Page 31 of An Irish Summer

“Galway had to be good for something.”

He rolled his eyes under lashes dark and slick with raindrops. Lashes I had no business staring at. “At least you’re giving her a chance,” he said. I resisted the urge to remind him he hadn’t given me much of a choice.

By then the rain was coming down in sheets, and we were trapped in the slow-moving sea of other fans rushing to the car park. There was hardly an overhang, and I could feel the rain soaking into my skin under my clothes.

“Come on,” Collin said, grabbing my wrist and pulling me from the crowd. “I know a shortcut.” We stumbled backward against the current, bobbing and weaving until it spit us out into a dim corridor that appeared to be closed for repairs. “I think if we follow this around the back, we’ll be near the truck by the time we’re back out in the rain.”

“Do you really think I’m closed off?” I asked before I could stop myself. The sound of the rain had been reduced to a steady hum in the distance, and the quiet in the corridor let his words seep in.

“What?” he asked, looking absentmindedly down the corridor for the right way to go.

“You said I’m trying to keep you from getting to know me,” I said. “Did you mean that?”

He turned to face me, and I focused on counting the raindrops that dripped from his hair while I waited for a response. “Is that not the case, then?” he asked. “Tell me it’s not true and I’ll believe it.”

“It’s not you,” I said.

“Let me guess, it’s you? A classic.”

“I meant that it’s not you, specifically. It’s just... the circumstances,” I said, though even I knew it was lame. “Since I’m only here for the summer, there’s no need for everyone to really get to know me, is there?”

“Is that what you always think? That the only people who should get to know you are the ones who are in it for the long haul?”

“We’re different, Collin,” I said, clapping my hands together. I wanted to blame my increasing frustration on my cold, wet clothes, but I knew that wasn’t the case. “I’ve had the same best friend since I was a kid. She’s been there for everything that’s ever happened to me, so there’s nothing to hide. But you’re meeting new people every single day, people who come and go with the wind, which might be comfortable for you, but I’m not like that.” I was winded by the time I finished talking.

“So you plan to just get through the summer without actually connecting with anyone?”

“It’s not... I mean, when you say it like that, it sounds bad,” I fumbled. “But I’m not good at meaningful connections in such a short amount of time.”

“I don’t think you’re giving yourself enough credit,” he said,taking a step closer. The space was already tight, so this put him only a breath away.

“It’s only going to make it harder to leave,” I said, barely audible over the rain.

“So now you’re worried the leaving’s gonna be hard?” The sheen on his lips made it impossible to look away from his growing smile, and it made me want to lie motionless in the car park in the rain for the rest of the afternoon.

“Aren’t we supposed to be taking a shortcut?” I asked. “At this rate, everyone else has probably gone by now.”

“And whose fault is that?” He laughed, and I was impossibly relieved at the sound.

I groaned at myself. “I just don’t like when people have negative opinions of me, that’s all.”

Collin took only a step closer to me, but it felt like a leap in the narrow corridor. The wet jersey clung to him just tight enough that I could make out the lines of his body, which made me wonder what they would feel like under my fingers. The curves of his pecs, the hard plane of his stomach, the peaks and valleys of his collarbones.

“If you think I have a negative opinion of you, Chelsea, then you haven’t been paying attention.”

“Maybe I’m just thick,” I said, mimicking his accent on the last word. If Ada had known I’d made a joke in a moment like this, she’d have killed me.

His laugh bounced around the tight walls, cutting through the sound of the rain. “You’re something, all right.” I answered with a cheesy smile, and he brought his fingertips to my chin, tilting my face toward his. “So is that smile,” he said, far quieter than the laugh. I inhaled sharply but said nothing.

“Are ya ready, then?” he asked when I finally looked awayafter a moment of excruciating, impossibly charged silence. “Once we get out of the stadium, we’re going to have to make a run for it.” Just like that, he was peering around the corner and we were back on track to the truck. And the lingering heat of his hand nearly set me on fire.

Making a run for it sounded grand.

By the time we got out of the rain we collapsed into the truck in a fit of laughter, soaking the seats and flicking water at each other. Any tension from the stadium washed away on the run, and it felt good to be back in friendly territory.

“Oh, watch your feet, there,” Collin said, gesturing to where my sneakers were already soaking everything underneath them. I lifted them from a leatherbound journal I must have missed when I got into the truck before the game, but he snatched it up and tossed it into the back of the cab before I could inspect it any further.

“Secret diary?” I asked.

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