Seven Nights in Ireland

That night, Lee and Vegan drug me to a party that one of their mates told them about. I’d planned on going to the pub again, maybe taking Lee and Vegan with me so I didn’t look suspicious, while Matt and Tom were off on an adventure of their own with some girls they’d met earlier in the day. But, instead, they drug me out of the business district and into the country, to a large white house with lights flashing on the inside. We got a cab to drop us off, for a hefty price, in front of the house while the driver went on about how he wasn’t supposed to “drop people off out here”, because of the distance between the house and the business district. We convinced him to take us anyway, not knowing for sure how we’d get home if we were all pissed when we left.

Apart from the massive amounts of alcohol, the party wasn’t as exciting as we’d expected. Almost immediately there were birds at our sides, trying to love up on us. It wasn’t like they came here looking for girls, but soon enough Lee and Vegan were busy with a couple of cute blondes. So, naturally, I looked down at the digits that seemed to be etched into my hand. Of course I put her number into my phone immediately after she turned and walked away, but I couldn’t bring myself to wash it off. Last time I’d used the restroom I took special care not to get soap on that part of my palm when I washed my hands.

I pulled my mobile out of the pocket of my jeans and immediately scrolled to her name. I walked towards the front door, calling “I’ll be back” when Vegan questioned me, and sat down on the steps of the front porch. There was a couple doing a frenchy in the driveway, but other than that, I was basically alone. So, I hit the call button and waited for her to answer.

I thought she wasn’t going to answer—so I almost hung up—but she finally picked up the phone. “Hello?”

“Hey, Finn—“ I started, cutting myself off. “You busy?”

“Oh,” She sounded a little disappointed, which disappointed me too. “It’s you. Hey, Oli.”

“You busy?” I asked again, ignoring the fact that she disregarded my question in the first place.

She cleared her throat and sighed. “Yes, I’m at work.”

“Oh,” Was all I said at first, leaving an awkward silence between us. “You workin’ at the hospital tonight?”

“No.” She replied simply. “I can’t talk to you right now, I’m working.”

“What time do you get off?” I paid no attention to her statement, though I should have, and went on.

She sighed again, sounding frustrated. “Three. I’m hanging up now.”

Click.

I slumped my shoulders forward and rested my elbows on my knees, staring down at the concrete steps. What a bitch… I thought briefly, before pulling my phone back to the front of my face.

Can you text then? I typed quickly, my fingers flying across the screen. Without another thought, I hit send and waited patiently for a reply.

Sure

I smiled, staring at the name Finley at the top of the screen. For some reason, even seeing her name made me nervous. I want you to come to this party I’m at, I typed back, thinking of something else to add; something that would make her want to come. There’s tons of booze. I wasn’t sure if she was a big drinker, but booze—for me—was a good enough reason to come anywhere.

I moved over on the steps while some people left the house, and all but jumped when my mobile vibrated in my hands.

No thanks. I’m really tired.

I rolled my eyes; typical Finn, not wanting anything to do with me. Silly girl. Someone needed to teach her a lesson. Please? I pleaded with her.

Within seconds, she’d texted back and I was—again—smiling like a maniac. Where?

I gave her the address and went back inside, and had a few drinks. I didn’t overdo it—I only had two beers and a couple of shots of jäger—and by the time it was half-past three she was walking across the threshold of the house and into the party. Although it had calmed down quite a bit, there were still tons of people crowded into the living room. I don’t think she realized that when she came into a room, almost everyone’s eyes flickered over to her. She drew attention to herself without even trying. The way she looked like she didn’t care all the time astounded me. Only Finn would come into a party with her work clothes on; a white t-shirt with beer stains on it, a pair of knee-length shorts, an apron still tied around her waist, and a black jacket draped over her shoulders. Her eyes darted across the room several times before she spotted me in the corner, but the corners of her mouth twitched up into a half-smile when she did. She approached me shyly—extremely surprisingly—and she glanced over at Lee and Vegan, who were still engaged in conversation with the birds they’d met a few hours ago.

“I’m glad you came.” I bent down and talked in her ear, as it was difficult to be heard over the music and loud voices in the background.

She nodded, glancing around the room another time. “Where’re the drinks? I’m right thirsty.”

“Here.” I handed her my cup of beer, surprised when she took it and began sipping it.

She scrunched up her nose with the first couple of drinks, but she soon became adapted to the bitter lager and could drink it like she’d been drinking it for years. It was a little awkward at first; we didn’t say much other than the typical “how was your day”, “did you have a good time at work”, and we laughed every once in a while at a stupid sod that kept hitting on all the girls. Poor lad—didn’t know how to get the ladies.

“Is Oli short for something, or is it just Oli?” She asked finally, when we sat down on the sofa in the living room; a few people got up and left, leaving an open opportunity for us, Lee, Vegan, and the girls they had with them.

“Oliver.” I took a drink of my beer, and held back a burp that was trying to force its way through; I thought it might be rude to burp in front of her at this point. “It’s lame, I know.”

She smiled, mockingly. “That’s real cute.”

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t make fun of me, alright? It wasn’t my choice.”

“I’m not making fun of you!” She defended herself, holding back a laugh. “I really think that’s cute.”

“Why don’t you like to be called Finley?” I asked.

She shrugged her shoulders and took another drink of the beer I’d given her almost an hour ago, glancing around the room sluggishly. She looked knackered, but I didn’t want her to leave. If she tried to leave, I had a feeling I would try to stop her. “I dunno.”

I pursed my lips a little. “There’s gotta’ be a reason. What’s wrong with it?”

“I just don’t like it.” She answered, shrugging again. “It doesn’t fit me very well.”

“I think it’s perfect.” I stated matter-of-factly, smiling.

She laughed. “It really doesn’t matter what you think.”

“I think it does.” I raised my eyebrows teasingly. “You care what I think, you just don’t want me to know it.”

She didn’t respond to that, just turned in her seat a little and kept drinking. Within a few minutes, though, she was facing me again, staring down at her cup. “I hate my parents.”

I looked taken aback—I imagine—when she said that, because I really didn’t care what she thought about her parents. I had no clue why she would’ve told me that. “Cool.” I said uneasily, confused.

“They always flipped out whenever people called me Finn. They were proper lame, thought Finn was stupid. So when I found out how much they hated it, I started making people call me that.” She said, taking another drink. “They kicked me out over it, haven’t spoken to them since I was seventeen.”

“That’s a ridiculous reason to kick someone out, y’know.” I said, laughing. “That’s all? You didn’t do anything else to piss them off?”

She shrugged. “I was into binge drinking, but they didn’t really know about that and the partying. That was basically all it took, the whole name thing.”

I shook my head. “That has to suck, Finn.”

“Nah,” She shrugged, finishing her cup. “I really don’t hate the name Finley so bad. I just like people to call me Finn because it pisses them off. I’d rather not speak to them anyway.”

“How can you not talk to your parents?” I asked. I was close—very close—with both of my parents. My mum was the person I could tell anything to. My dad was my biggest supporter. He organized all of my Drop Dead parties and helped set stuff up for practices. They were both very important to me, and it killed me to hear that someone else could hate their parents so much.

She sighed, blowing a piece of her fringe out of her eyes. “They’re right mad, they are. They’re really judgy and hypocritical. My dad got high every day of his life until my mum had me, and when he found a bag of weed in my drawer when I was…” She thought for a moment, “fourteen, he was proper mad. Told me if he ever caught me with it again he’d make sure I never left my room again—other than to go to school, that is.”

“Yeah,” I argued, “but it’s a parent’s job to keep you on the right track. It wasn’t personal or anything, I bet he just wanted you to be better than he was.” She looked mad at my choice of words, so I started again. “There’s nothing wrong with you, I’m just saying…”

“Sayin’ what?” She questioned, annoyed.

I shrugged. “I dunno. I know if I had a kid, I wouldn’t want him to drop out of school to tour the country with his little-to-nothing band. It worked out okay for me, but not everyone can handle it. Sometimes I don’t even think I can. I would want better for my kid.”

She drank the rest of her beer and sat her cup down on the coffee table, glancing around the room. “I have to go. It’s almost five, and I’m knackered.”

“Oh,” I stood up when she did, placing my cup next to hers on the hard wood table. “Did you drive?”

She shook her head. “No, I walked.”

“I could—“ I started, not sure if I should finish. “I could walk you home or somethin’. Or at least halfway so you’re not all by yourself.”

She rolled her eyes, but smiled a little. “Sure. Whatever.”

“Really?” I asked, surprised that she actually accepted.

She nodded. “It’s not like you would take no for an answer anyway. You would have followed me whether I’d agreed or not.”

I smiled, triumphantly. “Now you understand how I operate.”

“No,” She chuckled. “I don’t. Don’t get it in your pretty little head that I actually want you to walk me home, okay?” I followed her to the door, sending a short text to Vegan, letting him know I was leaving.

“So you think I’m pretty?” I caught the last half of what she said to me, sliding my mobile into my back pocket as we descended the front porch steps and started down the sidewalk. I smiled at her when she looked at me, narrowing her eyes.

She shook her head. “Don’t twist my words around, alright?”

“I’m not twisting anything.” I argued, laughing. “You said ‘pretty little head’. That means you think I’m pretty.”

“Fine.” She sighed. “I might think that you’re somewhat attractive. But that doesn’t mean shit, you got it?”

“I think that means something.” I retorted, shoving my hands deep into my hip pockets. “I don’t know why you keep fighting it, Finley…” I joked, making her laugh.

“Shut your big gob, okay?” She snickered. “You’re too confident in yourself.”

“No, I’m really not.” I admitted. “But when I know someone likes me, it’s easy for me to come off that way.”

“I told you, I don’t like you.” She retorted, crossing her narrow arms over her chest. She glanced up at me out of the corner of her eye, compressing a smile. “Listen, you’re just not my type, alright?”

“Well,” I started, wrapping my arm around her shoulder playfully. “Who said I wanted to be more than friends?”

She narrowed her eyebrows. “Really, Oli? I know you’ve been trying to get into my pants since the moment you saw me. That’s more than friends.”

I shook my head. “No, not necessarily.” We turned the corner at the end of the street and waited for some cars to pass before we started across the road. “Lots of friends get into each other’s pants.”

“Well, I don’t have friends like that.” She said sternly, shrugging my arm off of her shoulder. “You got it?”

I laughed a little, hanging my head in defeat. “Yeah, I got it.”

“So stop trying.” She continued, before blinking and smiling. “I say that like you’ll actually listen to me.”

“You know I won’t.” I grinned, letting her push me playfully.

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I’ve come to expect that now.”

We finally made it to her house a few minutes later, a small brick building with a wide front porch. It was fairly nice on the outside; the windows were virtually spotless, there was no grime covering the red bricks, and the sidewalk out front had no weeds poking out of the cracks like there were in front of the other houses on the street. The small grass area between the house and the sidewalk was cut down perfectly, reminding me of a golf course. I walked her up onto the porch, and she stopped to face me.

“So if I asked you to come inside, would you expect me to shag you?” She asked suddenly, her face unreadable.

I hesitated for a moment, trying to answer her question correctly. I didn’t know what she wanted me to say. So, being honest with her, I answered. “Yeah.”

She smiled a little, getting my hopes up. “Well, I guess I better not ask you in then, yeah?”

I rolled my eyes while she laughed quietly. “I guess.”

“Goodnight, Oli.” She said sweetly. “Cheers for walking me home.”

I nodded sarcastically. “Sure thing. Any time.”

And she disappeared through her front door, a little of the cold air from inside her house grazing past me as she closed the door. I turned on my heel and descended her porch, making my way—slowly but surely—back to the hotel.