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I roll my eyes. “Subtle.”
She shrugs, unapologetic. “I could be worse.”
“I doubt that.”
Layla smirks, but her gaze flicks back toward the camp. “Okay, so let’s start with the obvious. You’re with…” She trails off, waiting.
I don’t take the bait.
Her lips curve. “Fine, I’ll guess. That one.” She jerks her chin toward the two figures closest to the fire, Elias and Silas, who are, of course, arguing over something ridiculous. Silas, predictably, is using far too many hand gestures. Elias is just standing there, arms crossed, unimpressed.
I sigh. “Yes. And before you ask, both of them.”
Layla stops walking. “Both?”
I arch a brow. “You’re acting like you’re surprised.”
“I mean, I knew you had the energy for it, I just didn’t think you had the patience.” She whistles low. “So, which one’s better?”
I groan. “I am not- ”
“Fine, fine.” She lifts her hands in surrender, but her grin is sharp. “I’ll just assume it’s the one who looks like he’s about to commit a murder.”
That could be either of them.
I don’t bother clarifying.
Layla turns back toward the fire, watching as Silas’s frustration reaches a peak. He rakes a hand through his already-messy hair, then, Gods help me, he points finger guns at Elias.
Layla chokes on a laugh. “Oh, you’re actually sleeping with that one?”
I sigh. “Unfortunately, yes.”
Elias tilts his head, murmuring something low, dark amusement flickering in his silver eyes. Whatever it is, it makes Silas groan dramatically, throwing his arms up before he flops onto the nearest rock like he’s been personally victimized.
Layla hums. “You sure they’re not sleeping together?”
I glance at them. “Pretty sure.”
“Shame. That much bickering? Feels like unresolved sexual tension.”
Elias catches me watching and immediately smirks, winking. Layla snorts.
“Oh, I like him,” she mutters under her breath.
“You won’t when he opens his mouth.”
Right on cue, Elias pushes off the rock, sauntering toward us with his usual loose-limbed grace. “You two talking about me?”
Layla raises a brow. “Would you like it if we were?”
Elias places a hand over his heart. “Depends. Am I being praised for my devastating good looks?”
Layla considers him for a beat. “No.”
His smirk falters. “That feels like a personal attack.”
“Good.”