Playing Pretend Pt. 3

Layla stood in front of your closet, hands on her hips, gazing at the collection of shoes like a queen about to pick her crown. The only problem? She couldn't decide what she wanted to wear—and honestly, neither could you.

“Babe, we’re just going to grab coffee,” you said, rolling your eyes as she picked up a pair of towering heels, admiring them like they were her new best friends. “You don’t need to wear those.”

Layla turned, a wicked smile on her lips. “What’s wrong with a little height, huh? You’re telling me I can’t enjoy being a tall girl for once?”

You shook your head, a little bemused. “It’s not about being tall, it’s about being comfortable. We’re going for coffee, not out to a nightclub. You don’t need to wear six-inch stilettos for that.”

She tossed the heels back into the closet with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. “Fine, fine. But I don’t know, babe, maybe I do want to strut my stuff.” She pulled out a pair of bright red sneakers, running her fingers along the laces with a little more flair than necessary. “These could be cute.”

“Nope.” You pointed at her, trying not to laugh. “We’re going for casual today, Layla. Casual shoes. Sneakers, flats, or something like that.” You could feel the old Liam flicker beneath the playful exterior. This was the same type of bickering you’d had before—just with a new, more feminine twist.

She pouted, crossing her arms as if you’d just told her she couldn’t eat her favorite dessert. “But... these are cute!” She held them up for your inspection, letting her new, glamorous persona show through. “How about these, babe?”

You glanced at the shoes in her hands. “You’re not a size eight, you know. You’re a size up. They won’t even fit.”

Layla’s face scrunched up, the faintest frustration crossing her features as she slipped one on anyway, wobbling for a second. “Well... maybe they’ll stretch, right?”

You stifled a laugh, shaking your head. “Layla, you’re a size nine, not an eight. There’s no way those are going to fit comfortably.”

Layla grumbled and reluctantly slipped the shoes off, still maintaining her playful attitude. “Fine. I’ll wear these,” she declared, pulling out a pair of comfy black flats from the closet and slipping them on.

You raised an eyebrow, glancing at her. “Better?”

She grinned, twirling on her toes. “Perfect. You know I’m always a flats kind of girl.”

You snorted. “Yeah, I know. You’ve always been a little stubborn.”

Layla gave you a teasing look. “Excuse me? I’m not stubborn. I’m determined.”

You snickered as you grabbed your own pair of simple sneakers and slipped them on. “Uh-huh. Sure.”

With your shoes in place, you held out your hand. “Ready, Layla?”

She grinned and linked her arm with yours. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

The two of you left the apartment, walking side by side, the light chatter of your usual banter filling the air. The sidewalk felt like a private runway with Layla in her cute new outfit, her every step graceful, even in those sensible flats.

“So, babe,” Layla started, her voice light and full of the mischief that had once been Liam’s, now softened by her new persona. “Are we going to do the lesbian thing and just hold hands everywhere? Because I’m all for it.” She leaned in closer, her lips brushing your ear as she whispered, “You look so good, babe. It’s unreal how much I want to kiss you right now.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, turning to meet her playful gaze. “You know, I’ve always loved that confidence of yours. You’re not so different from the old Liam, are you?”

Layla gave you an exaggerated look of mock offense, her free hand going to her chest dramatically. “Excuse me, missy, I’m a completely different person now. Don’t even think about comparing me to him. I’m Layla now, okay?” She flicked her hair over her shoulder as if to emphasize the point, the motion somehow looking natural, like it had always belonged to her.

You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips. “Whatever, Layla. You’re still my lovable, sarcastic pain in the ass.”

She grinned, giving your arm a gentle squeeze as the two of you strolled down the street. “I’ll take that as a compliment, babe. So, what’s the plan when we get there? Are we going to get something sweet, or are you going to order one of those dark roast monstrosities you always get?”

You snorted. “Hey, there’s nothing wrong with a dark roast. You’ll learn to appreciate it one day.”

She chuckled, nudging you with her shoulder. “If you say so. I’m a latte girl myself.”

You smirked at her, your eyes narrowing playfully. “I know you are.”

Layla shot you a flirtatious wink, and before you knew it, you were both laughing as you reached the familiar Tim Hortons sign—Canada's favorite fast-food chain serving coffee, donuts, and other goodies. It is as much a part of Canadian culture as poutine or maple syrup. The atmosphere is cozy and casual, perfect for a laid-back afternoon like this.

You and Layla walked through the door, the warm scent of coffee and baked goods greeting you as you stood in line. The place was bustling, a casual mix of people getting their morning pick-me-ups and others grabbing a quick breakfast on the go. You exchanged a glance with Layla, both of you smiling at how normal this felt, even in the midst of everything that had changed.

She leaned in again, her voice low as she glanced at the menu. “So, you’re getting your usual dark roast, right? Or are you feeling adventurous today?”

You met her teasing gaze and couldn’t help but grin. “I think I’ll stick with the usual. And you?”

Layla looked at you with an exaggerated sigh, like she was making a tough decision. “Fine, I’ll get a latte. But only because you’re making me.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Making you? I think you’ve got it backwards, Layla. You’re the one who’s making me order a dark roast.”

She grinned, a wicked spark in her eyes. “We’ll see about that, babe.”

And with that, the two of you continued to banter, lost in the moment, oblivious to the world around you as you stood in line at the coffee shop, hand in hand.

The line at Tim Hortons had thinned out, and soon it was just you and Layla standing at the counter, waiting for the cute barista to take your order. The place was cozy, the ambient noise of chattering customers and the hiss of the coffee machine creating a comfortable backdrop for the two of you to continue your flirty banter. Layla, in her newly embraced femininity, looked right at home, glancing at the menu and batting her lashes in an exaggerated manner, her hands resting casually on her hips as if she were waiting for a grand entrance.

"Let me guess," you said, teasing her. "You’ll be getting something way too sweet, right?"

Layla smirked, flicking her hair over her shoulder in a gesture that felt so natural to her now. "What’s wrong with a little sweetness, babe? You could learn to embrace a good vanilla latte every now and then."

You rolled your eyes playfully. "I’ll stick with my dark roast, thanks."

The barista, a first-year student by the looks of him, gave you both a nervous smile as he stepped up to take your order. His hair was messy in a way that looked like he hadn’t bothered to brush it, his glasses perched just a little too low on his nose. He looked young, probably around eighteen or nineteen, and his shy demeanor was written all over him. His hands fumbled briefly as he reached for the register.

"What can I get for you today?" he asked, his voice a bit hesitant but polite.

Layla flashed him her most dazzling smile, batting her lashes in a way that would make anyone’s heart skip a beat. "I’ll have a large vanilla latte, please. Extra sweet," she said with a smile, her voice light and playful.

You gave your usual order, a simple black coffee, and he nodded as he typed it all into the register. His hands shook slightly as he tried to get the card reader to work, swiping it a few times, only to be met with an annoying “error” message each time. He muttered something under his breath, trying to get it to cooperate, and you couldn’t help but feel a little bad for him.

"Sorry about that," he said awkwardly, looking up at you both. "Technology, right?"

"Totally," you said, offering him a smile, hoping to ease his nerves.

He fumbled with the machine again, and there was a long pause where the three of you stood in awkward silence. His eyes flicked between you and Layla, and you could tell he was trying to find something to say to fill the void.

After a few seconds, he shyly cleared his throat. "Uh... you both look really cute, by the way," he said, his voice cracking a little as his cheeks flushed a soft pink.

You glanced at Layla, your lips curving into a grin. "Thank you," you both said in unison, with Layla adding a playful, “You’re not too bad yourself.”

The barista seemed to perk up slightly at that, his confidence slowly rising. He shifted on his feet, looking a bit more relaxed. After another brief moment of hesitation, he looked directly at you and asked, his voice softer now, "Uh... sorry if this is a weird question, but... are you, uh... are you two just friends, or...?"

Before Layla could even answer, you chimed in with a mischievous grin, leaning in just a little closer. "We’re just friends, actually."

Layla blinked, her lips parting slightly in confusion as her expression froze. She glanced at you, then at the barista, not quite processing what you’d just said. For a moment, she looked like a cute, oblivious bimbo who’d lost track of the conversation. The way her wide eyes blinked a few times only made it more obvious that she didn’t understand the context you were offering.

You smiled at the boy, giving him a slight shrug. You could practically feel Layla’s confusion radiating from her, but you weren’t exactly prepared to explain things just yet.

The boy, still a bit shy but now noticeably more emboldened, cleared his throat. "Oh, okay... I mean, if you’re both cool with it..." His voice trailed off, but you could see the bravery in his eyes as he glanced at you and Layla, and then back to the counter.

He finally took a deep breath, almost as if gathering the courage to ask something important. "Would... would it be okay if I got your numbers?"

You looked at Layla, who was still trying to catch up with the conversation, then back at the boy. "Oh, I already have a boyfriend, but..." you said, motioning toward Layla, who still hadn’t quite grasped what was going on. She was still standing there, her expression vacant, as if she were listening to a song with a slow beat.

You couldn’t resist. Leaning in just a little, you slapped her ass playfully. The sudden impact made Layla flinch and snap to attention, her eyes widening as she turned toward you, clearly more alert now.

"Ow!" she yelped, rubbing her rear as if she were trying to soothe the sting. But then, her expression shifted, and she finally locked eyes with the barista, fully understanding the situation. Her face flushed a little, and she smiled brightly. "Oh, you want my number? Sure thing, I’m Layla."

The barista seemed to freeze for a moment, then grinned awkwardly as he held out his phone to her. "Uh, yeah, if that’s okay."

Layla took his phone, her movements a little slow and deliberate, as if she was suddenly unsure of herself again. She handed him her number, and the moment she passed the phone back, you couldn’t help but laugh. "Sorry, she’s kind of a bimbo sometimes," you said, half-joking.

The boy, surprisingly, chuckled softly. "She’s the hottest bimbo I’ve ever seen, so no worries," he said, his voice now far less shy.

You blinked at him, taken aback by his confidence, but then laughed, shaking your head. "Alright, alright, I get it. Now, let us pay so we can get our coffee and get out of here."

At that, the card reader decided to work at long last, and you quickly paid for your orders. The boy smiled awkwardly, gave you your receipt, and handed over your drinks.

"Thanks," you said with a smile as you took your coffee, a grin tugging at the corners of your lips. Layla took hers as well, still wearing a slightly dazed expression but looking entirely adorable, as always.

The two of you stepped aside, letting other customers move up to the counter, and took your drinks to a nearby table to wait. Layla sat beside you, still glancing at her phone occasionally, no doubt reviewing the exchange with the boy in her mind.

You couldn’t help but laugh as you watched her, the tension from earlier gone. You two were still navigating this new territory, but it was kind of fun, wasn’t it? And you were more than happy to go along for the ride.

The rich scent of coffee curled through the air, mingling with the warmth of your drinks as you and Layla settled into a cozy little booth near the window. The streetlights outside bathed the sidewalk in a dim orange glow, and inside, the hum of conversation, the clinking of cups, and the occasional hiss of the espresso machine created a pleasant background noise. But all of that faded into the periphery because your focus was entirely on her.

Layla, now comfortably cross-legged on the seat, had her phone in one hand and her coffee in the other, idly stirring her latte with the tip of a manicured finger as she scrolled. Her smoky eyeshadow made her gaze look dark and sultry, and the way her lips pursed just slightly as she read something made you want to grab her by the chin and kiss her until she melted. She was stunning, and worse—she knew it.

Your lips curled into a smirk as you lazily traced the rim of your cup. “So,” you mused, watching her reaction carefully, “you gonna text him later? Maybe see if he wants to meet up after?”

Layla’s eyes snapped up to you, her expression instantly shifting into something scandalized. “What? No!” She shook her head, almost offended. “Why would I do that?”

You feigned an innocent shrug. “I mean, you are technically single.”

She opened her mouth to retort but faltered, her expression shifting as she processed your words. Her eyes flickered to the side for a moment, like she was trying to come up with a counterpoint, but of course, you weren’t wrong.

“That’s—” she started, then huffed, crossing her arms under her chest, unintentionally pushing up her cleavage. “That’s not how this works. I’m still me. I’m still yours.”

You grinned, leaning in just a little. “I know, babe. Just messing with you.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Mm-hmm.”

“But,” you continued, your voice taking on that playful edge again, “he was cute. Shy, nervous, a little awkward.” You tilted your head. “I bet he’d be sweet to you.”

Layla groaned dramatically, rolling her eyes. “Oh my God, don’t even start.”

You sipped your coffee, watching her over the rim. “What? I’m just saying, you could totally wrap him around your little finger.”

Layla exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “No, no, no. I know exactly how that would go. That poor guy would be absolutely ruined. He’d catch feelings immediately, and I’m not about to break some soft-hearted first-year’s spirit.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “So thoughtful of you.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m a saint,” she muttered, taking a slow sip of her latte. Then she paused, smirking just a little as she lowered the cup. “Besides,” she added, her tone turning coy, “I already have someone to fuck me stupid.”

Your stomach tightened at that, the heat in her voice sending a slow wave of anticipation curling through you. “Oh yeah?”

Layla set her drink down and leaned forward slightly, resting her chin in her palm as she gazed at you through her lashes. “Mhm,” she murmured, her lips curving into a knowing little smirk.

You tilted your head, playing along. “You got any specific plans for that?”

She exhaled a dramatic sigh, her free hand idly tracing patterns on the table. “I do,” she mused, voice smooth as silk. “And call it a hunch, but I think they’re happening tonight.”

Your lips quirked up. “Oh, you think?”

Layla hummed, tapping a manicured finger against her cheek. “Yeah. And I think they’re gonna be very... hands-on.”

A slow, wicked grin spread across your face as you set your coffee down, mirroring her posture by leaning in just a little closer. “How hands-on?”

Layla’s eyes gleamed with something dark and teasing as she traced a slow circle on the table. “Mm... maybe a little rough,” she murmured, her voice dipping lower. “Maybe I’ll get tossed around a little.”

Your pulse kicked up, heat prickling at your skin. “That so?”

She bit her lip, tilting her head. “Mhm.”

You exhaled slowly, watching her with something between amusement and hunger. “You really wanna get tossed around, huh?”

Layla smirked, her eyes flickering to your lips. “Maybe.”

God, she was intoxicating. The way she played into this so naturally, the way her flirtation felt effortless—it was just Liam, but softer, more teasing, more sultry. And fuck, you were loving it.

“I do plan to make this worth your while,” you murmured, voice dipping into something smoother, darker.

Layla arched a brow, mirroring your smirk. “Oh yeah?”

You nodded slowly. “Mhm. And I do mean worth it.”

Layla exhaled a little laugh, reaching out to trace her fingertips lightly over the back of your hand. “Oh, babe,” she purred, “you better.”

The look in her eyes promised trouble. The best kind of trouble. And with a night like this ahead of you, you had every intention of delivering.