“You know,” I pointed to his shoes, “You’re going to break the heel if you don’t undo the laces first.”
“Thanks, ma.” He grinned and slid his other foot into the tightly laced shoe.
I reminded myself that he didn’t need me to mother him. I needed to be his roommate, or friend, or whatever I was to him.
I hugged the girls. “See you tonight.”
They winked at me. “Take care of her,” Marissa called to Jaime.
“No monkey business,” Zoey added.
“Be home by curfew, or you’re both grounded,” Marissa said.
“And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Zoey chimed.
I raced out of my bedroom to rush them out the door. Marissa and Zoey knew, but Jaime didn’t know they knew. So now, when the four of us were together, Marissa and Zoey gave each other looks, giggled, and made jokes about my dilemma. Jaime often egged them on, thinking they were laughing at his jokes, but they were really laughing at our situation.
Both girls burst into giggles, and I shooed them out, slamming the door behind them and leaning my head against it. I inhaled and exhaled, waiting for my racing heart to slow.
I hurried into the bathroom and finished getting ready. Jaime watched me from behind, and my chest tightened. Smiling nervously at him through the reflection, I leaned forward to apply my deep red lipstick with shaking hands. Feeling his stare made my body heat from the inside and my stomach flutter.
“You look beautiful,” he said.
He was gone when my eyes moved from my reflection to the door. It was almost like I had imagined it, but my ears heard him and my mind hung onto his words.
When I left our room, he was on the couch, with his leg crossed over his knee, flipping through the channels. “I’m ready whenever you are.”
We walked into the city, traveling amid groups of college kids making the most of their weekend. The autumn night held a chill that felt like fire pits and s’mores. I had refused to wear a coat because although the temperature was cold, the pubs were hot, and walking home with pints in my belly always kept me warm.
“Where does Owen live?” This was my first time hanging out with Jaime and his buddies. I didn’t know what to expect, and not having my female roommates there to protect me made me nervous. A bunch of football players and alcohol didn’t mix well, so I decided to stay sober until I met Zoey and Marissa later that night.
Jaime nodded sideways. “The apartments behind the school along the River Corrib. We should be there in about ten minutes.”
Listening to the chatter and seeing the groups of college kids walking in front and behind us, I hurried my step to stay with Jaime. “Popular place, huh?” A barrage of music traveled over the river to the street as we marched onward.
“Yeah, one of the biggest party places in town.”
My pace slowed, and I took in the sounds, lights, and people. Jaime slowed his gait to match mine. “No worries,” he said, “Just stay close to me. Let me know when you want to go, and I’ll walk you into town.”
I lifted my head high and embraced my badass self. I wanted to live life in Ireland, and Jaime could show me the way. This is it, Rory. Your first Irish party. My stomach somersaulted and I hooked my arm through his while he ushered me into the party.
The tiny apartment reeked of men and women wanting to have a good time. Beer, perfume, and cologne filled my nostrils. Squeezing behind Jaime through the throngs of sweaty bodies, we made our way to the cramped kitchen. Bottles of whiskey surrounded empty shot glasses along the crowded counter.
The layout of Owen’s apartment was the same as ours; the standard dorm furniture, now covered in people and outerwear, looked similar, and the tile floors matched my own. I could have been throwing this party, and I would have been a better hostess. The counter would be clean and I would have draped the jackets across the beds. I wanted to remove all the shot glasses and place them in the sink, but I refrained.
“Hey,” Owen called over the chatter. He raised his arm in a wave and handed Jaime a shot. “Whiskey?” Jaime tossed it in his mouth without a flinch or a gasp.
“Rory?” Owen held up a full glass.
I shook my head and held up my water bottle. Shoving it in my purse, I squeezed my hands and fiddled with my watch. My water bottle told everyone I was an outsider.
“How’s the foot?” Owen asked.
“Better, thanks. Good as new.” My mother’s nagging voice sang in my head. Be safe, Rory. And don’t forget, moderation is key.
A group of tall, strong-looking guys surrounded Owen and Jaime. They laughed about things I didn’t understand, and I looked around the room, eavesdropping on their conversation. I desperately wanted to be part of the narrative.
There was only one other girl I could see, and my guard immediately rose. Maybe this is a mistake. It was the girl from the photograph smiling at me in Jaime’s room. Watching her, she appeared overly familiar with the guys, bouncing to the fridge, leaning against Jaime, and throwing back shots.
