Page 10 of Over You
Passengers stood, bumping into each other on their way to the luggage racks. When the doors slid open, people poured out, and then an influx of weary travelers shuffled on, tickets in hand, as they searched for their seat.
A dark-haired girl stopped at the empty seat beside me. My gaze traveled over her gray flats and olive-green tights to a mustard-yellow skirt. She unwound the scarf with rectangles of Mick Jagger’s face, then slipped out of her black pea coat and flopped into the chair with an “oomph.”
She dropped her belongings to the floor in front of her. “That won’t bother you, will it?” Her thick, Eliza Doolittle-esque British accent forced a slight smile to my face.
“It’s fine.”
“Oh. American, aye?”
I nodded.
“Traveling for work?”
“Not exactly. You?”
She huffed before gathering her chestnut brown hair in her fist and tying it back. “Nope. I made the wonderful, three-hour journey just to catch my scaggey, now ex-boyfriend, in the sack with my former best friend.”
I know my eyebrows must have shot up. “Oh.”
“Yep. Bellends. The lot of ‘em.” She held out her hand. “I’m Lottie Bookham.”
“Georgia. . .” I hesitated. Spencer legally changed his last name to Hailstorm when he turned seventeen. It wasn’t even areallast name, but he said Hailstorm screamed rocker. That it did, and chances were, Lottie may know who he was. I wanted anonymity. Swallowing, I chose to use my maiden name. “Georgia Wright.”
We shook before the announcer came over the intercom, the only words I noticed: London Victoria and the doors closed. The departing alarms chimed.
Lottie wriggled in the seat as she settled in. “So, vacation?”
“Um, I’ve been calling it a self-discovery journey.”
She gave a curt nod. “I like that. Maybe I should go on one of those. Figure out why guys are all arseholes. I’ve dated three cheaters and one self-absorbed knob that was more concerned about how much kale he could suck down than whether I ever orgasmed.”
I had never been the type of person that took to new people, but there was something about Lottie that was infectious, even though she was pissed.
Mumbling swear words to herself, she bent over the arm of the chair and dug through her bag, pulling out a thick hardback. She pulled down the desk tray, dropped the book onto it, and flicked through the pages. “You ever take physics?”
“No.”
“It’s a load of shit. I’m going to fail it. With that said, I don’t recommend it.” She shook her head, thumbed through a few more pages, then huffed before slamming the book closed and tossing it to the floor. “I’m going to change my major.” Then she kicked the book before looking back at me. “Here I am moaning like a cow about my life, while you look like you have it all together. I promise, I’m only half the mess I appear to be right now.”
I had to laugh at that. “I don’t know many people who decide to go on a six-month journey of self-discovery that have their lives together.”
“True.” Her gaze narrowed. “But at least you’re on step one.”
Step one of many. . .
6
Spencer
“You okay?” There was a deep echo to Leo’s voice that made it sound like he was shouting from the other end of a cave.
I laughed at the thought of him wearing one of those spelunker helmets with the headlamp. My eyes blinked open long enough to catch a glimpse of the fan blades circling around.
Leo’s gaunt face came into view. “Spencer!”
My eyelids seemed to weigh a ton, so I shut them. Something clapped. My head snapped to the side before I fell back onto the sofa. I didn’t feel Leo’s hand connect with my face, and the only reason I was even aware that one of my best friends had just backhanded me like Pete Sampras was that Nash shouted at him.
“Dude! Don’t hit him! You’ll mess up his face.”
