Page 38 of The Layover
It’s something thatdidhonestly start off as another bit of one-upmanship between me and Kayleigh: I splurged on aKate Spade handbag for my first job, so naturally she spent her first paycheque on some Louboutin loafers. And then when she made sure to keep up on all the latest trends to be the more fashionable one, I made it my mission to have a capsule wardrobe made up of sustainable investment pieces gradually gathered over time, like it gave me some moral high ground over her.
Although admittedly, all the bikinis I got for this holiday are from Shein. I mean, Christ, I’m notmadeof money. And Ididput myself into some credit card debt buying up a bunch of very expensive pieces from niche brands at the start. But that’s by the by.
Still, whatever messy, gross feelings I have tangled up in my friendship with Kayleigh, I have learned to trulysavourthe experience of shopping.
‘I think this is one of my favourite pastimes,’ I tell Fran. Not that she asked, but the silence is starting to get to me a little, and my head is feeling a bit too full of my own thoughts. She’s polite enough topretendthat she’s interested, I figure. ‘Shopping, searching fortheperfect thing. It just makes my soul happy, you know? Like a good book on a rainy day. I’d say it’s even up there as one of my all-time best hobbies alongside sleeping in late, and getting a really good coffee somewhere.’
I half expect her to challenge me on whether those are really ‘hobbies’ – or God forbid, she’s going to be one of those girls who crafts book-nook dioramas and knits hats for orphaned dogs, or something, and get on her high horse about it.
It’s what Kayleigh would do.
But Fran only smiles and catches my eye. ‘Girl hobbies. You know, between that and theCourt of Thorns and Rosesreference, I think we’re on the same side of TikTok.’
IknewI’d like her.
There’s a little glint in her eye, too, a twist of cheekiness in that smile.
Oh my God, look at us! We’rebonding.
‘So aside from reading smutty fantasy books and throwing yourself at almost-married men, what else do you do?’ I ask her. Suddenly, I’m interested – beyond the gossip I’m no longer going to tell Kayleigh all about but shamelessly enjoy myself, and beyond polite small talk. I want to know who Fran is, underneath that ugly denim jacket and neatly plaited hair.
She baulks, stammering uncertainly.
We’ve moved onto the Chanel lipsticks by now, and I pull her hand up to hover between us so I can swatch some. She’s got a lovely olive undertone to her complexion – and with her features, I bet she can pull off a dark, bold lip colour beautifully.
‘No boyfriend?’ I ask her, and though she stays tense, she shakes her head. ‘Oh, come on, I’m not going to lay into you. I mean, it’s an incredibly shitty thing to do, have an emotional affair with a guy youknowis marrying someone else, to the point where you’ve convinced yourself he’ll leave the bride for you – but also, Marcus has obviously been playing you like a fiddle to encourage that delusion. So I will cut you a little slack there. And frankly, I don’t care either way. You want to mess up the wedding, I’m all for it, like I said.’
‘Why?’ We’re both staring at the lines of lipstick I’ve been painting on the back of her hand, and her voice sounds stronger this time when she repeats, ‘Why? You’re supposed to be Kayleigh’s best friend. I know everybody has their flaws, and we love and accept the people who are important to us anyway, but – the way you talked about her, it’s like you don’t have a kind word to say.’
‘Yeah, well, she doesn’t have a whole lot of redeeming features.’
‘What are they? I mean … I mean, genuinely. Why are you friends, if you don’t like all these things about her? If she stole your job and flat and things.’
My jaw clenches, and my grip tightens around the lipstick in my hand. I feel Fran’s eyes burning an inquisitive little hole in my skull.
It’s a question I’ve asked myself so many times, I have the answer ready at the tip of my tongue.
‘Because she stuck with me. Because we’ve always been friends. Because – we go together.’
And if I don’t have Kayleigh – who do I have?
She’ll keep the gang. She’s the one good at crocodile tears and sunshine-y smiles. She’ll make out like she’s the wounded party and they’ll all take her side, and I’ll be the vicious bitch who hurt her. They’re all our old school friends, and I probably wouldn’t pick them these days anyway, but it still hurts to know they’d choose her in a heartbeat. Joss definitely would. She’s never liked me. But then again, Joss is a whiny piece of work with zero personality, so.
Kayleigh’s key redeeming feature is that she hasn’t abandoned me. That she puts up with me. That she knows exactly who I am, and keeps me around anyway, which is more than I can say for pretty much everybody else in my life.
It’s why she knows she can take, and take, and take, and I’ll never confront her about it, because I don’t have anywhere else to go.
‘You know I was the one who was supposed to go out with Marcus?’ I blurt, surprising both of us. Francesca’s hand jolts in mine.
What’s the harm in telling her anyway? She’s the work wife. I’m the maid of honour. Nobody would believe her over me.
‘I didn’t know that. He never mentioned …’
‘Yeah, well, I was. I found him on Hinge. I matched with him. And obviously you tell your best friend everything, you send them the screen recordings of a cute person’s profile and screenshots of the messages to dissect them, right? And one morning he mentions he’s going to check out this new coffee shop, and then the next thing I know,she’sgone there, and she’s flirting up a storm with him. She knew I’d already arranged a date with him for the next weekend, but of course she has to get in there first. They spend the whole day together, then grab a casual after-work drink that turns into dinner that turns into another date on the Friday that turns into him cancelling onme, because Kayleigh’s swooped in and taken him.’
Fran’s slack-jawed, and I canfeelthe sympathy pouring off her. Or maybe it’s guilt, because she knows she’s doing the same thing, but like, a thousand times worse.
I carry on, ‘Which like, fine, whatever. It’s not like we were dating or I’d slept with him or anything, and it’s not like he knew. Actually, it’s one of thefewtimes I thought he was a decent bloke – cancelling on me because he was really into this other girl he was seeing. But of course,shegets the guy. She gets the flat. She gets the job. She won’t let me have anything. Even the wedding—’
