JOSH
“I know,” Zack says, as Layla steps inside the flat, wide-eyed. “He went overboard. I tried to tell him, but he wouldn’t listen.”
I roll my eyes, lighting the last candle on the table and setting the matchbox down. My hands are sweating with nerves, and I slip them into my trouser pockets.
Tonight, it’s my turn to pick a date. I figured, since we’ve already done a bar, a dinner date would be the next best thing.
Ideally, I would’ve taken Layla to an actual restaurant, but when I asked her, she said she didn’t want to go out. So I did my best to set up a dinner date at our flat. The dining room table we never use has been covered with a white cloth. I’ve lit tapered candles and put some classical music on the record player.
There’s salad in the fridge and a dish of homemade lasa
