Page 15 of Deliah
He rubbed his face. “You gonna text me?”
I grinned. “I’ll think about it.”
He smirked, eyes still closed. “Yeah, yeah. You’ll think about it. You’re already missing me.”
“Missing you.” I scoffed. “Try the other way around.”
He cracked one eye open. “Shut up. You’re obsessed.”
Maybe I was. I knew I was enjoying whatever it was we were doing.
Anyway, I dragged myself up and down to the café for one last fry-up and to collect my final envelope of wages. My flight was the next day, and the rest of the girls were trickling off the island over the next week—one emotional hangover at a time.
Archie, my boss and the owner of the café, was out front when I arrived. “Good night last night, Deliah?” he said with a knowing smirk.
I clocked Ash sitting in the corner with her sunglasses on indoors, sipping an orange juice like she was being punished.
“Fucking grass,” I muttered under my breath.
She didn’t even flinch. “Jay’s a fucking idiot, Deliah.”
I raised a brow, pretending not to care. “You sound jealous.”
She scoffed. “I sound experienced. I’ve seen him do this a hundred times. He gets himself a girl for the winter, plays boyfriend for a few weeks, and then ditches her the second the new girls arrive for the season.”
I rolled my eyes so hard it hurt. “Well, lucky for me, I only wanted him for a fuck anyway.”
Archie chimed in, wiping down a table beside us. “That’s what they all say.”
I whipped my head round. “Alright, calm down, Dad.”
He held up his hands in surrender. “Just sayin’. He’s got a type. You’re it. And you’re also… not the first.”
The words hit harder than I wanted to admit. It shouldn’t have hurt. But it did. Not because I wanted hearts and flowers but because I didn’t want to be forgettable. I stared down at my coffee, heat rising in my chest like I’d swallowed fire. I wanted to shrug and laugh it off. But instead, I sat in silence, jaw clenched, eyes fixed on the steam rising from my mug. After a few moments of thought, I was already building my comeback. Not because I was heartbroken or because I thought I was in love. But because I refused to be typical. I refused to be another name in his shag-and-ghost catalogue. There was a fire lit under my skin, and it wasn’t Jay—it was Archie. It was Ash. It was every smug little voice that thought they’d figured me out.No, babe. I’m not like the other girls. I’m not staying up all winter checking if you’re online. I’m not going to send long texts asking what went wrong. But you? You’re going to miss me.He’d be begging to wife me up by spring. Mark my words.
We were different. I was different. We felt different.
Later that day, I met up with Jay. He was waiting outside his flat, wearing that stupid backwards cap and a cocky grin like nothing in the world could touch him. “Told you I’d see you before you went,” he said, pulling me in by the waist.
I kissed him, quick and cheeky. “Didn’t think I’d leave without saying goodbye, did you?”
“Would’ve tracked you down.”
I laughed, though something in my chest pinched. He opened the door, and we slipped inside. It was quiet, unusually still for his place. The usual mess—half-eaten pizza, unwashed clothes, random club lanyards—was all still there. But there was something final about it now. The end of a chapter.
He closed the door and leaned back against it, arms folded. “Gonna miss me?” he asked, cocking his head.
“Nope,” I said, deadpan. “Booked a replacement shag for Tuesday.”
He raised a brow. “Better looking than me?”
I shrugged. “Different vibe. Less annoying.”
“Less annoying, but does he fuck you like I do?”
“Not yet. But I’ll let you know.”
Jay pushed off the door and crossed the room, grabbing me by the jaw with one hand and tilting my chin up. “You’re such a bitch,” he whispered.
