Skylar smiles a little. “I’ll think about it,” she says, before shifting her attention back to her dinner.
“What about you?” Niall asks, turning towards me. “Will you think about it, too?”
I don’t know how to respond; it’s not because of what he said, or the gentle way he said it. It’s not because of his magnetic eyes, or that lazy smile. It’s because of this feeling pulsing through me, growing through my body, seeping dangerously into every inch of me.
“Will you do it?” he asks me, as I’m slipping on my jacket at the front door.
His daughter is in the kitchen with my grandmother, who is giving her a Tupperware box of biscuits to take home.
“Just tell me you’ll do it.”
I open the front door, then turn to face him.
“Why do you want to know?”
“Why don’t you want to tell me?”
“Goodnight, Kerry.”
I slip through the door and hurry down the stairs. As soon as I’m outside, I dash over to my building and take the stairs to my apartment two at a time. It’s only when I’m inside, in the silent darkness, grabbing my phone from my bag, typing with heavy fingers and an even heavier heart, that I send him a message:
Maybe.
Niall
“Don’t even think about it.”
“Come on, what did I say?!”
“I’m not coming with you if you’ll be with that bunch of losers.”
“They’re not losers; they’re sportsmen.”
“You think there’s a difference?”
“Now you’re just being offensive.”
“Don’t tell me you honestly think you’re cool just because you know how to kick a ball?”
“I’ll pay you.”
“What?”
“Fifty euros.”
“Are you kidding?”
“I’ll give you fifty euros to help me out for two hours.”
“Wow, you must be desperate.”
I am; but I don’t want to tell her that.
“I don’t want to be associated with you. I don’t want you to tell anyone I’m your daughter.”
How am I supposed to take that?
“Are you that ashamed of me?”
