I blush, becauseof course I do.“Yes and no. I’ve always needed them, but I only wear them when I plan on straining my eyes, like in History class. Or while working on a costume. Or reading.” I prattle nervously as we walk towards the cafe.
“How do you even have time to read with your costumes and heavy drinking on the weekends?” he teases me. He holds the door open to the coffee shop and ushers me in.
I glare at him playfully. “Fair question. I’ve considered listening to audiobooks while I drink, but I’d probably end up challenging them to a drinking contest.”
Eamon laughs as we approach the bar. Looking at me expectantly, he asks, “What will you have this morning?”
“You really don’t have to get mine. Actually, I should be getting yours for letting me borrow your car,” I reply quickly, but he’s shaking his head.
“I don’t think so. I was happy to do it, and I needed the exercise anyway,” he says with a shrug.
I pointedly look him over from head to toe and scoff at him. “Right.”
I turn back to the cafe employee patiently waiting for us to order. “I’ll have a large coffee with room for cream, please.”
“Is that all?” Eamon asks. “Anything to eat? Their scones are phenomenal. Especially the cranberry.”
“Ooooh. I love cranberry scones. Okay. I’ll have one since you insist.”
I don’t shy away from food, especially good scones. Life is too short to not enjoy delicious food.
Eamon orders a large black coffee and a scone for himself, then pays.While he’s finding us a table, I take my cup over to the condiment bar and add some cream and sugar to my coffee, gauging the color carefully. Once I’m satisfied, I find him sitting at a table near the door and slide into the chair opposite him. I hold my coffee under my nose and inhale, smiling at the comforting scent.
“I take it you enjoy your coffee,” he says, watching me closely.
“Very much so. It runs in my veins,” I confess, taking a sip.
“It’s a wonder you don’t have Guinness running through those veins.” He winks at me, and my heart stutters.
I lean forward and rest my elbows on the table. “Ah, but now you know why I can handle my Guinness. I’ve built up a tolerance for all things dark and delicious.”
Eamon’s brows shoot up, and he shifts in his chair, clearing his throat roughly.
Oh. My. God.I can’t believe I just said that. How mortifying! He’s still staring at me with wide eyes.
“Uh, right,” I say, quickly changing the subject. “So, how long have you been playing?”
“Playing football?” he asks like I’ve lost my mind.
“No, the guitar! You played wonderfully at open mic night. In fact, that was the only enjoyable sound coming from that stage.” I shudder at the memory of the rest of the team singing loudly and off-key.
He laughs before saying, “Aye, they butchered it, didn’t they? My Da was a musical genius; he could play anything. I grew up listening to him play and my Mam sing.”
I smile, envisioning a young dark-haired boy sitting next to his father and learning to pluck a guitar while his Mom sings in the background.
“It sounds like you have a wonderful family. Do you miss them?” I ask.
Eamon’s eyes shut, and he takes a deep breath. “My Da passed away when I was young. My ma is still alive. I miss her terribly.”
My heart breaks. I know all too well the pain of losing a parent. “I’m sorry about your father. Losing a parent is crushing,” I tell him. “When was the last time you visited home?”
He leans back in his chair and looks out the window of the coffee shop. “I haven’t been back since I arrived in the States.” The finality in his tone keeps me from asking about it again.
We talk for hours, mostly about our degrees and plans for after graduation. Eamon teasingly tells me that he hopes to teach high school and make history lessons enjoyable so the students don’t turn out like me—I roll my eyes at him. We talk about the current costumes for the Beauty and The Beast production and how there are talks of a drag show replacing the spring play.
“That’s amazing,” Eamon says. “The LGBTQ community needs more spotlight.”
Sexyandinclusive. Could he be any more perfect?
