Page 1 of Shamrock Kisses

1

Friday, March 14th

“Thanks for getting me out of Chicago for the weekend. Does it really get that crazy for St. Patrick's Day?” I ask my friend and co-worker, Brandon, as he drives us to Lake Geneva, Wisconsin, for the weekend. It will be good to get out of the city for a couple of days. To chill and unwind. Staring at a screen for nearly every waking minute can’t be healthy.I need a digital detox, and Brandon needs to reset after a big fight with his on-again, off-again girlfriend.

“Yeah. Imagine being surrounded by thousands of suburbanites drinking green beer and puking it up in the street.” Brandon’s barely keeping his hand on the wheel of the Rivian SUV as the self-driving features guide us along the highway. I don’t own a car—minimalism suits me.

“So, it’s just us at your family’s lake house?”

“Unless you find some townie,” he teases.

“Good joke.” It’s emphasized by me reflexively pushing my glasses up my nose.

The idea of me finding a girl is absurd. I’m a nerd. The quiet coder who doesn’t have a suave bone in his body.

Staring out the window, my mind drifts to the minor platform updates I need to push once we get to the lake house. I should try to make this weekend into a retreat and go to bed at a reasonable hour for the next couple of days. Staying up until four in the morning is another bad habit—especially when paired with late-night snacking.

“It’s too cold to go boating,” Brandon says, pulling me back to the present. “There are some great restaurants in town, though. But we’ll probably spend most of our time on the property.”

“I still can’t believe your dad is Kent Dubois.”He’s only a billionaire.

We pull through a huge, ornate gate. Brandon’s family’s lake house is a mansion. I inwardly chuckle that they call this place a lake house. It’s more like a resort.

Having grown up in Minnesota, I’m still getting used to Chicago’s dynamics—especially how people “summer” as if it’s a verb. I definitely wasn’t raised thinking of seasons that way.

“Don’t be so impressed by Kent,” Brandon says. “This house is about all he’s good for.”

We’ve been friends for a little more than a year, both working for a crypto trading platform called Cryptoball. I’m learning his relationship with his dad is far from the one I have with mine. At least I still call my dad “Dad.”

As we step inside, I take in the vast space—high ceilings, pristine surfaces—and immediately feel out of place in my hoodie and sweatpants. Before I can fully absorb the place, I notice a sweaty, beautiful brunette with a messy bun mopping the entryway. She looks embarrassed, pulling the earbuds from her ears.Was that Wind Walkers I just heard blaring?

“Sorry. We’re running behind,” she says, and I hear vacuums in the distance. “I usually have a team of four, but it’s just me and two other girls today.”

“All good,” Brandon replies, adjusting the strap of his bag.

“I know your dad?—”

“I’m not him,” Brandon interrupts. “I don’t mind seeing the help,” he says with a laugh as if he understands the absurdity of the situation.

Her bright blue eyes meet my green ones, or at least meet my glasses. I feel like I’m being studied. Why is she staring at me so intently? Standing beside her, I realize she barely reaches my chest. At five-foot-ten, I’m not exactly towering, but she’s so petite I almost feel like a giant.

I smirk, checking her out before feeling embarrassed at how blatant I’m being. Brushing a hand through my messy brown hair, I hope I don’t look as frazzled as I feel. Crumbs in my beard? I swipe at it, praying that’s not why she’s staring at me.

“Do you guys have any fun plans for the weekend?” she asks politely, looking back at Brandon. She’s probably interested in him—his trust fund and effortless coolness. Not me, looking like I just crawled out of a hackathon in my hoodie.

Her cheeks are flushed, and my eyes, once again, have a mind of their own, checking her out. She’s exactly my type—athletic but thick in all the right places. Meanwhile, I’ve got a few extra pounds I’d like to pretend are muscle, but who am I kidding? Too many late-night snacks while coding have added more bulk than I’d like.

Brandon shrugs. “We’re planning on hanging around here.”

“Well …” She hesitates, glancing at me before continuing. Her crop top features the cover art from a Brand New album. I’m intrigued. I love that band, and the top highlights her tiny waist. Does she lift weights? Her strong thighs make me think so. I push down the thought of wanting to know what her asslooks like. “If you want to get out of the house, you should come to High Five tomorrow.”

She smiles at me, and my heart rate spikes. Is this her way of saying she wants me to go there? Am I reading this situation right? She’s way too hot for me.

“High Five?” Brandon asks. “The dive bar?”

“It used to be a dive bar,” she says before looking back at me. “It has a new owner.”

“Will there be green beer?” Brandon asks, laughing lightly.

---