Page 33 of Trying Sophie

Declan grabbed a rag and wiped a slow, wide circle across the surface of the bar. The copper top was already clean so his actions puzzled me.

“So,” he said, after a few more swipes, “you’re planning to be here through Christmas?”

“I think so, yeah. I imagine it’ll take at least that long to wrap everything up here.”

“Hmm, interesting.”

“What’s interesting?” I asked.

“Nothing,” he said, tossing the rag into a bucket next to him. Resting his palms on the bar, he added with a grin, “I’m just thinking about you being here for Christmas.”

I’d been thinking about Christmas too. My mom had texted again to ask if I was coming “home” to Boston for the holiday and I’d finally told her no. While Christmas at the Hodges’ was a holiday bacchanalia, it always a bit too forced for my liking. It didn’t help that I always felt like the odd woman out, as if I was intruding on their private celebration. It hadn’t been difficult for me to decide to stay in Ballycurra this year, and I didn’t feel at all guilty for using the situation with my grandparents as my excuse.

I glanced around the empty, quiet pub and imagined how it would look in a handful of weeks decorated for the holiday season, and realized how much I was looking forward to it. The last Christmas I’d spent here I’d been young and while everyone was down here making merry, I’d been upstairs reading or writing letters home. Then too, I’d felt like the odd person out.

When I glanced back, Declan was smirking, his irritating dimple on full display. Suddenly the only holiday picture I could imagine was kissing Declan underneath the mistletoe.

No! Must not think sexy thoughts about the sexy man.

Because even though that’s all I’d been doing lately, he’d done very little to indicate he was into me too. Sure, I’d caught him staring, but he hadn’t acted on those heated looks. At that moment, I realized I wanted him to, hoped he would … but nada. Zip. Zilch. Zero.

I was beginning to wonder if I’d been friend zoned.

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