Page 68 of I Still Love You

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Layla

“Are you going to tell me why you’re really calling?” Claire questions with curiosity. “You never call only me on break. Britney is always here for the conversations, too.”

I chose Claire over Britney simply because Britney—and I wouldn’t say this to her face—is a tad more uptight. Her eyes would bug out of her head if I told her what happened between Luke and me at the charity dinner.

I take a pitiful bite out of my sandwich, dropping it back in my lunch container. “I did something bad,” I tell her, holding my phone in front of my face on speakerphone. I crank up the air conditioning in my car—because, yes, I’ve resorted to eating lunch in my vehicle so I can get the weight of my poor choices off my chest.

“Define something bad.” Her chewing sounds from the other end of the phone, making me feel guilty for laying this on her during her workday, but what else am I supposed to do?

I should be more confident in myself, more trusting in my emotions, but this is all new for me. My heart is in it now, and it’s taking me down a dangerous path, one laden with heartbreak.

“We had sex.”

“What was that?”

“I said we had sex,” I repeat louder this time.

“Layla, I can’t hear you. Speak up. You and Luke did what?”

“We had sex!” I shout, swallowing down the thickness of it as soon as the words spill. “It was thoughtless and dumb, and I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“Why do anything?” Claire nonchalantly asks, like it’s no big deal. It’s an enormous deal. One that could very well break us. “Or didn’t you get off? I can definitely see how it’s a problem if that’s the case.”

“What?” I shake my head. “No, I didn’t, not get off.” My cheeks burn with embarrassment. “I did get off, but that’s not the point here.”

“Then what’s the problem? Last time I checked, sex is perfectly healthy for two consenting adults. It helps you sleep better, strengthens your immune system, and reduces stress. You probably should fuck him again just for that last one since you’ve been a bundle of nerves since you got here. You’re the one in healthcare. You should be aware of all these things.”

“The problem is that we broke up.”

“From your fake relationship?”

“Yes. We called it quits after the whole Andrew thing, but he’s being nice, Claire, and then he invited me to the charity dinner for that baseball game the hospital runs that I was telling you about. We went, and…”

“You went, and you had sex?” Claire questions, amused by my freak out. If this were Britney, she’d be freaking out with me. Maybe I should call her afterward, so someone can tell me how stupid I am.

“A bunch of guys saw my boob,” I clarify, leading up to the point of Luke and me in the conference room.

“What the hell kind of charity was this? Were other women flashing their titties, too, or just you? You always did play by your own rules.”

My stomach shakes with a laugh. “Shut up. Let me finish.”

“Okay, okay, you whipped out your titty, then what? Did you flash your vag, too?”

“Claire!”

“Shutting up now. Continue.”

“The strap on my dress broke, and my boob fell out. Luke covered me with his hand. His hand, Claire.” I take another bite of my sandwich. “So, in order to save face—and so no one else could get a look—we found this unused conference room, and…I can’t share the rest.”

“It got freaky-deaky in there, didn’t it?” She clicks her tongue. “Little Miss Layla, fucking her ex-fiancé at her hospital’s charity dinner. You’re definitely going to hell. You know that?”

I stare at my half-eaten sandwich. “I haven’t seen him since. What the hell am I supposed to say to him when I do?”

“Layla,” Claire says, “you’ve been in a legit relationship with this man. Something tells me you have it covered.”

“It’s different this time.” I stuff the last bite of my sandwich in my mouth and groan in exasperation.

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