“Only it’s not right,” Mary said. “Because it’s clear as bloody day you’re after that American cow, which is ridiculous on so many levels. You’re going to choose her over me? When she’s only even a tourist here? She’ll be gone before you know it. And then, guess what?”
He’d been half-listening to her, focusing instead on trying to spot Sophie in the crowd. “What?” he asked because he sensed it was what she expected him to say.
She grabbed his face and forced his eyes to meet hers. “Then I won’t fucking take you back, is what.”
He pried her hand away from him. “And you shouldn’t. Go ahead and move on from the likes of me, Mary. You deserve better.”
Her shoulders sagged now that what had obviously been her plan of goading him into fighting for her had failed.
He caught the green of Sophie’s silk top as she moved toward the exit. “I have to go,” he said and pushed his way to the door.
He found Sophie a short ways from the club, walking briskly as she hugged her arms to her chest.
“Sophie, wait,” he called. She stopped and turned and he ran to catch up. “You’re leaving?”
“I have to,” she said and started walking again. “I’m supposed to be home by ten o’clock.”
“You’re shivering.” He pulled his long-sleeve T-shirt off over his head, leaving him in a thin undershirt. “Here, take this.”
“It’s okay, you don’t have to.”
“Stop. Just for a second.”
When she did, he took his shirt and helped her pull it on. It fell large on her, the sleeves covering her hands. Though he was sorry to lose the view of her exposed abdomen and hips, he’d rather she be warm.
“Thanks.”
“I’ll get you home, will I?”
“I’ll be okay. You can go back to … your friends.”
“I’d rather be with you.” This was the time to tell her about it being over with Mary. But he had a grander idea of how to let her know she was who he wanted. “Listen, we’re at Conor’s again tomorrow around eleven. You’ll come and watch us play?”
“I’m not sure I can.”
“Please. I’d like you to be there.”
She shrugged. “Okay.”
“Good. Let’s get you home now.”
As they walked, he asked how she’d liked the club scene, told her that they sometimes had live bands there, and didn’t once acknowledge seeing her dance with Conor.
“Do you go out to clubs with your friends back home?” he asked.
“No, you usually have to be older to get into clubs. I guess the equivalent for us would be house parties. Lots of house parties in my neighborhood.”
“Yeah?”
“Everyone’s parents seem to be out of town a lot, so there’s always a party. Or there were until I stopped getting invited to them.”
“Why’d that happen?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know.”
He could sense a shift in her. She was tense, reluctant to share. He took her hand and squeezed it over the material of his shirt.
“I was part of a big group of friends, girls and boys,” she said. “We’ve known each other for as long as I can remember. But earlier this year, the girls decided I wouldn’t be a part of the group anymore.”
