Page 36 of An Irish Summer

to be about having a proper good time in the city,” he said, “and here we are carrying on about life and staring at the Liffey.”

He shook his head, extending a hand to help me up. “Let’s end on a high.”

We tossed our empty cardboard boats in a nearby bin, then linked our arms again to return to the city streets.

“Where to now?” I asked, resisting the urge to look at my watch. I hadn’t forgotten about the interview, but I hadn’t forgotten

about my newfound resolve to actually embrace the night either. I also hadn’t forgotten about Collin’s fingertips on my skin,

his breath on the back of my neck. The way his chest felt against my shoulder blades. His lips against my ear.

“Back to the hostel?” he said, and I tried to keep my sudden disappointment from creeping onto my face. “I heard they have

a great little bar that’s open nearly all night.” This time, my face must have given me away, because he laughed and tightened

his elbow around my hand. “And, since we’ll already be back at the hostel, it’ll be nice and easy to get up to bed and get

a decent night’s sleep for your interview.”

I should have been relieved he remembered, but instead my disappointment reappeared. I thought we were supposed to be ending

the night on a high, and thinking about an interview for a job I didn’t even want was the opposite.

The bar in the hostel lobby was little more than a counter with a handful of half-empty bottles on a shelf behind it. An older

woman straightened when she saw us approaching, slinging a towel over her shoulder, and slapping her hands flat on the bar.

“What’ll it be, then?” she asked. We eyed the small, lackluster collection of bottles before Collin ordered a local beer for

himself and a club soda for me, both of which required no mixing from the bartender. All she had to do was pop the tops, and

her relief was palpable.

“Long night?” Collin asked.

“Tending bar in a hostel is right brutal sometimes, you know that?”

We both laughed. “Actually, I do,” Collin said. “Do the same thing myself over in Galway there.”

The bartender turned back to face us, her gray eyes noticeably brighter than before. A hint of jealousy creeped in that Collin

had that effect on everyone.

“Do ye really?” she said, looking him up and down. “A fine young thing like yerself probably has a better go of it though,

I reckon.”

“Ah, it’s hell sometimes for all of us,” he said, and she smiled, making her appear ten years younger.

“I’d drink to that,” she said, raising the empty glass she’d been cleaning. “And what about you, dear? What do you do?”

“I’m the receptionist,” I said. “And I do some event planning on the side.” Or by now was I the event planner with some receptionist

work on the side? Did it even matter?

“Aye, with this bloke, do ye? Hostel life for the lot of us then?”

“Oh, no. Not me. Just for the summer. Then I’m back to my life.”

“Poor thing,” she tsked. I tried not to be offended, but the pity in her eyes and the way Collin was holding in a laugh made

it hard.

“Been tryin’ to tell her just that,” Collin said. “She doesn’t listen.”

“They never do, do they?”

“I’m right here,” I reminded them, though neither seemed to care. “Though really I should be asleep, resting before tomorrow.”

“What’s that then?” the bartender asked.

“An interview,” I said. “Part of the Back-to-Real-Life plan.”

“Dear, I hate to be the one to tell ye”—she leaned in—“but wherever ye are is yer real life.”

“If only it was that simple.”

“It is.”

I finished my club soda while I searched for something else to say. I settled on “thank you” as I rose from the stool, searching

my bag for a few stray euros.

She dropped another beer and club soda on the counter. “On the house, it is,” she said. I thanked her again and nudged Collin,

suggesting it was time for both of us to leave.

“Right, then.” He echoed my thanks and left a few euros on the bar anyway, then followed me from the lobby in the direction

of our dorm.

“I didn’t expect the bartender to also be a therapist,” I said as soon as we were out of earshot.

“I don’t know, Chels. Old Irish women are wise. I’d listen to her if I were you.”

“Of course you would, because you’ve been saying the same thing for weeks.”

“You think it would have sunk in by now.”

“It’s making a dent,” I admitted, as much to his surprise as my own.

“Let’s head up to the roof,” he said. “You can tell me what’s going on up here.” He tapped my temple and sparks rained through

my body. I nodded, wordlessly following him through a doorway up a stairwell.

The air was cooler on the roof than it had been on the ground, and I took a few steadying gulps before we sat. “So,” he said

after a moment, “talk to me.”

“We’ve done a lot of talking tonight,” I said. “You aren’t sick of me?”

“Oh, no, I very much am, I’m just also very nosy.”

I laughed, knocking my shoulder into his, making him smile. A knowing grin that saw right through me and was relentless in

making me feel a rush of emotion I didn’t even know I was capable of feeling. Like I was flying.

“It’s making a dent,” I said again, throwing my hands up. “Everything everyone has been saying since I got here, it’s making

a dent, that’s all. I didn’t even want to come to Ireland at the beginning of the summer, and now I’m not entirely sure I

want to leave. I was so convinced I was happiest in Boston, but now that I’m here, I’m not so sure anymore.” I rubbed my hands

over my face, no longer caring what my makeup might look like. “It’s just a lot. And it’s not like I expected it to be a little,

but I didn’t expect it to be this hard.”

“That means you’re having a great trip, at least,” he said, taking a long swig. “All good trips should subvert expectations,

don’t you think?”

“For you,” I said, shaking my head. “But not for me. At least not where my future is concerned.”

“What about where this is concerned?” he asked, noticeably quieter than a moment ago, gesturing back and forth between us.

“You didn’t expect this, did you?”

“No,” I whispered. “I didn’t.”

“So the unexpected isn’t all bad, then, is it?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but he pressed his lips to mine before words could come out. One single kiss, one hot sweep

of his tongue, one deep exhale, and my body responded to him in a way that answered his question better than words could have.

“Come on,” he said when he pulled away, far sooner than I wanted.

“I promised we’d make sure you were well-rested for your interview, and we’ve kept you out late enough.

” He got to his feet and held out a hand to help me up, for which I was grateful.

The kiss—and the mention of the interview—had turned my legs to jelly.

“Lead the way.”

Collin slipped the key card from his back pocket as we approached the door, swiping it over the sensor and quietly letting

us in. We made our way to the back of the room where we’d stored our bags when we’d first arrived, which felt like years ago

by now.

The rest of the room was sleeping, so we were silent as we got ready for bed, stealing glances at each other while we changed

our clothes. With Collin down to nothing but a pair of shorts, I couldn’t help but sneak a peek, and he didn’t seem to mind.

His eyes sparkled even in the dark, and something about the silence heightened the rest of my senses. His gaze alone made

me feel like I was on fire.

It wasn’t long before I climbed up to the top bunk and he slid into the bottom, and we whispered good nights over the railing.

With the rest of the room sound asleep in the darkness, we had no choice but to end our night.

Or so I thought.

I wasn’t sure how long I’d been lying in bed before I heard Collin’s voice. I wasn’t sleeping, just lying there, staring at

the ceiling, counting my breaths. Four seconds in, eight seconds out. Every time I heard him move on the mattress below, my

heart rate skyrocketed, and I was more awake than I’d ever been.

“Chels,” he whispered eventually.

“Coll,” I whispered back.

“Are you awake?”

“Of course I’m awake.”

His laughter was breathy, and it raised goose bumps along my arms. “I’m not ready for this night to be over,” he said, his

voice low and slow. “I don’t want to be apart from you yet.”

My breath hitched, and I was sure he heard it. “Me neither,” I confessed, paralyzed by the thought of what might happen next.

I didn’t move a muscle, fearful of anything that would break the spell.

“C’mere to me,” he whispered, and I unraveled.

I leaned over the side of the bed to get a glimpse of him, and a bar of neon light from the window split his face in two,

illuminating one bottle-green eye and almost an entire summer of want.

Without another word, I lowered myself down the ladder and climbed into bed beside him. There was nothing left to say that

couldn’t be said with our bodies, even just with the simple act of sleeping side by side.

We folded ourselves into each other under the covers, and I savored the instant warmth of his arm around me as I settled my

head on his chest. I was worried my mess of hair might be a nuisance, but the way he gently untangled the ends as he ran his

fingers through it told me he didn’t mind.

“Tell me another fairy story,” I whispered after a while. My eyes were heavy, but I still wasn’t ready to end the night. This

was what I wanted to remember. “I’m starting to really like them, you know.”

“Never thought I’d hear you say that.” His soft laugh rumbled in my ear.

“Me neither,” I said. “Though I also never would have thought we’d be here, so I guess we’re full of surprises.”

“Where, in Dublin you mean?” he asked, and I pinched his ribs. He squirmed for a second, only to pull me closer when he recovered. “No, I know what you mean. Here in bed together, like.”

“Exactly.”

“You aren’t wishing you were somewhere else, are ya?”

“No,” I said, wondering if he could hear my smile. “I’m not. For what might be the first time since I’ve gotten to Ireland,

I’m exactly where I want to be.”

He pressed his lips to the top of my head, inhaling slowly in a way that told me I wasn’t the only one savoring this.

“This is one I used to tell my sisters as a bedtime story when they were young,” he said, slipping easily into the voice he

saved for storytelling. “They were always asleep before the ending, and something tells me you might be the same. But I’ll

crack on.”

I closed my eyes so the only sensations I noticed were the sound of his voice and the feel of his warm hand tracing idle patterns

on my back as he spoke.

“This one’ll be the story of Connla and the Fairy Maiden,” he said. I tried hard to stay awake as I listened, imagining this

man, this golden-haired son of a fighter, and his encounters with the Fairy Maiden.

I drifted in and out, catching something about the dreaded defiance of family but the undeniable allure of paradise. It would

be the choice of a lifetime for Connla, between loyalty, logic, and the promise of pleasure. I couldn’t decide what choice

I hoped he would make. But, just like Collin’s sisters, I was asleep before the end.