Extremely sorry this took so long to get to you. I'll be updating more regularly now. I've just had a lot of sixthform work to be getting on with, and still have more to do.
More nowwww

Small warning for crude language. My mind has officially hitten the gutter.

Chapter Twenty Eight

I collapsed back against the mattress, gasping for breathe, my heart racing. I let out a small sigh, content and extremely relaxed. I watched as the lump underneath the covers, situated between my legs moved up the bed. I let my head drop back against the pillow as Dougie's head finally appeared, his gaze fixed upon mine as he lay, and leaning on his elbows above me.

"Hello again." He grinned, eyes shining from the glare of the single lamp beside the bed. "Long time no see."

I rolled my eyes, encouraging him more.

"Harry Potter had ParselMouth, I have PussyTongue." He began to laugh.

"Oh you crude, crude man." I screwed my eyes shut in mock disgust. Either that was pretty quick, or he'd been thinking up that joke for a suitable occasion.

"But you liked it." He teased, bobbing his tongue out.

I blushed.

I do a lot of that.

Have you noticed?

If I don't stop soon it'll become permanent.

And it'll look like I have a rash.

I placed a hand on each of his cheeks, pulling his head towards me, capturing his lips with my own.

"Shut up." I murmured, sliding down the mattress, kissing down his chest as I did so, down to the chosen destination.

"What are you-." Dougie began. "Oh."

"Brenna," Dad called up the stairway, before taking each step two at a time. "You've got a letter."

I groaned.

I turned my head.

It was only 9 AM.

Middle of the night as far as I was concerned.

I turned back over, pulling the quilt covers further over me before closing my eyes, trying to look as if in deep slumber.

"Bre." Dad walked in to my bedroom. He sighed, sitting on the edge of my bed. For a moment I thought I was safe. That was, until I felt him shaking me vigorously, forcing me to fall from the bed on to the cold, very cold, laminate flooring.

"It's the middle of december!" I scorned. "And I don't have heating in here."

"You have a letter." He repeated, apparently choosing to ignore the telling off I gave him.

"Oh, how exciting. What could it possibly be?" I said monotonously. Dad frowned.

Maybe I should try to be more enthusiastic, or retarded.

Either way no one can tell the difference.

"It's from Universal." He continued.

I looked up at him, confused to say the least.

"Why would they be writing to me? They're your record company." I stated.

"Exactly. So, I opened it." He shrugged.

"You opened my mail!"

I swear people are rude for the sake of it.

Nosey Bstard.

Cuhh.

"So, you've never contacted or sent them anything?" Dad asked, as if checking something over.

I shook my head.

"Well someone has." He said. "Because they liked the recording they had of you. And now they want you in for a trial."

"Excuse me for a minute while I go yell at Dougie." I smiled, grabbing my phone off my bedside cabinet.

Must make mental note never to sing in the shower again.

Or in Dougie's living room, kitchen, or bedroom.