Page 175 of Releasing 10
“You’re welcome.”
“Okay then.”
“Yep.”
“So you’re my girlfriend.”
“Yep, and you’re my boyfriend.”
“I sure am.”
“Whoa.”
“I know.”
“Do you want to…maybe kiss me now?”
“I definitely want to kiss you, Liz. If you want me to kiss you?”
“I definitely want that, Hugh.”
“Okay.” Heart racing violently, I held my breath when my best friend guided my arms around his neck before slowly drawing my body close to his. “I will.”
PART 12
New Millenniums
PARTY LIKE IT’S 1999
Hugh
DECEMBER 31, 1999
“STOP CHEATING.”
“I’m not cheating.”
“Yes, you are. You can’t hide in the mansion, Claire. You have to completeactualmissions.”
“I told you not to give her a turn,” I grumbled from my perch on my bed. I tossed a rugby ball into the air and then snatched it back up, while my sister and Gibsie battled it out for dominion over my PlayStation controller. “Claire plays with the butler instead of doing missions.”
Tonight was New Year’s Eve, and my parents, along with Sadhbh and Keith, were heading to Catherine and Mike’s annual bash at Old Hall House. Clearly, all our parents had chipped in to pay Caoimhe a pretty penny to babysit all of us because there was no other way she would’ve agreed to give up the last night out of an entire millennium.
Christ, even my father had somehow managed to resurrect himself from the pits of despair to go out with Mam. I had no doubt it was temporary, of course. If I’d learned anything over the past four years, it was that my father had developed a “ready, steady, stop” attitude toward life. Sometimes he tried; more times he gave up. It was a pattern my mother and sister had grown accustomed to—and even accepted. Not me. I knew the man he once was would never stand for his broken promises. The father I knew would kick the father I have’s ass.
“It’s calledTomb Raider IIfor a reason,” Gibsie growled, bringing me back to the present, while failing to win back the controller. “Because she raids tombs, Claire. Not kitchens cupboards.”
“I’m exploring, Gerard,” she defended with a huff, tongue poking out from the corner of her mouth as she concentrated on locking the butler in the freezer. “Besides, it’s my turn, guys. I can do what I want.”
“I told you,” I mused, feeling validated. “It’s worse than when we give her a turn onGTA, and she stops in traffic at the red light.”
“Because the red light means stop, Hugh Andrew Biggs.”
“Not in an alternate universe, Claire Bridget Biggs.”
“Ah, lad, look at Lara Croft’s boobs,” Gibsie chuckled around a mouthful of popcorn, as he pointed at the screen of my portable television. “Make her jump again, Claire-Bear.”
“Gerard! Don’t sayboobs.”
