"The music throbbed around the smoky back room of the pub and I pushed my way to the bar, wriggling between the press of bodies, the rubber soles of my shoes sticky against the stale spilt beer that had dried on the ash-laden floor. I gestured hopefully towards the barman and held out my crumpled five-pound note and noticed a girl darting sideways glances my way from the other end of the counter, her eyebrows arched quizzically, her chin raised slightly in a gesture of mild defiance and the hint of a smile flickering across her pretty face. As I paid for my drink and the throng between us cleared slightly I realised that she had sidled up to me. I turned to meet her stare and as I looked into her pale blue eyes she spoke at last.
'You're the singer from Suede, aren't you?'
'Yes,' I replied smugly, my gaze wandering over the light spray of freckles that dusted the skin around her cheekbones, my mind already imagining what her mouth might feel like pressed against mine,
'I thought you were,' she answered. 'I think your band are shit.'"
- Excerpt from Afternoons With the Blinds Drawn by Brett Anderson
LMAOOOOOO😭😭😭😭
