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Saoirse

 

 

 

Kian and I were both standing on the sidewalk in front of school.

“Come on, Saoirse. Come over,” Kian whined, giving me his puppy-dog eyes, the ones that every girl seemed to be affected by, except me.

Funny how I used to think he was hot. I used to care what he thought of me. It used to make me happy when he’d speak to me.

Then I met Diarmuid. Strong, handsome, rugged Diarmuid.

Now Kian didn’t seem so special.

I shook my head. “Can’t. I’m getting picked up.”

I glanced at the street, eyes peeled for the familiar truck. What if he wasn’t coming this time?

Diarmuid had been picking me up from school for months, and still, a part of me deep down was waiting for the day he didn’t show up. It was better to expect the worst. Then when it happened, I wouldn’t be surprised.

“Later tonight, then,” Kian said, pulling my attention back on him. “My parents are never home till late. It’d just be you and me.”

There was a glint in his eye. I was not so juvenile to not understand what that meant. I suppose losing my virginity to someone like Kian wouldn’t be the worst decision I’d ever made.

For some reason, Diarmuid’s face flashed before my eyes.

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“Maybe,” I confirmed.

He stepped in closer. “What can I do to turn that maybe into a yes?”

I shrugged. Maybe I should say yes. He was a good-looking boy. And popular. And he seemed to like me…

“Not sure if I’ve told you yet, but you look real sweet today.” He reached out to tuck a lock of hair behind my ear.

Sweet? Diarmuid never called me sweet. He called me beautiful. That’s what he said and that’s how I felt around him.

“Thanks,” I muttered.

“Saoirse.” A familiar gruff voice barked out my name, sending a rush down my spine.

Kian jumped back from me. I spun towards the voice, a smile spreading across my face. He was here.

Diarmuid slammed the door to his truck, parked haphazardly on the sidewalk, and stormed towards us.

“Holy shit,” Kian muttered, “is that your brother?”

I almost rolled my eyes. Diarmuid and I looked nothing alike. I was fresh-faced and pale and blonde while he was tall, dark and made up of hard planes and sharp lines.

“No. He’s my best friend.”

My best friend.

He was my best friend, I realised. I’d never had a best friend before.

Diarmuid halted before us. His face looked murderous but his eyes softened when he glanced at me. I grinned up at him. Somehow the world was better when he was here. I could almost believe that it could be good.

“Hello, sir,” Kian mumbled as Diarmuid towered over him.

Kian didn’t look half as good-looking or half as tall and strong standing next to Diarmuid. Diarmuid gave Kian a glaring once-over in which I swear, Kian shrank even further into himself.

Diarmuid grunted. Grunted. Then turned to me. “You ready to go?”

I nodded, beaming at him. The fading sunset flared behind his messy hair, let loose from his usual ponytail, making him look like he had a halo.

I waved back at Kian, who looked about ready to piss himself, and Diarmuid helped me into the truck as always.

“Who was that boy?” Diarmuid demanded as soon as he was inside the truck. He was still glaring at Kian, who was still standing shell-shocked on the grass.

I sat up in my seat. Was Diarmuid…jealous?

“He’s a friend from school,” I said slowly, watching Diarmuid’s face.

Diarmuid still didn’t start the engine. He was still staring at Kian, his jaw twitching. “I don’t like him.”

My heart did a flip. He was jealous.

“He’s popular,” I said casually. “Lots of girl at school think he’s good-looking.”

Diarmuid narrowed his eyes at me. “Do you think he’s good-looking?”

I hid a smile and gave him a one-shouldered shrug. “He’s alright.”

He’s not as beautiful as you. No one is as beautiful as you.

“He was standing too close to you.”

“He’s just a boy. Harmless, really.”

Diarmuid snorted. “He might just be a boy but you’re too young for him.” He started up the engine with a rumble as if to emphasize his point, then pulled out onto the road.

You’re too young for him.

Diarmuid’s words stabbed my gut. Kian was younger than Diarmuid. Did Diarmuid think I was too young for him?

“That’s stupid.” I crossed my arms over my chest, the familiar streets flashing by my window.

“What’s stupid?”

“That I’m too young for him.”

“Saoirse, you’re only fourteen. You’ve got the rest of your life to grow up and like boys.”

“But say if I did. Say…” I said, testing the waters, “if I wanted to date someone older. So what?”

Diarmuid slammed on the brakes, holding his arm out to keep me back in the seat.

“What the hell?” I asked, sucking in a breath.

His turned his entire torso towards me, eyes like slits. “You want to date him?”

“I was just asking theor—”

“And I’m asking you,” he leaned in close, so close I could smell the mint on his breath, “do you want to date him?”

I was pinned to the seat by his stare. So intense. So full of fire.

I shook my head because I didn’t trust myself to speak.

“Good,” he said simply.

Good? Why was that good?

A horn blared from behind us and I jumped. We were still stationary in the truck in the middle of the road.

Diarmuid straightened in his seat as another blare sounded long and harder this time.

“You can fucking wait,” he yelled out of his open truck window. He looked back at me, his eyes like hardened onyx. “Promise me you’ll wait.”

“Wait? For what?”

“Wait to date. Wait to be with someone. Wait…for someone special. You deserve to be with someone special, selkie.”

You. I’ll wait for you.

“Selkie?”

“I promise,” I said.