Unrivaled (Beautiful Idols 1)

“Layla—hey!”

Crap. She commanded the light to change, but it remained a frustrating shade of red, as Tommy stood in the middle of the boulevard, tugging on the sleeve of her black leather jacket.

“What did I tell you last time I saw you?”

“You came to my hood. How rude would I be if I didn’t say hey?” He grinned when he said it, as though he’d just recited a lovely bit of poetry.

“Do you think you could let go of my sleeve?” It was lame. But it was the best she could do now that she’d made the mistake of meeting his gaze.

His hand dropped to his side, but that dazzling grin remained fixed, along with those deep blue eyes.

The light changed, horns honked, and still she sat frozen, hating herself for every second that passed.

“How was your first night?” Tommy seemed immune to the chaos around them.

“Apparently not as good as yours.” Layla nodded toward the girl, taking a series of cleavage-centric selfies as she waited for Tommy’s return.

“Nothing to worry about,” Tommy said. “She’s just a friend.”

“Worried?” Layla shot him her best you need to wither and die now face. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

He didn’t react. Didn’t even flinch. Just remained infuriatingly, sedately before her.

Layla glanced between the girl and Tommy. The sight left her incensed.

Must be because she missed Mateo. They rarely argued, and when they did, she always regretted it. Mostly because she was usually the one who started it.

“Let me know if you change your mind,” Tommy said. Responding to her confusion, he added, “About sharing strategies.”

She frowned. Ticket be damned. She’d pay any fine to get away from him and his stupid grin.

She gunned her bike and shot into the intersection just as the light began to turn red again. She needed to put some serious distance between them and the nagging truth that she should probably take him up on his offer to help, all the while knowing she wouldn’t.

Something about him left her uneasy. It was like he saw right through her, right down to her crummier bits—the stuff Mateo either failed to notice or forgave far too easily—and he wasn’t the least bit repelled. If anything, he seemed delighted by the discovery, because he shared the same crummy bits too.

She drove another few blocks, then pulled to the side of the road, where she fumbled for her phone, praying Mateo would still be up, and that he was willing to talk.

“You okay?” It was the first thing he said. Making her feel guilty for worrying him.

“I don’t think I’m cut out for this job.” Her voice sounded as tired as she felt. “I made a fool of myself.”

“So quit.”

Layla frowned. Quitting was never an option. She’d rather die trying than wave a white flag. He should’ve known that.

The silence lingered between them, until Mateo finally said, “Where are you?”

Layla watched a homeless man pee against a wall as another picked through a trash can, the entirety of his worldly belongings piled into the stolen shopping cart beside him.

“The glamour capital of the world.”

“Why don’t you come over?”

“Might take me a while to get there.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

She didn’t realize how tense she’d been until her shoulders sank in relief. Even if he didn’t approve, Mateo would always be there for her. He didn’t hold grudges. And he never veered from what truly mattered. Most of the time she had no idea why he loved her. She was just grateful he did.