“Just having fun,” Zoey repeated.
I hugged them, feeling the whiskey lighten my mood, and squeezed. “Whatever you want is fine with me, but don’t ever feel like you need to hide anything. I’m your friend and I love you, and would never judge you. Besides, you know what’s going on with Jaime and me.”
Marissa pulled away. “What is going on? You never really told us.”
I felt my body warm as I replayed all the kisses just a few days ago. His sweetness and kindness dripped over me like sugary syrup. I knew the liquor highlighted my memory, but I clung to it like a winning lottery ticket. “Honestly, I don’t know.”
Both girls looked at me and waited.
Taking a deep breath, I sank into the wooden table. “Whenever we’re alone, I feel alive. Like he’s showing me what it’s like to be free. But then, when we’re not alone, I feel like one of the guys. Like he’s afraid to show how he feels about me. And then there’s Aoife, his ex-girlfriend over there. Ex-girlfriend or something.” I shook my head in disappointment. “Whatever they are, they have a history. And I don’t know if I can trust him with my heart, you know?” The words spilled out of me before I could process their meaning. A string of letters, syllables, and words slung together like a love song I’d heard a million times before.
Marissa squeezed my hand. “I’ll keep my eyes open. I can tell a shady guy a hundred miles away, but from what I’ve seen so far, he’s sincere and respectful. I think he has a lot of good qualities.”
Zoey nodded. “Remember that weekend when I got really wasted? You guys weren’t around, but he went to the hotel next door and ordered a take-away Irish breakfast. He delivered it to my room with tea. It was a surprise, and I think that was the first time I saw him for him…you know, beyond the funny, goofy roommate vibe.”
I tapped my fingers on the table, thinking. “I didn’t know he did that.”
I looked over at the table we had all been inhabiting and saw him, Owen, and Aoife, comfortably chatting and laughing. I don’t know their story, but do I need to know? I can protect my heart. I pulled my shoulders back, shocked that I considered myself his girlfriend, even if I hadn’t spoken the words. Do I want to be his girlfriend?
The room rocked, and the music bounced through the soles of my boots. My beer had disappeared, yet I didn’t know where it went. I must have drunk it without thinking. My stomach felt heavy and bubbly, and my toes tingled. “You guys wanna go?” I asked.
We pushed our way to the table and flopped into the booth. “Wanna go?” Marissa asked the others. “I’ve never been to Dublin. You locals need to show us how you party.”
I smiled at her for taking control of the night.
Owen and Jaime downed the rest of their pints, and Aoife left her half-empty glass on the table. She stood beside me, towering over me in her clunky heels. Her skirt almost covered her butt, and I admired the muscular tone of her thighs.
Her toned arms grabbed me, and I stumbled into the wall, cornered. She kissed me on the cheek. “I love your costume.”
I narrowed my eyes and let the negative energy roll off my shoulders, not in the mood to be nice to her until I knew her intentions with Jaime. “Thanks. I thought it might be better than a hoochie mama.”
She grinned at me, but I saw the wheels spinning behind her eyes, and I basked in the way I flipped the script. I turned toward the guys, fighting a smile from spreading across my lips.
I grabbed Jaime’s hand, and let him lead me out of the overcrowded pub. The rain had stopped, and the moon peeked behind the cirrus clouds, illuminated by the bright streetlights. Feeling buzzed, a warmth spread throughout my chest and cheeks, and my muscles relaxed. In my head, I gave myself a high-five for not allowing Aoife to ruin my night.
For the rest of the night, I allowed my insecurities and reservations to die on the dance floor. We crawled through a strip of pubs, drinking in each one. I kept up with Aoife, downing Guinness, whiskey, and cider until my belly stretched beyond capacity. With each drink, my mood lifted, and I inferred that every word, touch, and kindness Jaime exhibited toward me was due to his growing attraction.
I found myself beside Jaime most of the night, and then things got blurry. The lights hurt my eyes, the noises in the bar became one big white noise machine, and my body rocked like we were cruising on a boat. Aoife became a shadow in the background, and all I could focus on was Jaime and my growing desire to feel his skin against mine. My stomach flipped, my chest tightened, and an urge to kiss him overpowered me.
Then the night washed away and all I saw was darkness.
Chapter 22
I woke up the following day in Owen’s bed, pressed between him and the wall. My head throbbed, and my stomach churned. How did I get here? Laying on our backs, our shoulders didn’t fit on the small twin-sized mattress, and I shifted to my side. The blurry room became focused, and a mixture of blonde and red filled my vision from across the room. There lay Jaime and Aoife. In the same bed.
Overcome by nausea, I climbed over Owen to get to the bathroom down the hall, careful not to stumble on the clothes and shoes strewn across the floor.
Falling between the toilet and the wall, my stomach knotted like a pretzel, and I wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol, stupidity, or embarrassment. Whatever it was, I needed to purge all the bad feelings eating me from the inside. Why was my love life influenced by this unhealthy need to be accommodating to others?
Despite my silent protests, Scott always cancelled our plans, flirted with other girls and borrowed money to blow on poker games. According to my father, I wasn’t worthy of his love unless I was successful at school, and my mother and I got along best when I ignored her overdependence on pills. My entire life, I tried my hardest to prevent the boat in our house from capsizing, and I had been taught that other people’s problems were more important than my own, so I minimized my needs and focused on keeping them happy.
Afraid my baggage would prevent me from standing up for myself, I needed to learn the truth about Jaime and Aoife. Think, Rory, think. My head pounded, and the small room continued to spin, so I laid my face on my folded arms over the filthy toilet seat and closed my eyes. Tomorrow. I’ll figure it out tomorrow.
Stumbling back to the room, my eyes moved to Aoife and Jaime, watching her lips curl gently against his cheek and his arm drape over her waist. I didn’t want to be in there, imagining mistakes and hypotheses that may or may not have happened.
I grabbed my items, stuffed them into my bag, and slipped back to the dirty bathroom. Peeling out of my beer-scented clothes and dropping them in the trash can, I pulled on the same outfit I wore on the train ride into Dublin, trying to erase the entire night from my memory. Perhaps these clothes could turn back time—to a time before Dublin, when Jaime hadn’t stomped on my fragile heart.
Creeping down the wooden staircase, I greeted the young man working behind the counter. He looked about fifteen, with scrawny arms, pimply cheeks, and the same smattering of freckles Jaime carried. I dropped into an old, ripped leather armchair that looked like something my grandparents would own.
