Page 5 of Beautiful Thing

It goes on and on and on.

I make small talk until my throat is sore—my own personal nightmare—since I’d rather just be left alone. I get pulled into one conversation after the next, and I lose track of Layla several times.

The worst part of it all is the women of all ages coming up and hitting on me. The thumbs up and winks of encouragement from my brothers across the room aren’t making matters any better.

Currently, some girls young enough to be jailbait are fighting for the microphone to give their best impression of Marilyn Monroe’s famousHappy Birthdayperformance.

I tune it all out, scanning the place until I find Layla again. She’s with her girlfriends at the bar, getting her drink refilled. Now that Ziggy and Darius are expecting a baby, all the girls have been sticking to fancy non-alcoholic lemonades as a show of solidarity.

When the creepy birthday performance is over and the stereo comes back on, my sister pulls Layla to the dance floor, and she goes willingly. Daphne and Ziggy join in and they all laugh as they dance around. Seeing them having a good time makes me crack a smile.

At least someone should enjoy this party that’s been forced on me.

As people continue to come up to me and talk my ear off, my eyes keep roaming back to Layla and her little pink dress. It’sgot long sleeves and dips low in the back and swishes around her knees. It’s far less revealing than the other women’s outfits tonight. Even still, it’s a heart-stopping departure from her usual jeans and sweaters. And she is hands down sexier than everyone else in this bar.

After way too much useless chitchat, my social battery is completely drained. With a tired sigh, I collapse into my favorite booth in the back of the bar, cringing at the fact that my face is plastered on poster paper hanging above my head.

I stare at Layla. I don’t even bother trying to hide it.

She twirls carelessly around the dance floor, her laughter floating up in the air.

Soon, her eyes find mine, and she catches me staring.

I should look away. But I don’t. I can’t. She holds my gaze for a moment and my pulse ricochets in my neck.

With a sly grin, she leaves her friends on the dance floor and finds her way to me.

“Hey there,” she says playfully when she makes it to the edge of my booth. “Has anybody asked you to dance tonight, birthday boy?”

A jolt zips through me but I try to play it cool. “Eh. Sorry. I’m not really in a dancing mood.”

Layla rolls her eyes, scoffing at me. “Are you ever? Come on.” She stretches a hand out. “You only turn thirty-seven once. And thirty-seven calls for dancing.”

I glance over her back, finding all my nosy siblings watching our exchange. Ugh. It’s times like this that I wish I could have been an only child.

Returning my attention to Layla, I sluggishly lift a shoulder. “I’ll be thirty-seven for the next three hundred and sixty five days. And then, guess what?”

She leans in, gaze riveted on mine. “What?”

I lean closer, too. “Then, I’ll be…thirty-eight.”

She barks out a laugh, throwing her head back. The dazzling sound makes the wires spark to life inside my chest. It’s sad to say, but this beautiful girl laughing at my lame joke is the highpoint of my whole day.

“Exactly!” She points a dainty finger at me. “By this time next year, you’ll be too frail to even get out of your chair, and you’ll regret that you wasted this youthful night.”

I want to turn her down because there are way too many eyes following my every move right now. But I’m reminded of the night of Karli and Mason’s wedding. At the reception, I’d really, really wanted to dance with Layla. But long story short, I’d missed my shot when I practically head-butted her and almost gave her a concussion instead.

After that, I spent countless nights lying awake, wondering what it would have been like to dance with Layla. To hold her close. To have her in my arms. I can’t make the same mistake tonight.

She waves her still-outstretched hand at me. “Everybody’s watching.” She smirks. “Don’t leave me hanging. Dance with me, old man.”

I let out a sigh, knowing I’ll have to listen to my brothers’s bullshit later.“Fine.”

There’s a victorious bounce in Layla’s step as she leads me to a spot on the floor near the jukebox. Then suddenly, the most beautiful girl in the room is encased in my arms, exactly the way I’ve always wanted her to be.

And for the life of me, I can no longer remember why it even bothered me to have my siblings all gawking at me.I couldn’t care less who’s watching. Not right now, at least.

I’m far too busy, focused on how to keep from pulling Layla’s soft body flush against mine and wrapping her up in a way that’s not appropriate for a pre-ten o’clock birthday party.

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