“But do you want to know why he block—” Daisy stops herself mid-sentence. “Why he did the things he did?”
My stomach swooshes. My hastily drunk tea threatens to make a reappearance. Did he tell her what happened on the twenty-ninth of August? Everything that happened? Everything I said?
“Why did he?” I ask and instantly regret it. “Actually, I don’t want to know. Don’t tell me.”
“Abs, come on.”
“Enjoy your life in Scotland.” I drain the tea—because I’m desert-thirsty—get up from the bench, and move to another table.
I’m officially a cunt. But nothing’s new there.
“Oh, Harry, please.” Daisy moves to the new bench, but she doesn’t sit down this time. “Please give him another chance.”
I check my phone. Still twenty minutes before my ride arrives. “Has it really come to you begging me to make up with him? I’m sure Lando will appreciate the pity friendship.”
“That’s not what I mean, and you know it,” she says.
I do, in fact. But I’m not admitting that to her. I haven’t had even half a second yet to decompress from the unexpectedness of last night. I don’t know how I’m feeling about it all, and I sure as shit don’t need Mathias Jones’s new step-daughter telling me what to do or how to feel.
Instead of answering her, I pillow my head once again and shut my eyes to the rest of the world. She hovers beside me for a moment, then I hear the soft scrape of china against the wooden tabletop as she collects the mugs, and she’s gone.
It occurs to me that it might be the last time I ever see Daisy May Bosley.
At my flat, and when I can finally plug my phone in to charge, I go through the messages I received last night and this morning. There are none from Lando. Though he probably still has my number blocked, so it’s not in any way surprising.
There are a few from Eggo.
Yo, Abs, where you to?
Hello. You there?
Did you pull?
Pi’s drunk too much. Gonna take him home when he stops barfing.
We’re leaving in ten minutes. If ur not there, see you at practice on Mon.
OK ur not here.
Hope you get home OK.
And a few from Pi from last night, where it seems his autocorrect has either been working overtime or has failed altogether.
Oi cunt, where are you?
I’m fucked. Been drinkinf Eggs booze bc designation drivers.
It’s spew city here.
Oh god. Im dying.
Ded.
Save me.
OMG Dan’s wasted. He’s been chatting to Gadget.
THIS MESSAGE HAS BEEN DELETED
