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405 pages, Paperback
First published October 8, 2016
“I think about my life, and it should be a great life, cos I’ve got everything I’m supposed to have, except I’m pretty sure I’m not happy.”
“Oh, Alfie. How can you know something like that?”
“Because of how I feel when I’m with you.”
And Alfie, desperate, a little bit dizzy, a little bit shocked. Because he loved Fen like this, so hot and straining, and lost and found, and his. He still smelled a little bit of flowers and tasted a little bit like salt. And the words scattering at their feet with the shells and sea glass were yes, and oh, and God, and yes, and please, and that last one was maybe Alfie, because he wanted it so badly, Fen’s pleasure, not taken but given, and nothing between them but this, and the things they chose to build together.
And we could listen to musicals. And you could drive my car sometimes. And I could suck you off in the mornings and fall asleep next to you ever night . . . And we could walk on the beach and maybe get a dog. I'd quite like a dog if you would. But not if you wouldn't. Only let's not get a cat because they're snooty buggers. And maybe we could do this all the time . . . Cos . . . well . . . that's what love means to me. But it doesn't mean anything at all really, without you.







Mum always said there’s no such thing as a weed.”
“Um, what are weeds, then?”
“Flowers where you don’t expect them.”
“It can be one of the most difficult things in the world, I think. To accept yourself.”
“You’re wrong, Alfie Bell. You haven’t changed. Maybe you suck cock these days, but you’re still a coward and a bully, and that’s all you’ll ever be.”
I think Alfie Bell has decided I’m his butterfly. And some part of me desperately wants to be. I would love to be held in his hands, sheltered and made precious, especially now, when I feel so very alone.







