Ollie stared down at where my thumb passed over the scar and laughed. “I started working at the family pub when I was fourteen, and this old fella, Oisin, taught me to cook. Grumpy old bastard looked like the fecking Crypt Keeper, but he sprinted around that kitchen like Usain Bolt. My first week I made the mistake of getting in his waywhen he was deep-frying chips. Knocked right into him just as he was pulling ’em out and a big splash of oil got me right there. And you know what he said?”
“What did he say?”
Ollie straightened up and scowled, his accent deeper and thicker as he spoke. “He said,You’re as sharp as a beach ball, aren’t ya, boy?” He laughed, and his face relaxed into a grin. “Loved that old bastard. Always effin’ and blindin’, but he had a soft spot for me, believe it or not.”
“Gee, wonder what he says to people he doesn’t like?” I turned Ollie’s hand over and examined his palm. “You have a lot of scars. Do you remember how you got all of them?”
“Only the ones with a good story.” He guided my hand to a barely visible scar on his thumb and told me about the time he’d nicked himself cutting a lemon behind the bar because he was distracted talking to a girl he had a crush on. We sat like that for a long time. Ollie passed my hand over each of his scars and burns until he ran out of stories to tell. Some stories made me laugh, while others broke my heart. A few scars he skipped over completely, but I knew better than to ask.
“What about you?” Ollie said. “Any good scar stories?”
I rested my hand on my knee, which was hidden beneath the throw blanket. “I’ve only got one, and you already know it.”
Ollie pulled the blanket from our laps and let it fall to the floor. His eyes raised to mine when he gently pulled my leg into his lap. I could hardly breathe as he traced circles over the scar with his finger. He smiled. “Looks like it hurt.”
“That would be an understatement.” My leg was still in Ollie’s hands, but I stretched out on the couch and stared up at the ceiling. I closed my eyes and felt him move away, but then the couch dipped on either side of me and when I blinked my eyes open again, I yelped at the sight of his face hovering above mine.
“Pop quiz,” he said, grinning as he looked down at me.
I laughed. “What’s gotten into you?” His body was inches above mine, but alarmingly, I found myself wishing he’d close the space between us and press into me, pinning me to the couch.
Ollie’s eyes searched mine, and he bent his face closer. “We’ve got to see if you can keep your cool under pressure.” He pulled back an inch, but the way he looked at me made me forget my frozen feet. Keeping my cool was most definitely not happening. I was burning all over.
“What’s the question?” I asked.
“When’s my birthday.”
“January third.”
“What’s my favorite color?”
“You don’t have one.”
“Middle name?”
“Joseph.”
“Where was I born?”
“Ireland.”
“Wherein Ireland?”
“Cobh.”
“How old was I when I had my first kiss?”
Ollie saying the wordkisscoincided with the voice in my head screamingkiss him, and suddenly I couldn’t think.
His eyes roamed my face, pausing briefly on my mouth before flitting back to my eyes. “Answer the question, Nina.”
“Fourteen.”
He made a sound like a buzzer and tickled me. I inhaled sharply, laughing so hard it hurt.
“How old, Neen?”
“Twenty!” I wheezed.
