Page 101 of Spark

“Can you blame them? It’s no contest.”

Laila takes a bite of her sandwich. “You two seem closer than ever. You’ve had fun staying at his place, huh?”

I stare at her with narrowed eyes. I had a feeling the other day that Kendrick had told Savage about our fling, but then I got too distracted by a dildo in my ass and a dick in my vag to remember to ask about it. Well, based on the way Laila keeps trying to steer this conversation to Kendrick, I’m thinking my hunch was right: Kendrick told his best friend everything, and his best friend then turned around and told his wife.

“What did Savage tell you?” I ask.

“About what?”

“Laila.”

“Savage didn’t tell me anything.” She smiles broadly. “But you just did.”

“Laila, come on.”

“Okay, okay, yes, I know about you and Kendrick having a little fun while you’re staying there. But don’t blame Savage. I never believed that kiss at Reed’s party was for the hidden cameras. I know what I saw. And so does everyone else who witnessed it. You can’t fake passion like that.”

My face flushes with heat, and Laila giggles.

“So, things are going well? The sex is good?”

“Good doesn’t come close to covering it. It’s been magical. Supernatural.Transformative.”

“Oh my gosh! Are you in love? Are you official?”

I exhale. “Slow down, sister. It’s not like that. It’s just a fling—a friends-with-benefits fling that will expire when I move back into my place.”

Laila looks at me like I’ve got a horn growing out of myforehead. “How is that possible? I mean,still? I get it to start with, but if it’s going as well as you said . . .”

“We both wanted it this way. It’s for the best. The only way we both felt comfortable to do this at all?—”

“Butwhy? Why have a fling when you two already love each other as friends?”

“That’s what I’m trying to explain to you. We both realized we were curious about our physical chemistry, but not enough to let lust mess up the love we already feel for each other.” Laila’s silent for so long, I can’t help asking, “What? Why are you reacting like this?”

Laila slowly chews on her sandwich. “No reason.”

“Don’t give me that. Spill, Laila.”

“There’s nothing to spill.”

“You know something.”

“I don’t know anything.”

“Then why do you look like you’re physically biting your tongue?”

“Because I have eyeballs. Because I can plainly see what’s right in front of me, unlike you. Because it’s obvious to me you two aren’t acting like you’re in love for a show.”

I’m gobsmacked by Laila’s implication. But finally, I’m able to choke out, “You think Kendrick is in love with me for real?”

“You don’t?”

“No. Of course, not. He . . . he’s . . . helovesme, yes. Deeply. But he’s notin lovewith me.”

Laila’s not buying it. It’s written all over her face. “What about you? You love him deeply, but you’re not in love with him?”

My chest is tight. My cheeks are burning. “That’s right.”

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