.”

There was practically an audible eye roll from him, “See you soon. Try not to kill any curbs on the way here.”

I smiled and hung up. I was ready to be back. More than ready, really.

It felt far overdue to come back into town after the spring semester—which had nearly killed me. But after graduating—thank you, Jesus—and quitting my not-so-fabulous job as a local Chuck-E-Cheese waitress, I was willing to sacrifice my left pinkie toe to be back in Philadelphia. One perk of having Luke as my brother: I know I always have a temporary place to stay in the city.

I visit pretty often, but I usually stayed at my parents house. However, last time, I walked in on them playing Twister barely clothed and have since had to thoroughly bleach my eyes. I still haven’t recovered. So I figured it was better to walk in on Layla typing like a maniac at three a.m.---wild haired and wide eyed, all caffeinated like she hadn’t slept in three days—than my surprisingly frisky parents. I shivered.

Only this trip would be a little longer than usual, considering I was homeless, broke, and no longer working for the second-most famous mouse. It’s fine, everything is fine.

Pulling into the newly paved parking lot, I lifted my gaze to the brightly lit Romfuzzled sign and smiled. I opened my car door, and before my feet could touch the ground, the soft, sweet, and slightly floral from the flower patches Layla had forced Luke to play outside the entrance scent of spring hit me like a ton of bricks. My tennis shoes sank onto the warm asphalt in the July heat that greeted me, instantly frizzing my slightly curly hair.

“Honey, I’m home!” I announced the moment I pushed through the wooden French doors into the bar.

Layla, who had been sitting at the bar, shot up from her stool and ran over to me, leaving her open laptop and a half-eaten pizza slice behind. I opened my arms wide in anticipation of her warm hug and squeezed her tight.

It was a miracle of some sort that my brother had Layla in his life. To have found someone as nerdy as him but with a heart of gold, and as beautiful as she was. I was more than excited to have Layla as my sister-in-law in just a few months, although it felt like we had been family since the day we met. I remember how Luke looked at her from day one, longing for something, anything with her. Oblivious to each other’s infatuation, it was fun watching them circle around for a few years before finally realizing what they had.

“Oh I missed you!” Layla squeezed me tightly around my waist and rocked us side to side. When she pulled away she looked me up and down, “Are you hungry? Are you eating enough? I know what it’s like to be broke right when you get out of school. Come here and eat pizza with me.”

I laughed and followed her to the bar, because I was indeed broke and unfortunately, I couldn’t live off turtle clusters for the rest of my life.

Plopping onto the wooden barstool, I kicked my feet back and forth and happily bit into a slice of pepperoni pizza. Layla placed her head on her hands and studied me. “So, tell me everything. How long are you here? What are your plans?”

I almost choked on my bite of pizza because I had no plans. I had less than no plans. I had negative scheduling, which was the same as my bank account. I needed a roof to live under where there are no spontaneous twister games and a job where I’m not singing happy birthday to children.

“Right now, the plan is to find a job using my degree and somewhere cheap to stay so I’m not bumming off you guys forever.”

Layla nodded. “We have more room than we know what to do with and the company is nice. You’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like.”

“No you’re not.” A voice I knew all too well piped up from down the bar, and I turned to see Luke striding our way with a smirk.

I rolled my eyes. “I’m only here for Layla. You know that, right?”

He chuckled and tossed the dishrag from his shoulder onto the bar.

“Do you want a drink?”

“Is it free?”

My brother rolled his eyes,.“I guess this one can be.”

I nodded. “Good, because I don’t want to spend my last seven dollars on a drink called Paperclips.”

It was only three in the afternoon but who cared?

Luke turned to start mixing the drink, but Layla stood from her barstool. “Wait, let me do it!”

Luke smiled at her and jerked his head. “Come on, little one.”

She happily meandered to where all the liquor was. Looking over at me, she smiled. “I’ve been working on learning new drinks when I’m not writing. Luke says I’m pretty good.”

Luke nodded, but the second she turned around, he widened his eyes into a death stare and shook his head, mouthing, “No she’s not.”

I watched as Layla happily bounced around behind the bar, measuring different liquids to make my drink as Luke supervised, shaking his head I don’t think he had the heart to tell her how wrong she was.

Once she was done, Layla set down an purpley-orange drink in front of me and stuck a straw in. She stared intensely, waiting on the tips of her toes for me to take a sip. My eyes trailed to my brother, who stood behind his fiancé, his eyes giving me a warning that this was not going to be the best drink I’ve ever had.

Faking a grin, I leaned to take a sip. The description said something along the lines of mango and peaches but this…this tasted like mouthwash. Stale mouthwash that had been sitting in a cabinet for seven years.

I hummed and held back my gag. “Wow…so good, Lay.”

She bounced on her toes. “Really? I’m so glad!” She turned to Luke. “I think you need to hire me when I’m not writing.”

He placed a possessive hand on her lower back, kissing her temple. “Maybe one day, little one. Can you actually go ask Alex if he needs any help stocking in the back? I’ll be back there in just a sec.”

She smiled at him and nodded before turning back to me. “Don’t say I never gave you anything.” She pointed at the wretched drink in front of me, and I forced a smile.

Once she was far enough away I looked at my brother. “You’ve got to tell her.”

He simply shrugged. “I can’t yet. It’s too cute watching how excited she gets. She always made my coffee taste really good so I just assumed she’d be good at this, too.”

“You were wrong.”

“I was wrong.”

We both laughed as he wiped down the surface of the already clean bar.

“So, you’re looking for somewhere to work?”

I took another sip of my awful drink, immediately regretted it, and pushed it away. “Yeah, preferably something where my sports marketing degree could come in handy. But my resumé isn’t very impressive. Waiting tables at a kids birthday party lunch and selling prom dresses in high school don’t exactly come off as experienced.”

He nodded, tongue in cheek like he was thinking of my options. “You could work for me, you know? Handle our social media, marketing, what not. Layla’s done great at it lately, but it takes away from her writing time. I bet she’d love a break.”

I scrunched my nose. Working for my brother and living with him? That was asking for way too much; I could have one or the other.

He sensed my apprehension. “Pay’s good, food’s good. And I can almost guarantee that there will be no mice or singing happy birthday to sticky, pizza-covered children.”

That did sound enticing. Managing social media for my brother's bar wasn’t exactly what I wanted to do forever, but it would be a nice addition to my resumé. Plus, it would probably take me a while to find a sports marketing job in such a male-dominated business. A lot of the hiring agencies didn’t look past my name, but if I had some more experience under my belt…

“Maybe. I don’t know, I’ll think about it. But I couldn’t live with you guys if I worked here. It’s too much. I’d need to find somewhere else to stay.”

He nodded and crossed his arms. “I don’t really know where else you could stay. I mean the only things that are cheap are out in the middle of nowhere in places I really don’t want you staying at by yourself—”

“Just stay with Nathan,” Layla interrupted as she exited the wooden swinging door to our left.

Oh heavens. The day Luke moved into an apartment with Nathan Huxley was possibly the most uncomfortable first impression I’d ever suffered through. I’d shown up to “help” my brother move some things in his new place, but truthfully, I was only there for moral support and because I knew Mom made coconut cake everytime someone moved or had a big celebration.

But when I got there, I knocked on the fancy apartment door, expecting my stinky, glasses-wearing brother to open it. Instead, I was treated to an entirely different sight. A man, tall and broody, lifted an arm to the door frame and leaned against it. His white shirt stretched across his chest and tightened at his shoulders. Forcing my gaze up, I noticed his black hat had a tiny Mickey Mouse stitched onto it. Cute, I’d thought. He was super, super cute. Cute actually didn’t cut it; he was down right book boyfriend material. The hero in the romantic comedy I had listened to on the way there had nothing on this guy. I nearly folded, my knees a little shaky, and I had a hard time standing my ground, a rare occurrence considering most men typically did not intimidate me.

“Oh,” the mystery man scanned me up and down with a small grin. “The modeling photographer actually lives a few doors down.”

Flattered, I tucked a piece of hair behind my ear and looked up at him. “Actually, I—”

“Yeah, take that hallway to the right of the elevators and he's four-one-three. This is four-three-one.”

“Sorry, I think—”

He took a step back in the apartment and began closing the door, “Don’t worry, happens all the time here. If you need more directions, come back and I can walk you over there.”

I opened my mouth once again, but the door was slammed in my face before I could say a word. I stood in shock for a moment. He thought I was a model? And one who's poor with directions for that matter.

I knocked once more, and after some shuffling, the door opened again, revealing the same man.

“Alright, darling, I’ll walk you there. Let me just get my Crocs—”

“Nathan! Who is it?” Luke’s recognizable voice thundered from a room behind this guy—Nathan, I assumed.

“Ahh, one of Larry’s girls again. Don’t worry, I’m taking her—”

“Luke!” I shouted his name over the man covering the doorway, making my presence known.

Nathan looked down at me as if I was a newspaper crossword puzzle he’d been working on for weeks and had no clue what eleven across was—eyebrows furrowed, mouth below his dark scruff twisted into a confused pucker. He looked back at Luke, and then to me again.

Luke approached the door. “Sorry, I should’ve mentioned you were coming.”

Nathan backed away, still looking lost, so Luke made introductions.

“Oh, Calla, this is Nathan. Nathan, my sister, Calla.”

Nathan stared down at me and back to my brother once more, as though he couldn’t fathom our blood relation.

“Oh my gosh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean,” he stuttered, his head shaking.

I smiled. “It’s okay, really. Not the first time a door got slammed in my face.”

“What?” Luke piped up. “You slammed the door in her face?”

“I…um…should probably have a better introduction.”

Nathan turned to me and stuck a hand out, I supposed to shake my hand, but it came across more like an apology side hug. So I turned my body, only to have him hand land right on my left boob. He tried to…shake…my boob.

Nathan's face turned beet red. “Oh no, that wasn’t meant to be like that. I need to lie down,” he sputtered out before running out of the entryway and into one of the bedrooms. I heard a door slam, and a lock click into place.

Yeah, weird to say the least.

Every interaction after that was even worse. The time he spilled water on me at Layla’s book signing. The awkward stares during Romfuzzled’s opening night. That one time I ran into him while on a coffee date, where he had on socks with tiny red birds paired with birken stocks and said, “Howdy do.”

The oddest part was I’d heard him on the phone with Layla, totally normal. Cool and collected. Laughing, talking normally. I’d watched the way he and Luke acted in Layla’s videos at work. He acted very human, not shaking anyone’s boobs or anything. But I guess since it’s been weird from day one, he felt awkward around me.

I shook my head and laughed, “Yeah, no. I’m not staying with him.”

Layla pouted. “Oh, he’s so sweet, though. Luke loved living with him. I think he still misses it sometimes.”

Luke rolled his eyes. “I miss seeing him, not living with him. I will say, though, he’s a great roommate.”

I grimaced. “Won’t that bother you? Me staying in the same place as your best friend?” My nose scrunched like they’d suggested I take a shot of raw eggs.

Luke shrugged. “Nah. Nathan’s the best. Clean, and keeps to himself mostly. The only thing is you’ll hear him playing guitar from time to time, but he’ll keep it down if you ask.”

He plays guitar? Welcome to Swoon City, population: me. How did I never know that?

I ran over the options in my head: live with Nathan in his fancy apartment with his stupid hot self, mooch off my brother and sister-in-law and become a life sucking leech, or accept my inevitable doom and find a very thick cardboard box outside the local Best Buy for my new habitat.

Reluctantly I sighed and said, “I guess just call him to see what he says?”

Really, how bad could living with my brother's best friend be?

Acknowledgments

BIG thank you to everyone who helped me bring this book together! I feel like I could list off names all day long, but there are two specific groups of women I wanted to dedicate this book to since they inspired this book and helped me make it, even if they have no idea they helped.

Amy Angel Team (aka the worlds best coworkers), thank you for every prank, every funny joke, every mention of previous bosses that shall not be named but were definitely some great inspiration for some characters here. You all are a constant reminder to take risks, make jumps, and find great people to surround yourself with when days can get tough. Amy, LeAnne, Nicole, and Elizabeth: I love you each, thanks for those romfuzzling days where we just don't want work to end.

To my burnt pancakes, I can honestly say this book NEVER would have came together without you guys.

Kelsey, thank you for always giving me the sweetest feedback and being a bright light in some dark days. (also for coming up with the collarbone scene)

Madison, thank you for romanticizing everything and being such an inspiration to Layla's writing personality, which may or may not be where Layla's last name came from. You are an incredible friend and I'll always cherish you.

Amanda, thank you for dealing with my AWFUL grammar. For proofreading late in the night when all you want to do is go to bed. You are so fierce, loyal, smart, and bold; all traits I love to see in you. Also thank you for that one time I basically had a panic attack and had to rewrite this whole book and you stuck with me the whole way.

My sweet hubby, Justin, you deserve every book dedication there is but since I can't exactly do that, I'll just put this here. Thank you for being the best husband, father, and friend I could have. You are everything to me and not a day goes by where I take that for granted. Please deal with my moody self forever.

My Saylor Oaklyn, I hope you get to read this one day and know that I had so much fun getting to write this book while rocking you to sleep at night. I love you more than you'll ever know and by the time you are old enough for me to actually allow you to read this book I'll have plenty of times to tell you that. I can't wait to embarrass you when you're older but for now I'll settle for just squishing your fat little cheeks for now.

Lastly, shout out to my incredible beta readers as well, you all were wonderful!

Juliana Smith is an author in a small town in Alabama. She is a full-time realtor, and part-time author, but she spends a lot of her time with her husband and daughter. Juliana writes heartfelt romance filled with laughter and warm fuzzies. She can usually be found in a Chic-fil-a drive-thru or listening to Star Wars theory podcasts, often at the same time.

To subscribe to her super amazing newsletter and receive VIP behind-the-scenes, special offers, and exclusives go to her Instagram @authorjulianasmith .

Table of Contents

Blurbs

Dedication

Map of West Oak

1. Prologue

2. Luke

3. Layla

4. Luke

5. Layla

6. Luke

7. Layla

8. Luke

9. Luke

10. Layla

11. Luke

12. Layla

13. Luke

14. Layla

15. Layla

16. Luke

17. Luke

18. Layla

19. Luke

20. Layla

21. Luke

22. Layla

23. Luke

24. Layla

25. Luke

26. Layla

27. Luke

28. Luke

29. Layla

30. Luke

31. Luke

32. Layla

33. Luke

34. Luke

35. Layla

36. Luke

37. Layla

38. Layla

39. Epilogue

Afterword

40. Bonus chapter!

Acknowledgments

About Author