Her striking eyes, perky breasts, and cute button nose accentuated her flirtatious ways, and the wall around my heart fortified.
Sitting on the couch, I continued to watch Jaime from the corner of my eye. He put his arm around her, and Owen handed her a beer. Jaime had never spoken about female friends, and I wondered how he knew this blonde woman. Based on my detective skills in Clifden, he knew her well. I assumed she was Irish, but so many accents floated in the air, I couldn’t be sure.
She and Jaime chatted for a while, laughing, sharing drinks, and playfully leaning into each other. I clenched my teeth and squinted my eyes to get a better look. Yep, definitely flirting. I leaned forward and rubbed my hands up and down my chilly, bare arms. Waves of jealousy leaped at me like a tiger jumping through a fire-soaked ring. I questioned my reaction and bit my lip. He’s not your boyfriend. He’s your friend. He can do whatever he wants. No matter how much I tried to convince myself the emotion I was feeling wasn’t jealousy, I couldn’t shake it.
Giving into my jealousy, I asked the guy next to me for a shot. He rubbed his hand over his face and hoisted himself off the sunken couch. A few moments later, I threw the tiny glass back and gulped. The amber liquid burned my esophagus, traveled through my stomach, and down my limbs. My face twisted, and I gasped, feeling the heat race through my body. My muscles tingled, and my chest tightened before my entire body relaxed.
I moved toward Jaime with the woman’s ear-piercing laughter cutting through the room, causing my head to throb. I didn’t want to intrude or make a scene, but I wanted to be seen.
Jaime turned and smiled. “Hey! Where’ve you been?”
Like he couldn’t see me. I half-smiled, pretending I hadn’t taken offense to his question. “Just hanging out over there.” I threw my hand backward, not aiming at anything in particular. “Who’s this?” I looked at the woman beside him.
“Aoife. Owen’s sister.”
My hand jutted across the counter. “Ay-fa,” I pronounced. “Nice to meet you. I’m Rory, Jaime’s roommate. Your brother helped me when I hurt my foot, and he drove me home. It was nice of him. He’s a nice guy.” I fixed my mouth shut, aware of my intoxicated blabbing.
Jaime’s eyebrows resembled a red unibrow. I stopped rambling and pulled myself together. “Damn, that whiskey’s stronger than I thought.” I leaned on the counter, my shoulder pressed against the wall.
“Yeah. Let’s get some fresh air.” Grabbing my elbow, Jaime led me out into the cold.
The night breeze hit me in the face, and scent of peat swirled through the air. I dropped into a chair, closed my eyes, and let the wind whip the alcohol out of me.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Grand.” I didn’t feel grand. I felt out of control, obsessive and possessive over a guy that was just my friend. I wrung my hand in my lap and shivered, imagining the next day with a hangover and pneumonia. This night was not going the way I had hoped.
“Are you okay with walking to the pubs? It’ll take at least ten minutes.” He turned and greeted three girls who walked out of the house and stood beside us.
I smiled, tight-lipped. “Yeah, it’ll be good to walk.”
I hugged my torso and ran my hands up and down my arms, trying to force the goosebumps down. From the corner of my eye, I watched him greet everyone with hugs, high-fives, and pats on the back. Popular guy. It’s like I’m out with the mayor.
Jaime seemed perfectly fine, even though I had watched him swallow at least three shot glasses of whiskey. He reminded me of Hercules. A thinner Hercules with red hair.
He draped his sweatshirt over my shoulders and went into the house to say goodbye to Owen, Aoife, and whoever else he knew but hadn’t introduced.
The walk into town was quiet. I concentrated on my steps, careful not to trip over the broken sidewalk, and hooked my arm through his. His sturdy body supported me as I stumbled into town. I didn’t know how to get there, and I put all my trust in Jaime.
The light from the main drag beamed up at me as we made our way down the hill.
“What time is it?” I asked.
“Half-ten. Let’s find the girls.”
The dim pub was just as crowded as Owen’s apartment and I held onto Jaime’s hand as we pushed our way to the bar.
“What do you want?” he asked me.
I pressed my lips together, raised my eyebrows, and pulled my head back. “Water.” My drinking tolerance wasn’t up to Ireland’s standards, and I wasn’t legally allowed to drink at home, so my experience was minimal. I needed to keep my guard up, just in case something awful happened.
We stood against the back wall, facing the front of the pub so we’d see when Zoey and Marissa walked in. My legs hurt, and I knew they’d hurt more after climbing the hill home, when the fog around my brain had cleared.
“Holy shit.”
I looked at Jaime, and he pointed toward the door.
In the corner, under a stained-glass overhead light, were Zoey and Marissa. Kissing.
