Page 64 of Since We're Here
He shakes his head and closes his eyes. “Jaysus help me. Please, never step foot in that place.”
His accent is intoxicating. How did I never realize the Irish accent is so hot? Reese is always going on about Oliver’s Scottish accent, and Stella’s boyfriend has a sexy English one... but I hadn’t even had Irish on my radar.
Or maybe it’s just Patrick.
“Fine, I promise. And see? This part definitely couldn’t have been done from New Jersey. The inspiration is here.” I throw a hand in the air. “In Dingle. Also, you wouldn’t respond to my emails, so...”
“Whatever you say, Madison.” He’s opened his eyes and is fighting a smile. I know I got him. He’s finally interested in the road trip.
“We’re back to Madison again? Do you only call me Maddie when you kiss me?”
His eyes widen. “No comment.”
“Why?” My eyes flit to his lips. “For some reason, we said last night was a one-time thing. That must have been your idea. Was it? If so, not your best one.”
He studies my face, his expression serious again.
“You are not like most women I know.”
“Not like the other American tourists?” I swallow.
His mouth twitches, but he doesn’t deny it.
Is being here in Ireland on this couch with Patrick my one-third life crisis? Where I figure out what to do next, reflect on the past decade, and decide how I want to live the next one? Yeah, I think it is. And this time, I will really transform my life, like Aunt Evelyn told me to.
I promised myself I wouldn’t immediately fall for someone the way I have before. So if I go for this thing with Patrick, I’ll see it for exactly what it is. I’m in touch with my feelings about him. I know exactly where I stand. I’m his best friend’s fiancée’s little sister who’s here bugging him about a road trip.
Who he might have had sex with just once to get it out of his system.
And I like him. Yup, sure do.
I won’t let that get out of hand. He can’t dump me for the next American tourist that comes along because there’s nothing real going on between us.
Still, the way he’s looking at me right now—his eyes hooded and dark—makes me wonder, but I shove that thought away.
I feel safe with him. That’s what I want right now: to spend time with someone I can trust. I want to know they can handle all my over-the-top cheerfulness and non-mysteriousness and still want to hang out. I want to know they won’t dump me or abandon me, even if it’s only because there’s nothing to dump me from.
A friend.
Perhaps a friend with benefits. Because the things he did to me this morning? My face flushes with heat at the thought of him yanking my hips to his face.
“Listen.” I take his bottle and slide it with mine onto the coffee table. I grab both of his hands.
“Yes?” His eyes are questioning, but he doesn’t pull away, not one inch.
“There’s no hope for a future for us.”
He chuckles. “Are you breaking up with me?”
I shake my head and laugh with him. “No. I’m just saying, we can’t be together, even if we wanted to.”
“I never said I wanted to.”
“Good lord. I know! You don’t have to rub it in.”
“Sorry,” he says, and looks like he means it. “But you’re being weird. And for me to say that is a big deal.”
“I am weird. So are you. And that’s okay. Can I finish now?”
