Savior

The Girl at Dinner

"Why are you so nervous, Styles? Could it be because your girlfriend is about to make small talk and eat pasta with the girl you are secretly in love with?"

Niall has to give me three good pats on the back before I stop choking on the gulp of water I swallowed just as Eliza began her patronizing -and false- hypothetical question.

"That's... I-I am not in love with Layla... How could you - why would you? I don't-"

"Oh dear god," Eliza cuts me off, half exasperated and half amused at my fumbling state, "Tonight is going to be way too much fun... for Niall and I at least. Not so much for you."

She skips off then -most likely to steal another piece of garlic bread, because I know it's been her that's doing it- which leaves me red faced and gawking and Niall with a proud grin on his face.

God, they make me sick.

Before I could scold the two, three loud raps sound on my door and I have to pause before opening it in order to calm myself down. Eliza was partially right -I am ridiculously nervous. I had spent the last two hours cleaning and re-cleaning our disastrous apartment and cooking spaghetti while trying to think of topics to talk about to keep conversation flowing.

Despite this night being suggested by a very drunk Layla, and reaffirmed by a sober and suspicious Jaime, I do want tonight to go well.

I don't know if it's because Jaime still hasn't brought up Layla since she met her a few nights ago or because Layla and I had grown closer since, but the idea of the two making small-talk all night did worry me slightly.

That idea is only reaffirmed when I open the door to reveal not just Layla or Jaime, but both women standing next to each other wearing the same uncomfortable and slightly shocked expressions -as if just having run into one another.

And I freeze because both are looking at me expectantly -waiting for me to greet them- but, I fumble slightly because... who do I greet first?

Layla is all shy smiles and guarded jade eyes and navy tee-shirt dress and carrying a large round container that, no doubt, houses a delicious cake.

Jaime is all expectant smiles and open brown eyes and floral skirt and carrying a large bottle of red wine that, no doubt, costs more than half the items in my apartment.

So, instead of choosing and making things awkward, I let them choose. I swing open the door wider with a, "Come in, come in!" and watch as Layla graciously lets Jaime walk through first. She plants a chaste kiss on my lips that makes my face heat because of the other two people in the room.

Niall ushers Jaime to the kitchen while Layla takes a tentative step forward and I take the initiative of pulling her into my arms -the container causing us to fumble slightly before properly embracing each other.

It's something that I would have never done just a few weeks ago considering Layla's aversion towards touch. But, recently, she has been warming up to me slowly: placing a hand on my shoulder when serving me coffee, not flinching every time my hand grazes hers -she still does, but not as often as before, and even lightly slapping my chest when I made a dumb joke just yesterday.

It isn't much, but it's something. It's progress.

"I'm really glad you could make it."

Layla pulls away, cheeks tinged a light pink, "I debated on coming up with some lame excuse to ditch, but I had already made the cake so... I didn't want you all to miss out on this delicacy."

"Well, I thank you for your consideration. I think Niall would cry if you took your baking away from him."

She laughs lightly -a delicate and wispy sound that makes my chest ache- and I place a gentle hand on her back to guide her towards the kitchen. Her muscles tense slightly at my touch and I'm sure that if she wasn't holding the cake, her hands would be trembling.