Page 7 of A Match Made in Ireland
I smiled in thanks, and handed him a few euro coins. I didn’t know if we were drinking Smithwicks or Guinness, but I felt too jittery to ask, so I gulped down a third of the pint. The heavy bitterness awakened my taste buds and I shuddered.
“First time?” he asked.
Raising my glass, I said, “First time. Cheers.” My two roommates raised their glasses and we clinked, just how Americans do.
We stood at the bar silently taking in the scene. College kids filtered in and out, and a group of older men played the fiddle, accordion, bodhran, and banjo. A handful of people clapped their hands to the beat of the drum and I kicked my shoes off under the table, tapping my toes against the cool, wooden floor.
Wholly immersed in pub life, we forgot about the club. Hours and pints later, exhausted and soaked in beer from careless dancers, we stumbled home.
The walk back took longer than the walk down. We followed the written notes from Sinead backward and pointed out random landmarks that kept us on the right path. Now and then, we rested on a stone wall to regain our bearings.
Despite my blistered feet, I felt great. Although my roommates seemed different from those I hung out with at home, we were all going to experience Ireland together. The anticipation of adventure wove around me like a giant spiderweb. It felt uncomfortable, but I busted free and embraced the habitat where all the local creatures lived.
We sang and danced up the hills until we stumbled to Bealtaine. I tripped up the steps to the second floor and burst out laughing. Zoey’s arm broke my fall, and she loosely held me upright. The lights were off, just like we had left them.
Marissa flipped the switch, and the recessed lighting in the kitchen illuminated the apartment.
“Hey!” I whispered, pointing at the dirty dishes in the sink. “Look!”
“Ooh! Is it Jaime?” Zoey matched my volume.
Marissa tiptoed around the apartment and slowly opened my bedroom door. Zoey and I peeked over her shoulder, three heads creating a totem pole in the open space. Lying in the bed next to mine was Jaime. The moonlight streaked through the window and illuminated her red hair, partially covered by her duvet.
“Okay, guys, I’m going to bed. Thanks for a fun night.” I leaned over and hugged them both. “I have a roommate.” I pointed and closed the door behind me.
After shedding my clothes and brushing my teeth, I climbed into my cozy bed, falling asleep with a smile.
The following day, I woke up with a blazing headache, but that wasn’t the only jolt to start my morning. Staring into the bed next to me, I blinked a few times, willing the image to change.
No, it can’t be.
Chapter 5
It was him. The man from the plane sat on the bed, staring at a drawing pad on his lap. The spiky red hair, the smattering of freckles, and the creased eyes triggered a series of flashbacks that ran through my mind: the lack of spatial awareness, the soda down my leg, and the stolen dinner roll.
I pulled the covers over my head, my heart racing and the pit in my stomach digging into my pelvis like a concrete boulder. I dragged the duvet below my eyes and squinted, trying not to be obvious. Am I dreaming? Ha! Maybe I’m having a nightmare. The same red hair, now tousled from sleep, rested against the wall. I pushed the blanket down to my shoulders and said, “Hello, again.”
He looked up from his drawing pad and tilted his head to the left, tapping his pencil against his scruffy chin. “I remember you. From the plane.”
I tried to smile, but my lips refused to rise. I pushed my body against the back wall and pulled the sheet closer to my armpits. “What are you doing here, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“I could ask you the same thing. I live here.”
My eyes bulged and I scrambled to a seated position. “You can’t live here. You’re a guy. This is an apartment with women. Foreign exchange students. A bunch of Americans.” I spoke slowly, as if that would make him understand.
Jaime chuckled and looked down again. “Yes, I am aware, but this is my apartment now. I forgot to renew my housing paperwork last semester, and they gave my room away. This was all that was left. They told me I was living with Rory, Zoey, and Marissa. I take it you’re Rory?”
I nodded.
“I thought you were an Irish lad.”
I swallowed loudly, the saliva crawling down the back of my throat. Reaching across my bed to my nightstand, I downed a bottle of water. Cloudiness from the alcohol still in my system slowed down my brain’s processing ability, and I struggled to understand his words. “You can’t live here,” I said again.
“I wish I didn’t. Living with a bunch of Americans during my last year of college is the last thing I want to do, but it’s that or be homeless so I’ll suck it up.” He returned to his drawing and spoke to his paper. “Nice to meet you, Rory.” His amber eyes looked over, scanning my top half. “Fun time last night?”
My brain beat against my forehead, and I massaged my temples. “Yeah. Sorry if I woke you.”
“No worries. I spent the night with my old flatmates. They live downstairs, and I came up here to crash. I didn’t even hear you come in.”
