Page 49 of The Layover
I sense someone’s eyes on me, and turn to find Leon approaching. He’s laden down with heavy plastic bags, three pizza boxes, and a big brown bag with more takeaway food.
‘Hope you’re hungry. I may have gone a bit overboard,’ he tells me sheepishly.
I hoist my own bags. ‘Me too. Here, let me take some of that—’
‘Nah, you’re alright, I’ve got it.’
‘Are you sure? It looks heavy.’
Leon falls back half a step and his mouth cracks into a smile, a small laugh escaping him. He gives me a once-over that feels more playful, and far less critical than the one in the coffee queue earlier, and I know what he’s saying: that I do not look very strong.
I’m not, I suppose, but I was just trying to be polite. I could at least manage the pizza boxes or something, give him a bit less to balance.
I roll my eyes in retort, and we both start towards the escalator down.
There’s a prickle of something in my chest; not quite the flare of temper that he managed to spark before, but it feels adjacent, somehow. It makes me turn to Leon and say archly, ‘I’m sure you’re very capable of carrying all that. I just mean that you’re, you know, objectively quite muscular. Not that I’m trying to objectify you or anything.’
His ears turn bright red, and he cringes so hard that the tendons in his neck stand out.
I grin at him to show I’m only teasing, though, and Leon relaxes before he retorts, ‘And objectively, you’re a bit of a smart-arse.’
‘Objectively, it seems you’re still thinking about my arse. I guess Gemma was right about the power of some lingerie.’
He makes a choking sound that sets me off giggling. I wouldn’t normally be saying things like that even if I was trying to flirt with a guy, but maybe it’s the fact that Leon and I aren’t flirting, or maybe it is the power of lingerie, or maybe it’s the sheer insanity of our entire situation and the lingering adrenalin rush, but I feel a little bit bold.
And I definitely enjoy getting the last word in, when Leon can do nothing but sigh at his own expense and shake his head in dismay.
If only I could be a bit bolder when it comes to Marcus, maybe I wouldn’t be in this situation at all.
Time until ‘I Do’
13 ½ hours
Chapter Twenty-five
Gemma
‘Now,’ I say, lowering my bags slightly, ‘I may have gone a little bit overboard.’
But one glance at Leon and Francesca tells me I am not the only one. We could feast for weeks on this! Talk about a top-notch airport picnic. Well done us!
The pair of them stand looking awkward as anything, several inches apart and each turned slightly away as though they dare not so much as accidentally bump elbows. They can’t still be at odds with each other, can they? I mean, she’s sort of doing Leon amassivefavour by trying to take Marcus off Kayleigh; he should be kissing the ground she walks on.
‘Mademoiselle?’ says a voice to my right, and I turn to see one of the Ladurée staff hurrying out of the empty shop towards me. He’s terribly chic and brilliantly French, dressed entirely in black with an adorable little bow tie, slicked-back white hair, and still wearing his apron. He holds out a large bag to me.
‘Ah, magnifique, Charles’ – I’m sure to pronounce it with the ‘sh’ sound like the French do – ‘vous êtes mon sauveur! Une etoile! Je suis plein de gratitude. Merci, mille fois!’
I shove one of my duty-free carriers of booze at Leon, who fumbles to take it while balancing his pizza boxes – and God, the smell of those pizzas? Alsomagnifique. My stomach growls, suddenly ravenous.
With my free hand, I take the Ladurée bag, and Charles and I air-kiss on each cheek. I tell him to have a nice weekend, and he wishes us all a safe flight.
When I turn back, the other two are staring at me.
Fran’s eyebrows are practically at her hairline, smiling even as there’s a ‘what the ever-loving fuck did I just witness’ look in her eyes. ‘A friend of yours?’
I lift the bag. ‘He is now.’
Honestly, sometimes people are just so helpful. The queue at duty free was so bad I left my stuff tucked in the front seat of that ridiculous red ‘ohlala’ car on display because quite frankly, if my options were going to be to sit through the next several hours without booze or without macarons, I knew exactly where my priorities lay.
