Chapter Eight

Eamon

Tuesday morning comes too soon. I roll over, slam a hand down on my alarm, and groan, cursing our sadistic coach. Practice is way too fecking early on Tuesdays and Thursdays. If it were up to him, he'd have us practice at this time every day, all week long. We start drills at four in the morning and keep it up for two hours. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday are easier to manage, and the weekends are usually free unless we have a game.

I pull on my practice kit, brush my teeth, and head for the door. It's going to be a long day. My first class isn't until eight, so blessedly, I'll have time to shower and grab breakfast before hitting the books. I have three classes today, though, and each one lasts around two hours. Education degrees are no joke.

When I arrive at the field and step out of my car, a bleary-eyed Teagan approaches from a few spaces down and grunts out greeting as he pulls his hood over his head. He's not much of a morning person, so we walk in silence for a few moments before he speaks.

"Ro said you were out with Ginger yesterday. When did that start?" he asks, voice gruff with sleep.

I roll my eyes. Fucking Rowan. "If Ro had half a brain in his head, he'd keep his mouth shut."

"So it is true. I thought he was full of shite. Guess I was wrong. So, found a new flame did ya?" he asks, a hint of longing in his voice. It's only been a handful of months since his long-term girlfriend ended their relationship to run off to Dallas with another guy.

"No, Teag," I tell him. "Paddy had us come in for dish duty to atone for our behavior on Friday night. I let her drive my car to her house so she wasn't walking home alone. We had coffee when she returned it. That's all."

"No plans to see her again, then?" Teagan hedges.

I shrug. "We're working at Paddy's again tomorrow night."

"Watch out for Ro. You know how he is."

Do I ever? "Aye," I say. "He already brought it up. He has his eyes on Alicia at the moment though"

"Ach! He better not fuck things up. I'm not finding another pub because he screwed over the bartender. Plus, she's a good lass. I'd hate to see Ro hurt her," Teagan says indignantly.

"I don't think we have to worry about that. If anyone can set him straight, it'll be Alicia."

We're on the field at this point, so we set our bags down and begin stretching. Coach likes to start practice off with a long run because apparently, we don't run enough on the field. While warming up, my thoughts keep turning to Norah. I like the idea of spending more time with her and it doesn't hurt that she's absolutely gorgeous. I'm entertaining the idea of asking her out but haven't really dated anyone since moving to the States—a night out here and there, but nothing serious. Norah doesn't strike me as a hookup kind of girl and if I'm being honest, I'm not sure I want just a hookup with her.

* * *

I'm sitting at a table by the window of the cafe, drinking coffee and eating a protein bar I grabbed from home, as I study for a quiz in my first class. Giving my eyes a break, I look out the window. It's lovely out today and it reminds me of home. I'm about to turn back to my book when a glint of red hair catches my attention. It's Norah. She's walking across the street, heading for this very cafe. Her hands are stuffed into the pocket of a weathered hoodie with IRELAND sprawled across the front in faded lettering. Suddenly the clouds part and a ray of sunlight hits her hair and my breath hitches in my throat. She truly looks like a fire sprite with her auburn waves burning like a bright flame. I can't believe I've never noticed her at Paddy's before. My heart pounds as she walks through the door, the little bell tinkling above her head. She moves to the back of the line and glances around as if she's looking for someone. It's when her eyes meet mine and she smiles that I think she might have been looking for me.

Norah

I wake up early on Tuesday and drink a cup of coffee while I get ready for my eight o'clock class. It doesn't take me long to get dressed, fix my hair, and put on a little bit of makeup, and after scrounging around my fridge and pantry for a moment, I discover that I am in desperate need of some groceries. There's not a single thing in my house that will pass as a decent breakfast. What I really want is another one of those cranberry scones.

I glance at the clock and realize that I actually have enough time to stop and get one on my way to class. Grabbing my bag and locking the door behind me, I step into a perfect September morning. The sun is shining and the air is crisp, perfect for the heather-green hoodie I have on. I got it in Ireland and it's my favorite article of clothing. I'm surprised that it isn't completely threadbare with how much I wear it.

It doesn't take me long to reach the coffee shop. The extra pep in my step is strictly about the scone and has nothing to do with the possibility of seeing Eamon there. When I walk through the door, I immediately go to the back of the line before looking around the cafe. It's quaint and cheery with light wood furniture and pops of pastel colors scattered throughout. I look towards the corner by the window and see Eamon sitting at a table, books open in front of him. Our eyes lock immediately and his lips spread into a slow grin. God, he looks good enough to eat in a black button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, the color making his blue eyes pop. I smile brightly at him in return.

I'm not sure how much time has passed but apparently, it's enough that the person behind me coughs to signal that I need to move forward and order. Rude . I quickly give my order to the cashier and pay, then wait at the end of the bar for my coffee and breakfast. It's an exercise in self-control to not keep glancing over my shoulder at Eamon. Once my order is in hand, I wander towards his table.

"Mind if I join you?" I ask cheerfully.

"Please do," he answers quickly, gesturing to the seat across from him. "Fancy meeting you here. No coffee at home?"

I scoff as I sit. "Are you kidding? It's the only thing in my house right now. This is cup number two. Plus, I'm currently addicted to these cranberry scones. All thanks to you, I might add."

His mouth curves into a lopsided grin that makes me want to cry a little. It's the smile. The one every romance novel describes. That heart-stopping grin that makes you fall in love with the one wearing it. I look away before I do something really stupid, like confess my love for dark and delicious things again.

"Do you have class this morning?" Eamon asks, snapping me back into reality.

"Yes, at eight; I'm afraid I can't stay long," I tell him regretfully. Stupid classes. Who needs college anyway?

"I do as well. Want a lift?" he offers, and my heart flip flops .

"Oh, I usually take the bus…"

"I see." He nods slowly. "I understand if you're still uncomfortable riding with me. Just thought I'd offer."

I don't miss how his shoulders droop, almost as if he's disappointed. Truth be told, I want to ride with him, and the fear I normally feel around men is nowhere to be found.

"Actually," I start, "I think I will take you up on that ride. The bus is so crowded at this time of day."

I peek up at him through my lashes and see that lopsided grin plastered on his perfect face again. Swoon .

"Alright, then," he says, closing his book. "Let me pack up and we'll go."

I take that time to pinch off a piece of the scone and pop it into my mouth. I chew slowly as I watch him methodically gather his books and place them in his backpack. Once everything is packed away, he stands and slips his arms through the straps. The movement causes his shirt to stretch across his broad chest, and I'm momentarily transfixed—and jealous of those straps that get to cling to him like that. What I wouldn't give to be a backpack strap right now.

We walk out of the coffee shop to his SUV, and I'm surprised when he reaches around me and opens the passenger side door. He's so close that whatever manly scent he possesses envelopes me completely. I inhale deeply.

"Sorry for the mess," Eamon says sheepishly after I climb into the seat. "I had practice early this morning. I usually just toss everything in the car and go."

I smile at him. It's not a mess at all, but the scent is more concentrated here. He shuts my door and rounds the front of the car to the driver's side. He slides in and starts the engine before making sure I'm buckled up. Once we're on our way, he asks me about the play's progress.

"It's coming along," I tell him. "I have all of the costumes designed and half of them are already in physical form. I'm struggling to figure out a way to create the costumes for the dance scene while staying within Dr. Andrew's budget though. I swear, the man thinks this is Broadway!"

"I can't honestly say I know what scene you're referring to," he admits, shocking me.

"What?" I gape at him. "You've never seen Beauty and The Beast? How is that even possible?"

Eamon rubs his jaw and chuckles. "No, I haven't. I didn't watch many movies growing up. By the time I came to America, cartoons weren't exactly on my watch list."

"We're going to have to remedy that immediately," I say decidedly.

"Are we?" he asks hopefully.

I pause, realizing what I just said, and laugh nervously. "I mean, I suppose we don't have to remedy that. You could always watch it with the soccer team…"

Eamon laughs heartily, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "I'd much rather watch anything with you than the team."

My cheeks heat, and the butterflies in my stomach start fluttering like crazy at the thought of being curled up on my couch with him, lights low, watching Beauty and the Beast.

"If that's what you want, of course. I don't want to force you into anything," he adds quickly.

I'm touched by his thoughtfulness. He has no idea how much it means to me that he's giving me the choice. I consider making it a group thing but decide against it. The more I think about it, the less I want to expose him to my group of friends. At least right now.

"Actually, it's more like I'm forcing you into watching a Disney movie. You can say no," I offer.

"Hardly, lass. I need to be up to date when I go see your work on stage," he says, turning his gaze on me briefly.

"You're going to come to the play?" I ask incredulously.

"I hadn't planned on it, but the more you talk about it, the more I want to," he says with a shrug.

I beam at him in response.

"Now," he says, "when should we plan our movie date?"

I giggle nervously. He said it was a date. Does he mean an actual date? Or just a date on the calendar? Am I overthinking this? I'm still pondering this when we pull into the student parking lot near the Economics building. The car sits idling as he turns and looks at me expectantly.

"Tomorrow night is out obviously, but maybe Thursday?" I suggest. "Or if this week doesn't work, we can do next?"

"I hate to say it," he says with a frown, "but it will have to be next week. We have an away game Thursday night and Friday is open mic night. Paddy said it gave the customers a good laugh last time, and he wants us back."

"Ah. I'm not sure I can endure that again." I grimace. "I'd suggest Saturday, but I'm working on costumes all weekend. What about Monday?"

"Monday is free for me." He smiles softly at me. "I have practice until six. I can head over after a quick shower, so let's say a quarter to seven?"

"That sounds great," I breathe. "I'll have the popcorn, so just bring yourself."

I'm simultaneously shocked at and proud of myself. I just made a date with a man. A really, really hot man. Just the two of us. Together. At my house. I keep my face calm, but inside, my poor little anxiety-ridden introverted soul is screaming at me.

"Grand," he says, opening his car door. "Looking forward to it."

We step out of the car and meet on the sidewalk.

"Thanks for the ride," I say, looking up at him

"Anytime, lass."

We part ways and head in opposite directions, casting the occasional look over our shoulders at each other as we go.