PLATFORMS ↛ D.A

Liam and Questions

Downtown London | 11:44am

Amelia had decided that today was her day, a day that social media influencers would blog and insist they had the same 24h as you, a day in which our protagonist gets her job and then spends hundreds of celebratory yet shameless pounds on retrospectively awful choices and gorgeous heels.

She ate lunch in a small cafe on the corner, flicking through her phone and having a
brain-numbing back and forth iMessage game spree with Noel. He was shite.

Now, Aside from Noel being dreadful at the phone Olympics, the sky was bright and for the first time in the last day and a bit it was sunny. Amelia felt a new type of happiness,
a glee even (we won't draw paralells from the show, christ) at this new weather.
The feeling of a true Brit upon a change in mood entirely due to the weather, maybe she'd even find Damon tolerable today.

It certainly was a day for the heavens and miracles were made when Amelia even felt up to answering Liam's call, balancing her phone on her shoulder as she took a fuck off bite from the toasted baguette she had purchased for £6 too much. Liam answered the phone with a
tired sigh.

"Hiya. Why're you up so early?" She had mumbled with her mouth half-full.

Liam was presumably up for work, he started at nine most mornings yet sauntered in at ten. If his boss wasn't his uncle's pal he'd have been sacked faster than he could've said 'wait what, wasn't doing nothin' me.' Yes, Liam, that's the point.

"What you eating, anything i'd like?"
He coughed, "N' ay, I'd gotten up early this morning for work y'know." He coughed again.

"Eating a baguette thing, s'alright, don't rate it much for six quid." She took another bite. "Continue."

"Six? Fucking hell you'd get head for that down Stockport way." He mused.

"Generous. Noel paid four for chips and head, mind that?" She picked at the side salad, eyeing the soggy lettuce.

Liam laughed. "Ay, was mad for that. Came home all jokes n' just about pissed 'imself in my bed."

If there was one thing about Noel Gallagher was that things were done to the extreme or not done at all, so much so that it hadn't surprised Amelia when Liam had told her about that night. Noel was always overdoing, whether it was drugs, drink or girls he fucking outdone himself on them all and that habit was most definitely passed down to Liam, in result leaving Amelia the one to stitch them both back up.

"Ay but, I'd got to work. Empty, right? I walk about a bit n' that, find big Steve and he says i'm not even s'posed to be in today." He spoke at the speed equivalent of an F1 motor, jamming words out in his harsh accent. "So that fuckin' creepy bastard with nits has fucked my Tuesday, could not write it man." Liam always did have a way with words.

"Didn't you maybe think that's your fault for not lookin' at the schedules?"

"Haven't been given schedules," He paused. "Wait what's a schedule look like?"

The waiter came to take her plate away. The salad had put her off, why did it include olives. "What d'you mean, what's a schedule look like." She mimicked his deeper voice. "It's a bit of paper."

"I fuckin' know that much."

Liam was the type to microwave raw chicken, she wouldn't put it past him if he hadn't known what a schedule even was in the first place.

"Anyways, fuck yer schedule ask me about my interview." She smiled to herself, looking at the small pile of forms she was to sign for this afternoon.

The interview was an absolute piece of piss, the man seemed less than interested in the job and rather more keen on her and her love statuses. Thus, leading a path to get the job after she had made him laugh three times.