by Alisa Mullen
Why did I come here again? Darcy said it was a rite of passage. A passage to where? I stood, fingering the Tiffany necklace, and wondered who the hell I was trying to impress. How did I get to the place in my life? More specifically, how did I get to this shitty bar? Thoughts of Chase and the downpour rain made me long for the comforts of my pajama bottoms and the slot machines at the neighborhood bar back in Portland.
When I slowly lifted my eyes, I was startled to see a guy towering over me with a large grin on his face. He was tall with dark brown hair that covered his ears but was mussed up from a recent shower. He wore a blue and white striped rugby shirt with an Irish emblem on the left side that displayed his perfectly chiseled arms. They were so tan and oh so yummy. This guy was most definitely my type, appearance wise obviously. He continued to smile at me as his eyes warmed over my face, like he was trying to memorize my features. He was the most attractive guy I had seen the entire night.
“Hello,” he yelled over the music. He had a tinge of an accent that I couldn’t quite place. English? Scottish?
“Hi,” I replied, licking my lips in anticipation of an upcoming conversation.
He faced the bar and sighed. “Not getting a pint in this bar anytime soon.” He rubbed his chin with his large hand as I downright stared at him.
Irish. He was a sexy Irishman.
“I’ve been waiting fifteen minutes,” I said as I looked around again for Darcy, hoping that someone already got her a drink. I hated being DD and her waitress to boot. This night was a total bad call on my part. The tall, yummy guy caught me looking around and could see my apprehension. He turned my chin back to him and gave me a sweet smile. All my worry about Darcy dissolved in that moment.
“Hmmm,” he said. “Let me see if I can give it a go.” He stepped up between the two guys talking to the blonde, and with the sexiest Irish accent I had ever heard, he ordered six Guinness drafts. Everyone turned to look at him and their mouths dropped open. Even the female bartender paused for a moment before heading to the beer taps. I smiled to myself and my cheeks reddened when he looked back to me and winked. Throwing down bills, he turned to me and said, “Cian. Cian Murphy.” After staring at him silent for what seemed like an hour, he stood up straight and turned back to the bar. He just introduced himself and I couldn’t find my tongue. Nice, Lizzie. Cian looked perplexed as he looked down at the six tall glasses of thick, black liquid before he sent me a pleading look. “Can you help me bring these to me lads over there?” He pointed to the right of the bar.
“You’re joking, right?” He wanted me to be his waitress, too? I should just throw on an apron and start making money off this night.
He quirked his lips into a smile and asked, “What? You don’t think I have lads waiting for their pints?”
“No, no…” I stammered. “Your accent. Does it get you what you want all the time?”
He looked at me puzzled for a moment and then leaned forward so we were nose to nose. “Is the accent working on you?” he asked with a sly smile.
“Yeah right.” I rolled my eyes. “But… it is a hell of a good way to make people notice you and get you pints when needed,” I replied with air quotes around the word pints. My night was becoming more interesting because of this chance meeting. I was feeling flirty and listening to Cian talk softly into my ear all night would be exquisite. He laughed out loud at my banter and nudged me towards the glasses then cocked his head to the right.
I followed him on his heels to avoid being separated and nearly stumbled around three guys sucking on the necks of busty college girls. I paused in awe. Those girls had somehow managed to pull their shirts up into the Maryanne crop style. Cian surprisingly didn’t look their way but only glanced back at me. He was probably trying to make sure I didn’t drop the two beers I carried all over the floor. I was not the type of girl that belonged in this bar but Cian didn’t seem to notice.
Cian and I stepped up to the worn leather, circular booth where four guys were very boisterous. Cian nodded to them. “Lads, this is…shit, I didn’t ask your name,” he said with a grin. The other guys laughed at him and looked at me expectantly.
“Yeah, sorry. I didn’t offer it either. Elizabeth. Lizzie… Lizzie O’Malley,” I said as my face started to redden. Why was I suddenly embarrassed?
“Ah, an Irish transplant,” one of the blond haired guys from the back of the booth said with a thick Irish accent of his own. I didn’t exactly know what that meant. Was it because of my last name? My freckles? My red hair? Yes, I was part Irish. I was also part Scottish, Canadian French, and surely something else. But really, after generations of mutt reproduction, I was just American. It was that simple.
Cian put all the drinks in front of the guys, and I started to say something else but nothing came to mind. What was I going to say? These guys were a bunch of fucking hotties with their Irish accents, and amazingly, the booth was far, far away from the torturous mosh pit of grimy sweat. Cian turned and handed me the last Guinness.
“Oh, no, thanks,” I said. “I’m the designated driver tonight. I’m not drinking.”
They all stared at me like I was making a joke and waited for me to take back my declaration. One of them started laughing and asked, “DD? For who?” while squinting his brown eyes up to me. He looked as hammered as Darcy did the last time I saw her. When was that? Like an hour ago?
“Uh-huh. For a friend that I believe I’ve lost to this place.” I turned around, faking to really care if I saw her. I wanted to sit with these guys, but tried to act disinterested.
Cian put his arm around my shoulder and nudged me to sit while shoving the Guinness into my hand. He sat down next to me, sticking me smack in the middle of him and an equally cute blond guy, who was immersed in his own conversation with the others. I don’t even think he noticed I was there. It didn’t matter because all I felt was the sensation of being so close to Cian. His leg was practically straddling mine under the table. Perhaps I wasn’t leaving him enough room? His legs were pretty long. The group of guys continued their conversation over some rugby match they had played that afternoon when Cian whispered in my ear, “I’m glad you finally got your pint.”
I gave him a coy smile. He smiled back then joined the group, still talking about sports. Fucking yawn. At least it could have been about American football.
Moments passed and I suddenly felt like the foreigner. In my own city, no less. Well, shit. If I was going to be packed in the middle of unique testosterone, I was going to play my hand at the estrogen. Wake up, woman and turn on the charm
“What the hell are you guys talking about?” I said loudly. I felt downright stupid, sitting in the middle of five guys arguing over rugby with Irish fucking accents.
They all turned to stare at me…again. Jesus, could this night get any worse? It was a night of pompous financial men, guys on stretchers, idiotic Boston College guys drunkenly territorial and now this. Here was an Irish guy named Cian, who was apparently trying to make a move on the poor girl that couldn’t get her own damn drink after fifteen minutes. Why was I squeezed in the middle of this booth? This was not my comfort zone, nor was it what I was looking for all night. I wanted one on one interaction with a guy. I wanted to dance and laugh. I didn’t want to be ignored anymore. I never would have done this in Oregon. I missed people who I knew well enough to get me out of situations like this one.
I sat back and watched them all talk and laugh once more and sipped on my beer. I was totally uncomfortable. Or was I? I decided to chipper up and flip the switch on my mood. I was, after all, in need of attention since Darcy seemed to suck all of it out of the city of Boston.
“You guys are all wicked smart with your accents and rugby talk. Obviously, this is a college bar but if you think your charming accents are going to get you into those ladies’ panties, you’re way off. You should be wearing Red Sox hats and perhaps take off the sexy Irish shirts.” I said in a rush, quirking my eyebrow up to them.
Laughter rang all a
round the table. I was starting to feel proud of myself just as a huge crash came from the bar. A girl, lying on the bar, started yelling at a patron who obviously didn’t like the body shot he was giving her. Cian and three of his friends from the opposite side of the booth stood up abruptly and headed towards the commotion.
I stared down at my nearly full beer, not realizing the blond on my right was still in the booth with me. I tucked my hair behind my right ear and swallowed the whole pint of Guinness in several solid gulps. Just then, I realized the lone blond guy was staring at me with a wide smile on his face. I shifted in my seat and started to slide out of the booth. He grabbed my hand, and I was jerked back into my seat. I was so shocked by his touch that I couldn’t move my body. Literally, my body was battling with my mind so I stayed there, stalk still in the seat. After a few moments of my mind racing for what to do next, one thought took over and everything else fell away. Stay. He is yours.
Three
Darts and Driving
I turned to the blond and he inched his nearly full pint of Guinness to me. “Thirsty?” he asked.
“Not really,” I said, looking into the bluest eyes I’d ever seen in all my life. They were devastatingly blue. His smile was plastered on and he had the straightest teeth in the room.
“So, Cian?” I furrowed my brow at his abrupt departure from the table.
“Yes, Cian, a close friend and a good lad,” he said in an equally thick accent.
“I found him at the bar,” I said in a rush. “My friend obviously ditched me and I guess he took pity on me.”
“No. He was just being polite. Not all Irishmen are assholes.” He chuckled as he took a swill off of one of his other friends’ beers and looked back to me. “Cian has a lady back home in Cork. We all go to university there together.” Okay, either Cian was sending mixed signals or I didn’t understand flirting anymore. Either way, it was time to back off Cian. Good to know.
“Why are you here? I mean, not in this dump of a bar, but in Boston?” I asked as I felt the warm rush of Guinness settling into my stomach.
“I’m Teagan,” he said as he stuck out his hand.
I shook it and slowly. “Teagan.” I sounded it out in like four syllables as I drew it out. He nodded, expressionless.
“I haven’t ever met a Teagan,” I said with a smirk.
“Well, there you go. Now you have,” he replied, taking another swig.
My eyes shifted over to the bar while searching for anything to say in that awkward moment when casual hellos turn into blank space. I wanted to crowd our conversation. It was tough to tell if Teagan wanted the latter, so I gave him an out.
“I guess I should let you up so you see the show at the bar. You wouldn’t want to miss a Bahston love squat,” I said in the dry accent.
“Good here, thanks, unless you’re interested in checking it out,” he replied as he looked over me to see his friends at the bar. A delicate touch of his fingers danced across my hand in my lap. I was so shocked at that blatant touch that I turned to face him instinctively.
That’s when I was able to take him all in. He wore a red and white striped rugby shirt with another undecipherable emblem on his left chest and khaki pants. I couldn’t see his sneakers but I assumed they were European. Sexy. My heart fluttered a bit. He glanced at me and I took two more swigs of my beer, not remembering I was supposed to be the DD. Darcy was far, far away from my thoughts at that point.
I turned to face him with one of my legs crossed in front of me to create space between us.
“So, Teagan, tell me...You didn’t answer me. Why are you here with your friends in Boston?” I asked, looking pointedly into his eyes.
Teagan shrugged. “University Cork has a work program that all seniors need to complete. There were many places to choose from.” He counted off on his fingers. “Paris, London, China. Since we’re all good friends, we took a vote and, well, we chose America. I like technical engineering so I’m officially starting to work at Foster, Brown, and Crass on Monday.”
“Do you get paid?” I asked, taking another drink.
He laughed softly and nodded his head.
“Sorry, that was so rude,” I said with a frown. “It just sounds like an internship to me. You know, work credits for your degree.”
“Don’t worry. People ask us that a lot,” he replied, waving his hand in the air dismissively.
We sat in silence for a long time. I slowly moved my body away from the intimate position with Teagan as I began to look out over the crowd. It was much rowdier than before and I started to really wonder where the other guys had gone off to. I became restless about how alone I felt and I shivered with the thought. Like he was reading my mind, or my body, Teagan grabbed my hand and said, “Come on, let’s play a game of darts and get another pint.”
Before I could refuse, I was pushed out of the booth. He maneuvered his body to take the lead up to the bar. He gripped onto my hand and squeezed it firmer than I liked. Teagan pulled me back out into the bar and didn’t look back at me to see if I was even okay about that tailspin move. He spotted one of the male bartenders and put up two fingers. Were all Irish guys this dominating? Cian had a girlfriend back in Ireland, yet it felt like he was coming onto me. Was Teagan just taking care of me now, too? Teagan could probably charm the hell out of every girl in this bar just by opening his mouth but I still couldn’t read him. His death grip was an obvious sign that there was probably no girl back home waiting for him.
After retrieving the pints from the bartender, he rounded on me. Nose to nose, he placed the glass in my hand.
“Here you are, Lizzie O’Malley.” His smile was so genuine that I smiled brightly back and thanked him seductively. I felt like I was the only girl in this crowded bar of college bombshells that he was looking at, and I felt more beautiful than anyone else. He wasn’t as classically gorgeous as Cian and he wasn’t someone I would normally stare after in a mall or on the T, but he looked at me in a way that I’d never experienced in my entire life. His deep penetrating gaze was beautiful and the magnetism between our stares made my stomach flutter. I hadn’t felt that flutter in years.
In that moment, I realized that he was not only stunning but mesmerizing. His gaze never left my eyes. To boot, he didn’t look drunk, like he wanted to just hook up. He looked like he was really happy to see me, like we were old friends and hadn’t seen each other in years. There were no words or tension. It wasn’t weird. It just felt right. Was I…was I attracted to this guy?
While we waited to play darts, we had easy conversation, and I relaxed for the first time the whole evening. Teagan and I played three games of darts and laughed at the fact that I was kicking his ass. He startled me when he put his hand on the small of my back and said, “I think it’s time to find the lads.” I nodded, thinking I would agree to do anything and everything he suggested to me at that point. As we walked back to the table, Darcy cut us off and slurred, “Lizzie, let’s go. I just called Conner and he’s pissed that I’m so drunk.”
I looked at her, dumbstruck, and then turned to Teagan. I gave him a sheepish smile, and figured introductions were in order. I really didn’t want to leave so I prolonged the moment.
“Darcy, this is Teagan. Teagan, this is Darcy, my brother’s girlfriend,” I said with fake enthusiasm. I wanted Darcy to see that I did meet a guy that she had insisted on. I also wanted Teagan to know that I wasn’t interested in leaving him at all. “Darcy, I’m so sorry but I started drinking by peer pressure.” I pointedly looked at Teagan. He laughed out loud and gave me a look that said I was such a liar. I smiled, not paying attention to Darcy as I momentarily got lost in the fact that Teagan and I already had unspoken conversational skills. I turned back to Darcy. “I can’t drive yet. Give me another hour or so, okay?”
“No!” Darcy shot back at me, startling me out of my revelation about Teagan. “Your brother is going to dump me. He is so pissed. We have to go now!” She grabbed my hand and practically ran out the crowd
ed door. I left Teagan standing there, already feeling bereft and wishing I had gotten his number. It was the only number I wanted out of Darcy’s promised three and I would have used it. The evening sucked once again.
As we headed out to the slightly cooler air on Commonwealth, I turned and faced Darcy. “Honey, I can’t drive yet. I’m going to wait in the line for a coffee,” I said in my most soothing voice, pointing at Dunkin Donuts.” I knew how to coddle drunken friends that want to drive home. My mantra is, “Always keep them from the keys and the car.” Keys, check. Car, check. But I knew Darcy always got what she wanted, and I felt uneasy about this. I did feel bad that I drank but I did not feel bad about drinking with the yummy Irishmen. I wasn’t shitfaced. I just needed a little time. Nonetheless, I was taken over by guilt that I hadn’t been a proper designated driver. It felt like we had only been in Mary Ann’s for an hour. Looking down at my watch, I saw it was still so early in the evening that I could get a cup of coffee and wait out the beers I had drunk. Concurrently, I felt awful that I didn’t get Teagan’s fucking phone number. Ugh. I was so confused.
“No, Lizzie. I…” she stuttered as she tried to put her hands on her hips.
Our conversation was cut off by an Irish accented male yelling, “Lizzie!” I whirled around and saw Teagan step out of Mary Ann’s with the boys right on his heels. He looked worried but I thought I saw relief in his expression as our eyes met. I held up my hand to Darcy, silently telling her to wait. I walked towards Teagan.
“Hey, what’s going on with your friend?” he asked as he looked over my shoulder and gave a quick cork of his head.
“She wants to go home. We live in Wellesley. It’s about 20 miles from here,” I said as I pointed up aimlessly to Route 9. “But I…I had three or four beers, I mean, pints and I’m not sure I can drive yet.” I frowned in despair. In that moment, those quick twenty miles felt like two hundred to me. I was simply not ready to get behind the wheel. Even the thought of it sent me into a panic attack.