I laugh, my heart feeling lighter than it has in days.
She shows me our room, and I drop my things off before she drags me to a little burger place off campus. I go to order a pint, and she rolls her eyes.
“Not in Ireland anymore, lass,” she says with a giggle. “You’re not legal here, remember?”
Bloody hell.
I sip my soda instead when my phone buzzes with a text. I glance at the screen, expecting a text from Sheena or Nolan or Tiernan, when my heart suddenly skips a beat.
Lachlan: Heard you made it to campus safely.
I scowl at the screen.
Aye.
I shut my phone off and shove it in my pocket. And when Aisling flirts with a few guys sitting beside us in the restaurant, I grin at them and welcome them to sit with us. Before I know what’s happening, we’re heading to the waterfront, all four of us, drunk on the salt air and freedom. I suppose my guard follows at a respectable distance, and I don’t fucking care.
We sit by the harbor, watching the boats come in and out. The sun sets low on the horizon, and I know back at home, it set hours ago. Sheena and Nolan will have the little ones tucked into bed as they curl up on the sofa and watch a show together. Peace and contentment will settle over the McCarthy family home, as the guard keep their watch, and everyone settles in for the night.
Aisling gets up from the bench and wiggles her fingers at me, when one of the boys we’re with asks her to take a walk. I frown at her, but she’s already gone. She should know better than to take off with someone she just met. Bloody hell, I know better than that myself.
And now she’s left me alone with a guy I don’t know, goes by the name of Matt. He’s good looking enough, I suppose, and seems friendly. He’s tall and on the thinner side, with messy, dark brown hair, and mischievous brown eyes. Tanned, and my age, but he still looks like a boy to me.
“Smoke?” he says, when he lights up a joint. I frown and give him a sideways glance. He’s got a small crest of a tattoo on his inner wrist that intrigues me.
“What’s that?” I ask him, pointing to the ink.
He shrugs. “Stupid tat I got when I graduated high school. Doesn’t mean anything.”
Graduated high school. God, he’s so young. I mean he’s my age, really, but I definitely don’t feel like we’re even in the same league.
I reach for his joint. Just one puff. I never smoke, but I’m feeling overwhelmed and homesick. He grins when I take a puff, inhale, then exhaust the sweet, acrid smoke.
“I don’t usually smoke,” I tell him.
“You hardly did now,” he says, taking it back. “Shame.” We sit in silence for long moments. He tries to make small talk, but I give him one-word answers. My head’s a little lighter, but it wasn’t enough to really give me that escapism I crave. The magic of the freedom I felt just hours ago has vanished in the wake of exhaustion and the pang of homesickness.
“I guess,” I say. “But I’m utterly shattered.”
He grins. “Shattered. I like the way you talk.”
I barely contain the desire to roll my eyes. I get to my feet and stretch, then look about me. I realize this isn’t like the clean lines and angles of Ballyhock, where all roads lead home, but much more complex. I have no idea where I am.
I scowl at my phone and turn it on, but as soon as it boots up, I’m assaulted with a slew of texts.
Aisling: I’ll be back later, going to hang out for a bit with Joe Shmoe.
I roll my eyes. I cannot believe she’s ditched me on my first night here.
Megan: Did you make it safely to Boston, you little globetrotter?? Check in with me!!
But then my heart comes to a stuttering halt when I see Lachlan’s name again.
Lachlan: Glad you made it there safely.
Then half an hour later.
Lachlan: Send me a text when you have a minute.
A half hour after that.
Lachlan: Bloody hell, check in with me. Why isn’t your location showing up on my phone?
I scowl at the phone, tempted to turn around and whip it off the pier into the sea. Why the hell does he care? He’s an ocean away or maybe more, depending on the fucking “international mission” he’s on.
I don’t respond to his texts. He has no claim over me. He isn’t my guard, and he isn’t my family.
He’s nothing to me.
He’s everything to me.
“Let’s get some pizza?”
I’m not that hungry, but I guess he’s got the munchies.
“Okay,” I say. “I’ll go with you.”
We amble our way over to a stand that sells pizza by the slice. I get us slices and drinks and pay. He doesn’t even try to stop me, just takes the slice I give him without even thanking me. Loser.