by Lily Morton
Your faults are interesting because what you see as faults I see as positives. See my song choice below because it says what I think about you.
As for my faults I have none because to paraphrase Mary Poppins I am practically perfect in every way! However, you want some flaws so here you are:
I use humour to cover my real feelings – I’ve always done this. It stopped me being bullied and it’s stopped me getting my head kicked in by jealous men many times. However, thinking about it, it probably dates from when my mum sent me away. I hate to sound whiny and self-obsessed and you’ll know this but people tend to keep you around if you keep everything light.
Impatience – I’ve been very lucky in that whatever I’ve set my mind to get I’ve been given immediately, which makes me impatient when it doesn’t happen all the time. However, lately I’m playing a long game and I’m having to be patient about something that I want more than anything that I’ve ever wanted. I’ll let you know how I get on.
The next question that I need answering is how do you feel about us?
Yours always
Bram
Your song from me is: ‘Fucking Perfect’ by Pink
From: Alys O’Neill
To: Bram O’Connell
Subject: Hmm
Bram
I think that would be covered by my song choice below. How about you?
Your Alys xxx
Your song from me is: ‘Video Games’ by Lana Del Ray
From: Bram O’Connell
To: Alys O’Neill
Subject: Hmm Back at You
Alys
I’m hoping that I’ve not misunderstood your meaning because that song gave me hope. My view of us is in my song choice for today.
I miss you very much.
Your Bram
Your song from me is: ‘Crazy Love’ by Maxi Priest
From: Bram O’Connell
To: Alys O’Neill
Subject: Feeling Blue and Missing You
Alys
Sorry for writing again but it’s late at night and I’m in my hotel room in Seville and thinking of you. I promise that my hands have stayed above the waist – well mostly!
Joking aside I really miss you tonight. We’ve only known each other for a couple of years but I can’t believe how much I miss you when you’re not here. It’s boring without you, mainly I think because everything is just more fun when I share it with you.
Touring can be tremendously fun – you get to see so many different countries, places that some people will never see, and have so many different experiences, but I’m lagging with this one. I see things all the time that would interest you and it’s become a compulsion when I check into a new hotel to find out what interesting places are nearby so that I can imagine taking you to them.
There’s a party on tonight but I don’t have much interest in getting drunk and so I find myself sitting in a large, echoing hotel room wishing that I was cuddled against you on our settee. I wish that I could throw my arm around you and feel you snuggle into me and that I could stroke your hair. I want to sit talking to you about anything and everything, but most of all I just want to get us sorted.
Every day my worries grow that you’ll find someone else, that you’ll get tired of our drama and find some nice doctor who will treat you properly and never say some of the things I have said to you but never meant in the past.
My song for you is below. It’s a sad little song but with powerful emotions.
Your Bram
Your song from me is: ‘By My Side’ by INXS
From: Alys O’Neill
To: Bram O’Connell
Subject: Waiting for You
Bram
I hate that you’re feeling so low and worrying so much. Please don’t, because there is no need. I am here. I will always be here – just waiting for you. There are no doctors or surgeons or handsome men that could ever compare to you because you’re incomparable for me. They cannot give me what you do so stop worrying, get a good night’s sleep and rest assured that I am holding to us. My song choice is below. It too has a lot of emotions and says what I want you to know.
Yours
Alys
Your song from me is: ‘Keep this Fire Burning’ by Beverley Knight
From: Bram O’Connell
To: Alys O’Neill
Subject: Where are You?
WHERE ARE YOU ALYS AND WHO ARE YOU WITH? YOU MADE ME A FUCKING PROMISE.
Bram
From: Alys O’Neill
To: Bram O’Connell
Subject: Please Answer Your Phone
Bram
It’s not what you think. Please answer your phone so that I can explain.
Your Alys Always
Copenhagen
That Night
Bram
I slump in my seat feeling my heart beating like it’s going to come out of my chest. As soon as I sit I have to stand up and start pacing, feeling rage build inside me like I need to smash something over and over again. I stumble over a mess of empty bottles and glasses and my eyes fall on the big screen TV on the wall playing MTV and I’m just making my way to it with long strides when there’s a massive, frantic pounding on the door and I hear Matt shouting my name.
I swing the door open angrily. “You’ll have security up here you fucking idiot. What the hell is wrong with you?”
He doesn’t reply but just forces his way past me and starts roaming through the suite. I stand still in amazement as he checks every inch of the rooms including behind the shower curtain, and then comes back to me still with that panicked expression on his face.
I fold my arms glaring at him. “I must say these surprise drug raids are getting aggressively thorough these days. Did you think that I’d put the coke in the tub for a nice soak before snorting it?”
“Cut the crap,” he mutters. “Where’s the girl?”
“What girl?” I can hear my voice rising in agitation. He should have let me smash that TV because the way that he’s going I’m going to hit him instead if he’s not careful.
“The girl you left the party with tonight.”
I slump on a large, leather sofa, suddenly devoid of energy. “She’s not here,” I say dully.
He pauses, staring at me like he’s got laser eyes. “Did you fuck her Pip? Oh please tell me you didn’t.”
I raise one eyebrow. “Gosh Matty I never knew you felt like that about me, but don’t worry if you’re jealous because it’s perfectly acceptable to express your emotions. We are all friends here. No one will judge you although I regret to inform you that I have not renounced pussy.”
He flails his arms looking unacceptably revolted. “Ugh I’m not jealous you dick wad and why are you talking like a mixture of Jane Austen and Oprah? I just wanted to make sure that you weren’t ruining your life.”
“She’s not here,” I finally say, lying back and feeling the rage die out and pain rush in. “And you’re too late to stop me ruining my life. That Irish witch I’m in love with has done that.”
“Oh Bram,” he sighs, throwing himself down next to me and drawing me into a rough hug which I don’t resist because Matt’s hugs are good. “She hasn’t done anything.”
“She’s gone out with Eddie. I know she has. I rang her tonight and Daisy told me.”
He shakes my shoulder where his hand is resting. “You mean Daisy the small child? Alys hasn’t gone out with Eddie at all. She went out with Eddie and his new girlfriend who is looking to become a nurse. Alys rang me as soon as Daisy told her that she’d spoken to you. Apparently your phone is busy.”
I shrug, avoiding looking at where my phone is lying smashed to pieces against the wall and then I slump against the cushions feeling relief steal back in where before there had been this icy biting pain. “You’re sure?”
He nods firmly. “I swear to you. She’s not gone out with him in any way apart from as friends.” He hesitates. “What happened with the model because Seth told me that you left
the party with her?”
I smile wryly. “Came and got you did he?”
He smiles. “Of course. Luckily Alys had rung so I had a better idea what was happening. He was just worried that you’d fuck this up while in a rage.” He raises his eyebrow at me and I shake my head.
“You’d no need to worry.” I sigh, looking down at my checked Vans. “I did think about it for a second. I thought about it, about taking that girl and fucking her to get Al out of my head, but I’d dismissed it before I even got to the door. I couldn’t do it even if I wanted to Matt.” I pause. “Even if she had shagged him I still don’t think that I’d do it. I might murder the bloke, but her – she’s mine. She’s got me so twisted up over her but I don’t want to get free. I want to stay there because it’s home.”
He gifts me with one of his wide, warm smiles. “Well you don’t need to worry about her. She’s golden, Bram. Elen says that all she’s done for the last couple of months is talk about you or to you, and according to Elen she spends more time writing than J.K. Rowling.”
I bring my fists up to massage my eyes and groan. “I’m going mental Matty. I miss her so much and I’m so far away when all I want to do is touch her and sort this out so that I get to keep her.”
“Well you’ll see her soon,” he soothes. “The tour’s over tomorrow night anyway. Why didn’t you have her come out if you miss her so much?”
I shrug. “I didn’t want to be interrupted. You know what it’s like on tour.” He nods. “I just want it to be her and me on our own so that I can persuade her to take me on, and I didn’t want any distractions.”
He ruffles my hair. “Have you got a plan? That’ll cheer you up if you know what you’re doing.”
I sit up prepared to admit that I have no plan other than convincing her to take a chance on me, which let’s face it is going to take some doing, and then tumbling her into bed and keeping her there for the next year. However, my attention is caught by the video playing on MTV. It’s an old Madonna track ‘Justify My Love’ and my attention is caught mainly by the fact that she’s dressed in just a trench coat and some stockings and looks a bit dirty and at her peak slutty best. Those years if you ask any man are the best Madonna years. It’s when she looked like a really dirty Marilyn Monroe, did the nude calendar and felt compelled to strip at any opportunity. However, it’s the lyrics that really catch my attention and my brain whirs. I turn to him. “Matty I’ve had an idea.”
He sighs heavily. “Well I suppose it is that time of year.”
“Fuck off, I need your help.”
I wake up slowly the next morning with the most blinding pain in my temples. It appears that emptying your mini bar of every alcoholic beverage is not actually a good idea unless you favour having an imaginary ice pick hammering your brain. Rolling over I let out a pitiful groan and then go up on one elbow at the sight of Matt lying on the settee under a pile of blankets.
“Oy Matty,” I shout and the body bundle moves, letting out a piteous groan.
“Why didn’t you sleep in the bed with me?” I ask.
He moans. “I’ve shared a bed with you and I’d rather sleep on the cold, hard ground for a week than undergo that torture ever again.”
I sit up indignantly, suppressing the urge to grab my hair and cry like a girl at the pain. “Women would pay to sleep next to this.”
He pushes the covers back looking like a really scruffy blonde mole. “Yes, and in the middle of the night they’d pay to take out a contract hit on you. You snore and fidget and you’re a total bog.”
“Bog?”
“Bog. Bed hog.”
I pshaw. “Whatever.”
He looks at me nervously. “Pip do you remember last night?”
I flutter my eyelashes. “Did you take advantage of my pretty, drunk ass babe?”
He looks revolted and makes a gagging noise which is frankly offensive. “No, I meant ‘your idea’.”
“Why are you doing air quotes?”
He sighs. “Because I’m not sure that you’ve quite thought this through.”
“Matt, when have I ever thought anything through and look at us all now?”
He sighs again. “Why do you always make some twisted sort of sense?”
I jump out of bed. “It’s a gift, now get up hotshot and help me plan my epic wooing.” I grab my temples and moan piteously. “After you get me some paracetamol.”
Chapter Sixteen
Alys
I let myself into the house wearily, dropping my shopping bags and slamming the door before leaning back against it for a tired second. There are no sounds coming from anywhere and I remember Elen saying this morning that the three of them were going out to the pictures today. I smile at the thought of that little family and just for effect I shout out, “Honey I’m home,” and then jump with a little scream as a lean, instantly recognisable figure emerges from the lounge and leans against the door smiling at me with his lopsided grin.
“About time a stòr. I’ve been waiting for forever.”
“Bram!” I inhale. I’d worried about this moment thinking that I would feel awkward and shy around him caught as we are between our pasts, those extraordinarily intimate emails that he’d sent me and I’d read hundreds of times, and the unfortunate misunderstanding the other night. However, there’s no time for shyness. Instead joy races through me like a tsunami and I launch myself at him laughing as he catches me, swinging me up in the air in his strong arms before folding me into a tight hug and burying his face in my hair.
“Jesus Christ I missed you,” he mutters into my good ear. “You feel so fucking good.”
So does he I realise as all my senses come alive at the smell of him and the feel of his warm, hard muscles against me, and before I know what I’m doing I sway against him with a throaty murmur. He goes rigid for a second and I feel the thrust of his hard cock for one brief second as he moans deep in his throat, but then he pushes me back gently holding me at arm’s length and looking at me wryly.
“A stòr I’m not that sort of boy. One hug and you’re trying to grope me,” he teases and I blush.
“I’m sorry,” I falter and instantly he becomes serious backing me against the wall and letting me feel all of him against me. His hips thrust against me almost as if against his will but then he shoves back panting and canting a shaking hand through his hair.
“Fuck,” he mutters. “You’re like my own personal napalm. One touch and I’m obliterated.”
I smile charmed beyond belief and he grins back at me looking glad and tanned and everything to me. Then he shakes his finger warningly. “Enough of this dilly dallying babe we’re on a time restriction.”
“What?” I manage before he pulls me into the lounge, pushes me onto the settee and thrusts my iPad at me. “Look at this,” he insists bossily, throwing himself next to me and immediately curling close, his hand on my thigh. I look down. It’s cued to YouTube and when he presses play a black and white film starts playing along with some heavy breathing, and then Madonna appears and I realise that I’m watching her ‘Justify My Love’ video.
I waggle the tablet at him. “Why am I watching this?”
“Ssh. Concentrate,” he hisses. So I sit for the next five minutes as a man with very long fingernails keeps dancing around groups of people in light bondage gear who are simulating sex, and Madonna strips down to her stockings and underwear. Finally it finishes and he looks at me expectantly. “Well?”
“Erm,” I falter. “Well it’s tamer than I remember. Didn’t it get banned? I suppose her underwear is very nice and she has a banging body.” I stammer to a close and shrug helplessly as he looks at me pityingly and shakes his head.
“Oh Alys you’re very slow but that’s okay because I’m fast enough for both of us.”
I laugh, hopelessly charmed by him. “I wouldn’t advertise that much speed on your resume.”
He looks at me smugly something dark moving in his expression. “Oh, I think we both know that I�
�m not one for speed in vital areas of my life.” I gulp because I do remember how much he likes to take his time. He edges forward his heavy lidded gaze fixed on my lips before he starts and pulls himself back giving me a chiding look. “Alys this isn’t just a song to us. It’s our bullet point to do list.”
I’m completely flummoxed and a little nervous. I point at the tablet. “You want me to have group sex?”
“What?” he rears back affronted. “No of course I don’t fucking want that.” I slump in relief and he glares at me. “I don’t ever want anyone to see you when we’re in bed together.”
I ignore the present tense in that sentence in favour of another question. “But you’ve done that?” I ask softly and against my will.
He nods reluctantly and then seems to steel himself. “Al, I’ve done a lot of things, most of which I’m okay with because it was always with the full consent of the person concerned, but you, you’re different.”
“How?” I whisper.
He swallows hard. “Because you mean something.” Silence falls and he stirs. “That sounds really douchey like I didn’t give a shit about the women that I’ve been with, but they were so fleeting. Come today, gone tomorrow. You mean more than that and you always will.”
I’m unsure what this means and afraid to ask, and as if he senses this he switches back to the tablet which he shakes at me. “This is the key to my wooing babe.”
I try to hold back a laugh but a giggle still escapes me. “Wooing?”
He nods firmly. “Yes, wooing. I’m going to woo the fuck out of you O’Neill. You’re going to be the most wooed woman in the world.”
“Nice alliteration.”
He smirks. “I try. I’m good with that like I’m good with lascivious, lewd lust.”
I laugh. “But why are you wooing me?”
He shoots me a look. “Don’t you know?” His voice is suddenly serious and I gulp unable to take this conversation any further at the moment because I’m so confused.
Suddenly giving in and all humour gone I turn to him. “What is this Bram? What do you want from me?”
He stares at me intently. “I don’t think that you’re ready for that conversation yet love.” For all his flippancy he is one of the most astute people that I’ve ever met, able to seemingly pluck people’s feelings out of the air like a magician.
