James could almost taste the tension in the air as he heard her gathering her things. It was bitter.
But he wouldn’t turn to look. No, he fairly certain now that if he saw her again, he was going to kiss her and he didn’t even know why. So he kept his eyes fixed on the window, watching the scenery rush past. The anger in her voice was more than apparent, and James clenched his jaw to keep from saying anything. The door slid shut behind him as she left and he suddenly realized what he’d just done. He hadn’t treated her any better than any of his random shags throughout the year. Worse, even, because at least those girls got a smile in the corridors. Usually. Well, sometimes...But that was entirely beside the point. There was suddenly an intense conflict going on in his head.
Go after her, then. Tell her you’re sorry. But I’m not. I can’t. That doesn’t happen in real life, come on. It could if you went. You didn’t mean to send her off like that. It doesn’t matter. We’ll never see each other again, anyway. She made sure of that. Did she, or are you? Shut the fuck up. Stop. Fucking coward, aren’t you, James? Yep. That’s me. Do I get a fucking trophy? For being the wanker of the century? Sure. It’s not my fault. This isn’t fair. What the fuck did she expect? Better than that. Some friend you are. A coward and a prick. Good for you. Yeah. Good for me.
Suddenly, he couldn’t find it in himself to be angry any more. James sank back into his seat and sighed heavily, feeling exhausted. He was just emotionally drained. He needed a drink. And a smoke. And more than anything, he needed to get the hell off this train. He didn’t even want to risk running into her. He’d wait until just about everyone else was gone, then, to get his stuff and go. He’d find Bastien and usher them out of the country as fast it was possible. Enough women would get rid of that odd sensation in his chest, certainly. Sex fixed everything.