Page 77 of Verses Of Us

“Intense.” Ciarán nodded, pressing his lips together. “No doubt.”

With the bottom of his glass centred within the hotel’s logo on the coaster, he kept twisting his beer in circles.

“For the life of me, Lex,” he began, shaking his head. “There’s one thing I never understood.”

“What’s that?”

He leaned in closer, his knee bumping against hers and she swore his touch froze time. “Why did you ever like me?”

ALL THE REASONS

Ciarán

Hewasn’tsurewhyhe’d asked her, but judging by her reaction, the way her eyes couldn’t stop moving around, neither was she.

“Um… I liked your music,” she answered. “I thought you were a great entertainer—”

“No, I don’t mean that stuff.” He grimaced, shoving a finger into the centre of his chest, his masochistic need for gratification taking over. “I meanme.”

“Oh.”

The barman dropped a tray of dishes on the counter nearby with a loud, distracting clatter. Alexis stilled, watching him slide the wine glasses onto a rack above the bar.

“You know what, never mind,” Ciarán said, taking her pause as a hint. “Forget I asked. I get like this when I drink. Did I tell you I’ve stopped?”

She eyed his pint and raised a doubtful eyebrow. “Did you?”

He gave her a lopsided grin. “Well, except for special occasions, that is. And I only drink beer now.” His brow fell. “I didn’t like the man I became when I drank.”Among other things, he wanted to add.

The truth—the one shame kept him from sharing with her—was that he’d nearly lost it all and had faced bankruptcy. The drinking and the women turned him into a shell of who he was. Who hewantedto be. He couldn’t admit that now because then he’d need to admit how it all started going downhill after their last week together. The time he fucked everything up and took off.

“That’s great, Ciarán,” she said, interrupting his thoughts. Her smile seemed genuine. “Sounds to me like you’ve grown up.”

They laughed, the sound so foreign and yet so oddly familiar, too. “Suppose I have.”

After a few seconds, she asked, “So, why do you like beer?”

“Beer?”

“Yes. To return to your earlier question.”

She had his interest, and he rubbed the back of his neck. “Because it’s good.”

“And?”

He shrugged. “And refreshing. I like how it tastes.”

“Alright. Those are all excellent reasons.”

He chuckled. They were shit answers, and he knew it. She moved her empty glass aside and faced him, her knee bumping up against his. The touch, though faint, still stirred something deep down inside of him.

“But you’re not a beer,” she continued.

He threw his head back and laughed. “That’s mighty nice of you to say, Lex. Truly, it gets me right here.” He stabbed his chest.

She rolled those striking eyes. “It’s easy to say why you like beer, or a particular colour, or a movie. I can explain why I like certain foods or books.”

He didn’t pull away when she moved her hand closer to rest on his arm. He found he needed her touch, her solidity.

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