I want to reply something sarcastic, something caustic, somethingbitingbut I can’t in the face of his genuine excitement. His hand is warm in my own. He leads me along the cobbled streets, fingers squeezing mine as he navigates us toward a castle in the distance.
“Isn’t that fucking cool,” Benji says breathlessly.
Sure, the castle is pretty cool. Kind of looks familiar. I tilt my head to the side thinking about it for a moment, going through the rolodex of images in my brain.
“It was inBraveheart.”
Benji turns freaked-out eyes toward me. “What?”
I point toward the castle. “It was in the movieBraveheart. They’ll never take our freedom!” I do a really poor Irish accent that has Benji somehow looking even more startled.
“You knew that just by looking at the castle? That was a neat fact I was going to share with you as we walked around…”
Benji looks so put out that I yet again feel kind of bad. With a sigh, I start walking toward the castle and tug him along with me. “We can pretend I don’t know, stud. Okay?”
“It’s not the same…”
“Oh my God.” I stop in the middle of the path leading to the castle. With wide, dramatic eyes, I turn toward Benji. “Isn’t that castle so big! Look at it! I wonder if they’ve ever used it in a Hollywood movie. Wouldn’t that be cool?”
Benji’s puppy dog eyes turn grateful and he grins at me. “It was inBraveheart.”
I gasp in feigned shock. “Seriously?”
He stands up straighter. “Yes, they shot parts of the movie here.”
“So cool,” I say very seriously.
Benji tugs his hand out of mine and slings his arm over my shoulder. “Come on.”
Despite my perpetual want to stomp my feet in the ground, the day ends up being pretty nice. Benji plays the perfect tour guide, giving me facts about the castle as we walk around. Once we venture out of the castle, he even gives snippets of facts about the town.
“Did you google this place before bringing me here?” I ask curiously.
Benji smiles shyly. “A little. One should always be prepared. Oh, do you want to go into this pub? I know you can’t drink but maybe we can get some real Irish food?”
I’m oddly helpless against denying him when it’s not in the bedroom. He leads me to the pub that’s half full considering it’s a weekday and early evening. Air thick with the smell of beer and fried food smacks me in the face when we push through the door. But the plus side is no one here seems to recognize me. Maybe there are still some parts of the world where I’m just Nolan Hastings.
A small table in the corner calls to us. When we sit down, Benji sits at the chair beside me instead of the one across from me. I realize it’s to block the view of me from the outside of the bar. Jesus. Why is that also hot?
“Hello.” A woman stops by our table with a sweet smile. Messy blond hair, kind eyes, she grins down at us totally unknowing that a worldwide rockstar is seated at her table. “What’ll ya have?”
Benji grimaces as he looks down at the menu.
I grin up at her and wink. “Bring us your favorite dishes. We want to experience the real Ireland.”
“Ya sure?”
I nod. “And bring a beer for him. Guinness, right? Just water for me.”
She happily stuffs her notepad back into her small apron. “Easy enough.”
Benji blinks over at me, sheepish. “I was going to impress you by ordering like I knew what the fuck I was doing.”
“You don’t have to impress me,” I reply.
That weird look flits across his face again. The look that I have trouble parsing. Like maybe I’ve hurt his feelings somehow. I’m not good at this sort of thing, talking to people, being pleasant. When I meet fans, I have to fake it until I make it but Benji and I are living in each other's pockets.
“It’s boring sitting here staring at each other. Tell me a story.”
