Page 37 of The Playboy's Playbook

I drove us to the Waffle House closer to home, and the moment we walked in, we both visibly relaxed. It’s practically empty, sparing us the stares and whispers for one more night. Laila hasn’t said anything, but I can tell she’s nervous about being seen with me. It’s not that she’s ashamed of me — at least, I don’t think so. But I’ve got a reputation, and it’s not the kind people would expect someone like her to willingly associate with.

Laila changed out of her heels and into a pair of sandals she brought with her and I gave her one of my hoodies that I keep in the truck so she wouldn’t get cold inside.

“I don’t know why I didn’t seek you out after second grade,” I begin, after I eat a bite of toast.

“Matt, it’s fine. We have each other now,” Laila says, a small smile dancing across her face.

“I was a dick,” I deadpan.

“I never said you weren’t,” she chuckles, a small spark coming back to her brown irises.

I nod and look down, ashamed of my actions. “I made you feel like you weren’t worthy. Nobody should ever feel like that. I’m so sorry I put you through that.”

She shrugs her shoulders. “Consider it forgotten and you forgiven. You did pay for two amazing dates in one night.”

Laila shimmies from her side of the booth and slides in next to me. Once she’s settled, she presses a soft kiss to my lips. This kiss feels different than our other ones. It may be small, but it’s full of emotion.

Something’s changed here. Something’s changed between us.

“We should go. Nola’s been left alone for a long time,” I say as I take out some cash to pay our bill. Laila nods and scoots out of the booth. I follow closely behind her and take her hand in mine as we walk back to my truck.

It’s almost nine o’clock and the sky is completely covered in a sheet of stars. Laila’s quiet, as if she’s contemplating tonight. I hope she doesn’t regret being with me.

I don’t know what I’d do if she does.

Laila and I are sitting on the steps of her mom’s front porch, the only sound surrounding us being the low whistle of the wind. She’s changed into a loose t-shirt and shorts while I let Nola out to use the bathroom. Her hair’s out of the ponytail now, curls tumbling freely and catching in the breeze.

She’s so fucking beautiful.

Laila chuckles. “I’m just going to say thank you because I don’t think you meant to say that out loud.”

I facepalm. “I wanted to keep that one to myself.”

She looks over at me and laughs. She leans her head on my shoulder and I lay mine on top of hers before lacing our fingers together. I contemplate telling Laila about my past because she deserves to know. I just…I’m so close to having her that I’m afraid if I tell her now, it’ll ruin everything I’ve worked so hard for.

Tell her the truth.

No, it’ll break her heart.

“Laila,” I begin at the same time she says, “Matt.”

We share a laugh and I nod, letting her go first. She looks at me and her voice drops. “Don’t go home tonight.”

I look at her, a stunned expression on my face. “Are you sure?”

She smiles and nods. “Stay with me. Please.”

Tell her now, Matty. Before you walk inside the house, follow her into her room, and shut the door. Tell her now because if you don’t, everything can go straight to shit. Tell her.

But I don’t.

Chapter Eighteen

LAILA

Rot to hell or not, I’ve tried to fight my feelings for Matt. He sets every nerve-ending I have on fire, making me feel alive for the first time in my life.

“Baby, we can wait a while longer,” Matt says, walking toward me and placing his hands on my hips once we’re in my room. I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him closer to me, feeling his hardness press on my lower half.

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