Page 137 of To Hell With It

Do I need to bring anything?

Only yourself.

* * *

I called Una straightaway.

‘I think Niall O’Callaghan just asked me out on a date.’

‘At last!! Where’s he taking you?’

‘For a picnic up Slievenamon?—’

‘You two are a match made in Drangan!’ Una butted in.

‘Shut up, what shall I wear?’

‘I’d go with something different – salmon pink?’

‘Ha ha. I mean it, Una. Do you think he thinks it’s a date?’

‘Do you want it to be one?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Oh my God.’

‘What?’

‘You do!’

‘No, I said I don’t know.’

‘Pearl?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you want those condoms back?’

‘Fuck off.’

But I kind of did.

ChapterSixty-Six

Why did I feel like it was a date? Why did I want it to be? Why did I keep thinking of Niall’s penis? Why? Why? Why? Because I liked it? Because he made me a woodlice house and painted his gate ocean blue? Because I was finally getting to have a picnic with a man? Because he’d suggested Slievenamon? Because I have OCD?

I’d laid three outfits on the bed: my mustard-yellow dress, my salmon-pink jumper and jeans, my peach-coloured lacy vest top (the one I’d worn to the pub when I stuffed my bra with socks) and a pair of denim shorts that still had the label on. My grandmother used to saytake me as I am or don’t take me at all,so I pulled on my vest top and salmon-pink jumper and grabbed the denim shorts before I could change my mind.

I applied my cherry-pink lipstick then rubbed it off, then reapplied it again. Jesus, what was I doing? Niall wouldn’t notice any of it anyway. Why would he? I didn’t have time to straighten my hair, and actually, I didn’t want to, so I ran my fingers through my curls to at least tame them and then the doorbell rang and I made my way downstairs with nothing but Niall’s penis on my mind.

When I got to my porch a pack of condoms lay on the matt with Una’s name scribbled out, replaced by a smiley face. I grabbed them so Niall wouldn’t see them, slipped them into my back pocket, pulled my salmon-pink jumper down and then opened the door.

Niall was stood there with a rucksack on his back. He was wearing shorts and a white T-shirt and for the first time in my life I admitted it (in my head, not out loud) that Niall was hot. Niall was hot and I’d seen his penis and he was taking me for a picnic up Slievenamon, and I’d worn my bloody salmon-pink jumper.

‘Ready?’ he said.

‘Yep,’ I said back.

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