🍏 Twenty Two

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A shark.

Dawson's words repeated in Layla's head for the millionth time since last night as she rolled up her yoga mat next to Kenzie and Marshall. The doors to the shed were wide open, letting in the breeze and the sounds of rustling leaves and chirping birds—sounds she would soon have to miss. 

Things that had seemed so foreign when she got here now seemed impossible to live without. The sparrows that woke her up in the mornings with their songs, and the crickets that sang her to sleep. The serenade of rain against foliage and the scent of the nourished grass the next day. Soon it would all be replaced by the honking horns of city traffic, chatty tourists, and the overwhelming smells of food cart hot dogs and exhaust. 

Her ninth workout with the happy couple was officially done, which meant after only five more, she'd be out of here. Away from everything she'd come to enjoy so much. The countryside and the small town, the orchard, her friends, and Dawson. She had a feeling that leaving him would sting the most of all. Even worse than last night's argument.

Of course she didn't think of him as a shark; the idea that he wanted any part of her money or status never even occurred to her. If there was one thing she'd learned about Dawson since she got here, it was that he was happy right where he was. To think she'd come off that way, made him think that was how she saw him...

She tried to ignore the stab of pain in her chest. No, Dawson definitely wasn't a shark, but maybe she was. Vicious and only looking out for herself, always on the hunt for the next big catch. Yet too afraid and far too domesticated to bite the hands that kept feeding her scraps.

She picked up her mat just as Marshall leaned down to plant a chaste kiss on the lips of his bride-to-be. Layla swiveled away to avert her eyes, but it was too late—her mind was rushed with all the memories of last night that she'd been trying so hard to ignore.

Dawson had kissed her, but the act could hardly be described by one simple word. It wasn't just a kiss—it was a confession, a plea, and the most mind-numbing, dizzying sensation she'd ever experienced.

Her insides still shimmered at the thought of it, mouth yearning for more. For a good few seconds there, he'd had her so pliant that she was ready to drop it all. Ready to leave the city in the rearview for good and start a new life with whatever she'd packed and brought with her.

But of course, she'd come to her senses. Somehow. She still wasn't sure exactly how she managed it, and figured herself lucky that he'd gotten so upset by her refusal—if he'd kissed her like that again, there was no telling if she'd be able to untangle herself from all the raw, powerful wanting that had her so close to changing her mind.

She'd pissed him off pretty bad with that rant of hers, that was for sure. She hadn't meant to accuse him of being just another fame-hungry gold-digger, but when she looked back on it, there was no denying that's how it sounded.

And it was the perfect way to put an end to it, really. He was giving her the out. The ball was in her court, and if she decided not to do anything with it, that's exactly where it would stay. The question now was if she could live with it there, live with going back to New York and leaving Dawson thinking that all she ever saw him as was just another shark.

"I can't believe there's only five more days of this," Marsh's voice broke through her thoughts, had her turning back around with a plastered smile.

"It went by fast."

Kenzie pouted, wrapping an arm around Marshall's waist. "We'll miss you. Even with video chats, you know? Wish we could have you around here all the time."

"Your future clients are lucky," he added. "This boot camp thing'll take right off. I can already tell."

Layla couldn't help from grimacing. "Oh. Right. About that."

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