Page 39 of London, Can You Wait?

Alex folded the confirmation. “She only writes about exes, silly.”

He leaned farther over the table, his face bright. “I’ve booked us a gorgeous hotel, too…”

Sure, but isn’t all this just an apology? For tearing up our holiday, not once, but twice this year?It was a far-away consolation prize, and like so many things with Mark, it involved an anxiety-filled wait to see if it would materialize.

We can see the Christmas Spectacular at Radio City Music Hall, check out Macy’s holiday windows…” He sounded like a tourism website advertising NYC. “Happy, babe?”

Alex nodded.

“Me too. It’s you and me, Mouse, always.”

“Mark?!”

Alex’s eyes jagged upwards as Mark turned to his right, a familiar voice in his ears. A tall hulk of a girl around Alex’s age hung over Mark’s shoulder. Her hands juggled a phone, a deck of promotional Lairds and Liars cards, and a Sharpie held aloft in expectation.

“Daisy…hi,” Mark mumbled.

“Oh, my God! What a coincidence, bumping into you here.” Daisy smiled.

To Alex, this fangirl’s almost complete lack of self-awareness was annoying and rude and certainly not new. Daisy seemed to operate without a filter, overstepping the line between fan and stalker. Too many times, this self-declared ‘#1 fan from Belgium’ showed up in the right place at the right time…

Fuck! My tweet two days ago, about visiting the markets, the huge Santa—and my boyfriend. FUCK! I left Daisy breadcrumbs, and she must have followed me here.

Alex eyed the plastic bag swinging from Daisy’s elbow. “Find what you were looking for?”

“I did, thanks.” The fan lurched closer, bumping the table with her thigh.

Mark shifted the gingerbread snowman Alex had bought him away from the edge of the table.

Daisy’s nosey glance poured over the flight confirmation, the sandwiches, as well as the wallpaper on Mark’s phone—a photo with Alex at Thirteen’s press night. She waved her cards. “Can I have an autograph?” Her tone was more assuming than asking, assuming Mark would have no problem pulling out of his private conversation to shower her with attention. In a way, she wasn’t wrong: Mark never seemed able to say no to fan requests.

This girl had taken up so much of their time over the past eighteen months, hogging the stage door, camping out for TV interviews, showing up on the street, and asking for autographs…every…single…time. How many autographs did one fan need? Daisy always wanted something, even if Mark was tired, in a rush, or having a private moment—like right now—and her long-winded letters were creepy. Mark had shown Alex a few where Daisy had rambled on obsessively about their ‘friendship’, and yet in person, Daisy barely spoke. She only asked for signatures or photos, never asking questions about Mark’s work or making small talk. Alex almost felt a little sorry for her. Perhaps, she had nothing else in her life…

But today was one demand too many. Alex raised her eyebrows and shook her head. “I’m sorry, but we’re in the middle of lunch…”

Daisy turned her back to Alex and pouted. “Please, Mark?”

Alex didn’t have to see Daisy’s face to know she was staring at him all big-eyed pleading like Puss in Boots from Shrek.

Mark surveyed the room, pushing his cap down over his eyes. He nodded at Alex with a look that said, Sorry Mouse, and stood up. “Sure, but be fast, Daze. Can’t annoy the other customers.”

The fan dwarfed Mark by six inches, half of that hair. Five cards were stuffed into his hand, each one with a different publicity image. Just like that, Daisy’s request for ‘an autograph’ multiplied to five. When he handed the cards back, all personalized and signed, Daisy stretched out her arm, phone in hand, and squished her uninvited greasy face against Mark’s cheek for a selfie. She snapped a photo burst, then another.

Alex rolled her eyes underneath her bangs and chomped her sandwich, the best way to silence her tongue.

“You good?” Mark offered a slash of a smile, not wishing to encourage Daisy any further.

“Oops, I blinked.”

Alex chugged Mark’s water. Yeah, right.

Daisy clicked another burst as five more teens with phones at the ready flew out of nowhere like pesky wasps at a picnic.

Alex leaned back in her chair. More?

“Mark! Oh, God.” Mancunian accents flew fast and furious. “Pose with me?”

The shortest girl in the pack shoved forward. “I love Lairds. Your accent rocks.”

Alex blew out her cheeks. “Sorry, but could we finish eating first?”

The girl launched a death stare at Alex. Face to face with her crush’s significant other, her manners melted quicker than a 99 Flake ice cream on a sunny Brighton beach. “Mark doesn’t mind.” She started to video record Mark with her phone. “He loves spending time with us.”

Mark ran a hand over his chin and met Alex’s eyes. “Sorry,” he mouthed.

Another girl nudged his elbow. “Mark, say hi to my friend Ronnie in Leeds.” She held out her phone, the dial tone bleating from its screen. Alex’s jaw dropped. This girl was dialing Ronnie in Leeds, fully expecting Mark to FaceTime right now.

Daisy hovered with her five autographs and countless selfies, clueless that her moment in Mark’s spotlight was over. She scrolled through Instagram but kept squinty side-eye on the girls flirting with her ‘friend’. Alex noticed Daisy stopped the Voice Memo app on her phone—she had recorded their conversation!

Alex shoved her toastie against her empty crisp bag. Where did all the polite fans go? Were Lucy, Freddie, and her the last of a dying breed, valuing respect, empathy, and self-awareness? Mark didn’t owe these fans anything apart from common courtesy and a polite hello, but they all seemed to think being interrupted, prodded, and grabbed was part of his obligation as an actor on their TV screens. How could he not love it? And who the hell was she for standing in their way?

After several minutes of high-pitched squeals, additional autographs for friends of friends, and snarky glances at Alex, the pack slunk away. Following Daisy’s lead, they bought cola and sweet ‘n’ salty popcorn then sat a few tables over, riveted in their seats, watching Alex and Mark as if their lunch date was the latest Netflix smash hit. These girls had no shame.

“Fangirls, eh?” Mark winked.

“I’ve got another name for them…” Alex swallowed hard.

She bowed her head. Mark picked at his sandwich. No further conversation passed their lips.