Page 14 of An Irish Summer

“And then what?” Ada asked over the phone as soon as I finished telling her about the bar. I was still a little drunk, but

I could hardly get through my doorway before I called her.

“And then nothing,” I said, hating the notes of frustration creeping into my voice. “He fixed the cocktail, I drank the new

one, we mingled with the rest of the staff, then I came up here so I wouldn’t be too hungover for tomorrow.”

“But did you want something to happen?” she asked. “You sound like you wanted something to happen.”

“Does it matter either way?” I said. Lying to Ada was as useless as lying to myself, so I didn’t bother pretending I hadn’t

thought about it. “I’m leaving at the end of the summer, so I have no business getting involved with anything. Or anybody.

Besides,” I continued, “he’s a bartender and a tour guide. He treats everyone like this. It’s his job.”

“Any other excuses?”

“His full-time job is working at a hostel,” I said.

“What’s wrong with that?”

“I mean, it’s great that he’s happy doing it, but it isn’t a career, you know? Like how does he support himself?”

“Slow down,” she said. “I thought we were just talking about kissing the guy in a bar. Now we’re worrying how he’s going to pay a mortgage? Afford childcare?”

“You know what I mean, Ada.”

“You sound judgy.”

“We’re just different,” I said, though it came out more of a sigh. “We don’t make any sense, so I need to reel it in before

it gets any worse.”

“At least kiss him first,” she said. “I’m dying to know what it’s like.”

“You come here and kiss him then.”

“Please,” she said. “You know if I wasn’t dating Ben I’d have been there already.”

Ada always said things like this, which I ignored. She and Ben were so in love it made me nauseous, and sometimes she tried

to offset it by jumping on the ball-and-chain bandwagon. She was horribly unconvincing.

I groaned into the phone, flopping onto my bed. “I can’t,” I said eventually. “It would be stupid since it has an expiration

date.”

“You say that now.”

“You sound like Collin.”

“Maybe I will come kiss him after all.”

“Ada!”

“You’d be jealous, wouldn’t you?” I could hear her smile through the phone.

“No,” I said, though we both knew I would be. “And I’m sure he’s already kissing someone else if this is how he’s treating

everyone who comes through the Wanderer, so I need to put it out of my mind either way.”

“Good luck,” she snickered.

“I’m serious, Ada.”

“So am I,” she said. “The man fed you a drink through a straw tonight, Chels. He put his beautiful bartender hands on your face and you loved it. You’re not putting him out of your mind.”

“Well, I don’t have a choice, so. Consider it done.”

“Whatever you say.”

“I’m hanging up now,” I said.

“To get a good night’s sleep for your date tomorrow?”

“Good night, Ada.”

“Fine, fine, message received. Good night, Chels. Love you.”

“Love you back.” I dropped my phone on my chest and stared up at the ceiling, rubbing my eyes with the heels of my hands as

if that would do anything to get Collin out of my brain.

Unsurprisingly, it was hopeless. There was nothing I could have done in that moment that would have stopped me from savoring

the what-ifs . What if these weren’t the circumstances, what if I didn’t have to hold back, what if he kissed me. What if I had the chance

to find out what his lips felt like against mine, what his tattoos looked like under his clothes, what his accent sounded

like when he said words only I was meant to hear.

I wasn’t sure when I fell asleep, but a knock on my door at the crack of dawn woke me before my alarm. I expected Flo to be

locked out or maybe Lori to need emergency coverage at the desk, so I pulled a hoodie over my head, ran my hands through my

hair, and opened my door without looking in the mirror.

When I swung the door open to see Collin standing on the other side, I immediately regretted not so much as glancing at my

reflection.

“Morning,” he said, bright-eyed and grinning like he’d been up for hours. Where did he get all this energy?

“Am I late?” I asked, fumbling for my watch on the nightstand.

“No, no,” he said. “I’m early. Just thought you might like to blend in with the locals today, that’s all.” He handed me a

shirt, and I unfolded it between us. It was a jersey for what I assumed to be the local hurling team. “I know you’re desperately

trying not to embrace Irish culture, but you’ll stand out at a match in regular clothes. Which I think you’d hate more than

you’d hate looking Irish, to be fair.”

Once again, Collin proved to be more observant than I was willing to give him credit for.

“Thank you,” I said. “That was thoughtful.”

“Don’t sound so surprised.”

I looked at my feet on the floor, trying to avoid wondering how anyone could manage to be charming at this hour.

“Anyway,” he said, louder than he needed to, “I’ll see you in the lobby in an hour then, yeah?”

I nodded. “Anything else I need to know while I’m getting ready?” I asked before he turned to leave. “To blend in with the

locals, I mean.”

“Trainers,” he said, kicking my bare foot with his. The contact of our skin was just enough to pull me fully from sleep and

into the day. “And those plaits you do sometimes.”

I smoothed my hand over my hair, wondering what else he’s observed. “Surely all the locals aren’t wearing braids, are they?”

“No.” He smiled. “I just like it when you do.”

With that, he drummed his hands on the doorframe a few times and disappeared down the hallway. I stood still for a few seconds

with my hand still in my hair, staring into the empty corridor. If that was the energy he was bringing to the morning, what

did that mean for the rest of the day?

I shook the thought from my brain and focused on getting ready, reminding myself we were just two friends going to a hurling match.

My hopes were dashed as soon as I pulled the silky jersey over my head. How was anyone supposed to be platonic while wearing

each other’s clothes? The jersey was perfectly oversized, and I stood in front of the mirror for a second too long, examining

the way Collin’s clothes looked on my body. Then I immediately distracted myself to avoid thinking about the way Collin’s

clothes look on Collin’s body. And the way Collin’s body would look without Collin’s clothes.

With only ten minutes before I needed to be in the lobby, I did the exact thing I told myself I wasn’t going to do: I braided

my hair.

For the second time, Collin was already slumped in a lobby chair when I arrived.

“Lars,” he called out of the room as soon as he saw me. “Come get a look at this.”

“Oh, stop. Lars,” I said down the hallway, “don’t bother. There’s nothing to see here.” Lars showed up a second later, despite

my protest.

“She’s a proper Galway supporter now, isn’t she?” Collin said, crossing his arms and smiling down at me like a proud parent.

“What have you done to her?” Lars laughed. “Chelsea,” he said, “get out while you can. Before you know it, he’ll have you

working on the farm and playing the fiddle.”

“Oh, feck off, mate,” Collin said. “You got to admit she fits right in, doesn’t she?”

“Don’t say yes,” I said, pointing my finger at Lars.

“Maybe it’s just the jersey,” Lars said. “And the red hair, of course.”

“Don’t you have work to be doing?” I asked, shooing him out of the lobby. We could hear him chuckling to himself as he made his way back down the hall.

“Told ya the red hair made you look like one of us,” Collin said, flicking one of my braids off my shoulder. I went to swat

his hand away but he grabbed my wrist before I could. “And you did the plaits,” he said.

“Only because it keeps my hair under control in this weather,” I said, nodding out the window at the darkening sky and fighting

a smile.

“So you say.” He let my wrist slip through his fingers without breaking eye contact.

“Are we sure it’s not going to rain on us?” The more I looked out the window, the more menacing the clouds looked.

“It’s Ireland, Chels,” he said. “It’s gonna bloody pour.”

The sound of my name, or the first half of it, anyway, echoed in the empty lobby. Had it not been my name, it might have just

been an indiscernible sound under the thick blanket of his accent. But it was my name, and it settled around us with the weight

of the clouds.

“Are ya ready, then?” he asked, looking from my head to my toes and back again, probably because I was standing there like

an idiot.

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s do it.”

The stadium was already pretty rowdy when we arrived, given the match was between Galway and Dublin, and I had to shove my

hands into my back pockets so I wouldn’t reach for Collin’s as we wove through the crowd. Though he didn’t seem to get the

hands-to-yourself memo, because he took every opportunity to rest his fingertips on my lower back while we wound our way to

our seats.

“So,” he said, nodding toward the field. “Double or nothing, huh?”

“As long as you’re ready to hand those keys over,” I said. “And I want Galway.”

I wasn’t sure whether the sound that came out of his mouth was more of a gasp or a laugh, but it was loud enough to make me

jump either way.

“She wants Galway,” he announced to no one in particular. “Proper culchie now, are ya?”

“Excuse me?” I said.

He laughed, clapping his hand on my shoulder. “Someone from outside of Dublin, that’s all. Not a city lass.”

“I am a city lass,” I said. “Just not that city.”

“And how’s your city treating ya?” he asked. The question hung in the air just long enough to sting before it dissolved into

the crowd.

“Fine, thanks. I applied for a great job last week, actually,” I lied. “Event planning at a boutique hotel outside the city.”

I made a mental note to actually apply when I was done running around Galway, doing whatever it was we were doing.

“Aye,” he said after a beat. The following silence was deafening, even in the roar of the stadium.

“So, do we have a deal?” I asked, trying to get back on track.