Chapter 64
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I arranged to meet Orla for a walk the next weekend, the only time she had free. Her parents had begun to crack down on her studies six years too late, seemingly unaware that such an act was utterly wasteful, and Camogie consumed every other available evening of her week. She met me at the pier and we headed down toward the beach, finding a relatively secluded spot away from the gaggle of tourists where we could sit down on the blanket she brought and relish the rare sliver of sun that squeezed in through a gap in the clouds. I knew of course why she wanted to meet me and waited as we chatted easily about nothing of consequence before the topic finally reared its head.
“So,” she hummed, fighting back a shit-eating grin, “You and Julia McMahon, huh?”
A smile of my own forced its way through. “Yeah?”
Orla leaned back on the blanket and adjusted her jacket, toying around the sand with her bare feet. “I gotta hand it to you, Alex—I didn’t think you’d have the balls to do it.”