Page 85 of The Layover
‘Right. Yeah. Course.’ He coughs, takes the bag, and then we both stand there awkwardly for several seconds. ‘Uh, good luck.’
‘Thanks. You … you too.’
‘Sure.’
I’m not even sure he’s planning to speak to Kayleigh anymore, after everything Gemma told us. We never got around to talking about it, and then it got too late to ask, and …
‘I hope, whatever you decide to do, it goes alright,’ I tell him. ‘I hope it’s not too painful.’
Leon blinks a couple of times, seeming to let the words sink in, and then gives me a small smile. ‘You too. I hope … I hope you get what you’re looking for. What you deserve.’
If he’d said that when we first met in the airport, I would’ve taken those words as a harsh insult – but I understand, now, what he means. That I deservemore, not less.
Looking unsure of himself, Leon makes an awkward move forward like he’s going in for a hug, and then thrusts out his hand. I almost want to laugh. He was pressed up against me in a toilet stall a few hours ago, but now he’s blushing and offering me his hand to shake.
I take it, but rather than shake it, I squeeze it tight and use it to duck in close so I can kiss his cheek. ‘I’ll see you later.’
I tell the porter that I’ll check in properly later and cast one last look at Leon before I dash inside to do exactly what I came here to do, and tell Marcus how I feel before it’s too late.
It’s like something out of a painting, the kind of scene so breathtaking that it stops you in your tracks while you take it all in. The lush gardens full of greenery and flowerbeds and topiary, the huge white pavilion adorned in gold accents and flowering vines in the centre of it all, the rows of white chairs surrounded by garlands of peonies and lilac and eucalyptus, the water features and fountains adding a decadent ambiance to the gentle sound of crashing waves from the sea.
There’s already quite a crowd gathered around the pavilion ready for the ceremony, and I spot him. Down at the end, a drink in hand, surrounded by his groomsmen, laughing at something someone just said.
He looks so handsome, even from all the way over here. The crisp sandstone-colour linen suit, the turquoise pocket square, the fact he isn’t wearing a tie but has a few shirt buttons undone. The sunlight gilds his dark hair in a halo of gold, and his laugh rings out, warm and rich and inviting.
I take a breath. My hand shakes as I set it on the stone banister and descend the steps from the hotel terrace to the pavilion.
I feel like Cinderella arriving at the ball, can almost imagine the music swelling and birds twittering prettily as I enter the party in my lovely new dress, with my eyes only for the man I’ve come to see, just waiting for him to glance over – the way the world will stop turning and I will catch my breath, sure he does the same, how he will leave the conversation with his friends to walk towards me, drawn as if by a magnetism he can’t avoid but doesn’t want to anyway, and he’ll reach me as I get to the bottom of the steps, and …
Will he stare? Look bowled over, be speechless?
Say something like,You’re a knockout?
There are butterflies in my tummy.
And – nothing happens. None of it happens.
This is not a movie; I am not the main character. Nobody pays me any attention and the world doesn’t come to a stop for the two of us, and I get all the way up to Marcus and his friends before he even notices me.
‘Fran! Shit, there you are! You made it!’
He slings an arm around me, kissing my cheek.
‘I made it. I promised, didn’t I?’ The words feel like a script, though. ‘Listen, I just wondered, could we maybe—’
‘All alright? Leon and Gem get here okay, too?’
‘Yes. Yeah, they’re—’
‘Great stuff. Damn, you look good for someone who spent the night at an airport! Give us a twirl, babe, go on.’
Marcus takes my hand, lifting it over my head to spin me around.
It doesn’t feel like I’m the centre of his world, like this is flirty and sweet. It feels cheap, and like I am on display.
Can he tell I’m wearing the new underwear? Why was I stupid enough to believe Gemma when she said it was to makemefeel confident, not for his benefit? Right now it feels like just another way I’m a joke.
He laughs. The others join in. A girl – one of his uni friends, someone I’ve met at the dinner parties and get-togethers Kayleigh hosts – compliments my lipstick. I wait for that familiar flutter when Marcus’s eyes linger on me for a moment, but it’s nowhere to be found.
