Page 58 of The Layover
‘Oh. Okay.’ I make a point of glancing around her, at the guy. ‘Well, if you change your mind … your boyfriend’s welcome, too.’
‘He’s not my boyfriend.’
‘Oh?’
What does that mean? That he’smorethan a boyfriend, or the total opposite? She is giving menothing. Ugh.
I give it one last shot. ‘Well, he doesn’t know what he’s missing, letting a pretty girl like you spend a night in Paris basically on your own. You should be snogging under the Eiffel Tower! Or, you know, just indulging in a good old French kiss under the … lights of Orly Airport Terminal three.’
She rolls her eyes and says nothing.
I haul myself off the bench, defeated, and slump back to Fran and Leon. Leon is raising his eyebrows at me, as if my attempts at flirting are oh-so-amusing. I grimace and shove him in the chest.
‘Shut up. I’m a bit rusty after Brittney broke up with me, okay? Cut me some slack.’
‘Well? What did she say?’ Fran demands.
‘Zilch. Zip, nada. I am officially none the wiser. The mystery remains unsolved. Detective Coleen Rooney, I am not.’
Fran pouts and says, ‘They’resosiblings,’ at the same time as Leon mutters, ‘Married, I’m calling it now.’ The pair of them glower at each other, but it’s so non-serious and they’re leaning in and I feel like I’m intruding and shit, is Leon somehow abetterflirt than me? This is outrageous. What has become of me?
I clear my throat; they both stand up straighter.
The prosecco pong is already under way, the obstacle course fully forfeited to some children, and the three of us stay clustered just off to one side. The grooms are distracted by holding hands and looking longingly into each other’s eyes, talking softly while their friends carry on their rowdy games. And I’ve had enough to drink that I blurt, ‘So, Leon, what’s up with your love life these days?’
He’d just taken a sip of his gin, and sputters. ‘Um …’
‘Oh, come on, I swear Kayleigh never saysanythingabout it. Although that’s not saying much, is it? She hardly gets invested in life updates from the family enough tosharethem. Your last proper relationship I heard anything about was that girl, Emma, when you were at uni.’
Fran, the little devil, is hanging off my every word, trying not to look too keen as she waits for Leon’s response.
‘Well, there’s … there’s not much to share,’ he mumbles, and takes another drink. His ears are turning bright pink. He starts walking back towards our pile of stuff in the hallway to the loos, as if he can physically run away from the awkwardness of my question.
I am in hot pursuit, as is Fran.
‘As ifEmmawas your last relationship! That was more thanten years ago.’
He comes to a halt by our bags and the remains of our picnic. A huff bursts out of him, and he rolls his shoulders and head back like he’s shrugging off some unseen burden. ‘It’s just hard, okay? I feel like there are all these expectations and I don’t meet them. Or like, if I tell a girl I’m “family-orientated” she thinks it’s cute until I have to cancel a date because Dad’s had a bad turn, and then suddenly I’m the problem for not prioritising my ownlife and my relationship instead. And that’s if I even get past the first date …’
Poor guy sounds so dejected, I feel a moral obligation to fix it. He needs a hype woman in his corner! Maybe he needs a wing-woman? I could totally go out to bars with him or look through his Bumble chat history to tell him where he’s going wrong. I’d say I could set him up with one of my friends, but I don’t think he’d like any of them very much.
I don’t thinkIlike any of them very much.
We’re a shallow, vain little group. A guy like Leon needs someone – hardy. Warm. In touch with her emotions.
‘Do you tell them about his MS?’ Francesca asks, and Leon pulls a face, wobbles his head in neither a shake nor a nod.
Ding, ding, ding, we have a winner…
‘Depends,’ he says. ‘Don’t think it’d make much difference anyway.’
I tell him, ‘You’re being way too hard on yourself! I mean, no shit would a girl not want to date you if you’re coming in with this defeatist attitude and feeling all sorry for yourself! You need to change your outlook, Leon!Manifest.’
‘With sparkle emojis,’ Fran says, catching my eye with a cheeky grin.
‘Yes! Exactly! Leon, honey, you’re a catch. I mean, yes, you’ve got no coordination and are so clumsy it’s like we can’t take you anywhere, but you’ve got that whole beefy weightlifter thing going with the shoulders and the thighs. Those are somegoodthighs. And sure, you’re not always forthcoming when it comes to making conversation, and you take a while to open up to people and that can seem a bit like maybe you aren’t interested or—’
Leon peers down at Fran. ‘Is this supposed to be making me feel better, d’you think?’
