Rattle&Hum96
The Fly
- Joined
- Apr 5, 2010
- Messages
- 44
Hello everyone 
I'm baaaa-aaaack!
Wow. Sorry it took so long to post the next chapter--the past two weeks have been absolute hell at school, and I haven't had time to write. At all.
It's a bit rushed, too, so bear with me on the typos and stuff!
So, thanks for being patient
Greatly appreciated
I'd once again like to thank One_Acrobat for the insisitent prodding to get this chapter up, and to everyone who comment on the first chapter--you guys seriously motivated me!
Hugs to all.
Also, thanks to U2 for writing Last Night on Earth, which was basically my soundtrack for this chapter
Disclaimer: Not mine, no matter how many potato chips I wish on.
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]Later, when the bar was quieting down and the band had finished their set, I began to wonder what would happen next. It was late, and I had to go home at some point...but not a single part of me wanted the night to end.[/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]When Larry had left to go pack up his equipment, I noticed Edge staring at me out of the corner of his eye, rolling his almost-empty beer glass between his hands. [/FONT]
“[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]You're staring at me, Dave.” I stated, raising a speculative eyebrow. [/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]Edge finished the last of his drink and turned towards me, but didn't smile, as I'd expected he would. Instead, he just looked tired...and a little sad. His gaze flickered away from me, to his friend, who was crouched behind the drum-kit.[/FONT]
“[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]Something wrong?” I asked, sobering a little. [/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]There was a long pause. Edge looked oddly torn. Finally, he said:[/FONT]
“[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]You know he's....with someone right now, right?” [/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]I bit my lip sharply, my heart plummeting and my face heating. Had I really been that obvious? [/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]Yes, a small, rational voice answered. You'd have to have been unconscious not to notice.[/FONT]
“[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]Yeah,” I managed to get out. “I knew.” [/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]I had always been a terrible liar.[/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]I looked away from Edge's sympathetic, knowing gaze and back to the drummer. I watched as Larry straightened, stretched, and then turned back towards us. I quickly spun around, staring down at the oak wood bar. [/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]Edge leaned towards me. “It's not your fault,” he said softly, “he flirts with everyone. Rather like Bo—”[/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]His voice broke off abruptly, but I hardly noticed. I was silently cursing myself for being so naive.[/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]Of course he's not single. Are you delusional? He's Larry Mullen Jr of U2, for Christ's sake. Did you actually think you'd have a chance, after a few conversations in a bar in the middle of New York. Nice try. And now The Edge has given you a good dose of reality for your own good. Congratulations, you've had a productive night. [/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]But Edge said no more. He made no comment as Larry dropped into the seat beside me. [/FONT]
“[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]Well, Lily, it's been an absolute pleasure meeting you, love. But...I think the two of us are going to take off.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]I forced a smile onto my face, feeling a sick mixture of disappointment and hopelessness. They were leaving. I'd never see them again. Maybe on TV, or in a magazine—but they'd be The Edge and Larry Mullen of U2. Not the two men I'd met tonight. [/FONT]
“[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]Oh! Of course...it was...amazing, really, meeting the both of you. Thanks for making a crappy week end decidedly better.” I managed a laugh. [/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]They both smiled, and Larry raised my hand to his lips and kissed it softly. My stomach clenched and I blushed involuntarily. No matter what, he was still charming as hell.[/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]As they finished their goodbyes, and I mumbled slightly incoherent thank-yous, Edge leaned over, so close that I could feel his stubble graze my ear. His breath was warm in my ear as he whispered. [/FONT]
“[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]I just thought you'd maybe want to know...we're playing here again tomorrow night.” [/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]Before I could manage a reply, he'd gathered his guitar case, and disappeared into the thinning crowd of the bar. [/FONT]
I'm baaaa-aaaack!Wow. Sorry it took so long to post the next chapter--the past two weeks have been absolute hell at school, and I haven't had time to write. At all.
It's a bit rushed, too, so bear with me on the typos and stuff! So, thanks for being patient
Greatly appreciated I'd once again like to thank One_Acrobat for the insisitent prodding to get this chapter up, and to everyone who comment on the first chapter--you guys seriously motivated me!
Hugs to all.Also, thanks to U2 for writing Last Night on Earth, which was basically my soundtrack for this chapter
Disclaimer: Not mine, no matter how many potato chips I wish on.
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]The two of them both looked extremely comfortable on stage, and wondered briefly how long they had been performing in public. I just kept waiting, curious. How did only a drummer and a guitarist form a two-piece band? Obviously, Dave would be singing; there was a mic set up in front of him, but it still seemed a little out of the ordinary. [/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]No one else in the bar gave them much notice, other than the bartender and I. Neither Larry nor Dave looked particularly perturbed by this. They simply murmured together for a few minutes, until the drummer nodded and Dave moved away to the front of the tiny stage. And sat down. [/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]He sat on the edge of the stage, feet hanging a little above the ground, his Gibson guitar settled comfortably in his lap, looking perfectly at ease. Larry was watching him with a sort of idle awareness—he looked like he'd seen this a thousand times before.[/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]Then, quite suddenly, Dave began to play. Quietly at first, his long, slender fingers moving gracefully over the neck of his guitar. Soft, warbling notes filled the air, moving along in quick succession—but this wasn't an upbeat song. No, I knew exactly what this song was. I didn't have to wait for him to start singing.[/FONT]
“[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]Hold me now, oh, hold me now....'till this hour has gone around....”[/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]I literally froze, clutching my drink tightly in my hand. I think I may have even stopped breathing. [/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]Oh, my God.[/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]How could I have been so oblivious? How could I not have recognized either of them right away? I let out an involuntary sound that was half-way between a dismayed groan and a thrilled gasp, and inwardly kicked myself for being so slow. [/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]No wonder they looked so damn familiar, I thought to myself, you've known them half your life! [/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]Okay, that wasn't entirely true. I'd only listened to their music (U2 had probably been the biggest band of my teenage years) and not actually known them personally. But music had a funny way of creating personal connections with people you hardly knew. And U2 had certainly generated an intimacy between their fans and themselves better than any other band I knew. [/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]I could still remember the first time I'd listened to this specific track, sitting in my bedroom with Vanessa a few years ago, both of us giddy with excitement and joy over the newest release—Rattle and Hum—from our favorite band. We'd both been puzzled and thrilled when the third track began to play, and we realized it wasn't Bono but The Edge singing. [/FONT]
“[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]And I'm gone on the rising tide, for to face Van Diemen's land.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]I realized I'd been unconsciously mouthing the words to myself as Dave—The Edge, I corrected myself silently, that's The Edge over there—sang and played on. [/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]I could barely believe it. Here I was, sitting no more than ten feet away from two of the biggest rock stars on the planet...and it had taken me over twenty minutes to even realize. [/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]Edge looked at me then, his eyes roaming away from his guitar, and his eyebrow gave an almost imperceptible twitch upwards. Blushing, I looked away, wondering how long I had been openly gaping at him. I felt vaguely moronic, and his piercing gaze wasn't helping matters much. Funny how I wouldn't have really minded staring at him, had I not known he was famous.[/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]When the song ended, I managed to look at them again. Larry was picking up his sticks, giving his drums a few tentative whacks, waiting for Edge to start. [/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]Shit. [/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]Now what I was supposed to do? There was no way I'd be able to act like a normal human being as soon as they finished their set and joined me. I felt a surge of excitement mixed with anxiety at the thought of having a drink with the both of them. [/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]In fact, it took everything I had in me not to get up and leave the bar that instant. Normally I wasn't a shy person—but this wasn't exactly what I would call a normal situation. [/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]But I stayed glued to my stool, nervous and enthralled at the same time, suddenly unable to look at anyone except the two men up on the stage.[/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]They'd begun to play Desire—surprisingly good with only the drums and guitar. I was so used to hearing Bono sing this on the album, that hearing The Edge's voice accompanying the music was both strange and amazing. [/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]Apparently, I wasn't the only one impressed. The bartender was hovering near my end of the bar, watching them with a wide smile and tapping his hand against the counter in time with the music. A couple of people had gathered around in tables facing the stage and were listening happily. [/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]Neither Larry nor Edge acknowledged them, apart from a small and rare smile from Larry, who was known for his deadpan expression on stage, and a few brief glances from Edge. That was it. They weren't playing for the crowd—they were playing for themselves. [/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]After a few more songs—no more U2, just a few classic rock songs by Bob Dylan and the like, the makeshift band called a break. A long burst of applause followed as Edge carefully replaced his guitar in the case and walked back to the bar. Larry was already striding over, grinning widely. [/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]Well, here it came. The so-called moment of truth where I would meet—'meet', I thought wryly, you already did 'meet' them. More like 're-meet'—two of the members of my favorite band. I noticed my hand was shaking slightly and I quickly finished off my second beer to hide it.[/FONT]
“[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]Another one for my friend the Canadian!” Larry called as he slid into the seat next to me. Edge took the spot next to him, absently straightening his bandana androlling a guitar pick between his fingers.[/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]I blushed fiercely, flattered and even more nervous. Larry Mullen was buying me drinks now? All right. I could handle that. I just need to stay calm and pretend everything was perfectly normal. Right. I could do this[/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]. [/FONT]
“[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]What?” [/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]I broke out of my reverie and looked into Edge's calm, slightly puzzled green eyes. I had been staring at his hands, transfixed by the guitar pick he was playing with. Why did I have to keep staring at him? [/FONT]
“[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]Nothing.” I quickly replied, self-consciously brushing my hair back and giggling nervously. “Sorry.” [/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]The bartender reappeared with three new pints, and slid one to each of us. Larry thanked him and turned his attention back to me. [/FONT]
“[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]So, where were we before I took off?” [/FONT]
“[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]Ehm, I think you were going to tell me if you'd ever recorded anything...” [/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]Oh, lovely. I wonder where the conversation will lead now that you've brought that up. Good job. I looked down into my drink, feeling both of their eyes on me. There was a slight pause, and I could feel them weighing their options for response. [/FONT]
“[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]Oh, right. Well, we've recorded before, Dave and I. Not us alone of course—we're only half of this band.” Larry grinned at me, but I didn't miss the little smirk that passed between he and his friend. [/FONT]
“[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]I see.” I replied neutrally, hiding a smile myself. [/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]The conversation lulled for a moment, as I wondered whether or not I should ask them if I might know anything they'd recorded. No, I quickly decided, that would be going out on a dangerous limb. Luckily, I was saved the trouble of asking another question when Larry spoke up. [/FONT]
“[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]Enough about us! Tell us about yourself, Lily.” [/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]I shrugged shyly. “There's not really much to tell.”[/FONT]
“[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]Ah, come on. We're curious!” [/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]I glanced up at Larry, who was once again grinning widely. Edge was watching with mild interest, a smile creeping into his features. Damn it. They were both effortlessly charming.[/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]Giving in, I smiled and said, “Well, I'm a journalist. For the New York Times. I started there about a year ago.” [/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]I instantly regretted telling them that. They were obviously trying to keep a low profile—I still wasn't sure why—and now I'd gone ahead and told them I was a journalist. I was twenty-two and I still couldn't think before I spoke. [/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]I watched in dismay as alarm flickered in both Edge and Larry's eyes. Shit. Now they'd probably get up, finish their set, and get out as fast as they could. My heart sank. [/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]But Larry had recovered quickly, and was leaning towards me again. “A year, eh. How long've you been in New York?” [/FONT]
“[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]A year, I guess.”[/FONT]
“[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]Have an apartment?”[/FONT]
“[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]Yup. I'm living with my friend Vanessa at the moment....she works at the Guggenheim.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]The conversation stayed that way for several minutes, mainly between Larry and I, talking about my life in the city. Edge was quiet, commenting only occasionally, but his eyes never left us once.[/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]No one else in the bar gave them much notice, other than the bartender and I. Neither Larry nor Dave looked particularly perturbed by this. They simply murmured together for a few minutes, until the drummer nodded and Dave moved away to the front of the tiny stage. And sat down. [/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]He sat on the edge of the stage, feet hanging a little above the ground, his Gibson guitar settled comfortably in his lap, looking perfectly at ease. Larry was watching him with a sort of idle awareness—he looked like he'd seen this a thousand times before.[/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]Then, quite suddenly, Dave began to play. Quietly at first, his long, slender fingers moving gracefully over the neck of his guitar. Soft, warbling notes filled the air, moving along in quick succession—but this wasn't an upbeat song. No, I knew exactly what this song was. I didn't have to wait for him to start singing.[/FONT]
“[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]Hold me now, oh, hold me now....'till this hour has gone around....”[/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]I literally froze, clutching my drink tightly in my hand. I think I may have even stopped breathing. [/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]Oh, my God.[/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]How could I have been so oblivious? How could I not have recognized either of them right away? I let out an involuntary sound that was half-way between a dismayed groan and a thrilled gasp, and inwardly kicked myself for being so slow. [/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]No wonder they looked so damn familiar, I thought to myself, you've known them half your life! [/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]Okay, that wasn't entirely true. I'd only listened to their music (U2 had probably been the biggest band of my teenage years) and not actually known them personally. But music had a funny way of creating personal connections with people you hardly knew. And U2 had certainly generated an intimacy between their fans and themselves better than any other band I knew. [/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]I could still remember the first time I'd listened to this specific track, sitting in my bedroom with Vanessa a few years ago, both of us giddy with excitement and joy over the newest release—Rattle and Hum—from our favorite band. We'd both been puzzled and thrilled when the third track began to play, and we realized it wasn't Bono but The Edge singing. [/FONT]
“[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]And I'm gone on the rising tide, for to face Van Diemen's land.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]I realized I'd been unconsciously mouthing the words to myself as Dave—The Edge, I corrected myself silently, that's The Edge over there—sang and played on. [/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]I could barely believe it. Here I was, sitting no more than ten feet away from two of the biggest rock stars on the planet...and it had taken me over twenty minutes to even realize. [/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]Edge looked at me then, his eyes roaming away from his guitar, and his eyebrow gave an almost imperceptible twitch upwards. Blushing, I looked away, wondering how long I had been openly gaping at him. I felt vaguely moronic, and his piercing gaze wasn't helping matters much. Funny how I wouldn't have really minded staring at him, had I not known he was famous.[/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]When the song ended, I managed to look at them again. Larry was picking up his sticks, giving his drums a few tentative whacks, waiting for Edge to start. [/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]Shit. [/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]Now what I was supposed to do? There was no way I'd be able to act like a normal human being as soon as they finished their set and joined me. I felt a surge of excitement mixed with anxiety at the thought of having a drink with the both of them. [/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]In fact, it took everything I had in me not to get up and leave the bar that instant. Normally I wasn't a shy person—but this wasn't exactly what I would call a normal situation. [/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]But I stayed glued to my stool, nervous and enthralled at the same time, suddenly unable to look at anyone except the two men up on the stage.[/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]They'd begun to play Desire—surprisingly good with only the drums and guitar. I was so used to hearing Bono sing this on the album, that hearing The Edge's voice accompanying the music was both strange and amazing. [/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]Apparently, I wasn't the only one impressed. The bartender was hovering near my end of the bar, watching them with a wide smile and tapping his hand against the counter in time with the music. A couple of people had gathered around in tables facing the stage and were listening happily. [/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]Neither Larry nor Edge acknowledged them, apart from a small and rare smile from Larry, who was known for his deadpan expression on stage, and a few brief glances from Edge. That was it. They weren't playing for the crowd—they were playing for themselves. [/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]After a few more songs—no more U2, just a few classic rock songs by Bob Dylan and the like, the makeshift band called a break. A long burst of applause followed as Edge carefully replaced his guitar in the case and walked back to the bar. Larry was already striding over, grinning widely. [/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]Well, here it came. The so-called moment of truth where I would meet—'meet', I thought wryly, you already did 'meet' them. More like 're-meet'—two of the members of my favorite band. I noticed my hand was shaking slightly and I quickly finished off my second beer to hide it.[/FONT]
“[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]Another one for my friend the Canadian!” Larry called as he slid into the seat next to me. Edge took the spot next to him, absently straightening his bandana androlling a guitar pick between his fingers.[/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]I blushed fiercely, flattered and even more nervous. Larry Mullen was buying me drinks now? All right. I could handle that. I just need to stay calm and pretend everything was perfectly normal. Right. I could do this[/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]. [/FONT]
“[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]What?” [/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]I broke out of my reverie and looked into Edge's calm, slightly puzzled green eyes. I had been staring at his hands, transfixed by the guitar pick he was playing with. Why did I have to keep staring at him? [/FONT]
“[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]Nothing.” I quickly replied, self-consciously brushing my hair back and giggling nervously. “Sorry.” [/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]The bartender reappeared with three new pints, and slid one to each of us. Larry thanked him and turned his attention back to me. [/FONT]
“[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]So, where were we before I took off?” [/FONT]
“[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]Ehm, I think you were going to tell me if you'd ever recorded anything...” [/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]Oh, lovely. I wonder where the conversation will lead now that you've brought that up. Good job. I looked down into my drink, feeling both of their eyes on me. There was a slight pause, and I could feel them weighing their options for response. [/FONT]
“[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]Oh, right. Well, we've recorded before, Dave and I. Not us alone of course—we're only half of this band.” Larry grinned at me, but I didn't miss the little smirk that passed between he and his friend. [/FONT]
“[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]I see.” I replied neutrally, hiding a smile myself. [/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]The conversation lulled for a moment, as I wondered whether or not I should ask them if I might know anything they'd recorded. No, I quickly decided, that would be going out on a dangerous limb. Luckily, I was saved the trouble of asking another question when Larry spoke up. [/FONT]
“[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]Enough about us! Tell us about yourself, Lily.” [/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]I shrugged shyly. “There's not really much to tell.”[/FONT]
“[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]Ah, come on. We're curious!” [/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]I glanced up at Larry, who was once again grinning widely. Edge was watching with mild interest, a smile creeping into his features. Damn it. They were both effortlessly charming.[/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]Giving in, I smiled and said, “Well, I'm a journalist. For the New York Times. I started there about a year ago.” [/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]I instantly regretted telling them that. They were obviously trying to keep a low profile—I still wasn't sure why—and now I'd gone ahead and told them I was a journalist. I was twenty-two and I still couldn't think before I spoke. [/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]I watched in dismay as alarm flickered in both Edge and Larry's eyes. Shit. Now they'd probably get up, finish their set, and get out as fast as they could. My heart sank. [/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]But Larry had recovered quickly, and was leaning towards me again. “A year, eh. How long've you been in New York?” [/FONT]
“[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]A year, I guess.”[/FONT]
“[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]Have an apartment?”[/FONT]
“[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]Yup. I'm living with my friend Vanessa at the moment....she works at the Guggenheim.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]The conversation stayed that way for several minutes, mainly between Larry and I, talking about my life in the city. Edge was quiet, commenting only occasionally, but his eyes never left us once.[/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]*[/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]Later, when the bar was quieting down and the band had finished their set, I began to wonder what would happen next. It was late, and I had to go home at some point...but not a single part of me wanted the night to end.[/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]When Larry had left to go pack up his equipment, I noticed Edge staring at me out of the corner of his eye, rolling his almost-empty beer glass between his hands. [/FONT]
“[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]You're staring at me, Dave.” I stated, raising a speculative eyebrow. [/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]Edge finished the last of his drink and turned towards me, but didn't smile, as I'd expected he would. Instead, he just looked tired...and a little sad. His gaze flickered away from me, to his friend, who was crouched behind the drum-kit.[/FONT]
“[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]Something wrong?” I asked, sobering a little. [/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]There was a long pause. Edge looked oddly torn. Finally, he said:[/FONT]
“[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]You know he's....with someone right now, right?” [/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]I bit my lip sharply, my heart plummeting and my face heating. Had I really been that obvious? [/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]Yes, a small, rational voice answered. You'd have to have been unconscious not to notice.[/FONT]
“[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]Yeah,” I managed to get out. “I knew.” [/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]I had always been a terrible liar.[/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]I looked away from Edge's sympathetic, knowing gaze and back to the drummer. I watched as Larry straightened, stretched, and then turned back towards us. I quickly spun around, staring down at the oak wood bar. [/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]Edge leaned towards me. “It's not your fault,” he said softly, “he flirts with everyone. Rather like Bo—”[/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]His voice broke off abruptly, but I hardly noticed. I was silently cursing myself for being so naive.[/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]Of course he's not single. Are you delusional? He's Larry Mullen Jr of U2, for Christ's sake. Did you actually think you'd have a chance, after a few conversations in a bar in the middle of New York. Nice try. And now The Edge has given you a good dose of reality for your own good. Congratulations, you've had a productive night. [/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]But Edge said no more. He made no comment as Larry dropped into the seat beside me. [/FONT]
“[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]Well, Lily, it's been an absolute pleasure meeting you, love. But...I think the two of us are going to take off.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]I forced a smile onto my face, feeling a sick mixture of disappointment and hopelessness. They were leaving. I'd never see them again. Maybe on TV, or in a magazine—but they'd be The Edge and Larry Mullen of U2. Not the two men I'd met tonight. [/FONT]
“[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]Oh! Of course...it was...amazing, really, meeting the both of you. Thanks for making a crappy week end decidedly better.” I managed a laugh. [/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]They both smiled, and Larry raised my hand to his lips and kissed it softly. My stomach clenched and I blushed involuntarily. No matter what, he was still charming as hell.[/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]As they finished their goodbyes, and I mumbled slightly incoherent thank-yous, Edge leaned over, so close that I could feel his stubble graze my ear. His breath was warm in my ear as he whispered. [/FONT]
“[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]I just thought you'd maybe want to know...we're playing here again tomorrow night.” [/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri, sans-serif]Before I could manage a reply, he'd gathered his guitar case, and disappeared into the thinning crowd of the bar. [/FONT]
