Intimate Strangers
Lasairiona E. McMaster
Copyright © 2019 Lasairiona E. McMaster
The moral right of Lasairiona McMaster to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the copyright, designs and patents act of 1988.
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the Author and without similar conditions including this condition being imposed on any subsequent purchaser. Your support for the Author’s rights is appreciated.
All the characters in this book are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead are purely coincidental.
ISBN: 978-1-9161784-0-3
Cover Design: Pink Ink Designs
Photo Credit: Bernie McAllister
For the real-life ‘AJ’, thank you for being my muse, for showing me that Disney romances do really exist, for believing I could do anything and for encouraging me to write these words that were in me to write.
Chapter 1
“By the way, classes are boring when there isn’t an entertaining Irish lass in a chat window to talk to. Can I book you for every class I have this term?”
And that was it. That was the moment he got her, hook, line and sinker!
Lisa didn’t see it coming. She hadn’t planned it, or gone searching for it, but that was the moment she fell head-over-heels for a guy she’d never met. A hockey player and musician who was absolutely gorgeous – and smart to boot. AJ had appeared as if from nowhere and swept her wholly off her feet.
She hadn’t been prepared to be swept any which way and was a little out of her comfort zone to say the least. Lisa was one of those stereotypical curvy-girls: big boobs, big hips, big bum. In a society that deemed you could either be big, or beautiful – never really both – she was always pretty self-conscious of how she looked. She was working on it, it helped having a tribe of supportive and badass friends who wouldn’t abide her even thinking the ‘F’ word (Fat).
She still couldn’t take a compliment, though. If someone said something nice about her, she couldn’t ever just say “Thank you.” She’d palm it off, or throw it back at whoever had given it in some form of embarrassing, “please don’t call attention to me in any way,” reaction.
Meeting someone online, however, was slightly different. Her words made her first impression. Even so, when he took an interest in her, it was entirely unexpected. But she had rolled with it all the same. On paper, she had met the man of her dreams. He was a man who checked all of her boxes – and more – and before she knew it, she had landed herself a guy on the internet. She didn’t, by any means, feel like she needed a man to complete her or anything. She was a badass biatch who could rule the world if she decided that’s what she wanted to do. But she did often dream about a badass husband at her badass side as she ruled the world!
Getting to know each other hadn’t been easy. She was in Newry, Northern Ireland, and he was six hours behind her in Huntsville, Alabama. They were both in college, four thousand miles apart, and working on finishing up their degrees. She had a job and he had hockey – which essentially took up every free moment he had. When he wasn’t playing hockey, he was gigging in coffee houses and bars with his guitar.
Finding time online together was tough. They’d resorted to daily back and forth emails, and she would regularly stay up late to catch his hockey games online, then stay up later still, to try and catch him on Gmail chat after the games. They’d had months of trying to align their schedules to try against the odds, to find some “alone” time, for them to just sit, without having to multitask, or run off, for whatever reason. It was hard, but they stuck at it. Seven months since their introduction in the first group chat with her best friend, Chelsea, and his best friend, Jeremy, she sat staring out the window of the Aer Lingus plane in disbelief of her own spontaneity. Last minute, open-ended flights and playing hooky from university wasn’t typical behavior for her, but she’d assured herself that it was necessary and that he was worth it.
Jeremy also played hockey. He used to play for Chelsea’s home team in Iowa. He and Chelsea’s ex-boyfriend had been team-mates and as Chelsea spent more and more time at the rink over the course of the relationship, she’d grown to be close friends with Jeremy.
The two of them had colluded to bring Lisa and AJ together in a chat window when AJ broke up with his girlfriend, and from everything Chelsea had told him about Lisa, Jeremy thought she’d be a welcome distraction for his friend.
Lisa didn’t have much experience with boys. Her dad was strict throughout her teenage years. She was seventeen when she met her first boyfriend, was allowed to see him on Saturday afternoons, and only when her homework was finished. Chelsea was most certainly in favor of introducing her to a new guy, who, according to Jeremy, was a good one. And so, a Gmail chat window with four participants was created – only two of whom actually knew what was going on. Lisa and AJ had been momentarily confused, but the conversation had flowed easily between the foursome and, before long, the two of them had opened their own private chat-window to get better acquainted.
Her first flight was supposed to be seven hours, then an hour lay-over in Chicago, followed by a shorter three-and-a-half-hour hop to Huntsville. In reality, seven had turned into ten, she had missed her connection, and had wound up spending the last couple hours dozing on chairs while waiting for the only plane the nice guy at the customer service desk could cram her onto. Finally, though, the captain had just announced they were landing. Her phone had died a sudden death as it played Jason Mraz, and she couldn’t find her charger, so she’d spent the last few hours flicking through the in-flight entertainment system menu in an attempt to distract herself. She couldn’t tell whether it was the change in cabin pressure, or the butterflies in her stomach, but a sudden wave of nausea hit her. In reality, it was probably a combination of both. Part of her couldn’t wait to get out of the tin-bird, while the other part kind of wished she could stay in its protective confines and just pretend she’d never left Ireland at all.
This is it, she told herself as she felt the wheels hit the ground.
Disembarking from the plane, she made her way to baggage reclaim. Her nausea had largely abated, though every now and then she felt the occasional flip-flop in her stomach reminding her of just how nervous she was.
She was already tired. Despite having gained six hours in the time change, she hadn’t slept much on the plane and was hoping, likely against hope, they wouldn’t expect her to be in any way energized when she landed.
She had that icky feeling you get while travelling and really needed a shower. She collected her cases – largely full of Irish crisps, bread and chocolate (her American bestie had a penchant for all things Irish) and her own tea bags, which she took with her everywhere. Always. She cleared customs but had to dance the “Why are you coming to America?” tango with the humorless immigration officer first, which added another hour to her travel time.
Bursting through the arrivals doors, pushing the precariously stacked Smarte Carte in front of her, she started the search for the red coat. She knew it wouldn’t take her long to find it in the sea of people waiting to greet their visitors. It was the same red coat she had searched for the previous year, only this time in a different airport, Huntsville International Airport instead of Chicago O’Hare.
“Hey, Irish!” she turned towards the source of the voice and grinned.
“YO, IRISH!” the voi
ce repeated, “Frickin’ took ya long enough.” Chelsea jabbed playfully as she wrapped her arms around her exhausted friend.
“We were starting to think you weren’t coming,” added a second voice. This was one of the many moments she was dreading on this trip – the sister. His sister.
“Hey there, missy, what’s the craic?” Lisa asked, as calmly as she could muster, extending her arms for a hug.
Breathe, she reminded herself when she began to feel light-headed. Breathe again. And again. And once more. Last thing you need is to pass out in front of “the sister”, now BREATHE, DAMNIT!
The stubborn panic was slow to subside.
“Hey yourself,” Ana, the sister, grinned, “It’s so good to finally meet you, Lisa!” She returned the hug. “How was your flight?” Ana asked politely as they headed for the car park.
“Long, boring, and a screaming child. You’d think after the first few hours they’d exhaust themselves, right?” Not waiting for a reply, she continued, “Wrong! Wrong! Wrong! He screamed in the check-in lounge, and then again while boarding. He screamed again during the delay, and for the entire feckin’ duration of the flight. I even heard him screaming in baggage claim after we landed in Chicago – although, by that stage, I was ready for a scream-fest myself, so I can’t really blame him there! There was more screaming on the connection – no idea if it was the same child or not, but Christ I am over the screaming!”
Stopping, she realized the two girls were staring at her with wide-eyes, and with an expression on their faces that she recognized all too well from her last visit to see Chelsea. “Too fast?” she asked more slowly.
They nodded in unison.
“And you usually understand me so well,” she turned her attention back to her friend in the red jacket, blushing a little. She had known her best friend, Chelsea, for a few years now. They had met on an online journaling website called Live Journal and they’d instantly bonded and became fast friends. They enjoyed making each other’s lives that little bit stranger. Chelsea’s schedule was more flexible than AJ’s, making it much easier for Lisa and Chelsea to speak, in some form or another, every day and they would usually end up giggling uncontrollably together across the Atlantic. And when she was down, or upset, or even when she was happy or excited, or just needed to scream, shout, whine, bitch or just for a regular “Hey, what’s up?” kind of chat, she called Chelsea.
“Yeah,” she paused, “but when you talk like that,” she smiled, “I’m surprised even people in Ireland can understand you,” she laughed.
“Hey!” Lisa protested in mock shock, “I’d usually come back with some witty yet cutting retort, y’know, to shut you up and all. However, right now, I’m knackered!”
Turning to Ana, she asked, “Is it far?”
It was the first time either Lisa or Chelsea had met Ana. They’d talked a little online, but they weren’t exactly friends. Chelsea was in town to see Lisa and catch up with Jeremy, and Ana was in town to visit her brother, and to co-ordinate Lisa’s secret transatlantic drop-in on him. She seemed a good sport, she didn’t know either Lisa or Chelsea well, yet she had agreed to pick them up at the airport and take them where they needed to go. Lisa’s delay had meant that Chelsea had gotten some extended one-to-one time with Ana, and Lisa was eagerly looking forward to a debrief later when the two were alone.
Ana shook her head, and said, “Not really, and you can sleep for a while when we get to the hotel.” Checking her watch, she added, “We have time, it’s only three.”
“Does he know?” Lisa asked shakily.
Ana laughed at what must have been clear terror written across her face and replied, “No, he doesn’t have a clue.”
Not that this made the somersaulting in her stomach lessen.
“When did you arrive?” she asked Chelsea, who had made the trip to Alabama from Iowa to see both Jeremy and Lisa while she was in town.
“Oh, about eleven thirty this morning,” she began, “your Irish ass was due in a while ago y’know!”
“Give over your whining already! I’ll go back home if you don’t shut up!” She huffed as she pretended to walk back towards the airport.
“Yeah, ok. Go on,” Chelsea teased, “then you won’t meet him,” she continued lightly.
Lisa stopped dead. Him.
You win, she thought to herself. She could feel both girls looking at her in amusement. Her stomach flipped again and heat rose in her cheeks. Casting her friend a withering look she mumbled something inaudible as she plopped into the car and put her phone on charge.
She was starting to regret giving in to her impulse to book a flight across the world for a guy she had met on the internet.
“We should meet some time.”
“I’d like that a lot.”
This exchange had become a common theme in her chats with him. They got along great online, and over the occasional phone-call, but one of the joys – and dangers –of the internet is that you can tell anyone, anything, and you may never know if it’s true or not. Ultimately, the only true test of whether they were relationship compatible or not, lay in a face to face meeting.
She’d floated the idea to Chelsea, who, in true enabler fashion, encouraged the idea whole-heartedly. But, other than his town, his school and a few places he hung out sometimes, she didn’t know where he lived, or how to find him at any given moment.
She needed help. Enter Ana.
Other than chatting online, Lisa had only ever actually said ‘Hi’ to Ana once before, when she was on the phone to him. She’d been in town visiting him for the weekend and had been impatient for him to get off the phone so they could go to dinner. Ana had been good friends with his ex and Lisa was convinced this meant she was destined to be public enemy number one when it came to his sister.
But when she’d emailed asking for some super-secret help in setting up a surprise meeting with Ana’s brother, she had been only too happy to help.
It hadn’t taken much secret-planning. Ana flew from Michigan to Alabama fairly frequently, and he was so caught up in college and hockey that, even if she didn’t, he likely wouldn’t have noticed that anything was amiss.
Lisa’s nerves were really beginning to overwhelm her, and she was starting to wish she’d waited until Christmas.
Of 20-never.
Chapter 2
When Lisa woke up, they had arrived at the hotel and her nap had perked her up a little.
“We’re here!” Ana announced from the driver’s seat. Although, technically, she’s in the passenger seat where I’m from, thought Lisa with a smile. Every time she visited, she was amused at just how different things were this side of the Atlantic. The food tasted funny, the money looked weird and the cars were put together back to front, to name but a few weirdnesses. But she loved it. There was something about this country that kept her coming back, and wanting to come back. Her plan was to see all fifty states, Canada, too and then she’d pick somewhere to settle down for a while. Somewhere she could call home for a few years.
The hotel was massive. What isn’t in this country? she mused as she gazed around in sheer awe. When they got to the room, she headed straight to the bathroom, where she found not just a shower, but a bath as well.
“Thank Goodness!” she exclaimed as she turned on the taps. As the water ran, she turned her attention to her suitcase. Confusion hit.
What will I wear? She pondered.
“Haha!” she said to Chelsea, “I’m such a girl. I'm even nervous about what to wear.”
Smirking, she replied, “You’re only realizing this now?” Coming across the room to join her, the two girls observed the open suitcase, “What’s it gonna be?” Chelsea asked.
No reply.
“Lisa?”
Shrug.
“Ok, close your eyes and pick something random, deal?”
Lisa nodded in reply. Closing her eyes and trying to still her racing mind, she was really going to meet him – the butterflies hadn’t left her stomach.
In fact, it felt like they’d been replaced with kangaroos throwing a party.
Letting out a deep breath, she tried to think logically. It’s a hockey game – wear your hockey jersey, you dumb ass! She scolded herself silently. How obvious! Opening her eyes, she rummaged for the jersey of her local team, the Belfast Giants. Last time she was in the States, she’d worn it and attracted quite a bit of attention as it was different to North American jerseys and tended to stand out, even in a crowd. The Belfast Giants were a largely unknown team in Alabama, save for a few hard-core aficionados, but it was obviously a hockey jersey and it sparked some interest. She lay it on the bed and grabbed her toiletry bag. Glancing at the clock, she saw it was 4.15pm – face-off was at 6pm. Plenty of time, she assured herself.
“Ten minutes,” she announced to the girls as she turned towards the bathroom.
“Not likely!” joked Chelsea.
Sighing loudly, she shook her head and laughed, “You know me too well,” she said as she locked the door behind her.
Sinking into the hot, bubbly water, she felt her muscles relax. She loved baths, and you could totally fit two people in here, she thought as she lay still in the water.
When she emerged from the bathroom, the girls were pretending to be asleep, fake-snoring, loudly. It was 5pm!
“Funny bitches,” she snapped, taking the damp towel off her head and flinging it at Chelsea – she didn’t know if Ana would have taken it in good humor, although if she’d had a second towel to hand, she might have found out.
“Did you shave your legs?”
It was Ana. Her voice was filled with a mocking sarcasm. Not knowing how to reply, she looked at Chelsea for an exit. Her face was hot, her palms were suddenly clammy and her throat was dry.
“Well, she has a point, Lisa. I mean, if you’re gonna get busy with her big brother, you gotta be silky smooth!” Chelsea chirped.
“I…uh…er…” she stuttered.
Intimate Strangers (The Lisa Millar Series Book 1) Page 1