by Ella Ivey

Created on: September 18, 2010

- The L Word -

Everyone has a place that they consider a ‘staple’ in their lives. Phoebe, Monica and co. had Central Perk, the Mitchells had the Queen Vic, and Blair Waldorf had the Met steps. My friends and I had this small, local bar called Purple Mustard and whatever mood we were in, that was where we would congregate.

    Having a place where the staff recognise you has its benefits; the free drinks, the continuous gossip, and the feeling of popularity. But it also has its downside. And for me that downside was Michael.

    “He’s singing to you!” Lisa says whipping her hair around.

    “Of course he isn’t,” I retort, although now that she’s pointed it out I’m not so sure. He hasn’t taken his eyes off me once since he began singing, and now as his fingers strum the guitar, I just know that he chose this song because last week I told him it was one of my favourites.

    Lisa and Josie are staring at him in awe, occasionally turning around to look at me with open mouths. “I can’t believe this,” they say in unison, exchanging looks and sniggling like schoolgirls.

    “Stop it!” I snap. “I’m sure he’s not singing to me,” but as the words leave my mouth I know I’m doubting them. It is rather odd how he won’t stop looking at me. And now, come to think of it, he does this every week when he’s up there on Open Mic night.

    The music draws to an end, and I sigh with relief. Perhaps he won’t come over. I’m sure he’s got loads of people going up to him and saying how good he was and all that. Or perhaps the manager needs him to work behind the bar tonight, as they are rather short staffed since Rodrigo's sudden departure back to Portugal. And, you know what, I’m pretty sure he told me that he has to fly to Manchester in the morning, which means that he needs to go home and get some sleep.

    So, he won’t come over, I reassure myself.

    “He’s coming over,” Josie says in what she believes to be subtle.

    Lisa scarpers from my side and sits next to Josie. The two of them are now pretending to be deep in conversation. I know they’re lying – I pretty much invented what they’re doing.

    Traitors.

   

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