In Another Life (1993-1996)

You Know I'm Such A Fool For You

You havent spoken to Noel for a while, did he do something at the party?” Ben asked, not looking up from his paper

“He acted like a total twat! Honestly, he sends me this cryptic letter three days before and when it’s the time to have a laugh, he turns up out of the blue, dosent tell me he’s going to be there, and flirts with anything with a plus in a 2 mile radius!” I practically shouted. Ben smirked a little, unable to hide is pleasure at the fact that I had been seething at Noel for the past week and not him. He looked me in the eye for a second, before scanning his work once more.

“What exactly did this ‘cryptic letter’ say?” He asked calmly. I stormed off upstairs, snatched it off my desk and came marching back into the lounge. I shook the paper open, stood in front of Ben and ranted it off to him.

“‘Hey Evie

Just thought I’d let you know that the album is going a little bit better; they’re letting me produce it so that should be good. Liam is being a twat and has thrown the phone across the room; sometimes I swear I could strangle that lad. Anyway, we’ll be back in London soon so see you then

NG xx’ I mean, what is that supposed to mean?” I said, a little breathless from the speed I read the letter. Ben stopped and thought for a moment.

“Did you check on the back of the letter to see the date he sent it?” He asked, still subtly hinting at me to calm down.

“Ben, I think I would have noticed if there was a date on the back!” I turned the paper in my hand as I spoke, wanting to prove him wrong. It would’ve worked as well, if there hadn’t have been a scrawl on the back from where Noel had attempted to begin the letter before. “He sent it three weeks before the party? Okay, don’t go giving me the ‘I told you so look’, it’s the Royal Mails fault, not mine!”

“Well it isn’t mine either, so why do I deserve the rant? Anyway, I thought I was your boyfriend, not the girly mate you rant about boys to when he doesn’t call you back.” He said, annoyance obvious in his voice, his lack of interest in the conversation clear from the way he turned his attention to his English Lit paper.

“Oh god Ben, I didn’t realise. He just winds me up so much!” I growled. I knotted my hair in my fingers and fell back onto the sofa, making the cushions bounce a little on impact. I sat there for a minute, face buried in my hands, before turning and snuggling into Bens fleece. He carried on correcting the spelling mistakes in his paper for a second, before weaving his arm over my shoulder, subconsciously playing with my hair. With a final flourish of his pen, he signed his name and passed it to me.

“Can you check it actually makes sense?” He said. I took it and scanned his writing. As it turned out, there was not a lot of time to be in a relationship at Sixth Form when you’re also preparing to be a star, resulting in checking each other’s assignments to spend time together. After correcting some of his grammatical mistakes, I was a proud member of the grammar police; I passed it him back and smiled.

“It’s really good.” I said.

“Do you think the teacher will like it?” He asked, still unsure as if it were finished.

“Yes, Ben. He will. He’s probably going to send it off to be published in a magazine all about genius kids throughout the world. Scientist from America will come raid our house and kidnap you, just so they can analyse your brain.” I ranted sarcastically. He stuck his tongue out at me. I flicked it. He bit my finger, so I squeezed his fingers until they went a deep red, which was around the time he began to tickle me. I wriggled away, which only made him gain the advantage and sit on me. I was laughing so hard I was crying and my sides were screaming in agony.