Page 47 of Love, Academically
“Ieuan,” Rhys corrected.
“That’s what I said.”
“No, you said Ian. It’s Yigh-an.” Rhys shrugged haughtily. “Sometimes English people struggle.”
“Ha, ha. Yigh-an, Yigh-an,” she tested.
“You’ve got it, Ieuan.” He smiled that smile again, and she looked to her food, swallowing quickly.
“Please tell me the rest of your family have more easily pronounceable names?” she begged.
“Bleddyn, Myfanwy, Angharad, Myrddin. You know, standard Welsh names.”
Lila took a breath. “I’m going to have to practice. I can’t have your family thinking I’m some uneducated heathen.”
What if they hated her? She wasn’t rich, she wasn’t of good breeding stock or whatever rich people said and she certainly wasn’t Welsh. The least she could do was get their names right. What if they thought she was just too plain next to Rhys? What if she let him down? What if—
“I’m teasing, Lila,” he said, raising his eyebrows at her. A small smile crossed his face.
“Is that the first time you’ve made a joke? Ever?”
Rhys sat back in his chair and crossed his arms across his chest, assessing her. “Lila, you’ll be absolutely fine. I wouldn’t have asked you if I didn’t think you could do it.”
High praise indeed.
“Thank you, Rhys,” she said. “I promise, I’ll be the best fake girlfriend you’ve ever had.”
Rhys
Rhys’s car still smelled of cookies and vanilla long after he’d dropped Lila home. Her smell got literally everywhere. He’d have to vacuum the car, because if there was the remotest chance that there wasglitterin the car (and there was always that chance with Lila), then he had to get rid of it.
He’d been tempted to linger in Lila’s house, accept the proffered cup of tea, but Dan had texted as they were leaving the pub, wanting to meet up, so now he was on his way. It was surprising that Dan had asked him to meet up so spontaneously; he knew that Rhys preferred to make plans rather than have things sprung on him. Since Dan had been missing in action, hefelt he should see him. Even if only to show how displeased he was with Dan missing kickboxing all the time.
“Dan,” he greeted, putting his lemonade on the table. Why was it that small, local pubs always had the most uncomfortable wooden chairs, second only to plastic hospital chairs?
“Rhys, hey man,” Dan said, looking up from his phone. “I got you a pint.”
“I’ve already had one and I’m driving,” Rhys said, pushing the beer towards Dan. “Everything okay? Your text was quite cryptic.”
All it had said was:
Pint. The Cross Rifles. 8pm.
Rhys was not used to being ordered around, he was usually the one doing the ordering. He clenched his jaw, because now he knew how Lila had felt when he’d ordered rather than asked earlier. That was a whole new level of empathy that he really didn’t want to slide into.
“I haven’t seen you. I wanted to catch up,” Dan said.
Catch up? Rhys raised an eyebrow because that certainly did not sound like Dan.
“Jasmeet cancel on you?” That would be the most obvious explanation.
“No, we didn’t have plans tonight,” Dan said, sipping his pint.
“Are you planning on ever coming to kickboxing?” Rhys asked pointedly. “Because I hate going with different people.”
“Yeah, sorry I’ve been a bit AWOL,” Dan said with a grin. “But Jasmeet is amazing.”
Dan obviously wanted to talk about her. This was not ‘catching up’. Rhys settled back into the uncomfortable chair.
