Just a Fan (18 page)

He almost cried out with the agony of it. This was a mistake, a stupid, stupid mistake. Why had he been so bitter towards her? Being put off by the challenges of long-term committment was an inexperienced young man's thing - he was no longer a flighty, newly emerged actor who was just discovering that he had all the qualities the ladies liked, after all. He was now more mature, more experienced, ready to perhaps settle down...but still he had been scared away like a lazy coward, and had gone off to find solace elsewhere in an entirely undignified manner. He hated himself now, for having acted just like any selfish, self-proud, haughty movie star would have, who couldn't be bothered to make sacrifices for somebody lesser known. Or, in his words, like a right clatty bastard.

A better man would have supported her, stubbornly stayed with her even in the face of difficulty...but no, he'd had to play the scaffy little scunner and lose her. He had realised only too late that none of the aesthetically lovely ladies he had met tonight had made his heart melt in the way that
she
did. Of course, they were pretty - but
she
...
she
was
beautiful
. No, better yet, she was
radiant
. Compared to these preening girls, she might appear plain and imperfect to others, but somehow she had touched Connor in a way he never had been before.

Lying stiffly, taking shallower breaths to avoid the sickly scent of the woman's perfume, Connor knew that his current companion was only interested in the public, movie-star face he showed the world, and maybe even a fair amount of the money behind it. Whereas the girl he had left behind had seen his other side, the part of him that was just like any other man, still a little bewildered at being famous, and normal in every other way. The part of him that was no different from the lonely, demoralised young man he had once been.

He suddenly realised that he didn't
want
long, bronzed legs, impeccable eyeshadow, low-cut tops and Cacherel perfume; instead he yearned for pale calves, hurriedly-applied mascara, soft jumpers and Marks and Spencer's shampoo. He wanted malfunctioning radiators and apologetically microwaved dinners; he wanted takeaway nems and long carefree walks hand-in-hand. He wanted the life he had once had, the free life, the anonymous life, like the one he had lived with his parents and sister in their little house in Glasgow. And most of all, he wanted
her
.

Lillian.

Lillian!

'Where're you going, Braveheart?' came the teasing question from the bed as he pulled himself from the manicured, claw-like clutches of his "friend", and got up.

'I'm going
home
,' Connor said decisively.

* * *

I stared at the ceiling, sleepless and miserable. I was glad that party was over; I had felt so weary towards the end of it, despite Julie's kindness and support. And yet despite my earlier tiredness, I simply could not go to sleep now I was here at home in bed. I couldn't stop thinking about the dreadful events of only a few days ago. How could things have gone so wrong? I sighed.

Oh, I knew very well why. Movie stars can never date ordinary, unimportant people like myself. It just never works out. What a way to start the new year...

The heat of tears threatened to overwhelm my already sore eyes, but I brushed them away angrily. No, I wasn't going to cry any more for
him
! He wasn't worth it. To take all my love, to put my hopes up and then to just
leave
me was cruel beyond words. I had been right from the start; actors and celebrities were too unpredictable. Their love lives were all over the place, and it was never worth the pain of getting tangled up in them. Even though we had definitely had some good times together, him and me, in the end it seemed as if it had not been enough to keep him by my side. I let out and angry breath.

Tosser
.

And now, back to the humdrum flow of my pointless, boring daily existence...

I closed my eyes tiredly, wishing none of this had ever happened. If I had never been given a taste of paradise, living my normal life would not have become so difficult...but now that I had been at the
crème de la crème
, it would be sheer hell to go back to the soggy bread and water.

* * *

At about five thirty in the morning, I couldn't take it any more, and got up to get a drink. Trudging across the floorboards barefoot, I entered my kitchenette and poured myself a glass of water. Champagne always dehydrated me, and there had been a lot of it around when midnight had arrived. I gulped the water down thirstily, then put the glass in the sink. It was odd; when I was on my feet, I always felt so weary, but the moment I lay down, I was restless...I made my way back across the flat, wanting nothing more than to -

'
Owwww!
'

In the darkness, I had just walked into the phone table, stubbing my toe painfully and simultaneously knocking the thing over with a bang. In the ringing silence that followed, I hopped around in agony, mouthing swearwords as I clutched my stricken toe. As soon as I was in a fit state to stand gingerly on two feet again, I hurriedly set the small wooden table upright again, ardently hoping that everybody in the building was deeply asleep from their celebrating. Still silently cursing, I then limped off to my bed, where I lay down despondently. It just gets better...

Barely two minutes later, I heard a knock at my door. I froze in my bed, not moving. I heard it again, then sat up. Who the hell was this at such an hour? Couldn't I even be left to wallow in peace any more? Was that another luxury taken from me?

Then I realised:
Mrs Windsor
.

Oh,
God
.

Most definitely
not
in the mood for a confrontation, I trudged out of the bedroom and through the corridor in my nightdress, the strap of which was half-slipping down one shoulder. I dragged my bare feet across the floor, pushing my unkempt hair out of my face, and unlocked the front door after the nasty old hag's third volley of knocking. The door swung open, and I looked up - and gasped.

The person standing outside my door was most certainly
not
Mrs Windsor.

'Oh...' My tone dropped painfully. '...
Connor
?'

The man himself was standing there before me, his curls dishevelled, shirt buttoned in the wrong holes, shoelaces half-tied and trailing. I stared at him, not knowing what to say. I knew I should give him a piece of my mind for hurting me so badly and then daring to show his sorry face at my door again, but when I saw how downright awful he looked I was shocked to find that I just didn't have the heart to. His brow was lined with suffering, his face drawn, eyes red and heavy with pain.

'What are you doing here at this time of night?' I warily murmured instead, frowning.

He looked away, giving a deep sigh. He looked near tears.

'What can I say, Lillian?' he said to me, very softly, hands in pockets. 'I've been so horrible to you. I know I have no right to be here after what I said. You gave me a taste of real happiness, and I repaid you by leaving at the first sign of future tension. I regret every harsh thing I have said to you, Lillian, I really do. I thought we would be better off apart, but then I realised just how much you've come to mean to me these past few weeks. I realised that if I lost you, I would also lose the part of me that's really
me
. You make me
truly
happy, Lillian - something that I haven't been in a long, long while, without even knowing it. It was selfish and stupid of me to think I could ever be myself again without you. I understand if you hate my guts right now...you have every reason to. I know I do, too. I could never possibly forgive myself for underestimating how strong-willed you can be. You're the sweetest lass I've ever met, and you don't need to be perfect in every way for me to fall unconditionally, head-over-heels in love with you...as I realise I have now.'

We stood in silence as his words sank in. When I did not answer to his declaration, Connor hung his lovely head and went on awkwardly:

'I understand if you don't want me. If I was you I wouldn't want me. I'm sorry if I woke you up - I just had to get it all off my chest and let you know I'm not proud of what I did...'

His features were so contorted with self-hatred and sadness that I felt an odd sort of pity for him in spite of myself; he looked exactly the way I had felt only a few hours ago.

'You...didn't wake me, Connor,' I whispered finally. 'I couldn't sleep either. You're not someone I can easily forget.'

'Oh, Lilly...' he sighed, looking sad and helpless. I looked back at him resolutely.

'If you still want me, Connor...I'll show you that I can live in your world without getting scared of people with cameras,' I offerred bravely. 'But in return you'd have to stop doubting me. And think before you speak, too.'

A slow, familiar smile curled the corner of his mouth.

'Deal,' he replied firmly.

We both closed the distance and wrapped our arms tightly about each other. Suddenly I felt so much better, so complete when held by those strong arms of his. It was a truly odd feeling...but nevertheless I was glad that the bizarre ache had gone away. I breathed the smooth fabric of his untidy shirt, avidly searching for his familiar scent. It was there, but mingled with the rancid smell of alcohol, strange perfumes and cigarette smoke. He badly needed a wash, too.

Strangely endearing...with a small, tentative smile, I allowed him to come in.

* * *

'Connor?'

'Hmm?'

'How did you get into the building, anyway?' I asked him with a frown as I lay on my side in bed. Seeing as it was nearly six o'clock and we were both exhausted from our painful separation and long nights, I had allowed him to catch a few hours of rest beside me. He had seemed in a bad state; it would have been cruel to make him go home when we both craved a moment's peace together.

Connor, lying behind me at a respectable distance, replied quietly: 'I stood outside the door like a weirdo until some of your neighbours came home from a party. I begged them to let me in, and I'm afraid I made a bit of a fool of myself. In the end I bribed them with a few autographs...it was well worth it, though.'

I smiled involuntarily, and he shuffled himself a bit nearer to me under the covers, tentatively putting an arm around me. After a moment's hesitation, I rested my hand on his arm, letting him embrace me. Seeing as he was unexpectedly spending the night, he had been obliged to go to bed in his boxers...but he had told me without words that he would not attempt any advances, merely wishing to savour the feeling of sleeping beside me again. We were both too tired for any complex relations, anyway - all that we wanted was to lie side-by-side and feel fulfilled again. I realised again how badly I had missed his warm presence, and felt very much at peace with him beside -

Suddenly, a knock made us both jump.

'Urgh...who could this be?' I grumbled, getting ready to get up, but Connor pushed me back down again, leaping out of bed surprisingly fast.

'I think I know - you stay there, Lilly, I'll handle it...' he told me confidently, with a little edge of guilt hiding in his voice. It didn't take me long to guess who my visitor was.

I gasped. 'Mrs Windsor saw you, didn't she?' I began to worry about the huge fuss she would make -

Abruptly I noticed Connor was lightly striding out of the room.