Page 285 of Releasing 10
FOR THE FIRST TIME IN FOREVER, IHAD MADE A GENUINE EFFORT WITH MY APPEARance. I figured I owed it to my boyfriend for suffering through countless months of feral-Liz. He deserved girlie-Liz for at least one night.
Dolled up to the nines in a skintight, lemon, mesh-lace boob-tube dress that left little to the imagination, I found myself queuing up outside the rugby clubhouse. Donning a full face of makeup—courtesy of Claire—and with my hair falling to the middle of my back in loose hanging curls, I consoled myself with the knowledge that my feet would be comfortable even if the rest of mewasn’t. My faithful high-tops, my one nonnegotiable, were securely on my feet.
Ballylaggin RFC was the venue for tonight’s disco. The event was being fully funded by both our school and the rugby club, offering an open bar of nonalcoholic refreshments and a line of security to keep order.
I knew BCS had a separate disco happening across town at the local GAA pavilion, but we didn’t go there. Warned by our teachers and parents to steer clear of “those kinds of boys,” we were segregated to be with the boys we went to school with. Thegoodboys, thepromisingones, with fat wallets and even fatter egos.
It was a fucking joke.
I wasn’t sure how I had managed to drag myself out of bed this morning, let alone had the strength to sit through a four-hour pampering session with Claire, but as we stood here now, surrounded by hundreds of other teenage girls, I had to admit, we looked fierce.
“I can’t wait to get inside,” Claire squealed, bouncing around in excitement in her pink leather dress that concealed just enough of her body to stop her brother from having a conniption fit when he arrived. “I’m so excited!”
“Yeah, Claire, I can tell.”
“Do you think the boys will be here soon?”
“Who knows?” I replied with a shrug. “They’ve been drinking all evening. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re passed out in a bush somewhere.”
“Well, Gerard will definitely be here,” she replied confidently. “He promised me the first dance.”
Holding back for the sake of the night that was in it, I swallowed down my retort and my pain, and forced a small smile. “Whatever you say.”
“I’m scoring with Danny Callaghan tonight,” Shelly, one of the girls from our year, declared. “He texted me last night.” Shimmying toward us in skyscraper heels, a black rara skirt, and a pink halter neck, Shelly grinned like the cat that got the cream. “He’s so fine, girls.”
“Ew,” Claire said quietly, scrunching her nose up, while I, not so quietly, fake heaved at the thought.
“I think Robbie Mac wants to score with me,” Helen, another girl in our year and Shelly’s faithful sidekick, said, sidling up to her bestie. “He texted me an hour ago.”
“I wouldn’t if I were you,” Claire warned. “Those boys are on the rugby team with Hughie, and they’re total players.”
“We know,” they both cackled in unison.
“Ew.”
“Oh my God, that’s them!” Shelly shrieked, elbowing Helen while gesturing to the group of teenage boys strolling up the pathway of the club grounds.
Swinging around, I studied the dozen or more giant-looking boys and quickly homed in on the one that belonged tome. As soon as I locked eyes on Hugh, laughing and messing around with his friends, it felt like my entire body had caught on fire. Clad in jeans and a tight, fitted shirt, with his hair styled in his usual sexily tousled way, my boyfriend looked fucking edible.
“How is it that boys only need to throw on a shirt and jeans and gel their hair to look so dreamy?” Helen groaned, speaking my thoughts aloud. “It’s not fair.”
“Okay, now I’m scared,” Shelly chimed in, looking nervous.
“You don’t have to kiss anyone,” Claire reminded her. “I’m not.” Smiling, she added, “I came to dance.”
“Dammit,” one of the third-year girl’s standing in front of us in the line complained. “Johnny Kavanagh isn’t with them.”
“Why are you so surprised?” said another girl. “He never comes to these things.”
“Well, I don’t know about Captain Fantastic coming, but his sexy sidekick will be coming for me later tonight,” laughed another.
“Gibsie?” the first one exclaimed.
“Yes, Gibsie,” the dark-haired girl confirmed. “Have you seen that boy without his shirt on? He’s fire.”
One look at Claire’s heartbroken expression, and I knew she could hear the conversation unfolding beside us.
“Ew,” Claire whispered, innocent, brown eyes looking to me for help.
