chickadee
New Yorker
Hey guys, I had to rush this one a bit cause I was in a hurry but I didn't want to keep you in suspense, haha, so here it is! Hope you like it! Lots more to come from this story. Thanks for all the feedback!
Disclaimer - it isn't real!
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Chapter 5
“How did you know I was there?”
Yes readers, I’m in the pub with Larry, drinks in front of us on the table (vodka and coke for me, Guinness for him) and I’ve mustered up the courage to speak to him. I realise I didn’t have too many problems speaking to him in the coffee shop earlier, but since that time, well, I’ve had the funny (and not unwelcome) feeling that I am falling for him. Maybe it’s too soon to fall for him. How should I know? I’ve never had a proper boyfriend. Sitting with Larry, however, makes that issue seem negligible.
“Oh, well, after you left, I noticed some guy watching you go and then he got up and followed you.” Larry’s explaining how he managed to find me and save me from the evil attacker because as much as I like the thought of him in lycra, I don’t think Larry is Superman. “And I never saw you talk to him so I was a bit suspicious. He looked like a bastard, anyway.”
I smile. “How can you tell what a bastard looks like?”
“Easy. I’m in a band with three of them.” Larry gives me a swift grin and I giggle. Not a stupid girly giggle, by the way, before you roll your eyes. It’s more like an ‘I’m with LARRY!’ sort of giggle. Totally different, I swear.
“What happened to Bono?” I ask, taking a sip of my drink.
“Well, he didn’t know where I was going ‘cause I just kind of went, but as far as I’m aware he’s still fending off middle-aged women in that café. He could be stuck there for hours.” Larry sighs mock-dramatically and we both laugh. The harmony of it sounds pretty great, if I do say so myself.
“Terrible shame,” I agree, leaning back in my seat. Larry’s beside me; we’re sitting in one of those comfy bar booths. Only two people have come up to ask Larry for autographs since we arrived quarter of an hour ago, and he was nothing but a gentleman both times. Which didn’t help my feelings one little bit.
“I’m sorry about earlier,” he says suddenly, looking at me. “I – we – didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable. It wasn’t to do with you when I said I didn’t want to be there. It’s just, Bono being Bono gets on me nerves sometimes.”
I laugh. “I can believe it. It’s okay. I’m sorry I ran off like that, it was stupid. Even more stupid because then I got mugged…”
“Ah well, we’re here now and getting along fine, so maybe good things can come out of bad things now and then.” Larry indulges in a wink, and my pulse speeds up. If I moved two inches to the right, my thigh would be pressed up against his and our arms would be touching. I daren’t, though, no way, so I drink some more vodka and coke.
It strikes my mind that this is the same Larry I’ve read about in papers and seen occasionally on TV. The Larry who’s supposed to be miserable and dour and a bit of a grumpy arse. Now, from my experience, I’ve seen a glimmer of that (which was mainly brought about by Bono, so I escape blame) but mostly he’s been perfectly lovely. In fact, if I wasn’t so sure he didn’t have the same feelings for me as I do for him, I’d entertain the possibility he’s opening up a bit, letting himself show another side to him. I know it’s only been a couple of hours, far too early to tell for sure, but I’m not as worried as I was. Larry’s good company.
He’s proving that now by telling me a few jokey band stories, none of which would ever make a scandalous front page (clearly he hasn’t known me long enough to be sure of my trust) but they’re amusing nevertheless. Bono features heavily in most of them, you won’t be surprised to hear.
“So, you’re going back to New York?” I ask, when there’s a slightly awkward lull in the conversation.
“Yup.” Larry nods. “I’m meeting up with Adam – well, he’s staying in our apartment – and then we’re both coming home. It’s been a good break, though. Think it’s done us both the world of good.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” I say, and I mean it. I hope that shows in my voice. “Touring for so long must really take it out of you.”
“Ah yeah, it can be a strain towards the end, but when it comes down to it there’s nothing else I’d rather be doin’. What else would I be good for? The band keeps me out of trouble. Usually.” He winks again, a definite cute wink this time, and I smile widely.
“Shame the band’s not with you now,” I reply, realising I’m crossing the line from ‘friendly comversation’ to ‘flirtatious behaviour’ and hoping it doesn’t backfire. “They could protect you.”
“Oh? Protect me from what, now?” Larry’s keen blue eyes are on mine, alert and sparkling.
Oh God. Is he really flirting back?
“Anything,” I shrug, feigning nonchalance. “Lions… An avalanche… Fans…” Me, I add in my head.
Larry has somehow moved closer to me. Either that, or I moved closer to him. Whatever! We’re almost touching! “No need to worry. I can handle myself pretty well in most situations.” His voice is low and bloody gorgeous, and I feel the back of my neck rise in goosebumps.
I open my mouth, thinking up another line to throw at him, see if he bites the bait, when Larry checks his watch and groans.
“’Scuse me, Rachel, I have to make a call.” He slides out of the booth and goes to use the public telephone by the back wall. I sigh as I watch him go, admiring the view from the rear and wondering if it’s entirely beyond reality that he might actually fancy me. I’m not hopeful – lots of my male friends like to play-flirt with me, and it means nothing – and yet my stomach is churning with something resembling anticipation.
When Larry returns, I’m ready to ask if he wants another drink, but he speaks before I get the chance.
“I’m really sorry, Rachel, but I have to go. I was supposed to be at the recording studios for a meeting about ten minutes ago.” He grabs his jacket and, just as I lean back, drops a light kiss on my cheek. “I’m back from New York on Friday. If you want to leave your number at Principle’s reception, I’ll give you a call. See if we can’t do better than one drink.”
If I’m not mistaken, he’s blushing! Just a wee bit, but it’s there.
“Okay,” I manage to get out, unable to believe this is happening. “Um, hope New York is good.”
Larry gives me a quick smile. “Thanks. Have a nice week. See you later.”
And with that, he’s disappeared and I’m finishing my drink, my skin still tingling from where he kissed me.
Back on Friday? Well, that’s only six days away!
TBC!
Disclaimer - it isn't real!
*********************
Chapter 5
“How did you know I was there?”
Yes readers, I’m in the pub with Larry, drinks in front of us on the table (vodka and coke for me, Guinness for him) and I’ve mustered up the courage to speak to him. I realise I didn’t have too many problems speaking to him in the coffee shop earlier, but since that time, well, I’ve had the funny (and not unwelcome) feeling that I am falling for him. Maybe it’s too soon to fall for him. How should I know? I’ve never had a proper boyfriend. Sitting with Larry, however, makes that issue seem negligible.
“Oh, well, after you left, I noticed some guy watching you go and then he got up and followed you.” Larry’s explaining how he managed to find me and save me from the evil attacker because as much as I like the thought of him in lycra, I don’t think Larry is Superman. “And I never saw you talk to him so I was a bit suspicious. He looked like a bastard, anyway.”
I smile. “How can you tell what a bastard looks like?”
“Easy. I’m in a band with three of them.” Larry gives me a swift grin and I giggle. Not a stupid girly giggle, by the way, before you roll your eyes. It’s more like an ‘I’m with LARRY!’ sort of giggle. Totally different, I swear.
“What happened to Bono?” I ask, taking a sip of my drink.
“Well, he didn’t know where I was going ‘cause I just kind of went, but as far as I’m aware he’s still fending off middle-aged women in that café. He could be stuck there for hours.” Larry sighs mock-dramatically and we both laugh. The harmony of it sounds pretty great, if I do say so myself.
“Terrible shame,” I agree, leaning back in my seat. Larry’s beside me; we’re sitting in one of those comfy bar booths. Only two people have come up to ask Larry for autographs since we arrived quarter of an hour ago, and he was nothing but a gentleman both times. Which didn’t help my feelings one little bit.
“I’m sorry about earlier,” he says suddenly, looking at me. “I – we – didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable. It wasn’t to do with you when I said I didn’t want to be there. It’s just, Bono being Bono gets on me nerves sometimes.”
I laugh. “I can believe it. It’s okay. I’m sorry I ran off like that, it was stupid. Even more stupid because then I got mugged…”
“Ah well, we’re here now and getting along fine, so maybe good things can come out of bad things now and then.” Larry indulges in a wink, and my pulse speeds up. If I moved two inches to the right, my thigh would be pressed up against his and our arms would be touching. I daren’t, though, no way, so I drink some more vodka and coke.
It strikes my mind that this is the same Larry I’ve read about in papers and seen occasionally on TV. The Larry who’s supposed to be miserable and dour and a bit of a grumpy arse. Now, from my experience, I’ve seen a glimmer of that (which was mainly brought about by Bono, so I escape blame) but mostly he’s been perfectly lovely. In fact, if I wasn’t so sure he didn’t have the same feelings for me as I do for him, I’d entertain the possibility he’s opening up a bit, letting himself show another side to him. I know it’s only been a couple of hours, far too early to tell for sure, but I’m not as worried as I was. Larry’s good company.
He’s proving that now by telling me a few jokey band stories, none of which would ever make a scandalous front page (clearly he hasn’t known me long enough to be sure of my trust) but they’re amusing nevertheless. Bono features heavily in most of them, you won’t be surprised to hear.
“So, you’re going back to New York?” I ask, when there’s a slightly awkward lull in the conversation.
“Yup.” Larry nods. “I’m meeting up with Adam – well, he’s staying in our apartment – and then we’re both coming home. It’s been a good break, though. Think it’s done us both the world of good.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” I say, and I mean it. I hope that shows in my voice. “Touring for so long must really take it out of you.”
“Ah yeah, it can be a strain towards the end, but when it comes down to it there’s nothing else I’d rather be doin’. What else would I be good for? The band keeps me out of trouble. Usually.” He winks again, a definite cute wink this time, and I smile widely.
“Shame the band’s not with you now,” I reply, realising I’m crossing the line from ‘friendly comversation’ to ‘flirtatious behaviour’ and hoping it doesn’t backfire. “They could protect you.”
“Oh? Protect me from what, now?” Larry’s keen blue eyes are on mine, alert and sparkling.
Oh God. Is he really flirting back?
“Anything,” I shrug, feigning nonchalance. “Lions… An avalanche… Fans…” Me, I add in my head.
Larry has somehow moved closer to me. Either that, or I moved closer to him. Whatever! We’re almost touching! “No need to worry. I can handle myself pretty well in most situations.” His voice is low and bloody gorgeous, and I feel the back of my neck rise in goosebumps.
I open my mouth, thinking up another line to throw at him, see if he bites the bait, when Larry checks his watch and groans.
“’Scuse me, Rachel, I have to make a call.” He slides out of the booth and goes to use the public telephone by the back wall. I sigh as I watch him go, admiring the view from the rear and wondering if it’s entirely beyond reality that he might actually fancy me. I’m not hopeful – lots of my male friends like to play-flirt with me, and it means nothing – and yet my stomach is churning with something resembling anticipation.
When Larry returns, I’m ready to ask if he wants another drink, but he speaks before I get the chance.
“I’m really sorry, Rachel, but I have to go. I was supposed to be at the recording studios for a meeting about ten minutes ago.” He grabs his jacket and, just as I lean back, drops a light kiss on my cheek. “I’m back from New York on Friday. If you want to leave your number at Principle’s reception, I’ll give you a call. See if we can’t do better than one drink.”
If I’m not mistaken, he’s blushing! Just a wee bit, but it’s there.
“Okay,” I manage to get out, unable to believe this is happening. “Um, hope New York is good.”
Larry gives me a quick smile. “Thanks. Have a nice week. See you later.”
And with that, he’s disappeared and I’m finishing my drink, my skin still tingling from where he kissed me.
Back on Friday? Well, that’s only six days away!
TBC!
LARRY!
Glad to know that you have lots more to come! 
Woah! Mooore!! 
