Page 53 of Beautiful Thing

Even still, I can’t just let this dress thing slide. “I’ll take it,” I tell Daphne, reaching for my wallet in my back pocket.

She blinks. “What…?”

“I’ll take the dress.” I stroll toward the cash register.

Layla clearly liked it if she was checking it out. But she wouldn’t let herself have it. For whatever reason, she thought she didn’t deserve it. I can’t just ignore that.

I refuse to have her out here in the world, thinking that anything she wants is ‘too much’ for her.

Daphne comes up to the counter and begins neatly folding up the dress. A smile slowly unfolds across her face, widening by the second.

“What?” I question her.

Her head tilts to the side. “You were single all this time, but I always knew you’d make an amazing boyfriend. I’m so happy for you and Layla.”

It’s my turn to blink.Boyfriend?Oh, right. Boyfriend. I’m Layla’s boyfriend. At least in the eyes of the world. I lean into it.

“I got lucky,” I say with a shrug.

I slap down my bank card on the counter and head to the wash room to clean up my grimy hands. Or more like, to get away from Daphne’s excited energy over what shethinksis going on between Layla and me.

There’s a voice in my head, asking me if this is too weird, too intimate. Layla is my friend. Is it inappropriate for me to be buying her sexy dresses?

I decide not to overthink it. As far as everyone is concerned, Layla is mine. Of course it wouldn’t be inappropriate to buy her nice gifts. It would be inappropriate for menot to.

By the time I’m walking out of the boutique with my dainty pink shopping bag moments later, I’ve already dismissed the thought.

But then I run head-on into a group of older ladies exiting Felix’s medical clinic and I’m second-guessing everything all over again.

“Oh, hello there, Archer,” Miss Rosie says brightly, her attention immediately zeroing in on me.

“Hello, ladies. Lovely evening, isn’t it? Bye now.” I make a desperate attempt to dodge them as I try to stroll past.

“Doing some shopping, I see?” Miss Debra asks, shamelessly eyeballing my shopping bag.

“Just, um, picking up a few things.” I flinch, attempting to hide it with a tight smile.

The women circle around me like sharks ready to attack. “Ooh! Who’s the lucky lady?” Miss Holly cranes her neck, trying to peek inside.

“My, uh, grandma…?” I try. And I fail.

Miss Debra rolls her eyes. “I heard it’s Layla.” She glances over her shoulder to confirm with her friends. “It’s Layla, isn’t it? At least, that’s what I heard.”

Rainbow strolls over from where she just shut down her stall at the farmer’s market across the street. She pretends to give the women a stern look. “Would you all just stop being nosy? Archer’s love life is none of our business.” But a second later, her own excitement is overflowing. “But if itisLayla, that would be so delightful.” She grips my arm. “Please tell me it’s Layla. That poor girl has been through so much. Ansel has put her through absolute hell. And I just know you’ll be good to her and Sky.”

I look around at the expectant eyes beaming up at me like I’m some sort of hero. I feel a reckless twinge of pride in my chest when I publicly claim Layla as mine. “Yes, it’s true. Layla’s my girl.”

The women squeal with delight, drawing attention from the market all the way across the street.

“Oh, thank the lord.” When Miss Debra’s knees go weak, my arms dart out to catch her before she hits the ground.

The ladies chat giddily as they drag me to the farmer’s market. Before I can understand what’s happening, we’re going from booth to booth as all the vendors are shutting down business for the day. They’re suggesting perfumes and chocolates and jewelry that I should gift to my new girlfriend.

As overwhelming as it is, I sort of like it. I like imagining giving Layla the best life has to offer. But at the same time, I don’t want to weird her out. This is all fake, after all. The rest of the town just doesn’t know that.

In the end, I settle on a necklace with a rose quartz pendant, a homemade perfume and a pretty bouquet of flowers. I think it all matches the vibe of her new dress, but what do I know about flowers or about fashion or about any of this?

And more importantly, I don’t know how Layla will feel when I show up at home with a truckload of presents for her.

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