Page 56 of Beautiful Thing

I press my lips together. “Yeah. Felix saw right through us the other night at the bar. He knew immediately that we’re faking it.”

“Crap. So did Ziggy,” she mutters, her shoulders dropping.

I let out a sigh. Damn. I really thought this would work. That this was my key to not being miserable for the entire lead-up to the big wedding. My key to making it through the event without losing my sanity.

“Well, I mean, despite ‘knowing’ each other all these years, we don’t reallyknoweach other all that well,” Layla points out. “I didn’t even know what your favorite meal was.”

I consider that. “I guess you’re right. So, what’syourfavorite meal?”

“Tacos.” She lets out a little laugh. “But not just any tacos. It has to be street tacos with freshly grown cilantro and onions. And cheese. Lots of cheese.”

I tilt my head to the side. “I’m not a big fan of cilantro, but that does sound good.”

Layla finishes her last bite of stew and pushes the plate away. Her gaze falls to my lips. “When was your first kiss?” she asks.

“Oh. Uh.” I cringe. “Eighth grade.”

She lets out a gasp. “Who?!”

I try my best to recall the details. “It was a girl that asked me to homecoming and then kissed me during the first dance. I only went to be nice to her—she was a sweet girl, but I just didn’t know her well enough—so the whole thing was awkward as hell.”

She giggles and I love seeing her this way.

“And you? When was your first kiss?” I ask, even though I really don’t want to think about Layla kissing anyone.

“Ninth grade.”

“No details?”

She shrugs. “He was older than me. Kissed like a squid. Wouldn’t recommend.”

I chuckle. “Okay, fair enough.”

We sit side by side with the music playing low. We continue to question each other, each gleaning basic pieces of information about the other. Things that we should already know as a couple.

Her shy grin twinkles across at me and, in my head, every part of this night feels like a real date although I know it shouldn’t.Fuck.

“This is really nice,” Layla says, a soft sparkle in her eyes.

“What?” I question, my gaze flitting over her pretty face.

She shrugs slightly. “Getting to know you on a deeper level.”

I feel an unfamiliar sensation scamper through my chest. “Yeah.”

Over the years, I’ve figured out the basics of who Layla really is. I know she’s sometimes insecure about being an unwed mom. I know she’s self-conscious about her post-pregnancy body—even though she sure as hell shouldn’t be. I know she’s strong as hell. I know that no matter how life tries to beat her down, she gets right back up to her feet each and every time.

But I don’t know what her first job was. I don’t know what her favorite subject was back in school. I don’t know if she wants more kids some day. I don’t know where she wants to travel to.

And suddenly, I’m greedy to know all of it.

“Do you snore?” she asks suddenly. “I bet you snore.”

I gasp dramatically. “No. Never.”

Layla rolls her eyes. “Well, if anyone asks, I’m telling them you snore horribly.”

“And I’ll deny it.” I smirk. “What’s your dream vacation? Anywhere you’ve ever dreamed of going?”

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