Just a Fan (2 page)

'
No way
.'

'Yes, I did!'

Another pause.

'
Where
?'

'Outside that big studio place!'

Kate gave a shocked laugh at the other end of the line.

'
Jesus, Lilly - how did you get so lucky? Oh my God! Connor Mac-What's-his-face? Does he really have abs like that in real life?
' she asked.

I blushed.

'He was wearing a
coat
, Kate,' I told her with a smile.

'
A swanky one, I bet
,' she said. '
Did you at least get his autograph?
'

My smile faltered.

'No...no, I didn't.'

'
What
?' Kate was horrified. '
You met the lead actor of
Heyday
and you didn't even get his siggie?
'

'I only bumped into him,' I murmured. 'I didn't have any paper, anyway.'

'
Paper? He could have signed
you
, woman! I can't believe you passed up such a chance...
'

'I didn't actually get to
talk
to him much, Kate,' I explained. 'He had stuff to do and so I had to let him go...'

'
Damn whatever he had to do! You should have just grabbed him by the lapels and forced him to have a proper conversation like a decent person!
' Kate cried. '
You really are too shy for your own good sometimes, Lilly. You need to be more outgoing - no wonder he just walked away!
'

That stung, but I didn't contradict her. I knew she was right - I had always been terribly modest.

'Well, it's a bit late now,' I said. I must have sounded perfectly miserable, because Kate took on a kinder tone.

'
At least you did
meet
him...
' she reasoned. '
Not many people get the chance. Well. They do, but not random people who are just on their way home...
'

'I suppose, yeah,' I replied absently. 'I just wanted to tell you it, really. I'd better go now.'

'
OK, then Lilly
,' answered Kate. '
It was nice to hear from you. Bye!
'

'Bye,' I said, then hung up, giving a sigh. Kate was right; I had passed up a golden opportunity to talk to this great man. But he had looked as if he was in a rush, and I just wasn't the type to be pushy and insist he stay and have a chat. I might be shy, but I could never do such a thing.

I put the phone back and then looked idly out of the window. The rain seemed to have cleared up, and although it was getting dark I decided I might as well go for a walk to clear my head and forget about all of this.

* * *

It was cold outside but I didn't care. It took my mind off things, which was a relief because I was beginning to wish today had never happened. If I hadn't bumped into Connor, then I wouldn't feel so bad now...but then again, I would also never have met him in real life. As I made my way to the local park - mercifully devoid of young junkies at this hour - I tried to focus on the good points of our meeting. Even though it had only been a few seconds long, it preoccupied me. I thought about how exhilirating it had been to have him look straight at
me
, and talk to me, as well. He had been so
close
...he had stopped being some mythical TV personality and had appeared before me as real as anyone could be. God, what wouldn't I give to relive those precious few moments...

Chapter 2
Life is Good

Two days passed. The depressing thoughts about my fleeting meeting with Connor MacGowan didn't.

Going out for a walk every evening was starting to become a habit; the cold, sharp air cleared my head, and the warmth of my flat was always something to look forward to after the walk. One particular night, I even ventured further than the park, to where the river was. At that hour the bridge crossing it was very quiet; no cars passed along it, and the only sound was the gentle rushing of water some way below, and the steady noise of traffic on the main road a few blocks away. I slowly walked along the deserted bridge, under the harsh orange glow of the streetlamps. I stopped halfway along it, and peered over the edge. It was dark, making the water below an indistinct, fluid shadow that caught little of the light. I sighed, absent-mindedly patting the flat cement top of the bridge's parapet. Ages ago, I used to come here with my friends Kate and Julie; we would often sit on the parapet of this bridge and talk together for hours. But of course, Kate soon got her fiancé and Julie got her big job promotion, so we had stopped taking these walks together. We didn't meet up as often now, either, and mostly talked on the phone instead. Taken abruptly by a bit of nostalgia, I climbed up onto the brick wall and sat myself down, not caring what the rough, chalky cement would do to the back of my black coat. Smiling with rebellious satisfaction, I turned myself around so that I faced upriver, my back to the road. It was nice to get away from the world sometimes...sitting here by myself, merrily perched on the edge of the bridge - which probably wasn't all that high to start with - and surrounded by nothing but the night breeze, the lamplight and the quiet sound of the river, actually felt quite relaxing. Besides, I had needed to be on my own -
properly
on my own - for some time now, just to think about things.

I sighed again, looking downwards at the black, barely-visible water below. I could hear the faint footsteps of a passer-by, and found I didn't really care if they were looking at me like a nutcase.

Wouldn't the world be a much easier place to live in if people's feelings towards one another were equal? If a girl loved a guy with great passion, wouldn't it be far simpler if the guy saw her in the same light? It would certainly save
me
a lot of heartache. If His Supreme Unattainability Mr Sex-God Connor MacGowan loved
me
and thought about
me
day and night, and often wondered where he could get his hands on a photo of
me
, then there would be a perfect balance in the world.

I kicked my legs idly against the side of the bridge, pursing my lips as I watched the water.

But no, nature doesn't seem to work that way. I would always be the one left obsessively Googling his name and sighing over his oh-so-heavenly photoshoots, while he never even spared a single thought about me because our chance meeting never marked him in any way. Apparently I was doing all the loving and pining for two, here. Or maybe not just two - it felt more like two thousand, judging by how royally depressed I felt with the knowledge that he'd never be interested in me. But then again...I was not the only grotty little fangirl in the world. Oh, hell no...

The soft, awkward clearing of a throat disrupted my musings.

'Er...I'm sure there are plenty of nice things to live for,' a male voice to my right said gently, surprisingly close. I frowned, turning -

I nearly let out a gasp.

Standing cautious and tense by my side - looking as if he was ready to grab me if I made a dangerous move - was an agonisingly familiar man wearing a thick leather jacket and blue jeans. I blinked at him, my mind stalling...but in confusion rather than hysterical surprise this time. No way...what were the odds of me meeting Mr MacGowan himself for the second time in one week? This simply couldn't be real. He should be back in New York at this time, starting a new film! Or in Los Angeles again, taking in the sights and going to lavish parties where movie stars and rich people intermingled...those parties where there were always photos taken of him laughing with impossibly beautiful, well-dressed women, or dancing with them in his arms...What in the world was he doing in the quieter part of town, talking to
me
as I sat here minding my own business? He was so close I could just reach out and touch him, or ruffle up those beautiful black curls of his...

Oh
God
...I had just been recovering from our first meeting...if this second encounter meant I would be pining for days on end, then I would rather be somewhere else.

Connor was staring at me (me!) as if he was warily waiting for something to happen. I stared back at him, politely waiting for him to speak, then realised what he had just said to me.

'I'm sorry?' I frowned, not understanding, shifting my weight -

'No, please, don't move!' Connor suddenly exclaimed, putting up both hands. I watched him, rather bemused.

'Um...OK, I won't,' I replied slowly. He seemed to calm down. 'Are you alright?' I asked him, feeling a little concerned. He was a bit pale...

He gave me a surprised look, and my heart gave a leap of its own when those lovely blue eyes of his caught the light. 'I think it should be
me
asking
you
that, lass,' he answered in a flustered tone. 'You
are
the one sitting on the edge of a bridge, here.'

I suddenly realised what he had assumed. Oh, dear...I had been so preoccupied with the surreal situation of me being alone with the famous Connor MacGowan that I hadn't properly thought about how he might see my current position. Which in his eyes was quite a perilous, suicidal one. Oh,
no
...I was glad the streetlights drowned out colour, because my cheeks were now burning. God, he must think me such a lunatic...he would remember me for all the wrong reasons now, and I would probably end up as one of the crazy anecdotes he told at those talk-shows...

'Oh - oh, don't worry, I was only sitting here,' I told him hurriedly, then gave an embarrassed laugh. 'I used to come and sit here with my friends...Mr MacGowan.'

He closed his eyes and his broad shoulders sagged visibly in relief.

'Well, that's good to hear,' he said, then chuckled too, his white teeth exposed as the shallow lines around his mouth deepened. His teeth weren't perfectly square, I noticed with some detached satisfaction. He was real after all. 'Please, just call me Connor.'

I felt my heart give a happy little skip at the thought of being on first-name terms with him, but then I remembered that he preferred it if everyone just referred to him as "Connor", as all of his fans already did.

He turned his head to one side, the glare of the streetlight throwing his good-looking, rugged features into sharp relief, along with the pensive frown puckering his handsome brow.

'I've met you before, 've I not?' he asked thoughtfully, with his bone-melting Scottish lilt.

My eyes were wide.

'You mean you...you
remember
me?' I uttered in sheer surprise, swinging my legs back over so I faced the road. How was this even possible?

Connor bit his lip sheepishly, looking rather adorable.

'You
preoccupied
me for a while, to tell you the truth,' he answered. 'I felt so guilty...I'd just rushed off without stopping to say hi or anything. I'm...I'm sorry about that.'

I couldn't believe my ears. He had actually felt
guilty
? About leaving
me
?
ME
? Wow. And there I was thinking he was just a heartless, preening movie star like any other.
Preoccupied
, he had said...I felt a bigger blush coming on.

'It's OK, really, it is,' I told him bashfully. 'I mean, you can't stop and talk to
everyone
you happen to bump into...'

'I've always done my best to be
nice
to all my fans,' he said honestly. My inner happiness deflated at that remark. So I was really just a fan in his eyes, not a normal person...

I narrowed my eyes at him.

'What makes you think I'm a fan?' I challenged him, straight-faced. He blinked, looking a bit taken aback, and slightly embarrassed because he thought he had just made an arrogant assumption. Then he saw my teasing smile and he shook his head chidingly, a grin slowly spreading across his face.

'Ah, that's a good comeback, that,' he said. I laughed with him, feeling oddly light-headed. This was a completely surreal situation...less than an hour ago I had been brooding over my own cursed introverted nature, and thinking bitterly about this movie star...and now here I was, sitting on a wall in the quiet part of town actually
teasing
him and
laughing
with him! Almost like an...equal.

It was an odd, fuzzy feeling that I would need to prod and examine later when I was alone.

'You never told me your name,' Connor said, leaning his elbows back against the parapet. I was glad the dark hid my red face.

'Lillian,' I told him. 'But to the old bag who lives in the apartment beneath mine, I'm Miss Harwick. Or sometimes even Young Lady, when she's in a bad mood.' I had no idea
why
I was telling him about crotchety old Mrs Windsor from downstairs...it seemed like his presence was going to my head.

Connor laughed. 'As I'm not your neighbour, I suppose I can just call you Lillian, then?' he asked me.

'Sure,' I replied, feeling like the happiest girl in the world at that moment. I couldn't keep my eyes off him, leaning so casually against the parapet right next to me, looking so devilishly handsome with his leather jacket and wild curls that became ringlets towards the base of his neck. I had seen him in so many movies...in so many different costumes, settings, scenarios...I was right next to the man who had acted alongside Oscar-winning actresses and legendary actors, whose face had graced hundreds of posters all around the world. I remembered seeing a photo of him at a film premiere, looking very smart in his dark suit, strolling down the red carpet with a charming smile on his face as the huge crowds clamoured on either side, cameras flashing. He was so different from most other actors...they all drawled in American accents or watery British dialects, while he spoke with his lovely, gravelly Scottish burr that could vary from gruff and growling to smooth and purring at any time. He crazed photographers with his confident, "bad boy" appearance, and brought the house down at talk shows with his sense of humour. He was fun-loving, charming and immensely kind-hearted despite his slightly dangerous demeanour, consequently making him tremendously popular all over the world. This was why it felt so strange to have him here alone with me, in this dark street where he looked so at ease, even though he didn't come here often.

I found myself giving a little chuckle at the sheer craziness of this situation. Connor looked up at me.

'What?'

'Nothing, it's just...it's so
weird
that I'm actually with you, right here, right now,' I confessed. 'I never thought I'd ever meet you, let alone
talk
with you like this.'

His dark eyebrows knitted.

'Why's that?'

I would have thought that was obvious. 'Well...you have so many fans, to start with - practically the entire Japanese population are screaming for you, too, after you went there to promote your film
Esquire
...and you have so many far better places to be than
here
,' I told him.

'I don't really think about it that way,' Connor contradicted thoughtfully. 'Anywhere's good for me.' He absently scuffed the toe of his shoe on the ground, then looked up at me pensively. 'It's sad to think that me having so many fans would put you off.'