Layla snorts. “Nice try, Norie. Out with it.”
So once again, I repeat the story of our agreement to watch Beauty and the Beast and how we were discussing rainy soccer games when Alicia interrupted us. By the time I finish, Layla is so giddy that she’s bouncing in her chair.
“Norah Grady! You’re dating Eamon Kennedy! This is the best thing to happen since… Well, I don’t know, but it’s the best!” she exclaims.
Exasperated, I say, “Stop! I’m not dating him. I just haveadate with him. That’s all.”
“Technically, it sounds like you have two—or more, considering he wantsyou at all of his games. That sounds pretty serious to me,” she teases.
“I don’t think me sitting in the stands by myself, watching him play soccer, counts as a date. Sitting and watching a movie, I’ll concede. Maybe if we were watching two other teams play together…” I trail off.
“Whatever you say, Nor,” she quips, standing to take her dishes to the sink. “Now, I have to go. Work waits for no man. Or woman. No matter who she’s dating! Thanks for dinner. I owe you.”
I clean up the dishes after she leaves, then sit down on the couch with my laptop to work on the history assignments I’ve been neglecting. They’re due on Monday, and I know I won’t have time to do it this weekend. I’ve never seriously considered cheating before, but sometimes I think I’d happily pay someone to take this class for me. This, of course, makes me think of Eamon’s offer to tutor me, which I could never accept because the only thing I’d be studying is his face. I have a hard enough time focusing with him not around, let alone having him sitting in close proximity.
Eamon
It’s after midnight by the time the Seahawks make it back to Wilmington. We won the game with a two-point lead, and I scored one of those goals, but I don’t feel like I played my best. Even though I skipped classes to catch up on sleep before the game, I still felt groggy and off-kilter all day. I was more surly than usual on the way home, avoiding conversations with anyone. Ro talked incessantly during the trip home and I eventually had to put in my earbuds and pretend to be asleep just so he’d shut up.
Once we’re finally back on campus, I don’t waste any time grabbing my gear and tossing it in the backseat. I’m climbing into the front when I hear Mac call out my name. God above, he irritates the piss out of me. I’m hoping if I don’t respond he’ll think I didn’t hear him, but no such luck. He’s jogging my way, not stopping until he’s leaning on the door frame.
“Don’t forget about open mic night tomorrow! I have it on good authority that a pretty little redhead is going to be there,” Mac reminds me with aknowing smirk.
My eyes narrow. I’m going to kill Ro. “I don’t know what Ro told you, but…”
“Who said anything about Ro?” He winks. “I might have made a friend of my own last week.”
Thinking back to when I first saw Norah, I remember walking up to the bar with Ro and Teagan just as Mac was walking away with a dark-haired lass hanging on his arm. It’s hard to picture Norah being her friend when they seem so opposite from each other.
“Good for you, Mac,” I say blandly, reaching to pull my door shut.
Shrugging, Mac heads back towards the bus. We’ve never had an easy relationship. As seniors, we’ve played together for UNCW since our freshman year. From the first day of practice, I knew Mac would never be my favorite person. He’s a great defender, always showing up on the pitch and doing what needs to be done, but aside from that, he’s a complete wanker.
That first year, I was a raging mess and never backed away from a fight. Even though Mac is about fifty pounds heavier and three inches taller than me, we were evenly matched in a brawl. It wasn’t until the end of the season that Coach stepped in and set us straight. In the middle of our ugliest fight yet, Coach walked up and dumped a cooler of ice water on us. I’d never received a tongue-lashing like the one we got that day. I felt like a child. Not to mention that Coach swore to kick us both off of the team if we stepped out of line like that again. The fighting has since stopped, but neither of us goes out of our way to be nice. Mac still makes smart arse comments here and there trying to get a rise out of me, but I’ve learned not to engage if I can help it.
I’m brooding over the situation all the way home. I don’t like Mac referring to Norah as apretty little redhead.She is that, and more, but when Mac says it, it sounds all sorts of slimy. I’ll be damned if I let that tosser anywhere near her. At the same time, I hope he’s right and that she is at Paddy’s tomorrow night. I’d like to see her with her friends. See what her life is like outside of costume-making and dishwashing.
A buzzing in my pocket effectively pulls me from my thoughts. Who would even be calling this late? I slide it from my pocket to see it’s my Mam and my first reaction is to panic until I remember there’s a five-hour time difference between North Carolina and Ireland.
“Mornin’, Ma,” I greet her.
“Hiya, love. I know it’s late there, but I saw you won your game and wanted to congratulate you.”
Rosie Kennedy is a pure angel. I don’t know what I did to deserve her as my mother, but I thank my lucky stars every day for her.
“Thanks a million. We just got back to campus, and I’m on my way home. Keep me awake as I drive, yeah?” I ask.
“‘Course I will,” she says warmly. “What’s new there? It feels like we haven’t talked in ages.”
“Ach, I know. Sorry, Mam,” I apologize, the guilt eating me alive. “I’ve been going ninety to nothing lately. Classes are good; football is grand. Been picking up some extra work at Paddy’s. How are you? Caity behaving?”
Mam makes a disgusted noise. “That girl. When she bothers to come home at all, she’s surly as can be. Otherwise, all is well here. Nothing new or exciting.”
“Do I need to have a word with her?” I ask. She still owes me for the money she borrowed. Not that I’ll ever call in her debt, but it would be nice to know that my sister isn’t taking advantage of me.
“No, leave her be. She’ll come round.” She sighs. “I miss you, my boy. Would love to see you for the holidays.”
My heart sinks. I know she’s not trying to guilt me into coming home, but I still feel like absolute shite. I miss her—so much—but the thought of stepping back onto Irish soil makes me break into a cold sweat.
