Page 94 of The Layover
‘Alright, you two? Leon, how’s it going?’ Marcus gives him one of those bro-hugs, smacking him on the back, then winks at me with his usual grin. ‘Keeping this one out of trouble?’
Oh, God, did Ireallyfall for lines like that?
I need to get out more.
‘Aren’t you supposed to be having the first dance any minute?’ Leon replies instead.
‘Yeah, but you know how it goes. One too many beers, lethal. And I don’t think this lot would be best pleased with me if I took a whiz in the shrubbery.’ He laughs, and I grimace, and wonder yet again why I thought this man was so perfect. His hand restson my arm when he moves past and he says, in a quieter voice, but one Leon must surely still hear clearly enough, ‘Real shame you didn’t make it here last night, babe. Save me a dance later, yeah?’
His hand is sweaty, and I push it off, unable to stop myself from pulling a face.
‘No, I don’t think I will,’ I tell him curtly.
His face is a picture – a blank, slack look of shock.
I wonder how long it will take him to notice I’ve blocked his number and unfollowed him on socials. Probably quite a while. He’ll get over it, I don’t doubt.
It’s only after we walk away that Leon stops, laughing so hard he has to hug a stitch in his side.
‘I don’t think that man’s ever been told “no”’ for anything in his life! Did you see his face? Oh, man. Wish Gemma had seen that, too. You’re something else, Francesca, you know that?’
When he straightens up and catches my eye, I find myself throwing him a cheeky smile in response.
‘Some might even call me a knockout.’
‘They’d be absolutely right.’
This time, his arm loops around my waist on the way back into the party, and he turns to face me when we stop near the bar. ‘So is it all dancing that’s off-limits for you, or just a dance with the groom?’
‘Is that you asking me for a dance, Leon?’
His eyes glitter. ‘It’s me hoping you’ll say yes.’
‘Then, yes.’
Which is how, half an hour later, when a slow song plays, I end up on the dance floor with Leon’s arms around me and our bodies pressed close together, and I could just sink into his embrace. He’s a terrible dancer and keeps tripping over his ownfeet, but he holds me so gently that when he spins me around, it feels like my feet hardly even touch the ground.
At one point, I notice Kayleigh glaring daggers at me, and faintly wonder what sort of story she will paint of me – first stealing her man, and now her brother.
I decide that I really don’t care. I am not going to allow her or Marcus to take up any more space in my life.
I rest my head on Leon’s shoulder and his arms curve around my waist. The dance feels so strangely intimate, especially when we haven’t even shared a kiss, but I let my eyes slide closed as I relish the moment, my heart fluttering in my chest.
Maybe romance doesn’t have to be dramatic grand gestures that put everything on the line.
Maybe it can just be like this.
I think, in hindsight, I know which I’d rather choose.
When Leon speaks, his voice rumbles through his chest, and I feel it against the palm of my hand pressed there. He says, ‘Do you think maybe when we get back home, I could take you out on a date?’
I lift my head to smile at him. He’s so close that our noses brush, our breath mingles. I can feel his own heart thudding hard against his chest, too.
‘I’d really like that.’
‘I can’t promise any fornicating in toilets,’ he jokes, all mock-seriousness.
‘And I can’t promise any deplorable behaviour.’
