Page 27 of An Irish Summer

“Do you want another drink?” he asked, collecting my empty cup and heading toward the bar. “I don’t know about you, but I need another one.”

“Every good celebration requires a drink,” I said, smiling in response to his gritted teeth.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself there. We still have tomorrow. It’s anyone’s game.”

“Spoken like a true loser.”

“Do you want the drink or not?” he asked, holding two glasses behind the bar. I made a zipping motion across my lips, throwing away the imaginary key. “Attagirl,” he said.

“What are you making?” I asked after a minute of watching him mix a cocktail.

“It’s a surprise.”

“Let me guess... you think I’ll like it?”

“Clever girl.” He smiled. Once the drink was poured, he stuck a straw into the glass, plugged one side, then dripped a few drops into his mouth. He let them settle on his tongue while I watched with bated breath.

“Well?” I asked.

“Too bitter,” he said.

“I like bitter.”

“Surprise, surprise.”

“Let me taste it.”

I assumed he would hand me the glass, but instead he collected another few drops inside the straw and stretched it out to me. He brought his other hand to my chin, tilting it up with the tips of his fingers. Before I could even clock what was happening, in a public bar, no less, I steadied his hand with my own, opened my mouth, and drank from the straw. His hand was warm beneath my chin and the drink was cool.

The intimacy of such a mundane moment illuminated the path we were heading down, and I feared I was already in too deep to turn around.

“Well?” he asked. His eyes sparkled even under the fluorescent lights of the bar, and I knew it wasn’t the cocktail that had gone straight to my head.

“Too bitter,” I said. Too bitter indeed.

Chapter 9

“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 aboutkissing 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.”

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