Someone takes the mic to introduce the first fighters and his attention focuses on the ring. Unable to get Meghan’s crestfallen face out of my mind, I quickly excuse myself and head towards the ladies’.
Chapter Fifty
RACHEL
I don’t know why I felt the need to follow her. I hardly even know her. She seems to get on with Olly… Well, up until she accidentally knocked me out, that is, but he’ll get over it. I did.
She resonates with me, a younger version of myself. She tries to hide her vulnerabilities, but I see them. I push open the door to find her facing the mirror, wiping her cheeks.
“Are you okay?” I ask, stepping up beside her.
She gazes at me from her reflection, shaking her head once. “Not really,” she replies, sniffing.
I grab a tissue from the box on the sink and hand it to her.
“Thanks.” She wipes under her eyes, trying to clear up the smudged eyeliner.
“If you need someone to talk to, I’m a good listener,” I say.
Cautious eyes hold mine as she contemplates my words. “It’s just Henry and me. It’s complicated,” she says, throwing her hands up into the air.
“When isn’t it? Men are nothing but trouble,” I reply.
This makes her smile. “He thinks I did something, and now he can barely look at me. We have history—me, him, his brother. But I’d never intentionally want to hurt either of them,” she says, wiping her eyelashes and drying off the excess tears.
“Listen, I don’t know what’s happened, but I can assure you, he sees you. His eyes never left you once when you walked away from our table.”
“Really?”
I nod and cup her shoulder. “Really,” I reply. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”
“I hope so.”
Just then, two women burst through the door, giggling, and when they spot Meghan, they poke their noses up in the air like their shit doesn’t stink.
I look at Meghan, and she shrugs.
“She’s got a nerve, showing her face here,” says a voice from one of the cubicles.
“I don’t know why she even bothers. He wouldn’t go there and have sloppy seconds.”
Meghan’s cheeks heat, and I feel uncomfortable. They’re talking about her. I cough loudly and call out, “You know, this isn’t school. Isn’t it about time you two bitches grew the fuck up?”
There’s a gasp followed by a ruffle of fabric and the flush of the toilet.
The tallest of the two girls exits first and approaches the sinks, but I do not attempt to move out of her way. I square my shoulders. I’ve known girls like her my whole life—I used to be one.
Her friend joins her, all her bravado now gone. Maybe because they aren’t used to people calling them out on their bullshit. I smirk.
“Do you mind?” asks the girl who seems to have the biggest chip on her shoulder.
“No, not particularly,” I reply, crossing my arms and looking her up and down.
“Jess, leave it. Come on, I have hand sanitiser,” says the other girl, digging through her bag, already angling towards the door.
Puffing out her chest, she spins on her heels, and they both scurry away.
“You didn’t have to do that,” says Meghan but her smile is grateful.
