Page 21

Teagan

“Fucking hell, Norah. Of course I’ve never done that! You’re as bad as Gallagher!”

Eamon’s girl has been giving me a run for my money with this “ Never Have I Ever” game. Somehow, we’re the only two still going. Layla held on as long as she could, but after four drinks she was done. It was cute how she thought she could outdrink me though. Her friend, however, must have some sort of superpower that absorbs alcohol.

“Answer it, Teagan!” Norah demands. “Never have I ever gotten my skirt tucked into my underwear after using the bathroom.”

The fire sprite raises a brow, wiggling the pint in her hand. I roll my eyes and chug the last of my beer.

“Happy now?” I ask, glaring at her. She laughs before chugging her own drink. “ What the hell? You’ve never done that either? I was ready to bow out and declare you the winner!”

“Alright, O’Brien,” she slurs, pointing a finger at me. “I challenge you to a tequila shot contest.”

“Ach, tequila?” I grouse. “I fucking hate tequila.”

“Well, if you don’t take the challenge, you automatically lose.”

There’s a nagging voice in the back of my head telling me that we’ve started a new game, but I’m drunk enough to not care. I’m only hearing that I’ll lose and, even though I just told her I was ready to call it quits, the competitive side of me has decided we’re good for one more.

“What happens if I lose, Grady?” I smirk at her.

Norah grins maliciously at me. “If you lose—or don’t accept the challenge—you, Eamon, and Ro have to be my models for the costume fittings for the drag show.”

I hear Eamon curse under his breath. “Don’t do it, mate.”

“What kind of costumes?” Ro asks curiously.

My stomach sinks when Norah starts giggling and sings out, “Wellllll…It is a drag show. And I a m the costume designer, so you do the math.”

She’s mental. “No fucking way, Grady!” I yell.

“You must really think I’ll beat you then.”

Glaring at her, and trying to focus, I nod. “Alright. If you outdrink me, then we’ll agree to play dress-up. But,” I point at her, “If I outdrink you , then you and Layla have to come up with and perform a cheer at our next match. In front of the whole crowd.”

The color drains from Norah’s face and my lovely Layla is looking at her friend with such hatred it’s almost scary. She then turns those eyes my way, and I feel my balls shrivel a bit.

“Absolutely no fucking way, Teagan.”

I grin and drape an arm over her shoulders, pulling her into me so I can kiss her cheek before looking smugly at Norah.

“What’s the matter, Norah? You look a little scared. Afraid I’ll beat you?”

“Norah, don’t you dare agree to this,” Layla seethes next to me.

The red-haired lass and I have a tense glare-off before she nods. “Alright. Deal.”

“What?” Layla shrieks. “Shit. You better win or we’re not friends anymore.”

Laughing, Norah clumsily makes her way to the bar where Alicia is pouring drinks. I move closer to Layla, attempting to kiss her neck, but she shoves me away.

“Uh uh,” she says, shaking her head. “You better hope she wins or this relationship is going to take a turn for the worse.”

“Ah, c’mon, Lovely. Will it really be so bad to cheer for me at a game? You’re a dancer, so you’ll be grand.”

“Teagan, I swear to god. Look at this face,” she points to it, not realizing that I’m always looking at her. “Do I look like I’m joking about this?”

No, she doesn’t, but my drunk arse is too busy thinking about her in a cheer leading costume. “But think of how good you’ll look in that little skirt,” I purr, gripping her thigh before sliding my hand up her inner thigh.

“Don’t.” She clamps her legs together and grabs my wrist, pulling it away. I watch her exit the booth and stomp to the bar.

I chuckle, thinking that maybe I should be worried, but she’s sexy even when she’s angry. I have a feeling the make-up sex will be worth it. On that thought, I stumble up to our group where Norah is informing Alicia of our plan.

“Alright, Teags. Our fate is in your hands. Don’t fuck this up.” Ro is rubbing my shoulders like I’m Conor McGregor about to begin a fight.

Norah lets out a bark of laughter. “Oh, Ro. I have a denim thong with your name on it.”

We all laugh, but none more than Alicia. She’s holding her sides as she giggles away. Rowan, abandoning my shoulders, stalks toward her, growling, “That will be enough out of you, lass. I bet you’d enjoy seeing me in that, wouldn’t you?”

Alicia snorts indelicately. “I’d pluck my eyes out with these bar tongs if I saw your ass in a denim thong.” She waves the tongs in the air.

I can tell that Ro is about to get fired up, so I decide to get a move on. “Let’s do this, Grady. I hope you and Layla enjoy coming up with your cheer. ”

The cheeky sprite actually salutes me before saying, “Bring it, Irish.”

Oh, I’ll bring it.

* * *

The only thing I brought was my body to the floor. I’m curled up, arms folded over my head, as the lasses sing some drunken version of “We Are The Champions”. I feel a pat on my head and lift my eyes to find a gloating Norah.

“Don’t worry, O’Brien. I’ll make sure your costume is a flattering color.” A small smirk dances on her lips. “With a matching boa.”

“Fuck me,” I moan. “How are you even standing? This whole pub is spinning right now.”

She giggles. “It’s okay, Teag. There’s no shame in being a lightweight. Some of us can just hold our liquor better than others.”

Before I can form a retort, Eamon has his arms wrapped around her from behind, pulling her away. He better keep an eye on that one. She’s trouble.

“Oh, baby boy. You’re looking rough.” Layla squats down next to me, brushing my hair back in what would be a touching gesture if not for the fecking smirk on her lovely face. Or faces, rather. There are three of her right now.

“Kill me now. Just put me out of my misery,” I mumble.

A husky laugh leaves her before she turns her head—heads—over her shoulder. “Rowan, come help me get this borracho up and into the Uber.” She’s so loud and my head spins.

I’m not sure if I’m walking, floating, or being dragged to the car because I can’t feel my legs. My stomach is roiling and I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that when I wake up tomorrow, my head will be in ribbons. My head lops to the left where Ro is grumbling about kicking a ball directly into my bollocks at the next practice. I grimace and roll my head to the right. Layla’ eyes meet mine and she smirks at me again.

“You’re so beautiful,” I slur. My eyelids are getting heavy now.

She huffs a laugh. “Thank you.”

“How’d I get so lucky?”

“Good question,” Ro mutters on my other side and Layla snorts.

“Layla,” I mumble. “I love you.”

She jerks her head to look at me, those brown eyes blown wide, her perfect lips falling open on a soft “oh”.

Then the world goes black.

* * *

I was right. My head is in absolute ribbons. It feels like someone is taking a garden dibber to the back of my skull while riding upside down in a waltzer. The last thing I remember is Rowan and Layla hoisting me up off of O’Nelly’s floor.

“Fucking Christ,” I groan into the pillow.

Based on the scent embedded in the pillowcase, I assume that I’m at Layla’s house. She always smells so good—a mixture of soft florals and citrus.

“Buenos dias, guapo.”

Slightly turning my head, I crack my eyelids open to find her lying in bed next to me. Her raven hair is pulled into a high ponytail, sleep lines nestled along her cheek. There’s something in her eyes that I can’t identify. She almost looks nervous.

“Morning, Lovely. What time is it?”

“Just after ten.” Her voice is much softer now. “How are you feeling?” .

“As shook as a hand at mass.”

Layla giggles. “What does that even mean?”

“It’s an Irish saying for very hungover.” Slowly, I roll from my stomach to my side and face her. “We’ve a good amount of terms and lines related to drinking. Shocking, I know.”

Her lips tip up in a smile, but she doesn’t say anything. Lifting a hand, I trace my fingertips over her cheek.

“What is it, Cailín?”

She inhales deeply, like she’s steeling herself for a difficult conversation. “ How much of last night do you remember?”

My brow furrows in confusion. I remember making an arse of myself, but I don’t recall anything too concerning—other than losing that fecking bet to Norah.

“I lost a bet to Norah, but I’d think you’d be pretty happy about that,” I confess.

Her face transforms into a full-blown smile for a second. “Oh, I am. Absolutely. This morning would be going completely different had you won.”

I cringe. “Aye, I imagine. You’re welcome then.”

Layla rolls her eyes but then her smile falls. “Do you remember leaving the pub?”

“Not at all. I vaguely remember floating from the floor to the door, but nothing after that. Why? What’s going on, Layla?”

She squeezes her eyes closed. “It’s nothing.”

“Hey.” I grip her chin. “Look at me.”

I wait for her to open her eyes and when she does, they’re glistening with moisture.

“You said something,” she whispers. “But if you don’t remember, I’m guessing it was just from being drunk, so it doesn’t count.”

“What did I say?”

She shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter. Just forget I said anything.”

Layla starts to slide out of the bed, but I wrap an arm around her, tugging her into me. “Layla, please. Talk to me. If I said something terrible, I need to know so I can make it right.”

She hesitates. As her lips part to speak, the doorbell rings. The shrill sound lances through my head, making me cringe. Layla takes advantage of my misery to jump out of bed and dash out of the room, leaving me floundering at what I could have possibly said to make her act so strange.