Page 70 of The Layover
He would’ve said something before now. He would’ve held off his relationship with Kayleigh to see if there was anything between us, or spoken to me about it. He’s not afraid to put himself out there and take risks like I am.
He would’ve come back that morning with coffee and pastries, instead of leaving my bed to immediately message another girl and then hook up with someone else all weekend.
He’s had so many opportunities to choose me, and he never has.
It’s a joke.Imust be a joke to him, just like Leon says. Mocking me behind my back, like I overheard them saying earlier – and who can blame him? Whowouldn’tlaugh at the pathetic girl at the office trailing after him all moony-eyed,giving him home-cooked leftovers for his lunch, fawning all over him on a night out, bringing him slices of birthday cake just to see him smile …
There are tears already pouring down my cheeks, and a hysteria building in my chest that threatens to crush my lungs.
I can’t believe I’ve been such an idiot.
‘Wait! Francesca—’
Oh, God, no, he’s not …
He’s notfollowing me, is he?
I glance back, shocked, and – he is. He’s come after me. Leon stumbles off the end of the escalator, and I let out a high-pitched noise of surprise, freezing. He catches my eye, looking stricken, and I can only imagine howImust look in that moment.
What is he doing? Why is he chasing after me? Is it just to lecture me some more about what a worthless idiot I am? To shout at me for getting involved with Marcus at all, like he obviously wanted to when this whole layover began and he realised who I was?
Well, he won’t follow me into the toilets, will he?
He’ll have to go away and leave me to cry in peace, then. Maybe he can rant to Gemma about how much he hates me instead.
I bolt down the corridor, past our picnic spot, down Gemma’s makeshift catwalk.
This time, the ladies’ bathroom is blessedly silent. The stall doors are all open and empty, there are no hand-dryers blaring, no overlapping voices …
Just my own racing heart and ragged breathing.
I hunch over the sink, trying to steady myself, and that headache that began to threaten when I was in here a little while ago with Gemma returns full-force. I screw my eyes shut, but the pain only intensifies as memories flood in – the guys ribbing Marcus and jeering, joking, the second I leave the table on anight out; Kayleigh’s curled lip and disdainful look up and down when I would arrive for a dinner party; that little sinking feeling I’d push aside whenever Marcus didn’treallyreply to something I’d said but started talking about his own day instead …
But, but, but.
That kiss. Those sparks. The way he smiles at me.
Is it really all in my head?
A sob breaks out of my mouth, and I grip the porcelain ledge of the sink tighter.
I’m suddenly aware of a presence next to me, the warmth of a body near my arm.
‘Here.’
I force my eyes open and find Leon holding out a wad of toilet roll to me, for me to dry my eyes. I take it, trying not to think about how wretched my face looks in the mirror.I can’t show up to the wedding like this, I need to look my best. Why would he ever fancy me and leave Kayleigh for me if I look like I’ve spent my whole night sleepless and crying and drunk?
That only makes me cry harder, though. I wipe my nose and eyes, but Leon doesn’t go anywhere. I’m surprised he followed me in at all; he must beverydetermined.
I sniffle. ‘Go on then.’
‘What?’
‘Carry on telling me how little you think of me, and what an idiot I am. HowdelusionalI am to think Marcus might ever pick someone likeme. What a horrible, conniving person I am to want to steal him.’
‘That’s not—’
I let out a laugh that sounds nothing like me. It’s a bit wet, with all the tears, but it’s a sharp, short bark of a sound, and I even manage to cut Leon a no-nonsense look. ‘Please. You made it plenty obvious earlier that you can’t stand me. You wouldn’t have stuck around with me if Gemma hadn’t corralledus together, and the only time you did look comfortable hanging out with me was after a few drinks, which is hardly a ringing endorsement. And you’ve clearly only followed me in here to carry on berating me for being so worthless and stupid, so—’
