Conviction(71)

“Meebs, stop perving. I’m starved. You want Chinese, or d’ya wanna pop out and get something?”

I keep staring. Pop out? Be seen out, in public, with Conner Reed?

The reality of the last few hours hits me like an avalanche and I can barely draw breath.

He’s the boy that I fell in love with when I was fifteen, but then at the hands of lies, deceit and spitefulness, we’ve spent years apart only to meet back up and fall straight into bed.

What on earth was I thinking?

Our lives have gone in completely different directions. Conner’s a world famous rock star, I’m a soon to be divorced hairdresser from Surrey. I live in the real world of bills, work and a dog to walk, while Conner poses on the front of magazines with six foot tall, stick thin, fake titted models. I don’t know what’s been going through my head, but this can never work. I’m not some fictional character from one of the many contemporary romance novels I have on my Kindle. I’m me, a real living breathing person with a life I need to get back to. While Conner, Conner is just the fantasy I’ve held on to for far too long.

“Meebs?” I look up as he puts the menu down and starts to walk toward me.

“What’s wrong?” he asks while wrapping his arms around my waist.

“I need to go home, Con. I’ve got work tomorrow. I need to do some washing and walk the dog. I… this, this won’t work, Con. I have this life and it’s not going to work.” My brain is thinking clear and cohesive thoughts, but for some reason when I try to say them out loud, they come out as a jumbled mess.

He leans back and bends his knees so he can look at me. I’ve never seen a look like it on Conner’s face before, not aimed at me anyway. He’s angry.

“I’m not letting you go, Meebs. Don’t fight me on this. You don’t get to walk in here and give me hope and then just walk away again.” He breathes heavily, his hands gripping my shoulders. “We can and we will make this work. What are you scared of? Why the f*ck are you suddenly trying to run?” His eyes are looking more blue than green as they look into mine right now.

“I’m a hairdresser, Con. A five foot nothing, UK size twelve hairdresser. My arse is too fat for my height, my tits are too small for my arse, my legs too short and my muffin top hangs over my skinny jeans. I don’t fit into your world. I don’t look like the women I’ve seen you on the telly and in the magazines with,” my voice is getting higher as I try not to cry.

“I’m just me, Con, I’m just plain old me,” I whisper.

His mouth unexpectedly comes crashing down on mine. He kisses me fiercely, intensely. He takes and gives me no option but to give. With one arm snaked around my waist and his hand gripping my hair, he pulls away and looks at me.

“There’s nothing plain about you, Nina Amoeba. I love your arse, and your tits and your legs are f*cking perfect. You have more beauty and sex appeal in your little f*cking finger than any of the anorexic, bubble heads you’ve ever seen me photographed with.” He grips each side of my face in his hands so that I have no choice but to look at him.

“This is our time, Meebs, our chance. We’ve both been f*cked over and had shit to deal with in the past, but this, us…” he gestures between our bodies, “This our fairy tale. This our chance at a happy ever after and I’m not letting your misplaced insecurities deny us this chance.” He leans his forehead against mine.

“I love you. I love you, and I’m not letting you go.”

We stand in the middle of the kitchen, our heads pressed together. Both of us breathing heavily. Ed Sheeran starts to sing.

“This song,” Conner whispers, “I’m so jealous that I didn’t write this song and dedicate it to you. This whole album, Meebs, nearly every song reminds me of us. There’s even one called Nina.”

Us. He’s listened to this album, which I know has only just been released, and it makes him think about us. As recently as this month, he’s thought about us.

I let that fact wash over me for a few seconds. I like the way it makes me feel. Warm, loved, content and safe. Feelings that I’ve ached for lately.

Conner starts to sway to the music. He wraps one arm around my waist and laces his fingers through mine and pulls it up to settle between our chests.

“Dance with me?” he asks softly, already moving gently to the music.

“Listen to the words and dance with me, Meebs.”

And there, in the middle of the kitchen, dancing to Ed Sheeran’s ‘Thinking out loud,’ while Conner sings into my ear, words about falling in love with me, every single day, I give up the fight. I’m his. I have no idea where this will go, but I’m going to give my very own fairy tale a chance. If all goes well, then the rock star and the hairdresser, will get to live out their happily ever after.





Conner



I wake to the sound of my phone. I’ve ignored the calls and text messages all weekend, but I know I need to answer it now.

I went back to bed after Matty dropped Meebs back at home this morning. We spent the rest of Sunday afternoon and night reacquainting ourselves with each other, but she needed to go into work today and so, reluctantly, I let her go, but only after she promised to come back tonight.

My house is only about five miles from hers and she’s agreed to drive herself over here once she’s finished work. I’ve told her to bring an overnight bag and stay. Actually, I told her to pack up her life and move it in with mine, but she just stood looking at me with her hands on her hips and her eyebrows raised as if I was some kind of nutter. Maybe I am but now that I’ve got her back, I don’t want to let her go and I don’t see why I should.