False Assumptions (Players of Marycliff University Book 6)

by Jerica MacMillan

  The one Layla didn’t know stepped around the coffee table. “Hi. You must be Layla. Elena’s told us about you. I’m Hannah.” She offered her hand, and Layla shook it.

  “Hi.”

  Abby smiled and gave a little wave. “Hi. Nice to see you again.”

  Layla smiled back. “Thanks again for your help with the project.”

  “You’re welcome. I really didn’t do much, but I’m glad you found it helpful.”

  Elena looked back and forth through this exchange. “Oh, that’s right. I forgot you worked on that project with Evan. He asked me for help, because, you know, my parents are from Mexico, so I obviously have a grip on the political background of random South American countries.” She rolled her eyes, and Layla laughed.

  “What? You mean all Spanish-speaking countries aren’t the same? That’s crazy.”

  “Ooh. Another sarcastic one. I like her. She’ll fit right in around here,” a new voice chimed in.

  Layla lifted her head to see a pretty brunette with chin-length curls coming from the back of the house, a glass with a salted rim in each hand.

  Elena made the introductions. “Megan, this is Layla. Layla, Megan.”

  Megan smiled. “Welcome to girls’ night. Elena probably didn’t mention it, but we’re celebrating tonight. She got accepted to Stanford Law school as well as Marycliff and somewhere else, right?” She turned to Elena, one brow arched in question.

  “Yeah. UW.”

  “Wow,” Layla said, turning to Elena. “That’s amazing. Congratulations. Do you know where you’re going yet?”

  Elena shook her head. “Not yet. There’s a lot to think about.”

  “Like Big D’s big D, how far away from it you’re prepared to be, and for how long?” Smirking, Megan set the glasses on the table and headed back to the kitchen before Elena could respond.

  Abby snickered, and Hannah’s cheeks turned pink. Elena gave Layla a long-suffering look. “That’s Megan. She doesn’t hold back. I’d apologize, but you’ll just have to get used to her.”

  With a grin, Layla said, “It’s alright. I’ve been hanging out with Evan. Dirty jokes are his hallmark. I think he tries to hold back with me, or at least he did at first, but they come out whether he wants them to or not.”

  “That’s what she said!” carried from the kitchen, and everyone laughed some more.

  Megan came back with three more glasses. “Thanks for all your help, hookers. I’ll just continue serving you your margaritas.” She set the glasses on the table and did a little curtsy.

  Abby reached for a glass. “Thank you, Megan. We all agreed you’d need to practice since you’ll be out of school and trying to make a living as an artist in a couple of months. So that means waitressing, right?”

  Megan stuck her tongue out at Abby and grabbed her own glass before settling in the recliner next to the couch. “Please. Like you’ll be much better off with your Spanish degree here in Spokane. What are you going to do? You’re not getting your teaching certificate. So …” She made a rolling motion with her hand, her face expectant.

  “You forget. Lance hates it that I work at all anyway. Plus, I’ve been getting more translation work. I’ll keep doing that.”

  “Riiight. I forgot you’re okay with being a kept woman now. And didn’t you say your stomach was bothering you earlier? Should you be drinking? Maybe you’re pregnant.”

  Elena tugged Layla over to the couch, an amused expression on her face as they all watched Abby and Megan hassling each other. They obviously knew each other well. Layla took off her jacket before grabbing a margarita and sitting on the couch next to Hannah. Elena settled on the floor at the end of the coffee table, a glass in front of her, avidly watching the show.

  Abby gave Megan a dirty look. “I’ve had a cold. It’s made me a little dizzy which made my stomach feel weird. I’m not pregnant.”

  Megan sipped her drink, a smile on her face. “Mmmhmm. If you say so.”

  Rolling her eyes, Abby shook her head. “And aren’t you the pot calling the kettle black? You’re moving to Seattle with Chris and living on his money. I’m hardly the only one that’s going to be a ‘kept woman.’ And what century do you live in? Who says that anyway?”

  Megan cackled. “You crack me up, Abs. Criticizing my use of ‘kept woman’ when you just said something about the pot calling the kettle black. My grandma always used to say that. And anyway, I’ve got a show scheduled at a gallery in Seattle in June. If it goes well, I’ll be able to support myself.”

  “What?” Hannah sat up straighter. “Megan, that’s amazing. Why didn’t you say so? More to celebrate!”

  “I didn’t want to steal Elena’s thunder,” Megan said with a shrug. “I just found out today.”

  “Congratulations, Megan. That’s really awesome. Let me know when the show opens, and Lance and I will come over for the party.” Abby got up and hugged Megan.

  When the congratulations died down, Layla decided to satisfy her curiosity. “Sorry, since obviously everyone else knows the answer, but what’s your show for?”

  “Oh.” Megan waved a hand. “I paint.”

  Elena snorted and leaned closer to Layla. “She says that like it’s no big deal. She’s amazing. She painted Hannah and Daniel together last year, and it was gorgeous.”

  Looking between Megan and Hannah, who nodded, Layla focused back on Elena. “Your Daniel?”

  “Yup.” Elena turned to Megan, making a shooing motion with her hands. “Go get your phone and show her your stuff.”

  Rolling her eyes, Megan got up and retrieved her phone from her purse, then squeezed her way onto the couch between Hannah and Layla. Abby made a half-disgusted, half-amused sound in her throat and moved to the chair, leaving more room on the couch. Hannah scooted over, but stayed close enough that she could see the screen on Megan’s phone as she pulled up her website and scrolled through the pictures of her paintings.

  “Oh my God. These are amazing.” Layla couldn’t believe how beautiful Megan’s paintings were, the mix of color, light, and shadow evoking a riot of emotions in Layla that she hadn’t realized a painting could cause.

  Hannah’s finger pointed at the next painting on the screen. “That’s Daniel and me.”

  It took Layla a second to realize that she was looking at a close up of bodies twined together. Her eyes widened, and she looked at Elena. “You were okay with your friend and boyfriend posing together like this?”

  Shrugging, Elena shook her head. “Daniel and I weren’t together then. We hadn’t even met yet.” She grinned at Hannah. “He actually asked Hannah out a few times.”

  Hannah narrowed her eyes. “It was twice, and I only agreed the one time.” She met Layla’s eyes. “Matt and I were together when Megan painted that. He’s the one who introduced me to Megan and convinced me to pose. Though, when he walked in on Daniel asking me out the first time and found out how we were posing, he wasn’t happy.” She chuckled at the memory and Megan smirked.

  “Yeah. We all got to hear his reaction after that.”

  Layla looked between them, confused, and Hannah blushed. Hannah met Layla’s eyes. “Matt’s a little possessive.”

  All three of the other girls gave varying sounds of amusement and derision. “That’s like saying mama bears are a little protective,” said Megan.

  “Oh, please,” Hannah shot back. “Like Chris is any different?”

  Laughing, Megan bumped Hannah with her shoulder. “I never said that. But I wasn’t the one almost naked and pressed against a hot guy who wasn’t my new boyfriend.”

  Sitting back, Hannah sipped her drink. “Yeah, well, he got over it. Daniel was never a threat to Matt, and he eventually figured that out.” She gestured at Elena. “And now he’s with Elena, so everything’s good.”

  Layla stayed quiet for the most part, having fun listening to the banter between the four friends, asking questions every once in a while when she missed a reference. They happily filled her in, talking over each othe
r and taking over the story of how they all became friends.

  After going through another round of drinks, two bowls of popcorn, and shared plates of nachos that Elena made, Megan settled a speculative gaze on Layla. “You know all about us now, but we don’t know much about you.” She leaned forward, propping her chin on her hand. “Fill us in.”

  Layla gave a nervous laugh. “What do you want to know?”

  “You’re dating Coop right?” asked Abby.

  “Um, sort of.”

  Elena gave her a quizzical look, her eyebrows pulled together and her head cocked to one side. “What do you mean ‘sort of’? You guys have been spending the last few weeks together almost constantly. If you’re not dating, what are you doing?”

  Reaching for the plate of nachos, Layla tried to stall. The nachos were gone, so she was reduced to picking a piece of melted cheese from the plate. All eyes were on her. She shrugged. “We’re friends. And exploring the possibility of … more.”

  A devilish gleam came to Elena’s eyes. “Oh, okay. If that’s what you’re calling it when you agree to spend spring break at a guy’s house.” She turned to Hannah. “Were you and Matt ‘friends exploring the possibility of more’”—she made air quotes with her fingers—“when you spent last spring break at his place?”

  Hannah laughed. “No, we were firmly in more territory by that point. You should be nice, though, since you were so deep in denial you were practically the Queen of Egypt not that long ago.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Elena muttered, burying her face in her drink.

  At Layla’s quizzical look, Hannah filled her in. “She and Daniel got together in August, and Elena was the only one who didn’t think she and Daniel were dating—including Daniel and all of us. They were. She was just in a bad place and not ready to admit it. But she kept calling him her friend, so your excuse sounds awfully familiar.” Hannah waved a hand to cut her off when Layla opened her mouth. “I’m not judging. You’re entitled to feel however you feel about your relationship with Coop—Evan. Whatever you call him.”

  Layla smiled, happy to have someone coming to her defense. “Evan.”

  “Yeah, he has all the girls call him Evan.”

  Layla shrank back into the couch, wishing she still had a drink to cover the awkward silence that descended at Elena’s words. Hannah glared at Elena and tipped her head in Layla’s direction. But Layla had stopped drinking a while ago, limiting her alcohol intake since she’d have to drive home later. Elena’s careless comment drove home how unlikely this thing with her and Evan really was. Sure, he’d agreed to strings. They had some kind of relationship. But they hadn’t discussed what that meant. Were they dating? Was he her boyfriend? Did he consider her his girlfriend?

  She didn’t know. Hence her reluctance to answer questions about the status of their relationship.

  He was attracted to her—that much was obvious. He wanted at least a physical relationship with her. They got along and had fun together. Or at least they had before this week. But she didn’t know how long his interest would last. His track record wasn’t encouraging.

  “Hey.” Abby’s soft voice cut through the silence. “Don’t try to read too much into Coop’s past. Just because he’s been with more than a few women, doesn’t mean he’s going to drop you after a week or even a month. If he’s spending that much time with you, it’s because he’s interested in you. Guys like him don’t stick around for girls they just want to sleep with once. Trust me on this.”

  Megan nodded her agreement. “She’s speaking from experience. Lance and Chris were both manwhores before we got our hands on them.”

  Layla smiled, but wasn’t all that reassured. Just because it had worked out for them didn’t mean it would work out for her.

  “Besides,” Megan went on. “If he’s got that much experience, he’s probably a great shag. Even if it doesn’t last long term, have fun and enjoy the hot sex while you’ve got it.”

  The other girls chuckled or rolled their eyes at Megan, obviously used to her brashness, provoking, “What? You all know I’m right,” from her.

  Forcing another smile, Layla tried to join in the fun, conversation moving away from her and Evan and back to the relationships of the others. Apparently Chris had been living in Seattle since the summer but was back in Spokane until Megan graduated. Layla had trouble keeping up with things, her thoughts still swamped with Evan and how invested she should let herself become.

  He’d asked for a chance. She was trying, but she had a hard time ignoring his past. And past behavior was the best predictor of future behavior. No, she needed to take Megan’s advice more than Abby’s. Have fun while it lasts, but don’t expect anything more. That’s what she would do.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “What are you doing in here?” Evan hung his hands from the doorframe above his head as he stood in the doorway to Layla’s bedroom. Clothes lay all over her bed, a few falling onto the floor, an open suitcase on one side. Layla stood by her dresser rummaging through the top drawer. “I’m not sure what you think we’ll be doing, but I promise you don’t need that many clothes.”

  She looked at him with wide eyes, then she dropped her gaze back to the clothes in her hands before turning to stuff them in her suitcase. Her hair fell over her face, blocking his view. But she cleared her throat. “If you say so. I’d rather have enough for the week, though. What if we decide to go somewhere every day?”

  He grunted, and she glanced at him. Not wanting to argue, he stepped into the room, picking up one of the T-shirts threatening to fall off the bed. “Can I help?” He’d been anxiously waiting for her to finish class for the day, and now she was taking even longer. Was she not as excited about this week as he was?

  Shaking her head, she plucked the shirt from his hand, folding it and laying it in her suitcase. “No, thanks. I’ve got it. I promise I’ll only be a few more minutes.”

  He groaned and flopped down on the bed. “That’s what you said fifteen minutes ago.”

  Narrowing her eyes, she tugged some of the clothes out from under him. “And lying on my clothes is super helpful. That’ll definitely speed things up.”

  When she reached across him to get something from his other side, he grabbed her wrist and pulled until she fell on top of him, trapping her with his arms.

  She struggled for a second. “Evan! Let me up. I’m trying to finish so we can go.”

  But she calmed down when his hand slid up to the back of her neck, bringing her mouth to his. At his kiss, she relaxed, opening for him, stroking his tongue with her own, her hands clinging to his shirt instead of pushing away. His free hand slid down to her ass, gripping it, pulling her against his own hips, grinding his pelvis against hers, enjoying the little bit of friction he could get from her like this. But damn, he didn’t want clothes between them anymore.

  He’d been hands-off since Tuesday. They’d kept to their usual schedule of him taking her to school and back, but he’d limited himself to kisses and a few caresses when he couldn’t help himself. It had seemed like a big concession for her to agree to come stay with him for spring break, and he hadn’t wanted to push her too hard for too much.

  That’s what he’d told himself Wednesday. And then last night she was hanging with Elena and her friends for a girls’ night. He’d been disappointed that he hadn’t gotten to spend the evening with her, but since he’d monopolized her free time for the last several weeks, he figured he could deal with a night away. Plus, he’d get her in his space for over a week.

  Now he finally had her all to himself. And she was stalling with the packing. He’d hoped she’d have her stuff together this morning when he picked her up. She’d kicked him out early last night when he’d come over after she’d gotten home, claiming that she had to do laundry. He’d offered to stay and help, but she’d laughed and said, “I’m sure I can imagine the kind of help you’d offer. I don’t think it’d actually end up with my clothes clean, though.”

  He’d given her
a wicked smile, hoping she’d change her mind, but she was a stubborn little thing. He was getting impatient. Tuesday’s interlude had come nowhere near satisfying his desire for her. And he had a feeling that after a week together, he’d only be hopelessly addicted.

  Gentling the kiss, he pulled back, letting his head fall back on the bed again so he could look up at her. Her hair fell over one shoulder, a little mussed, and she’d never looked sexier. “What’s wrong, Layla?”

  “What do you mean? You stopped kissing me. I was enjoying myself.”

  He chuckled lightly. “That’s not what I’m talking about. Why are you stalling with packing so much? Just throw some stuff in a bag. If you forget anything you can either borrow something of mine, or we can come back and get it. I live ten minutes away. It’s not like we’re going to camp in the wilderness and need to have all our supplies.”

  Her eyes slid away from his. “I’m not stalling. I just … I’m still getting used to all this. You. I don’t know what to expect this week.”

  He pulled her down for another kiss, this one longer, more demanding, ending with him tangling his hand in her hair to tug her head to the side so he could nip at her neck and soothe the sting with his tongue, then pulling her ear close to his mouth. A fine shiver ran through her as he whispered in her ear. “A lot more of that. I promise you won’t need that many clothes. What’s in your suitcase is more than enough. Let’s zip up your suitcase and go now, okay?” He pushed his hips into hers. “I want you in my bed, and I don’t want to wait much longer.”

  When he let her pull back, her dark eyes met his, and she nodded. She had to clear her throat before she could speak, and that fact made him proud in a primitive part of his brain. “Can I get my toothbrush and stuff from the bathroom at least?”

  He grinned. “Of course.” He slid her off his body, sitting up. “Get the rest of your stuff.” Leaning in, he gave her one more scorching kiss. “Hurry up, though. Or I’ll throw you over my shoulder and carry you out, bag or no bag.”