Page 66 of An Irish Summer

“Keep teasing me like that and we might not even make it to the dance floor,” he mumbled with his lips pressed against my ear.

“How do you know that’s not my plan?”

“Too soon.” He pulled back from me, shaking his head. “Judging by our last kiss, you like a little delayed gratification.”

“Collin!” I gasped, swatting his arm, which only made him chuckle.

“What?” he asked, feigning innocence. “Tell me I’m wrong and I’ll believe you.”

I opened and closed my mouth, searching for something to say that wasn’t a lie and coming up empty.

“That’s what I thought.” He smiled, redirecting his attention to the bar. I had a feeling this would be a long night. “Fancy a Guinness?” he asked. “In honor of culture and all that.”

“Can’t say no to a Guinness, can I?”

“She’s learning.” He beamed at me, then signaled the bartender. When our drinks came and I reached for my wallet, Collin put a warm hand on my wrist. “I’ve got ya.”

“At least let me get one round by the end of the night,” I protested. “As an apology for the dancing.”

“I’m sure you can find another way to repay me,” he said, flicking his eyes almost imperceptibly to my mouth. “Besides, I feel like the dancing might be a proper gift in itself.”

At that, I took a few solid gulps of my beer, prompting Collin to do the same. After which he licked his lips, and I was a goner.

I followed him through the crowd and back to some of our friends, who had found their own drinks and a high-top table on the side of the dance floor.

“Chels, there you are,” Flo said as we approached. “Was beginning to think we’d already lost you two.”

“Hardly,” I said. “We were just at the bar.”

“Good. I’m not ready for you to disappear quite yet. We’ve dancing to do.”

Right on cue, the caller introduced herself and invited everyone to the dance floor. She was a tall woman clad in a pattern similar to Collin’s kilt, her graying hair falling loose from its bun on the top of her head. She had the kind of voice that projected across town even without the microphone, so it didn’t take long for everyone to make their way into the clearing and quiet down for her instructions.

All at once she named a dance and described a formation, and before I could decipher another word through her thick accent, Collin’s arms slipped around my waist and whisked me into the commotion. I tried my best to listen to the steps,but Collin didn’t give me much room to think. He pulled me around the dance floor like I weighed nothing at all. Catching my breath felt like a pipe dream.

“You two make a great couple,” Flo said when I was flung into her arms as we changed partners. We swung around in a do-si-do, and I tried not to get dizzy, but I didn’t think it was the dancing that was making my head spin.

“Then it’s a shame we keep changing partners,” I teased, trying to embrace the fun of having a friend on a date with me, without overthinking every minute. My new partner was a man, whom I might have noticed was vaguely handsome had I not been on a date. He twirled me with the same confidence Collin had, and for a moment I envied him.

All of them, really, who knew how to do this. Who had been doing this for generations. It was a past, present, and future cornerstone of their identities.

As I settled into a rhythm, I let my thoughts wander home to Boston. I tried to think of any traditions that had been passed down from generations of Bostonians before us, but I came up empty. Maybe it was because my parents had only moved to Boston after I was born. Or maybe we weren’t as connected to the city as I thought we were.

Either way, we didn’t have a melting pot of travelers coming together to dance in an old barn. We didn’t grow up learning the same step. We didn’t have a unified tradition just to celebrate being alive and together.

If someone visited Boston, would I bend over backward trying to make them fall in love with it? WasIeven in love with it?

Before I could think of an answer, I was pulled back into Collin’s arms to finish the dance the way we started.

“You have a good time with Declan, there?” he asked as wemade our way to the sidelines to reset for the next dance. God, they didn’t waste any time.

“Declan?” I asked, trying not to pant.

“That tall bloke over there,” he leaned and pointed to the man I’d been dancing with a minute ago. “Looked quite chuffed to be dancing with ya.”

“Then maybe you should be asking Declan if he had a good time with me.”

“I won’t be asking him anything,” he said.

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