SUMMARY: When your meddling sister takes the liberty of mailing one of your hidden love letters, it’s just your luck that he doesn’t receive it. Though his pesky little brother does instead. And he’s hellbent on playing cupid.
WORD COUNT: 14, 385
Dearest Noel,
The first time I saw you, I was pretty sure my heart fully stopped. I had liked other guys before you, had written them letters like these as well. But none of them made me feel like you did. What was once just a flutter of my stomach turned into a roar, hard to ignore. Which is why I’m writing this, in the hopes that putting pen to paper would make me feel less like this feeling would eat me alive.
Not that you’ll ever read this, mind.
It all started when I was thirteen years old, biking around the council estates when I saw you walking back to your home, wearing a blue jumper and carrying groceries in your arms. I just about fell down to the pavement at the sight of you. I didn’t have the guts to ring my bell at you or smile at you or even ask for your name. It wasn’t until a week later when I saw you again that I knew your name. Noel. Your little brother had been yelling it at the top of his lungs at the park, it was quite hard to miss, yet I do thank him for somehow introducing you to me by way of his tantrums.
Since then, you’ve always been in my periphery. And steadily, you began to notice me. Just in tiny ways; nodding your head at me when I passed, picking up my stack of books when they got too heavy on my walk home, staying with me at the bus station so I wasn’t alone late at night. You’ve always been kind to me, courteous, I would even say. And that made me fall even harder for you.
I know you don’t see me in the same light. How could you? I’m just your younger neighbor that likes to knock on your door to give cookies. You are kind to me because that’s just the kind of man you are, not because you like me like I like you. And that’s what pains me the most.
I hope I never lose you in my life. You are a light, Noel Gallagher, and I hope you know that.
Love,
Your silly neighbor
***
You had always worn your heart on your sleeve. It was most likely a byproduct of the cheap paperback romance novels you loved reading, but you were a lover at heart; you loved giving your friends their favorite baked goods, you loved watching romantic comedies that made you swoon, you loved taking pictures to keep in your glitter-filled scrapbook, and you loved writing letters you’ll never send. You loved finding love everywhere in your life.
Maybe a little bit too much.
“Hey!” Amy called out from where she was biking right next to you. “Hellooooo?” she singsonged. From the tinge of exasperation in her tone, you could already tell that you’ve done it again. “How many times do I have to tell you to stop daydreaming while on the way to work?”
You shot her a sheepish smile. “Sorry,” you said, inconspicuosly trying to pedal faster to avoid the impending lecture.
Your efforts to cycle quickly away were in vain. “I swear, one day you’ll bump headfirst into a pole and there’d be nothing any of us could do about it!” she huffed in frustration, pedaling her bike closer to you to lightly shove at you.
You wobbled. “Careful!!” You took one hand off the handlebar and swatted at her. She rolled her eyes and dodged it easily.
“What were you even daydreaming about this time?” she said wryly, already exasperated by your antics. Her face took on a teasing look that you dreaded as she cooed, “Was it Noel Gallagher?” she giggled, too loudly for your taste.
You whipped your head around all directions before scolding her. “Amy!” you say, affronted. “Shhhhh!”
She only laughs in response, a bellowing thing that echoes down the streets of Burnage. You redden in embarrassment. “I swear,” she says, still chuckling under her breath. “All this daydreaming, yet still no action. Your love life’s drier than the Sahara.”
You grumble something unintelligible under your breath.
Amy forges on. “You’re gonna have to make a move,” she says, urging. You’ve heard this spiel many times now, and not just with your infatuation with Noel. Amy’s said it when you first started having a crush on Samuel from your class, when you hid behind your hair whenever you saw Gary deliver your eggs to your house, the time when you liked Jonathan from the park so much that you couldn’t even look him in the eye. Amy’s always been in your ear telling you do something about your crushes. You’ve always just stared her down and told her you were content with loving them from afar.
You didn’t quite know if you were saying a lie when you said that then.
You sighed. “Yes, Amy,” you say frustratedly, legs pedaling faster and faster. Amy matches your pace much to your dismay. “I get it.”
Amy tears out a ragged breath beside you. “I don’t think you do, kid,” she declares. “It’s been how long since you’ve liked Noel?” she prompts.
You frown. She knows very well how long you’ve liked Noel. You grumble your response, “Two years.”
“Two years!” she shouts into the nearly empty street. You shake your head at her dramatics. “Two years and still no progress.”
“Who says there has to be progress?” you shot back. “Just because I like him doesn’t mean something has to happen.”
Amy gives you a flat look. “I can see you’ve convinced yourself of that,” she says flatly, the mild ire coating her tone prompting you to frown. “Just … try?”
You huff. “Try what?” you ask petulantly.
She shakes her head, a motion that was more for herself than for you. “I can feel that big things are coming, kid,” she says, gaze now back on the road. “And I’m gonna need you to try and ride the wave, yeah?”
You wrinkle your brow in confusion. “Well, that’s not cryptic at all, Amy. Thanks,” you quip drily.
Amy gives a half smile and kicks at your pedals, careful not to do any real damage. “After all I do for you,” she grumbles, but the upturn of her lips tells a different story.
You smile at her. Amy truly did so much for you. “Diner’s just up ahead,” you told her. “You gonna be okay without me?”
Amy was still chortling by the time that you veered into the diner’s parking lot and chained your bike to the post, Amy continuing onto the main road to get to her own job at the pharmacy a couple blocks ahead.
Sweetheart’s Diner was an old Manchester relic. Maintaining much of its original 50s charm, it’s a cultural staple that has been in the neighborhood for as long as anyone can remember. Everyone has a memory from Sweetheart’s — for you, it was the taste of their strawberry milkshake on that one summer day after your parents had saved up enough money to get you your own bicycle.
That was your first taste of freedom.
You had always just borrowed Amy’s bike from her when she allowed you to. But she was strict with how long you could have it for and where you could take it. She claimed that the diner was too far away for you to bring her bike, so you stuck to just pedaling around the estates like a clown on a unicycle.
But on your twelfth birthday, your father had brought home a bicycle, not exactly brand new like Jessica Bailey’s cobalt blue bike, but not beat up like Cyrus McConnell’s scuffed up monstrosity. It was pale pink with a matching pink bell on the handlebars, a seat that you suspected your father had reupholstered himself, a few faded stickers that hadn’t quite been scraped away, and dent marks in a few places. But you didn’t mind its imperfections, your eyes locked into the bike and you instantly knew that it was yours.
The first place you went to that afternoon was Sweetheart’s where Mrs. Pillock, the original owner’s grandaughter (or great-grandauhter, or great-great grandaughter — no one quite knew how old this woman was) had spotted your beaming smile and sold you a strawberry milkshake at half price.
“Not for free,” she said sternly, though it felt less like being scolded and more like a maternal lecture. You smiled up at her, straw in your mouth. “Because nothin’s for free, yeah, hon?”
You giggled then, high off having the wind in your hair, the solid feeling of your own pedals on your feet, the sound of the bell chiming in the bright afternoon. That’s what you remember from Sweetheart’s the most, the freedom.
It wasn’t a hard choice to apply to be a waitress at Sweetheart’s for the meantime. After all, a uni scholarship only paid a certain amount of bills, and you needed to cover your half of it. So you walked up to Mrs. Pillock, handed her your resume, to which she snorted and hired you on the spot.
“You didn’t even look!” you protested.
“Don’t need to, kid,” she said roughly. “You start on Monday, yeah? You’re on the day shift.”
You’ve been donning the Sweetheart’s frilly pink waitress apron since then.
It wasn’t horrible, all things considered. The days were busy, but it was miles better than the night shift, or worse, the graveyard shift. Working in a twenty-four hour diner in Manchester has its ups and downs, and you were glad that you were on the up of it all. You served customers with a smile, Mrs. Pillock dealt with the rude customers with efficiency, Asa the cook set aside enough food scraps for all the waitresses and baristas that they could be considered as full meals, and Noel Gallagher tended to buy two bacon butties on his home from work every Friday, an hour before your shift ended.
It was always a great pick-me up in the end of your week. Your bones would set in with a tiredness that you can’t seem to shake, your smile would begin to turn less and less genuine with each passing hour, and your wrist would ache something fierce everytime you carried a whole tray of orders. It’s always been just much of the same.
Though this Friday, it was a different face you were met with.
You had just finished serving a table full of old ladies playing cards on a corner booth, their cooing over your appearance still ringing in your ears when he walked in.
The shaggy cut of his hair was unmistakable, though you were quite sure that you’ve seen the shirt he’s wearing on Noel once. His blue eyes were drooping slightly as he scanned the neon signs displayed on the far wall by the entrance, and his fingers tapped a beat similar to the Elvis song playing on the old jukebox. He was unmistakable in his unbothered stance, the swagger of his walk, and the way that he lifted his chin just so — like he knew how good he looked and wasn’t above putting it to good use.
Liam Gallagher was trouble. Everybody who knew him knew that. Hell, just a few years back, you remember your mam telling you about how Liam was rushed into the hospital with a cracked skull from a hammer. Poor lad, she had lamented.
He was loud, he was obnoxious, he was annoying, he was irritating, he once almost ran you over while driving his mate’s motorcycle, and he was …
Holding a suspiciously familiar stack of envelopes in his hand?
Your heart dropped to your stomach.
“Fuck,” you whispered harshly, eyes wide at the impossible sight in front of you.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. Fridays were for the old ladies playing bridge, the single mom who took her young son for a vanilla cherry coke after footie practice, the couple who ordered waffles in the early part of your shift, the little girl who spends her allowance on a banana split, and Noel Gallagher coming home from the construction site to buy his bacon butties. That’s what Fridays were more or less about — there was a balance to the world with Fridays at Sweetheart’s and Liam Gallagher was not about to ruin it.
Amy’s words from this morning echoed dully in your head as your heart began to race where it had migrated to your stomach. I can feel that big things are coming, kid. And I’m gonna need you to try and ride the wave, yeah? You grit your teeth and cursed her. Of course, she’d do this. Who else knew about those letters? Who else was annoyed enough at you to mail them to their supposed recipient? Who else had the balls to drop the letter in the Gallagher’s letterbox, unafraid of the consequences she might face.
“Y’alright, kid?” Maria, a waitress you were on shift with saddled close to you, her brows knit in concern. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Looking at Liam Gallagher, a stack of frilly love letters in his hand, you feel like you’re seeing worse. “I just —” you stutter, not taking your eyes off Liam who got sidetracked by the jukebox and was now rummaging in his wallet for some loose change.
Maria turns to see what’s got you looking so shell shocked and cocks her head at the sight of Liam. “Ex-boyfriend of yours?”
“What? No!” you protest indignantly, a bit too loudly that Maria raises a brow and Liam turns to see the commotion. You hiss, backing away from the counter slowly as he prowls your way. You send Maria a pleading look. “Just stuff from the neighborhood!” you tried to reassure her shakily.
“Uh huh,” she says, unimpressed.
You pout. “Maria, it’s nothing serious,” you say, the distance between the two of you growing as you begin to slowly back yourself towards the staff exit. “But I’m going to need you to cover me for the last hour of my shift.”
She sighs, deep and fond. “Don’t do anything stupid,” she says warningly as she marches to the time clock and punches you out early.
That’s all you need, you see Liam finally at the counter trying to get Maria’s attention but you’re already gone, past the kitchens where you loudly bid Asa goodbye. You didn’t even hear his response as you shouldered the heavy door open and ran to your chained bike.
The bell above the diner rings as a customer steps out, your hands shake where they try to find your lock key in your pocket. “Oi!” Liam calls out to you. “Neighbor girl! Yoo-hoo! Wait up!” he calls out as he makes his way down the tiled steps, smiling jovially at you as his hands grip the unmistakable envelopes that contains your bare heart.
There was no way that you were going to have that conversation with Liam Gallagher of all people. Hell, there was no way that you were going to have that conversation at all! No one was supposed to see those letters in the first place.
You curse as he gets closer, the key not anywhere near to being found. In a desperate bid for escape, you search your surroundings and your eyes quickly alight as they catch sight of a pale blue bike with a scuffed up handlebar.
“Aye, lover girl! Slow down!” Liam calls, seconds away from you, his scuffed up trainers making quick work of the distance.
Your heart beats unnaturally fast in your ribcage, your palms sweat as you wipe them down on the frilly apron you forgot to take off before leaving, and you ask for silent forgiveness as you take hold of the bike’s handlebars and swing yourself on top of the seat.
You left Liam Gallagher in the dust, pedalling hard enough for you to be panting like a dog seconds in. It wasn’t until you had made it to your neighborhood that you saw the initials etched on the bike.
LG
Amazing. Absolutely top. The day started out well enough, it had been too chilly for you to wear your favorite skirt, but you thought your misfortunes would end there. Amy had given the last of the milk up to you for cereal, she had given up the first shower, and she didn’t even rush you when you insisted on finishing the lasat chapter of your book before leaving. Amy had been gracious and generous the entire morning and you were blissfully unaware that she was hiding an ace up her sleeve.
You really should have known. The moment that you accidentally let the existence of those letters slip, you should have already burnt them. Because of course, Amy, the all-action go-getter that she is, would take matters into her own hands.
You pedaled faster, a bit unused to the unbalanced way that Liam’s shoddy bike tipped to one side. Your hair whipped around your face as you let out a quiet shriek of embarrassment. Had Noel read your letters and sent Liam to come reject you because he couldn’t do it himself? Had Amy mailed out all of your letters? Did Liam find your heartfelt scribbles to his brother so amusing that he showed it to all his dodgy mates?
You could cry with frustration, trying to ransack your brain for every line and ever sentence that could be deemed incriminating in those letters. You sighed as you realized that they were all quite incriminating.
You make it back home to the estates at a record time, pausing by the Gallagher’s home with your head cocked as you watched for any sign of life. When there isn’t a creak or cough to be heard from the inside you look quickly to the side to see if anyone’s watching as you haul Liam’s bike over your shoulders, wincing in pain at the heaviness. You attempt to get it over their wooden fence and into their yard safely without any knuckleheads attempting to steal Liam’s bike. After all, that was not a crime you would like to be pinned onto you.
For the next five or so minutes, you spend your time with Liam’s bike over your shoulders, trying to make it go over, but instead having it fall with a loud clang everytime it fell on the pavement at your feet instead.
A door creaks open, a head pops out to see you still panting, “You alright over there, dear?” Liam’s kind neighbor, Doris, had her glasses perched on her nose and her hand clutching a pack of biscuits. You smile and wave at her, trying to look like you weren’t returning Liam’s stolen bike.
“Peachy, Eden! Absolutely swell!” you say, voice cracking as you shot her a thumbs up.
She smiled warmly at you. “It’s nice to see those Gallagher boys finally having a good egg like you around them,” she said before closing the door and leaving you to your own devices.
You huff, bending down to a squat and lifting the bike above your shoulders before finally tipping it over with a loud crash. “Shoot,” you mumbled at the sound. “Hope I didn’t break that.”
Then you run. In hindisight, it was quite stupid. There was no one but little kids and old people milling about the streets and the Gallaghers weren’t even home to watch your numerous attempts at getting their youngest’s bike in their property. Your hands were stained from where the bike scuffed as you lifted it, you were pretty sure there were some marks on your face as wel, but you were determined to get home.
You ran down the street, into your yard where Amy’s bike was already parked, ripped the front door open and dashed up the stairs into your room. You didn’t yell for Amy yet, no, you needed to be sure. You got down on your knees on the shaggy pale pink carpet of your bedroom and lifted up your bedskirt to rummage for the old hatbox that had your letters.
A swift count of them revealed that there were seven letters missing. It was no coincidence that you wrote seven letters to Noel Gallagher. You grit your teeth.
“Amy!” you screeched, pushing yourself off the floor and nearly taking out your bedroom door from the hinges as you crossed the space between your bedroom and hers. “Amy, I can’t believe you did that!” you screeched, walking into her room and finding her smiling at you sheepishly.
“Hey,” she greets, turning in her swivel chair to greet you. The nerve.
You march up to her, looking down at her from where you stood as you stomped your foot. “You sent my letters.”
“Not all of them,” she said plainly. “Just all of Noel’s.”
“Why?” you grit out, frustrated at her lack of understanding of the situation.
She shrugged, you smacked her arm hard enough for her to protest. “Because you weren’t going to do anythin’ about it!” she exclaimed, still rubbing her arm. “You weren’t goin’ to send them!”
You groaned, stepping away from her and falling back into her bed. “They weren’t meant to be sent,”” you cry, putting your hands up to your face to hide in them.
Amy sighed. “Then were they meant to sit in that ugly old hatbox of yours forever?”
You took your hands away from her face to glare at her icily. “Yes,” you said emphatically. “And my hatbox is not ugly!”
You feel the bed dip beside you as Amy sinks and lies down right next to you. You cross your arms petulantly as she turns her head to look at you. “To each their own,” she muses. “But about those letters … kid, y’know it had to be done. You’ve been pinin’ away for two years now, sighing everytime Noel passes and it breaks my heart that you won’t give yourself the chance to fall in love because you’re stuck in this kind of bubble.”
You hum, half stewing in your butthurt feelings, half listening to Amy’s spiel.
“The truth is that you won’t get anything you want without going for it. And the way I saw it, you wanted Noel Gallagher —”
“Want is a strong word,” you interrupt wryly.
“You want,” she continues, sending you a sharp look. “The kind of love you read about in those books of yours. And you’re not doin’ anythin’ about it.”
You sigh, finally turning to look at her. “Well, it wasn’t your decision to make.”
“I know,” said Amy. “It was a risk I was willing to take.”
You give her a look. “On my behalf?”
She shrugs, looking away from you and turning her gaze to the ceiling. “Big sisters know best, yeah?”
You snort and shove her lightly. “If this turns out badly, promise me you’ll go to Noel and tell him it was an elaborate prank.”
She laughs. “Promise,” she says. “But I have a feeling it’ll turn out fine.”
You look at her flatly. “Liam Gallagher barged into Sweetheart’s this afternoon with the letters. I had to clock out early and have Maria cover my shift so I wouldn’t have to speak to him,” you admitted. “Then I stole his bike. I had to lift it back into their yard before going home.”
“Well, at least this is entertaining?”
You shake your head in exasperation. “This doesn’t mean I forgive you.”
“Yeah,” she said. “I kinda saw that coming. But I’ll do your laundry for a month if you just stick with this for a hot minute, yeah?”
“Just a hot minute?” you ask.
A hot minute is like an eternity when your heart is in a stack of envelopes in Liam Gallagher’s hands. Are you curious to know why he has them in his possession? Obviously. But are you curious enough to go up to him and ask him about it? Absolutely not. In fact, you spend the entire weekend hiding away in your room, not so much as going into the view of any street facing windows lest either Gallagher brother catch sight of you.
You felt like a wanted woman on the run. You refused to go out with Amy when she asked you to go to the shops with her, you had Amy buy the groceries your mam trusted you with, and you didn’t dare attempt go back to Sweetheart’s to get your beloved bike. You watched Breakfast at Tiffany’s, then The Philadelphia Story, then Sabrina. Then you read a few novels to keep your mind occupied. Because it it wasn’t, you tended to bury your head in a pillow and scream in embarrassment for your predicament.
You didn’t work weekend shifts. Anyone at Sweetheart’s could tell Liam that. But that doesn’t erase the fact that Liam very much knew where you lived.
“Your bike’s back,” Amy said on Sunday, pouring herself some cereal as you munched on some toast.
You blinked. “My bike?” you asked, dumbfounded. “How –?”
“How else d’ya think?” Amy asked flatly, speaking with a mouth full of Cheerios. You wrinkled your nose in disgust. “Liam picked the lock on your bike chain. Brought it over here last night.”
You wrinkled your brow in confusion. “Liam?” you said. “And how do you know all of this?”
She sighed, burdened. “The bastard kept throwin’ pebbles at my window thinkin’ it was yours.”
You raised a brow. “And did you tell him that it wasn’t?”
Amy shook her head, hair a tangled mess where it fell. “Nah,” she said. “He ain’t the brother you’re goin’ for, aye? Why bother?”
So you go back to eating your toast, heart a bit more full with the thought of your bike returned to you. At least you weren’t going to work in the morning on the back of Amy’s beat up bike like a toddler.
But to every high, there was a low. Monday inevitably came. And you weren’t in the position to skip work, you needed that check. So you heave yourself up and off the bed, getting ready to march yourself into the outside world once again.
And what do you know, you clock in at eight o’clock in the morning on the dot to see Liam Gallagher already seated at the diner’s high chairs by the counter, sipping on a chocolate milkshake and swinging his legs off the seat with that carefree attitude of his.
You sigh and make your way behind the counter. Liam clocks you instantly. “Wa-hey!” he cheers, mouth stained with a bit of chocolate. “It’s the bike thief!”
You whip your head around to glare at him. “Shhh!” you hiss. “Keep it down.”
He clucked his tongue at you. “I had to walk all the way home, me.” He shook his head in mock sadness, but the playful glint in his eyes told a different story.
You scanned the diner for a way out of this conversation, a customer to tend to, maybe? But it was an abnormally slow morning. Great. “You could have taken the bus,” you told him.
He shrugged, back to swinging his legs on the seat restlessly. “Didn’t have any more money. Put it all in that jukebox of yours.”
You bite the inside of your cheek. “Well, that part isn’t my fault.”
“Aye,” he nodded. “Just the bike stealin’ part.”
You sigh before handing him a napkin and gesturing to his lips. He dutifully wipes the chocolate off. “Listen, Liam,” you began. “I’m really sorry for stealing your bike, yeah? But I had an emergency —”
“The emergency bein’ that you ain’t wanna see me?” he asks cheekily.
You look at him flatly. “Well, no. I —”
He nodded. “Saw that I had your letters and had to run,” he continued your sentence for you.
He kept hitting the nail on the head. But he didn’t have to know that. “What letters?” you deny, a bit stupidly in a bid for control over the situation.
Liam is unimpressed, he leans his forearms onto the counter to be closer to you and raises a thick brow. “You expect me to believe that?”
You swallow thickly before nodding. “Yeah, Liam. I dunno what you’re talking about. Really, I just had an emergency that I needed to get to.”
He blinked before nodding, reclining back into his seat and slurping his chocolate milkshake loudly. You let him drink in silence, turning to do some work in the counter and to serve a few customers milling about. It isn’t until nearly fifteen minutes later when Liam speaks again, “Dearest, Noel. The first time I saw you, I was pretty sure my heart fully stopped. I had liked other guys before —”
You shriek and all but clamber over the counter to cover Liam’s mouth with your hand. “Jesus!” you hiss, pressing down on his smug smile. “Why do you have it memorized?” you bite.
The vibration of his laugh under your palm is unmistakable. You let go with warm cheeks and stare him down. “Got a fine memory,” he said, tapping his temple. “Hammer to the head can’t do damage on this baby.”
You roll your eyes, crossing your arms defensively in front of you. “Why do you even have the letters in the first place?”
He snorts. “You sent it, yeah?”
You huff. “Technically, I wasn’t the one who sent it,” you corrected. “My sister went snooping around my room and decided to play matchmaker.”
He shrugs. “Well, either way, it was sent to my gaff.”
“But it isn’t for you,” you grit out.
He grins. “Yeah, I got that bit, lover girl. Saw the swirly glitter pen on the envelope sayin’ Noel Gallagher and everythin’.”
“Then why did you open it?” you whisper shriek.
Liam was having way too much fun with the situation. “Was bored,” he said simply. “And Noel ain’t home.”
“What?” you ask blankly.
“Noel ain’t home,” he repeats. “He’s off with that magic carpet band of his. Won’t be back for another two weeks.”
“Inspiral Carpets,” you correct absently before shaking your head as if to clear it. “Wait, I’m sorry. So, Noel doesn’t know about the letters.”
Liam shakes his head and bites his straw. “Nah,” he said.
Your grin widens as you begin to giggle. It was a modern day miracle! “Great!” you say through a laugh. “That’s great! Oh, I’m so relieved.”
Liam’s thick brows knit together in confusion. “Uh,” he mumbles. “How is that a good thing?”
You sigh. “I didn’t want those letters sent out, okay?” you explain. “I don’t want Noel reading them, or finding out how much I like him, or that I even wrote him letters in the first place.”
Liam pouts in confusion, head cocked to the side. “But,” he begins. “Those letters were class. Proper fuckin’ love letters they were. Was almost jealous that Noel’s got seven of ‘em.”
You chuckle. “Well, Noel doesn’t need to know, alright?” you say. “Please, Liam. Can you promise me that you won’t tell?” You bat your lashes, helplessly trying to get Liam to side with you on this one.
Liam barely stops himself from laughing in your face as he plucks the cherry garnish of the milkshake from the dregs of his cup and pops it in his mouth. Stem and all. “Well,” he begins, mouth full. “I have an interestin’ proposition for you, lover girl.”
“Please don’t call me that.”
He continues on as if you hadn’t interrupted. “What if I set you up with Noel? Give you the juicy goss on how to woo him? Ain’t that a dream?”
You wrinkle your nose. “And why would you wanna do that?”
He pops the cherry stem out of his mouth. “You’re a kind bird. I always kinda liked you. Wouldn’t mind my brother havin’ you.”
“I’m not something to have, Liam,” you explain, patience dwindling. “And you expect me to believe that you’re just doing this out of the kindness of your heart?”
He reacts as if he’s been shot, hand to his chest and an overexaggerated groan leaving his pink lips. “You don’t think I can be a kind lad?”
You sigh. “You’re deliberately being thick,” you tell him, flatly. “Of course you’re a kind lad. But I have trouble believing that there isn’t something in it for you.”
Liam hangs his head and pushes the milkshake glass your way. You deftly take hold of it and bring it to the kitchen’s dishwasher. You return to find him with his head propped on his chin, watching you. You raise a prompting brow and he relents. “Fine,” he says petulantly. “I figured if my brother fell in love with some nice bird, then he’d write some nice tunes for my band.”
“You’re in a band?” you ask, shocked.
He gives you a dry look. “You know Noel writes songs but you ain’t noticed that I’m in a band.”
You shrugged. “There’s a reason those letters say Dearest Noel instead of Dearest Liam,” you tease.
He laughs easily, shaking his head. “Yeah, well, our songs are kinda shite now and Noel alway has some good stuff. But he ain’t been writin’ as much as he used to. I figured some good ol’ lovin’ would make him pick that pen back up.”
You hummed, piecing it all together. “So you want to set me up with Noel so he’d fall in love and write songs about it?”
He nodded eagerly. “He needs a muse, yeah?”
You smile sadly at him and his excited expression. “Liam,” you say gently. “I don’t think I’m cut out to be anyone’s muse.”
He pouts, bottom lip dragging downwards. “That’s a load of shite, c’mon!”
You shake your head resolutely. “No can do, Liam. Sorry.”
He retreats into his seat, looking at you a bit lost. Like he can’t quite understand you before sighing and saying, “Noel would like you if you just gave it a shot,” he said, picking at the hem of his shirt. You open your mouth to say something before he beats you to it. “You’re smart an’ funny. You live just down the road from us which would be great whenever he wants to visit. You have a job that pays well which means that you won’t have to rely on him all the time. You’re sweet, and you’re pretty, and you’re a nice bird. I don’t get why you think you ain’t a muse.”
You blink, dumbfounded. “I didn’t know you paid enough attention to me,” you laugh stiltedly, assessing Liam in this new light.
He shrugs as if it was no big deal. “Ain’t hard,” he says. Then, in an act that balances his sweetness out, he burps and asks you, “Now, d’you got any of those basket of chips, please?”
He doesn’t take the chips to go like you hoped he would. He sits by the counter, humming tunes to himself as he eats like supplies are running low. The thing about Liam Gallagher that you were currently learning was that he was persistent. Once he knew what he wanted, he grabbed onto it and wouldn’t let it go. Which meant that for your entire nine hour shift, Liam sat on that counter seat and waited. Not patiently, god no, never patiently. He chatted with every patron that came, played a number of Beatles tunes, went out for a smoke a total of five times, and even began charming Maria.
“He’s a nice lad, aye?” she said to you as she passed, winking.
You flushed. “He’s my neighbor!” you explained.
“Mhm,” she hummed, leaving you and Liam to your own devices.
He pouts as you. “How long is your shift,” he whines pitifully.
You laugh, “Five more minutes then I could clock out,” you say. “You don’t have to wait up, y’know? It’s not like I agreed to your weird suggestion.”
“It ain’t weird!” he protests.
You stick your tongue out at him as you leave to take care of your last table.
Liam watches eagerly as you clock out and hang your apron, giving him a look that made him stand up hastily and follow you out the main entrance of the diner. You catch sight of his bike next to yours and smile. “Hey, I never thanked you for returning my bike,” you said, walking next to him. “That was very sweet of you.”
“No sweat,” he said. “Figured it was a thank you for hauling my bike up our fence. Doris said it took an age for you to do.”
You groan as he laughs loudly. “I didn’t know she watched the whole thing!”
“Said it looked like you were out there trying to catch a stroke,” he giggled.
You sighed. “It was a heavy bike,” you grumbled.
He smiled warmly. “Thanks for bringin’ it back, yeah?”
You take the key out of your pocket and unlock the chain, putting it in your bag as you swung your legs onto your bike. You raised a brow at Liam, “I forgot we’re going the same way.”
“Don’t get sick of me yet, lover girl!” he says, pedaling away. With a sigh, you pick up your pace and ride next to him. The ride home after your shift was always a peaceful thing. As much as you loved the diner, it could be loud nad overwhelming. Being on your bike, the wind on your face, and houses rushing past you in a haze was a way for you to finally breathe.
Beside you, it seemed like Liam was doing the same thing. Just breathing it all in.
You thought about Liam’s proposition and you thought about Amy’s words. An opportunity seemingly landed in your lap. What better way was there to woo Noel than to find out more about him from his brother? Noel and Liam were close. They liked to pretend they weren’t, but they’ve always been thick as thieves. If you have the approval of one brother, you’ll gain that of the other.
You looked to Liam, his hair a mess in the afternoon wind, and made up your mind. You weren’t a betting woman, but you’ll place your bets on this.
It wasn’t until you two had passed his home and had stopped at yours that either of you spoke.
“Please think about my suggestion —”
“I’ll do it —”
You two spoke at the same time, facing each other, still on your bikes. Liam blinked, having caught the start of your sentence, and pushed his bike off him to give you a big bear hug. “Fuckin’ class!” he cheered. “‘Ya won’t regret it, lover girl!” he said, shaking you in his joyful embrace.
You laughed and smacked his chest. “Yeah, yeah,” you said. “Better make it worth my while.”
“Oh, you’ll be Noel Gallagher’s bird in no time, babe,” he guaranteed.
You were still smiling as you shut the door behind you, watching Liam pedal away from your house, turning to wave at you with only one hand on the handlebar. “Eyes on the road!” you warned. His laugh rang jovially down the street.
“See ‘ya tomorrow, bike thief!” he yelled loudly, heating your cheeks up as you closed the window in embarrassment and drew the curtains.
You ignored Amy’s smug smile as you went up the stairs to your room.
***
Liam doesn’t have the patience to stay for another round of your nine hour shift. Instead, he waits outside Sweetheart’s in your last ten minutes on the clock, and comes in to order two milkshakes to go.
“One chocolate milkshake and one of whatever your favorite flavor is,” he says, taking out his busted wallet and wiggling his brows. “My treat.”
You snort as he gives you a crumpled up bill and tell him to wait outside for you.
You have the barista whip up the creamiest milkshakes before you hang up your frilly pink apron, clock out, and leave with Liam. The milkshakes were definitely an obstacle that you didn’t foresee, one hand occupied with holding it tight while the other kept you upright on the bike. Liam, for all his swagger, kept swerving into you.
“Liam,” you warned as he bumped into you again.
“I’m tryin’” he whined.
You huffed. “Where are we even going?” you asked, beginning to tire from biking with one hand.
“It’s just up ahead!” he said defensively.
“Where?” you asked curiously.
“The chippy by the estates!”
The chip shop near your neighborhood was a staple. Gertrude had been manning the shop with her husband Michael since the seventies and had made it a cozy space to land after nights out, tiring afternoon shifts, or early mornings. You and Amy often bought from the very same chip shop on days that your family didn’t quite feel up to cooking anything. It was on those days that fish and chips felt like a meal fit for a queen.
Gertrude greets you with a coo and a cheer, asking after your sister and your parents fondly. But she greets Liam with a gigantic hug and a motherly kiss to his cheek. “Oh, Liam! It’s nice to see you, sweetheart! You don’t come to visit here as often as you should. Haven’t seen your cherubic face in so long!”
You bite your lip to prevent a laugh from escaping, Liam sends you a look beforee taking Gertrude’s hand in his and kissing it charmingly. “Missed ‘ya, Gorgeous Gertie!” he crowed.
That’s how you ended up with a gigantic free basket of chips.
“You’re well loved around here,” you say, more of a statement than a question. It was true, the way Gertrude fussed over Liam, the way Michael made sure to make his fish just the way he likes it, the way that their youngest son came up to Liam to show him his new football. It was endearing, a side of Liam you didn’t know.
He shrugged, shoveling a gigantic portion of fish into his mouth. “I’m well loved everywhere, me.” He puffs up his chest and winks jokingly.
You shake your head, eat your chips, and sip on the strawberry milkshake Liam bought for you. Liam devours his meal in the eeries way that young men often do. Which meant that as he pulled out a wrinkled piece of paper from his pocket and extracted a pen from the other, you had only take five bites out of your meal.
“Strategy time,” he says, smoothing the creases of the paper and beginning to write. You smiled at his concentration and leaned back to let him do all the talking. “So it’s gonna be like school, yeah? Gonna have one of those curriculum thingies to follow.”
You hummed and bit your straw.
“First,” he starts, writing sloppily on the paper. “Is gonna be about Noel. Everything there is to know about him; what he likes, what he dislikes, what he listens to, what he does, where to take him, how he showers, how he shits —”
“Ew!” you protest.
Liam rambles on, “Every fuckin’ thing, lover girl. That’s where we’ll start.”
The scribbles on the paper where unintelligible, but you let Liam do his own thing, too endeared to even tell him that you couldn’t read what he was frantically trying to write.
“Next,” he says. “Is putting you in Noel’s life. Introduce you to his friends, to his family, the works.”
You frowned, suddenly nervous. “Isn’t that like … a girlfriend thing?” you say. “I mean, it would be kinda embarassing to be introduced as the girl pining after Noel to all his mates.”
Liam sighs. “You’ll be introduced as my friend, ‘ya nutter,” he grumbled, as if confused by your confusion. “Him and I have the same mates, the same mam, the same everythin’. Would be easy to introduce you to them. And trust me, they’ll like you.”
You scoff. “How are you so sure?”
Liam looks at you intently as he says, “I’m sure.”
You bite into your fish to avoid ensuing eye contact. “And next in the curriculum …?” you prompt him.
Liam perks up, writing steadily on the paper you were sure he was gonna give to you and you were going to have to pretend to understand. “Next in the curriculum is all about you. Gettin’ you ready to see Noel again and make your move.”
You nod, trying to look determined. But your voice wavers when you ask, “When’s he back again?”
Liam steals a handful of chips off your plate. “On the fourteenth.”
“Right,” you say drily, the situation only making itself known to you right at that moment.
“Valentine’s Day,” Liam wiggles his brows. “Day of love,” he singsongs.
You groan and slump in the viny seat. “Perfect.”
“It is!” Liam says enthusiastically, not catching your tone. “Mam’s gonna throw a little welcome back for her boy, and you are gonna be there.”
You nod, having the sense that you’ve bitten off more than you could chew. “Okay,” you say, voice a higher pitch than normal. “That’s okay.”
It definitely was not okay.
Liam worked quick, and he worked efficiently. He spent the succeeding hour in that chippy doing a play by play of all Noel’s favorites; color, song, food, movie, which jumper he liked using, which aftershave he prefers, what ice cream he pretends not to like, which restaurant he’d always wanted to go to, his favorite spot to go smoke a joint. Liam puked up all information on Noel that you could possibly need.
You went home dizzy and overwhelmed and you fell asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow.
Another thing about Liam is that he seemingly didn’t rest. The moment you woke up, you were bombarded with pebbles hitting your window. And there could truly only be one perpetrator for that. You sigh as you turn in your bed, rip the sheets off your body and march over to your window to open it with an agressive pull.
“Ow!” you yell as a pebble hits you square in the forehead. “Liam!” you hiss, looking down at Liam’s sheepish figure rubbing the back of his head.
“Sorry,” he apologizes, flashing a smile that crossed with a grimace. “Can I come up?” he asks, gesturing to the trellis of roses leading up to your window.
You yawn and retreat from the window, but not before calling, “Help yourself.”
Liam crawled up the trellis in a startling show of athleticism. Grunting and groaning as he climbed, and landing with a heavy thump on your carpeted floor. “Whoa,” he breathed as he stepped into your room, gazing at the frilly mess of it all. You were quite proud of your room; it was like one of your scrapbooks come to life. It had polaroids of your loved ones, pieces of lacy ribbons strewn everywhere, glitters and gems on surfaces that didn’t usually have glitters or gems, vintage furniture from the charity shops, and books shoved in every surface.
“Welcome to my humble abode,” you say as you fix your bed. You point to a pale pink foot stool, “Take a seat?”
Liam obliged, looking abnormally large as he sat. “Nice place,” he said, still assessing the room. There wasn’t any passive aggressive or joking tone to be found in his voice. In fact, he seemed kind of awed as he turned his head this way and that. He smirks and stands up, beelining for a picture you knew he’d take notice of. “Look at the pair of ‘ye.” He taps the polaroid, booping picture-you’s nose. “The perfect couple.”
It was taken last year during your birthday. Amy had taken to surprising you with a party at Sweetheart’s, filling it with your favorite people. Noel had come, an hour late but bearing a stuffed bear that sat on a place of pride on your book case. Pictured was Noel’s arm around you as you leant into him, beaming as you held the bear up to the camera.
You blushed. “Shut up,” you mumble.
Liam just grins and sits back down, doing his best to look laidback in his seat. “So,” he drawls, rummaging in his rucksack to pull out what must have been twelve CDs, all of them clacking on their jewel cased plastic. He handed them to you. “Came here to bring ‘ya this.”
You blink and quickly take it from him. The Smiths, The La’s, The Stone Roses, The Beatles, Bob Dylan, The Sex Pistols, The Kinks. You looked at each cover and smiled gratefully at Liam. Even you knew how much music meant to Noel. “Thanks, Liam,” you said, truly grateful.
He beamed. “Start with The Smiths. I don’t like ‘em, but ‘rkid thinks they’re amazin’”
You set the CDs down on the made bed turn to Liam. “You’re a bit early today,” you say, leaning on the foot of your bed. You should really start getting ready, but you very well couldn’t do it while Liam was in the room. The thought made you blush. “I thought you were gonna swing by after work?”
He shook his head, shaggy head of hair shaking. “Nah. Got a gig later, d’ya know what I mean.”
Your brows raise. “Ah. The infamous The Rain.”
“Well, don’t say it like that!” he protests with a frown. “We’re class!”
You laugh, not unkindly. “I’m sure you are.” He’s still frowning when he mumbles something under his breath. You lean in closer to hear him. Honestly, this boy. As petulant as a puppy denied a treat. “What was that?” you ask.
“I said,” he repeats loudly. You resist a snort at his tone. “You should maybe come to the gig tonight. Couldn’t hurt havin’ one more familiar face in the audience.”
“Wow,” you say wryly. “Glad to know you think so highly of me.”
He huffs, fidgeting with his hair, mussing it up. “You know I want you there,” he says, surprising you. “But this could also help with introducing you to Noel’s mates. They’re gonna be there tonight.”
Your heart dropped to your stomach. “Oh.”
Liam gave you a look. “C’mon. They ain’t gonna bite.”
You frowned. “I’m not gonna know anyone there, Liam. All I’ll know is you and you’ll be up onstage doing god knows what!”
“I sing,” he corrected easily.
“You’ll be up onstage singing!” you continue, distressed. The thought of being at a place as lively as a gig, knowing no one in the crowd was intimidating. Knowing you need to make a good impression on top of that was even more intimidating. “Maybe Amy’s free tonight,” you mused.
Liam’s look sharpened. “Hey,” he scolded. “We both know that if ‘yer sister’s there, you’ll just end up clinging to her. You need to broaden your horizons, lover girl.”
“Don’t call me that,” you respond automatically.
“C’mon,” Liam coaxed, his eyes a shining pool of blue.
You sighed gruffly. “I’ll think about it.”
Liam’s smile began to grow. “Really?”
“I’m still not sure, Liam,” you try to say but Liam’s already whooping with joy, gathering you in his arms and rendering you unbalanced enough to fall into his lap.
It was then that Amy wrenched open your bedroom door. To the odd scene of you in Liam Gallagher’s lap as he thanked you profusely. She raises a brow.
“Hello!” Liam greets jovially, you still seated firmly on his lap.
Amused but trying not to show it, Amy says, “Hello?”
“I’m Liam,” he introduces uselessly, seeing as he and Amy have known each other for more than a decade.
“I know,” she says. “Say, Liam. D’ya mind unhanding my sister and letting her get ready for work? We’re gonna be late.”
It’s only then that Liam lets go.
And it’s only after Liam clambers joyfully out the open window where he came, crying a See ‘ya tonight! to you with an ear splitting grin that Amy turns to you with a baffled look.
“Now what the fuck’s all that about?”
The rest of the day passes by in a haze, your palms unbearably sweaty, the Peter Pan collar of your dress too tight, and your leg twitching for the entirety of your shift.
You ignored Amy’s badgering on the way to work, steadfastly explaining the situation and refusing to bite at every sly joke she makes.
You spend the rest of the day with your mind preoccupied, nervous for tonight. Because you knew that even if you told Liam that you’d think about it, that meant that you’d actually be there. It would be a disservice to you not to, and it’d be a mild disappointment on Liam’s end. You owed it to yourself to try, even though the thought scared you shitless.
“Your boy ain’t here?” Maria says, bumping your hip with his.
You huff. “Not my boy,” you correct. “And he’s got a gig tonight.”
“Oh,” she says, brows flying to her hairline. “He’s in a band?”
You nod. “I hear they’re pretty great. Liam’s the singer and everything.”
She smiles. “That sounds lovely. Enjoy tonight, hon. I remember goin’ to my boyfriend’s gigs at that age. What a time!”
Before you could protest, Maria sidles away to tend to a customer. You don’t have much time to mull over what she said as a man asks for a refill of his coffee.
Before you know it, the clock ticks to five o’clock and you’re waving goodbye to Maria who hugs you goodbye and kindly asks Is that what you’re wearing to the gig? Which you interpreted to mean Don’t wear that to a rock gig.
So you add Go home to change on your agenda and cycle home with a racing mind. What if Noel’s friends don’t like you? What if you spend the night miserable and in one corner? What if you realize that you’d rather be anywhere than at The Boardwalk listening to local bands? What if it’s too tight, too crowded, too amped up, too loud — You nearly miss the turn to the estates and have to double back to get on the right track.
The evening is spent rushing. You wash the grime of the day with a quick shower, you put your usual make up on, you curl your hair prettily, and you spend an age picking out something to wear. “Amy!” you screech, though she was just in the room beside yours. “Amy! C’mere!”
She drags herself to your room, dead eyed and unimpressed as you show her your pick of at least seven outfits. “Are you going to be doing a quick change every set?” she bites.
You frown. “Help me!” you plead.
She rolls her eyes and enters your room. With efficiency, she throws out three of your outfits (Too school girl, too posh, trying too hard to be a rockstar). You’re left with four, all laid out neatly on your bed as you and Amy stand side by side to look at it from every angle.
“I think the red one’s chic,” you blurted out after moments of deliberation. “Simple enough but still cool.”
Amy shoots you a look. “Then wear that.”
You drag out a breath. “But what if it’s not good?”
“As long as it’s good with you, then it’s perfect,” she says. “I can’t believe I have to tell you that. Just be yourself tonight, yeah? Don’t go actin’ like someone you’re not. They’ll all love you. See, Liam likes you, and his and Noel’s mates are just like ‘im. You’ll be a star!”
You nod jerkily, bundling up the outfit in your arms. “Okay,” you breathe. “Be myself, okay,” you mumble to yourself, not unlike a mantra.
Amy pats your shoulder. “Atta girl,” she says before moving to leave. “Have fun tonight. Don’t be late for curfew. And move a bit quicker because you’re late.”
That lights a fire under your ass. You get dressed quickly, do one last check of your outfit before grabbing your essentials. You yell a quick goodbye to Amy as you slam the front door closed and start your trek to the bus stop. Biking there could very much kill you and render you an hour late. The bus would still make you late, but at least you won’t be panting and sweating on it.
To your delight, the bus arrives early, and you greet the driver with an enthusiastic hello! that he chuckled at. You sat close to the door and watched the world pass by in colors as the bus sped away.
You rocked your foot nervously, tapping an uneven rhythm that had the old lady across from you handing you a sweet to ease your nerves. You smile grateful at her and put the caramel toffee in your mouth, eager to have something to occupy you.
You were only eighteen minutes late when you got to The Boardwalk. But with the way Liam was scanning the crowd from the bar, he didn’t even think you were gonna make it. You smile as you catch sight of him, brows knit as he searched the faces in the space, hand cradling a cold lager, and his lips forming a small frown.
You grin and raise your hand high in the air to wave. “Oi!” you shout, catching his attention. He brightens immediately, his frown turning up into a fond grin as he catches sight of you.
“Lover girl!” he cries out, arms spread wide as he welcomes you with a tight hug. You reciprocate, winding your amrs around his middle and swaying a bit as Liam rocks you back and forth. He lets go and all the warmth goes with him. “Thought ‘ya wouldn’t make it?”
“You thought I’d chicken out?” you said with a raised brow.
He raises his glass to you and grins cheekily. “Bawk bawk!” he clucks, imitating a chicken. You laugh and smack his arm to which he dodged easily. “Aye, don’t hit the talent. I’m on in a few minutes!”
You smile up at him. “Oh, good luck! Can’t wait to hear this class band of yours.”
He matches your smile. “And speakin’ of a class band,” he says, winding an arm around your shoulder and facing you in the direction of his mates who were all sporting amused grins at Liam. “These are mine and Noel’s mates!”
You smiled sheepishly at them and give a wave. “Hello,” you say. “Nice to meet you all.”
Liam points to various people. “That over there is Bonehead, lead guitar and pain in the arse. Over there is Guigs, if ‘ya need any ganja, ask him for some. And then we have Tony on the drums, class act,” he says. “And over there, just millin’ about are our mates.” Liam jostles you in his grip then addresses the group. “Now, you lot take care of ‘er while me and the band are up there, aye. She’s funny, this one, so make sure to get that out of her.”
A few people roll their eyes but they all rush to meet you, offering you a drink. You accept and go up to the bar, but not before shooting Liam a smile as he disentangles from you and heads to the stage. “Thanks,” you say quietly.
“No problem,” he answers. ‘Now, wish me luck.”
You grin, giddy. “Luck!”
All your worries melt away as the lights dim, Liam’s mates make earnest conversation about how the two of you met, and to be quite frank, when the drinks enter your system. Someone asks you if you were the one to steal Liam’s bike and you have the time of your life rehashing that whirlwind of a story.
It wasn’t long until you were laughing along with them that the band finally took the stage. There wasn’t much conversation after Liam started rasping into the mic.
Watching him up there, all swagger and confidence, you could see just how much he was meant to be a rockstar. He looked so at home on that stage, not a single amount of trepidation in his body as he looked over onto the gathered crowd and made them dance to songs that they didn’t even know the lyrics to. He was a magnetic force, drawing in the attention of every person in the room. You knew then that he was destined for greater things.
Drunk on a a number of gin and juice, you tell him so at the back alley of The Boardwalk, leaning against the brick wall as him and his mates smoked. He grins, wide and boyish when you tell him this, as if he’d just found the secret to eternal happiness. “Really?” he says, eager and sincere all at the same time.
You nod, tilting your head up to meet his gaze as he draws another breath from the cigarette. He outstretches one to you, brow raised, but you shake your head. He shrugs and makes no comment. “Manchester’s next big thing,” you muse.
He smiles, more subdued, only half listening to Bonehead’s drunken rambling beside him. “Add Noel in the mix and we’ll be the entire world’s next big thing.”
Noel. Right, you haven’t even thought of him all night. “Yeah,” you say. “I’ve never heard him play live but I bet he’d be amazing.”
Liam tilts his head at your comment but shakes it off instead of blurting out something. He takes a drag of his cigarette and leans his head back on the brick wall. You watch the column of his throat bob and swallow thickly.
“Listen, Liam,” you begin, but then sigh instead. “I gotta go.”
Liam blinks, looking at you a bit wounded. “Now?” he asks incredulously, which catches the attention of his mates.
You smile at all of them and wave, clinging onto your jacket. “Sorry, lads and ladies,” you say jokingly as some of them begin to protest. “Gotta run soon. I’ve got a curfew and everything. If I get home even a minute late, you won’t be seeing my face for another decade.”
Liam pushes himself off the wall and stubs out his cigarette with no hesitation. “Well then,” he says. “Let’s go.”
You blink at him and ignore the wolf whistling from the group. “You’re walking me home?”
He rolls his eyes and keeps you close with an arm across your shoulder. “Takin’ the bus,” he corrects pedantically. “And yeah. Your parents would kill me. Or Amy would first. Either way, I’m dyin’.”
You huff in amusement and pat his chest. “Then let’s go, rockstar. We got a bus to catch.”
You say goodbye to the group, exchanging numbers and addresses, laughing with held hands, making plans for the next few weeks, and trading a few new inside jokes. Liam raises a brow at you as you finally separate from his mates and make your way to the bus stop.
“Look at Ms. Popularity over here,” he crows. “Told ‘ya not to worry. They love you!”
You laugh and let Liam pull you in closer as you walk a bit criss crossed and tipsy. “I think I love them as well?”
Liam laughs loudly, a booming sound in the night. You giggle with him. “And I thought I heard you make plans with Mike and his bird? What’s that all about?”
“Oh!” you say, bright eyed with a pep in your step. “We’re gonna go to that new drive-inn thing to watch Barefoot in the Park!”
Liam chuckles and shakes his head. “Noel is so gonna love you when he gets back.”
You squeal with joy, a bit tipsy and a lot happy. You couldn’t wait to see Noel again.
***
The weekend arrives with little fanfare. Save for your frantic baking and distressed complaining of Amy, if you take a sample out of that batch, I swear I’ll combust.
The last two days were uneventful, with Liam bringing you hangover cures the morning after his gig, then dropping you off at work before heading over to rehearsals. Friday was spent with the same customers and the same routine, your body on autopilot as you served the customers with a smile.
Saturday came and went, but not without Liam knocking on your window to tell you to get ready for tea with him and his mam the next day. He climbed down the trellis so quickly that you didn’t even get to protest.
Which is how you end up on the Gallaghers’ front porch, holding a decadent chocolate cake, apple tarts with vanilla creme, homemade donuts, and honey butter biscuits.
You don’t even wonder if you’ve gone overboard with the baked goods until Peggy opens the door, Liam at her heels like a dog gearing up to run out into the street, and exclaims loudly at your haul.
“Goodness, dear. ‘Ye didn’t have to go through all the trouble!” she cries, ushering you inside. You smile as you go in, eyes taking in every bit of their home. It was much of the same layout as yours, but the way they used the space made everything feel different. The pictures on the walls, the records on the shelf, the VHS tapes scattered everywhere. You smile at the warmth.
“It’s no trouble, ma’am,” you say.
“Ha!” Liam laughs. Peggy shoots him a glare. “She called you ma’am.”
Your face heats at the possible mistake and Peggy rushes to comfort you. “Oh it’s no big deal. You were just bein’ respectful unlike some people,” she says pointedly to Liam who pouts. “But you can just call me Peggy.”
You smile at her. “Yes, Peggy,” you say dutifully before sending Liam a pointed look. “D’ya mind bringing this into the kitchen with me?”
Peggy sighs as Liam rushes to take the bundle of goods out your arms. “I swear I raised the lad better than that,” she mumbles to you. “So sorry my other lads can’t be here today. I remember Noel talks quite a bit about you.”
You perk up. “He does?”
She nods, heading towards the kitchen. You follow her. “Aye. Says you always serve him his bacon butties on Fridays.”
You stifle a grin as you enter the kitchen, giddy and nearly floating off the linoleum. Liam catches sight of you from where he’s setting the plates up on the table and winks. “Her and Noel would make a grand couple, yeah, mam?”
Peggy gives him an odd look before shaking her head with a sigh. You and Liam exchange a confused look. “Never mind,” she grumbles. “Sit down, sweetheart. Liam will bring us our tea. We’ve got Spaghetti and bread sticks for tonight.”
You sit down on the seat she’s patting next to her and listen as she regales you of the tale of her sons. “Oh, dear. Did ‘ya know that my Liam used to cry and cry and cry so much as a babe that he’d throw up on himself?”
“Mam!”
You leave the Gallaghers’ with a tub full of leftovers, a full stomach, your cheeks aching with laughter, eyes satiated with baby pictures of the brothers, and Liam by your side as he dutifully walks you home. Not because my mam would clip me ‘round the ear if I don’t! he was quick to correct.
“You already fit right in,” he muses as he matches your unhurried pace down the sidewalk.
You turn to look up at him. “Yeah?”
He nods. “He’s gonna come back and find that you’re in his life forever. His mates like you, his mam likes you, his brother likes you.”
You raise a teasing brow. “Oh, does he now?” He rolls his eyes and moves to shove you with his body. You stand your ground and pout, “Hey! Careful or I’ll tell all your mates about the story of you in the lake when I see them again next week!”
Liam groans. “Menace,” he says before perking up. “You said you were going to be hangin’ out with me mates next week?” he asks.
“Yup,” you say. “Dunno if you’re invited, though.”
“Haha,” he says drily. “I’ll invite myself.”
You roll your eyes. “Of course.”
“Keep your schedule open for tomorrow night, though,” he says.
You frown in confusion. “Why?”
He grins wildly. “Got plans for us. You’ll see. I’ll pick ‘ya up at work tomorrow? Make sure to dress comfortably!”
The next day, Asa and Maria greet Liam with a smile and a free milkshake as he comes to pick you up. Grinning as they pinch at his cheeks and coo over him. You roll your eyes and drag him away as soon as you clock out, waving goodbye to the pair and to Mrs. Pillock watching you with a smile in a corner booth.
On your bikes, you laugh as Liam leads you to the destination looming at the distance. After all, it wasn’t that hard to miss the ferris wheel and the rollercoaster that wasn’t usually there.
The fair was in town just in time for Valentine’s Day. In the darkening dusk of the evening, it was idyllic; the sparkling lights, the loud roar of the rollercoaster, the ringing of bells for each carnival game. It was straight out of a movie.
With an arm around your shoulders, Liam leads you to the heart of it all. You frown in confusion. “Are we not here to go on some rides?” you ask.
Liam chuckles. “Maybe later,” he says. “But we are here for educational purposes, d’ya know what I mean?”
“No,” you say flatly.
Liam doesn’t let your mood bother him. “The fair, lover girl,” he begins his explanation. “Is a breeding ground for single lads to pick up cute birds.”
You don’t catch on. “So?”
He shakes you a bit in his arms. “So,” he grits out in a combination of frustration and laughter. “This is where I’ll teach you to get your flirt on!”
You push away from him in horror. “No!” you shriek, he only laughs harder, nearly bent over. “That’s not in the curriculum!”
“The curriculum,” he begins through a wheeze of laughter. “Is going as planned. Learn about Noel? Check. Integrate you into his friends and family? Check. Focus on what you need to improve? Still no dice.”
You cross your arms defensively. “Need to improve?” you shriek.
He rolls his eyes and holds his arms out in what’s supposed to be a calming motion. “Easy, girl,” he says. “I just mean that you need to get used to the whole romance and flirtin’ thing, yeah? ‘Cos so far, you’re not that confident about all’at yet.”
You grit your teeth. “And why’d you say that.”
He shrugs. “You don’t believe that you could pull my brother. You don’t think you’re half as good as you actually are. And I need you to start believing that, yeah?”
You sigh, looking pleadingly at Liam. “Do I have to?”
Liam matches your sigh and gives a soft kiss to your temple. “Sorry, lover girl. You’re gonna have to.”
“Can’t I just do it with you?” you ask desperately, twisting to see him eye to eye.
He balks, taken aback. “What? Flirt with me?”
You scoff. “Don’t sound so disgusted.”
“I’m not —” he protests loudly before groaning, hands mussing up his hair. “That won’t work,” he says.
You stomp your foot petulantly. “Why not!”
“Obviously I’ll be a bit biased!” he cries. “You’re my friend!”
You frown deeper. “Damn it,” you grumble before sighing heavily. “Fine. Just show me what to do.”
He gives you a high five that you reluctantly return. “Atta girl!”
Your first mark, funnily enough, was named Mark. According to Liam, he had been in Noel’s class, was recently single, and had nothing going on for him. When asked why he’d like to saddle you to such a guy, he just shrugs and claims it’s in the name of practice. You sigh and go in for the kill. Your walk is that of a newborn foal, your opening line of a drawled out yet unpracticed heyyyyy was horrendous, and your wink was just an exaggerated blink that made him think you were having a stroke. Still, you sauntered over to Liam, waving about a piece of paper with Mark’s number on it.
“I got his number!” you yell triumphantly.
He smiles and boldly turns you over in another direction, pointing to another lad. “That one. Go.”
Through some conversation and small talk, you find out that his name was Jacob and that he was attending uni in the city. He had a deep love for Pink Floyd, which meant that you got to finally put Noel’s borrowed CDs to good use as you spoke to Jacob about it. You leave triumphantly with his number. Liam sends you a thumbs up and a goofy smile as he points to another lad down by the ring toss.
You saunter up to him, ask him his name, and turn around quickly when you find out he has a girlfriend. You apologize and grimace, and run to Liam with a tail tucked between your legs.
“Huh,” he says. “Didn’t know they got back together.”
He instead redirects you to a guy manning an empty game booth where you ask him about how the game works, how many people win in a night, which is his favorite carnival game. And you don’t end up with his number but he let’s you do a free game at the booth where you win a gigantic puppy dog.
“I’m gonna name him Liam!” you tell Liam giddily as he laughs and points to another guy, this one waiting in line for some corn dogs. You hand over Dog Liam to Human Liam before confidently stepping forward.
You ask over his day, ask what is it about corndogs was appealing, have bit of banter about your food preferences, and he ends up giving you his number. You return to Liam with a pep in your step. “Easy there, heartbreaker,” he laughs, cradling the puppy in his arms as he gives you an enthusiastic high five. “Wanna take a break from being a Casanova?”
Liam ends up knowing the guy who mans the ferris wheel, having the two of you (three if you count Dog Liam) skip the line and ride the carriage immediately. You sigh and lean back as the ferris wheel begins to rise and spin. “That was nice.”
Liam smiles and digs his elbow into your ribs. “What did I tell ‘ya, lover girl?” he says smugly.
“Liam’s right, I was wrong, this is the best night ever, and I got a cute puppy!” you said. “If this is what happens when you’re right, then I wouldn’t mind being wrong.”
He raises a brow. “You wouldn’t?” he asks skeptically.
“Oh, I so would,” you say. “I’d be pissed for about a week.”
Liam laughs loudly enough to rock the carriage, you squeak and smack him in the arm. “We ain’t gonna fall, trust me,” he says.
You chuckle drily. “Oh, I trust you. It’s these carnival ferris wheels I don’t trust.”
He shakes his head in amusement. “Don’t worry, we’ll live to see the day that Noel comes home.”
You smile and pretend that you don’t hear the traitorous pitter patter in your heart as you lay your head on his shoulder, the evening air breezing past you as the carnival lights shine like it was just for you and Liam.
***
Everything comes to a head soon enough. You couldn’t go back to just ignoring it. Your days pass by quickly, the routine of working at Sweetheart’s broken by Liam’s presence and his smile.
You do your best impression of a girl who isn’t confused as all hell with Amy by your side as the two of you watch Casablanca on the couch in your living room.
“So,” you say in between scenes. Quite frankly, the two of you have the entire film memorized by that point. You knew what was gonna happen before it happened. “Noel’s back tomorrow,” you say.
Your sister hums, eyes glued to the telly. You grit your teeth as she pops in a piece of popcorn in her mouth. “Have fun at his welcome back party.”
You sigh. “Yeah, I will.”
“I’m sure Liam’ll be a hoot.”
“Yup,” you say.
“He’s a good lad.”
“I know.”
Suddenly, Amy jerks and turns off the telly. You leap up to protest but she silences you with a glare. “Just admit it?”
You shrink back, already knowing what she wants to hear. But you stand your ground. “Admit what?”
She looks at you sharply before groaning in frustration. “Let’s see. There’s this boy who takes you home from work, sometimes he’d bring you there as well, he takes you on carnival dates where you win stuffed puppies and name them after him, you go to his band’s gig and become best mates with his best mates, you meet his mam, he climbs the trellis on your window like goddamn fucking Tarzan, and he’s not the guy you’ve been in love with for the past two years.”
Your eyes well with tears. “I’m sorry,” you squeak.
Amy immediately softens. “Oh, hon, no,” she breathes, gathering you into her arms. “No, I didn’t mean it like that.”
You sigh wetly. “I know.”
“It’s just that you need to make a choice, yeah?” she says gently, hands gently cradling your skull. Just like she did when you first scraped your knee riding on her bike. “And I, for one, think it’s a very obvious choice.”
***
Noel comes home on February 14th, the afternoon bright as he steps into his home and is greeted by his friends and family.
The sight of Noel used to send shivers down your spine, you used to think that everytime you saw him, cupid struck right to you. But as he drops his baggage down by the door and greets everyone in attendance, you only feel a prickle of fondness.
“Go get ‘im, Casanova,” Liam whispers in your ear. You shiver as he disappears to give his brother some stick. Then, he points to you and both brothers turn to look at you. Liam with a shy smile, Noel with a jovial one. You wave, and both of them wave back.
You spend your afternoon with Noel and Liam’s mates, talking about the drive-inn you went to with Mike and Isla, Bonehead’s new bird, Guigsy’s run in with the coppers. Noel is in the middle of each conversation, the prodigal son returned, as he shoots you periodic looks of bafflement and wonder at the fact that you slot into his life so perfectly while he was gone. The bafflement increases when Peggy kisses your cheek and hands you the first slice of pie.
You don’t get a moment alone with Noel until sunset when he’s taken a moment outside to have a smoke and the air inside the house began to get too stifling for your tastes. “Oh,” you say as you catch him there.
He turns to look at you and smiles, cigarette between his lips. “Hello,” he greets quietly. “Didn’t know ‘ya smoked,” he said.
You shook your head and stood next to him by the wall. “I don’t,” you said. “But it was getting a bit rowdy inside.”
Noel snorts in amusement. “Tell me ‘bout it.”
The silence stretches on, you steel your resolve and decide that now was the time to do it, his cigarette was getting shorter with each drag and the night was beginning to grow dark around the edges. “Hey, Noel?” you ask. “Did ‘ya ever know that I liked you?”
Noel turns, his attention fully on you as his brows draw together. “You’re shittin’ me,” he breathes.
You chuckle. “Yup,” you say, amused as you shake your head. “Wrote you a bunch of love letters and everything. I’ll have you read them someday.”
“Huh,” says Noel, astonished beyond words.
For the first time, you admit, “I don’t like you anymore, though. If that’s what you’re wonderin’. I just … used to. A lot. And it feels wrong not to tell you. I dunno, I just feel like you should know. Close this whole chapter of my life and everything.”
He nods. “Wow,” he says. “I did not see that comin’, yeah?”
You laugh. “Neither did I.”
He joins in on your laughter. “Imagine that,” he says. “My brother’s girl used to fancy me,” your heart skips a beat at that.
“Wha— How do you —?” you stutter, trying to get the words right.
He stubs out his cigarette. “‘Rkid never shuts up about you on the phone. Been hearin’ your name for weeks. Then he introduces you to our mates, then to mam,” he shrugs. “Figured you were his girl.”
You stare at Noel, heart pounding erratically in your chest as you breathed, “Yeah,” you say. “I think I am.”
Noel smiles at you, begininning to head back in. He looks back at you from the stone steps and asks, “You comin’ in?”
***
It’s the second time you’ve stolen Liam Gallagher’s bike, but you think this time he’d forgive you much quicker. You find him where Noel said he’d be, sulking like a toddler in the football field, and you smile when you see him kicking the ball around like a man with nothing to his name.
“Thought you used to be quite the player?” you ask him, jolting him from his mood and making him look up at you with furrowed brows.
“Hey,” he says softly. Softer than you’ve ever heard. It made your heart ache with something fierce as you walked closer to him. “Why’d you leave the party? We’re on a mission, yeah?”
You step closer to him, close enough to touch as he heaves a heavy breath, hair a mess and his chest rising and falling erratically. “Why’d you leave?” you snap back. “Thought you’d be by my side, yeah?”
He shakes his head with a sad chuckle. “You don’t need my help anymore.”
You look up at him earnestly before revealing, “I told Noel I fancied him,” you say, his head snaps up to meet your eyes, the blue impossibly deep.
“And?” he prompts urgently.
You shrug casually. “He doesn’t like me back.”
Liam blinks before taking your shoulders in his palms and turning you around into the direction of the bike. “Then get back there!” he yells. “There’s no way that that fucker could ever turn you down. C’mon, I’ll knock some sense into the bastard. Honestly, rejecting you, the gall —”
“Liam,” you interrupt softly, fondness swimming in your eyes as you turn to face him, his arms still on your shoulders. “I don’t like Noel anymore.”
“Yeah?” Liam breathes, licking his lips nervously as his fingers stutter a beat on his thigh.
“Yeah,” you nod, smiling dorkily up at him. “See, he has this brother that I—”
Liam Gallagher kisses you like a million love letters poured into one simple action. You could feel the smile on his mouth as he presses your lips to his, a triumph that you were proud to call yours.
***
My darling Liam,
Happy Valentine’s, silly boy! If you look in the fridge, I left you a chocolate cake with a cheeky milkshake to go with it. It’s not like the ones we used to have at Sweetheart’s but it would do for our first Valentine’s away from Manchester. (And yes, I will pretend that I didn’t see the strawberry milkshake you’ve got specially ordered from Sweetheart’s. Prick. You really had to upstage me with my own Valentine’s Day gift?)
Say, I think there’s something else that’s important that’s happening today … I just can’t quite put my finger on it …
Kidding! Happy Anniversary, Liam. Four years around the sun with you. Could you believe it? We still have a whole forever to go! Can’t wait! A forever with you would be like a dream come true (Could that maybe be a lyric for the new album?)
Now, listen, I have a few more surprises in store for you today. But I think it will all have to wait until after you get out the recording studio. Unless Noel would be willing to call it a day off in the name of true love? I do worry about him sometimes, maybe I could set him up with one of my girl friends.
Anyway, there isn’t anything to say in this letter that I haven’t already said. But you know me, I’ll still say it again and again. I love you, you are my world, you are my best friend, you are my partner in crime, and because I know you’ll roll your eyes if I don’t include it; you are the most gorgeous man to walk the earth.
See you in a minute, rockstar. Don’t forget to wipe off the glitter from this card!
Love always,
Your lover girl
P.S. Peggy called and wished us a happy anniversary
P.P.S. NOEL CALLED TO CANCEL REHEARSAL! Says he’s caught the flu but Bonehead told me it was just a hangover. What do you think of a quick trip back to Manchester?
To the prettiest loveliest fittest smartest beloved bird in all of England,
Your letter writing is cute but you really could have just said all that to my face. We share the same house, we sleep in the same bed, and I’m pretty sure this was the same letter you were scribbling away on last night when I told you to come and have a kip with me. You chose this letter over layin’ in the couch with me?
To make it up to me, I am suggesting you do a live reading of the letter right in front of me. Dream date, aye?
And don’t think you’re the only one in this relationship with a few surprises up their sleeve. (It ain’t just the milkshake in the fridge, babe)
See you later, my lover girl. Happy Valentine’s and Happy Anniversary.
Love you long time,
LG xx
P.S. I will call mam after I get to kiss my lovely girl. She’ll understand, yeah?
P.P.S. You think Noel cancelled the rehearsal on his own? Call that surprise number one, baby. Pack your bags, that’s surprise number two.
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