Page 7 of Since We're Here
“If you must know, I’m jet-lagged, exhausted, and kinda tipsy.” She pushes back from the wall, sliding her mobile into a hidden pocket in her dress.
“And kinda cold, maybe?” My eyes flick to her bare thighs, lingering for a second too long.
She huffs a laugh, and when I meet her gaze again, her cheeks are pink.
Feck.Don’t be creepy.
“A bit. I was supposed to be on a warm island, not Ireland. Also an island. But not the same.”
“Is that why you’re wearing... that?” I gesture to her sundress.
She blinks at me.Uh-oh.I play back what I said and yeah, even I hear that it sounds offensive.
“That came out wrong. It’s a nice dress, but not for winter.”
She breathes out. “Yeah. I have some regrets on the wardrobe I packed. And...” She rubs the back of her neck again. “Since you’re a total stranger, I can be honest. I’m kinda wondering what the hell I’m doing here.”
“In this pub? Or in Dingle?”
“Yes, all of that, but also in Ireland.”
“Well, if you thought you were heading to an island with sunshine and warm beaches, I can see your confusion.”
The bright smile on her face fades.
“Whatareyou doing here?” I take a step closer, towering over her. My height was key in my successful goalkeeper career.
She tilts her head up to mine and swallows. I follow the length of her throat.
“You’re, like, incredibly hot,” she says.
I laugh, which is not something I do all the time. Her eyes widen.
“Did I say that out loud?” She bites her bottom lip.
“You did.”
“Fuck. I told you I’m drunk.”
“If it makes you feel better, I say inappropriate things out loud all the time.”
And sometimes I can’t even tell until people give me offended looks. But why am I saying that to this girl? She’ll have figured it out on her own by now, even though she’s smiling at me.
“I’m also getting over someone, so struggling a little with that.”
I raise my eyebrows and wait for her to continue. She bites her lip and takes a deep breath.
“What would really help, like, distract me, is to kiss someone else.”
Like the traitor it is, my cock twitches. I know in the head on my shoulders I shouldn’t play along with this, but the head pushing against my jeans highly disagrees.
“The Irish are a hospitable people.” My voice is low and my hands tingle with the need to touch her.
“How hospitable?”
“If it’d help you... how can I say no?”
“It would.” She licks her lips, and with that movement of her tongue, I lose the battle to be good.
