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Lark excavated a notebook from under the sheaf of sheet music. “What’s this? Some kind of handwritten lyrics—” Clearing my throat, I pried it away, my hands protectively curled around the worn pages. “That’s private.” “Oh. Sorry. Do you sing, too?” “No.” My reply was too firm, too quick. She frowned as I clutched the notebook,
Good lord this chick is insufferable
“Nothing grates us more than our language being called Gaelic, except hearing Yanks boast what percentage of Irish blood they have, according to some website.” Amused, Lark fiddled with the hem of her jumper. She could barely seem to hold still. “You’re kind of a grump, aren’t you?” “You ask a lot of questions.” I had a waiting body to return to. “I thought y’all were super hospitable to foreigners. ‘Land of a Thousand Welcomes,’ right?”
SO. Annoying.
He hesitated, chewing his lip, then dropped to his hands and knees. A grimace soured his face when the cold morning dew soaked his jeans. “Come on, Callum. Remember the Alamo!” “Who?” Rather than explain the historic rallying call, I channeled my best warrior voice while elbowing forward. “Chaaarge!”
...girl be so fucking for real
I filled my lungs with salty air and let out a primal scream. Callum startled, but then he understood. Catharsis, not fear.
I am cringing so fucking hard rn
“It’s always ‘meh’ in the beginning. Attraction might happen after I know a woman well. Sometimes I develop feelings, after a long while. But pair it with a phobia of meeting people and you’ll see why it’s a struggle.”
She tugged me toward the face-painting cart set up near the Santa’s Express train. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Face painting? Me? “Where’s a boulder and a rope when you need them?” “No one’s drowning themselves today.” Lark shook her head. “How about this: pick a design for me, and I’ll pick one for you. Then we walk around like that the rest of the day. No matter what.”
Girl STOP are you five?? Grow up
“You know,” I said to Lark, “at one time, we used to consider puffins and their eggs delicacies.” Without warning, she grabbed my forearm, removed her paper beak, and bit down with an exaggerated chomping sound. It took me so much by surprise that I shouted when her teeth grazed the fabric of my jumper. I gathered myself instantly. “Food critic says?”
????
Turns out, two people with social anxiety don’t cling to each other like rafts in a Guinness sea. They’d both prefer to sit alone on their respective desert islands until rescue rather than start up an actual conversation.
It stung to see Lark’s reaction to the photo Saoirse had shown her. She’d said she was content to stay single, but was it really that she had no interest in me?
:(
“That’s the coroner’s job, though. Come on. Be honest. Who really called you, someone from DemiDate? Saoirse?” “The Gardaí called.” Police. “It is my job, depending on the circumstances. Elderly cases. Nonviolent accidents. Unless the Gardaí need a postmortem exam, the bodies come directly to me.” Oh. Of course. I’d been so preoccupied imagining Callum with someone else, I hadn’t considered the obvious explanation. Not that he needed to explain himself. “This could be the worst night of someone’s life. I won’t make it worse by making them wait all hours for someone to pick up their loved one.”
Bitch wtf
“But are you fighting for her?” Cielo asked. “It blew up in my face when I tried.”
Girl what the fuck? How is this his fault??
Cielo held my gaze. “Given her history, asking Lark to marry you for real was incredibly stupid. You know that, right?” “Trust me, I know.” “Don’t ask again.”
Stfu
