Page 126 of Jessica Beam is a Hot Mess
As the audience burst into applause, Leo hurries down off the stage, races over to me, swoops me out of his chair, up into his arms, and spins me round with glee. I laugh into his neck, and as he puts me back down, he leans in close and whispers into my ear.
‘I love you, Luce.’
I stop mid-chuckle.
What?
Helovesme?
Is this a joke?
I peer up at him. He’s staring tenderly down at me, and not at all in a jokey way.
God. I can’t believe it.
Matilda Beam’s tips worked, and Leo . . . loves me?
Does this mean that we did it? That the experiment has succeeded?
Wow.Wow.
I expect to feel a surge of relief. Finally, I can go back to Grandma and Valentina and tell them that, yes,How to Catch a Man Like It’s 1955has worked. I don’t have to see Leo again, I don’t have to risk any more of these dangerousfeelings.
But I don’t feel relief. I feel happy and fizzy and guilty. Really fucking guilty. And a bit sad, like I’ve lost something, which is stupid, because you can’t lose something that is based on a lie.
Leo loves me.
And . . . I think, shit, I think I might love him. Fucking hell. I don’t know what to do. I can’t love Leo Frost. Surely it’s impossible after only three weeks. Not to mention the fact that he thinks I’m someone completely different.Andthe fact thatIdon’t fall in love.
Is this how love feels? Like the most amazing, inconvenient fucking nightmare?
At my hesitation, Leo searches my face, his expression melting from one of joy into one of nervousness.
I open my mouth to respond. I think I’m about to tell him that I love him too when, suddenly, Postman Gavin appears in front of me, a concerned look on his boyish features.
‘Peach is really drunk and I’m worried. She needs you. She’s in the cloakroom.’
Oh no.
‘Take me to her,’ I say immediately.
As Leo blinks in confusion, I throw him an apologetic shrug before dashing off with Gavin to find my friend.
Gavin hurriedly leads me to the small church cloakroom. He waits outside while I go in to where Peach, massive ballgown pooled in the space around her, is sprawled on the floor under a rail of coats, head leaning dozily against the wall.
‘Peach, are you all right?’ I squat down to her level.
‘I don’t feel too good,’ she groans, mascara smudges smeared on her cheeks. ‘Am really drunk. Think it was the tequila.’
Damn right it was the tequila. This is my fault. I shouldn’t have told her to have a shot. I knew how nervous she was tonight. I should have kept a better eye on her. How could I not have predicted this?
‘Everything is spinny, so spinny.’ Her eyes close slightly. She’s absolutely fucked. Shit. Is this the state I used to get myself into?
‘We need to get you back home,’ I say, helping her to her feet.
‘Bed.’
‘Yup. That.’
