Leaning back against a now bare wall, Fin shut his eyes. He’d been out quite late last night on his final farewell to Dublin involving a pub crawl with his work colleagues. He’d miss them and he really hoped some of them would make it out to visit as they had all drunkenly promised, but he wasn’t going to miss the bruising hangovers that were a hallmark of nights out with this crew.
Fin’s phone vibrated in his pocket and he pulled it out to read yet another so-long text with photos attached from last night. He laughed. In this one, he and three others all had traffic cones on their heads. Did he remember putting a traffic cone on his head? Or posing for a photo with a traffic cone on his head?
He did not.
He smiled as he returned the message. An Instagram notification flashed on the screen as he hit send. His pulse accelerated a little—Sweeney had tagged him in something? Which reminded him he still hadn’t told her about his move.
And he wasn’t sure why.
It was definitely on his to-do list before he left for good. Probably at the airport, when changing his mind was definitely no longer an option. Not that he thought she’d try to talk him out of it, but his feelings for Sweeney had been in a constant whirl since he’d returned to Ireland and he knew, if he let them, they’d take over and confuse and complicate all the micro decisions he had to make to follow through on his plans.
Fin had needed to get everything organised and sorted so he could give the situation with Sweeney his undivided attention.
And, honestly, part of him had assumed that Connie would tell Sweeney. But there’d been nowhat the fuck, dudemessages from her so he didn’t think Connie had said anything to her daughter.
Tapping on the notification, he waited for it to open. Fin had last checked the app three days ago and admired Sweeney’s pics from Nuuk but had been in crazy packing mode ever since. And, frankly, he’d been grateful for any distraction from thinking about her and what had happened between them and their awkwardness since.
He’d thought it would be relatively easy to just revert to their pre-fake engagement relationship once they were out of Ballyshannon, but had quickly realised how naïve he’d been. If it had just been the kissing, even the beach make-out sesh, it might have been alright. But their Gold Coast intimacies had changed the dynamic. Whether he’d thought they would or not, whether he liked it or not—they’dtorpedoedan easy reversion.
Her grid opened directly on the post she’d tagged him in. It was one of the photos she’d taken of himthatnight, lying on the bed looking at her with a half smile as she’d crouched and taken a shot from mattress level. It was black and white and she’d cropped it—thank goodness—so it was just his head and shoulders and sex hair. But his expression? Thewayhe was looking at her?
Uh oh.His heart seized.
That was not ajust friendslook. He’d seen that look on countless faces over the years, at dozens of videoed proposals and wedding ceremonies. He’d seen it on Donny’s face all the damn time when he looked at Mai. He’d seen it at home constantly. On his grandfather’s face as he’d danced with Granny on the back patio. On his father’s face as he’d looked at his mother.
Fuck.Fingers trembling, he scrolled to her post.
A very dear friend of mine made the leap into something different just recently and it made me realise that I’ve been playing it safe. Anyone who has followed my images of a local kids’ sports team back in my home town will know I recently unlocked a passion for another type of photography, and his leap has inspired mine.
I’m going to be taking some time away from tourist brochures and landscapes to explore the many faces of humanity that make up this pale blue dot and whose stories are etched in every smile, every tear, every wrinkle. People, in all their glorious messiness.
I’m heading to Hawaii for a few days to take some pictures of a street choir in Honolulu that a friend of mine conducts. I’m starting there and then… who knows? I hope you’ll follow along.
So, here’s to me, flying blind, leaping into the great unknown. And here’s to a skinny boy with a huge head and a mop of hair who’s seen me at my worst and at my best and has loved me through it all.
Thank you Finley xxx
Fin let out a shaky breath as he read it again. And again. Looked at the photo, again and again. The photo showing her three hundred thousand followers how very,verymuch he was in love with her. It was there as plain as day, for anyone to see, including him, and all his convoluted thoughts these past weeks crystallised into one very obvious truth.
He was in love with Sweeney Bailey.
Had she seen it when she’d looked at that photo? Seen it in his eyes, in his goofy, love-fucked smile. Is that why she’d posted it? Why she’d tagged him? What she’d meant byloving me through it all? Because she’d recognised the look?
The bigger question was, how could shenot?
He didn’t know where it had started. That night under the mistletoe at Murphy’s? Or maybe it had started with that fateful spin of the bottle all those years ago. But it was there, glowing and fucking obvious for the world to see, and he wasn’t going to wait until he was settled and organised with a definitive career path and an apartment in Docklands.
He was going to gonow.
He was going to spin the great bottle of life and take another huge leap. And if he was wrong, it’d probably be the last nail in the coffin of their friendship, but he could live with that. Because trying to maintain the old status quo just wasn’t an option any longer.
Thirty-One
Three days later, Sweeney was enjoying the temperate climes of Honolulu and having an absolute ball. Her mate Leilani, who she’d met years ago when she’d been sent on her first ever Hawaii gig and who had practically adopted her, had organised everything. Locations, permissions, schedules, travel. And she’d invited Sweeney to stay with her in her quaint little beachfront bungalow far from the tourist hotspots.
The choir, made up of homeless people, were simply amazing. The stories were sad and criminal and heart wrenching, but their joy and their lust for life that shone from them as they lifted their voices and sang like angels despite their circumstances was humbling. Every person had thanked her profusely for volunteering to take the pictures that would be used to publicise the choir and the issue of homelessness throughout the state as well as the entire US mainland.
But the truth was, they were doing her a favour.
