Sidequest for Love by L.H. Cosway

Afric: You’re so awkward with compliments. I love it.

Neil: And you’re annoying.

Afric: So, when you picture your wife, does she look like Annabelle or …

Neil: I told you I didn’t want to discuss her until I get back.

Afric: Okay! Don’t bite my head off. I was just wondering.

***

Afric: I have a new pet peeve.

Neil: Oh?

Afric: You know when someone gets castrated in a TV show?

Neil: Happy to report I don’t watch those types of shows.

Afric: It usually happens in horrors and thrillers.

Neil: Can I remind you there’s a time difference between us, and I just woke up. Please don’t put me off my breakfast.

Afric: In that case, I’ll apologise in advance because I have to get this out.

Neil: Don’t.

Afric: So, anyway, a character gets castrated by some psychopath, then skip to the next scene, and someone’s either cooking a sausage or eating a sausage or slicing a sausage in half. I hate it. I hate it so much.

Neil: Great. Now I won’t be eating anything until lunch. Definitely won’t be touching sausage for a while.

Afric: I’m sorry, but someone had to hear my complaint. I’ll buy you the fanciest breakfast in town when you get back to London.

Neil: I’ll hold you to that … Now you have me thinking about my own TV pet peeves.

Afric: Do tell.

Neil: I hate it when a character wakes up in hospital and pulls out their IV. It makes me feel physically ill.

Afric: Oh, I hate that, too! I feel weak when I see it.

Neil: I also hate it when two characters are so desperate to have sex that they push everything off the table and onto the floor. Makes my skin crawl.

Afric: I could just imagine you losing your stiffy right away if a woman did that. You’d stop everything and get down on the floor to pick all the stuff up and put it back in its rightful place.

Neil: You’re 100% correct. I would do exactly that.

Afric: I know you too well.

Neil: I better go. Duty calls.

Afric: Don’t forget to message me later!

***

Neil: Okay, so that movie last night definitely wasn’t a romance. What was the title again?

Afric: Quills. And I know, okay? I was duped by a top 100 list.

Neil: How could anyone categorise a film about the Marquis de Sade as a romance anyway?

Afric: Agreed. Whoever made that list needs their head checked. I’ll be haunted by images of Geoffrey Rush’s bare backside for weeks.

Neil: Weeks? It’ll take me years to get over it.

Afric: LOL. Disturbing scenes and lack of romance aside, you have to admit it was a good movie, though.

Neil: It was decent, but I insist on choosing the next one. It might be a while before I can trust you again.

Afric: Understandable.

***

Afric: Billy’s gone home, and now I’m lonely.

Neil: I’m sorry.

Afric: I wanted him to move here, but he says he has too much going on in Dublin.

Neil: Do you miss your family a lot?

Afric: Yes and no. I love them, but growing up in a house with so many people was claustrophobic at times. I need my own space nowadays. I do enjoy going to visit them, though.

Neil: I feel the same way. I love my grandma and Rosie, and I like seeing them most days, but I don’t think I could live with them, not at this age anyway. My flat is my sanctuary.

Afric: Speaking of your flat, you need to invite me over when you get back.

Neil: Invite you over for what?

Afric: To watch period dramas together. Our nightly ritual still needs to be maintained.

Neil: Yes, but we don’t have to stop doing it via video call.

Afric: Are you afraid to watch romances with me in person, Neil? Will you be overcome by the sexy scenes and try to ravish me out of sheer horniness?

Neil: Aside from Quills (which I’m still not sure I’ve forgiven you for), nothing we’ve watched has contained graphic scenes. And no, I won’t be overcome. There’s this thing called self-control.

Afric: Well, I still want an invite to your flat. You’ve seen mine. It’s only fair that I get to see yours.

Neil: I’ll take it under consideration.

Afric: If you don’t invite me, I’ll turn up when you aren’t expecting me.

Neil: You don’t know my address.

Afric: I’ll wheedle it out of Michaela.

Neil: I won’t open the door.

Afric: You’d leave me out in the cold? :-(

Neil: For Christ’s sake. Fine. You can come over some night when I’m back.

Afric: Yes! I can’t WAIT.

Neil: Why do I feel like I’m already regretting this?

Afric: Don’t regret it. I’ll be a saint. I won’t even sneak a peek in your knicker drawer.

Neil: You’re the worst.

Afric: I’m the best, and you know it.





11.



Neil

It was my final night in New York. In the morning, we all flew home to London, and I couldn’t wait to sleep in my own bed again. I missed the familiarity of my flat, even though it could be a little lonely sometimes. Aside from eating meals alone, I mostly enjoyed living by myself, though. Sure, one day I wanted to have a big house and a family of my own, but for now, my flat was where I could relax and be myself.

At the very least, it was where all my stuff was.

I’d just finished yet another room service dinner when a video call came through on my laptop. After the craziness of the final day of shooting, I’d almost forgotten about my nightly ritual with Afric. Yes, it was an unusual arrangement, but I’d become attached to it. We seemed to be in almost constant contact these days.