I'll try to keep this as positive but as honest as I can.
I finished school in March for computer programming, but job searching is on hold because I got an offer to traditionally publish my Fissure comic. Because of the format and low resolution of the original comic, it has to be completely redrawn, but I'm taking this opportunity to also add some panels for context. The goal is for this short-run comic to come out in issues in 2024.
As a result of this ^, I've taken work off for the summer so I can devote all the time I can to the comic. Also, almost all other side projects have gone on the back burner. For example, I do want to come back to the Artemis Fowl Otome Game and do something with the concept, because I love it and the characters we created. However, I don't have the creative or emotional capacity atm.
Really, it's everything I can do right now to not curl up into a ball and wait for life to be over. I thought it would help if I got rid of some of the perceived pressure I'm feeling which is intimidating me into a vegetative state.
I'm really excited about this comic, though. I loved making it the first time (I did most of the work in quarantine 2020), and am excited to revisit it and release it in hard copy form.
Side note, the comic is about two black-presenting (one is an alien) people, and I am not black, so I'm looking for a black person who'd be interested in looking over the copies for inconsistencies in art (as far as the characters are concerned) and sensitivity issues. I don't anticipate many, since the comic is short and close knit, but I also don't want to assume. If you're interested, please shoot me a message and we'll talk!
Thank you for reading, so some of the imagined pressure I feel might be lessened.
FOUR MONTHS, or what happens between President Clinton’s visit to Derry on November 30th, 1995 and Erin and Orla’s isolation tape recorded on March 30th, 1996.
Part 1 here
Part 2 here
February 2nd, 1996
It’s…odd, knowing you fancy your best friend.
Well, not fancy. She’d fancied a lot of fellas before, and it’s never been quite like this. Not like this at all, if she’s honest. Not with Leon when she was a wain, and she’d thought he was her soulmate, not with John Paul. Not even with David Donnelly, and she’d fancied him for years. With the hundreds of boys that she’d liked, Erin had had that excitement, that need to make them see her - to make sure they’d like what they saw. She’d found them cool, and handsome, and her heart raced a little sometimes when (if) they talked to her but -
It’s never been like this.
Which should feel strange and terrifying, franckly, because it’s James - it’s James, Michelle’s cousin, one of her best friends in the whole world, and there’s actually so much at stake, it makes her head spin. But that’s the thing though: it doesn’t feel strange. Knowing herself, she should probably be pulling her own hair at this point, trying to find a way to rationalize this to prove to herself that it’s not real, that it will pass, because it can’t be real. She should be scribbling away in her diary nervously, trying to come up with plans to see him as little as possible, to talk to him as little as possible so that it would go all away faster, because - because it had to.
But she’s not. She’s not panicking. And she’s not that surprised, or that scared - or at least, she is, but it’s not…Not about that, per say. It all feels so clear, and yet, it’s so hard to explain. She hasn’t even written anything in her diary yet.
She doesn't have the words for it. Her, the inspiring writer.
How ironic.
She’s not sure what to make of it, either. It’s not like he’s interested in her, or will ever be. There’s girls lining up for him now, and even without that, she’s just -
It’s not important. It will be, very soon, because she knows herself well enough to know that this whole much-more-than-a-crush thing will cause her to overreact at something, at some point, or be bitter or jealous or Lord knows what. That was exactly what happened at Clare’s party, and at the pub after, she knows that now - she just didn’t realize it at the time.
Christ, but was this why she’d gone so mental when Katya tried to take his virginity as well? Was this because it hurt so much that he wanted her to? Had she…had she actually liked him for this long?
Jesus wept.
Well. The good thing is, at that point, this isn’t a catastrophe yet. It hasn’t blown up out of proportion, she hasn’t irremediably lost control, or got worried or hurt because this is and will always be a one way street. Nobody even knows, so she doesn’t have to worry about that. Just - adjust to the idea that…well. James.
Easy enough, isn’t it?
“Erin, what the hell are you doing? Shift it!”
Oh.
Yes, she’s standing in the middle of the hallway like an eejit, so she is. Right.
Eyes briefly moving from Michelle’s annoyed face to James’ amused one, Erin prays that the heat she feels rising in her cheeks isn’t too obvious, and makes her way to assembly.
Maybe a little avoiding the fella and trying to actively focus on something, anything else could be a good idea after all.
February 8th, 1996
“What’s happened between you and dicko?”
“What?”
Nodding toward Clare and James walking in front of them, Michelle throws a gum in her mouth. “You’ve barely talked to him at the party last weekend, and ever since, you’re not as glued-on together as you usually are. Plus, he’s been sending worried looks your way all week.”
Erin feels her chest tighten a little, half panic, half remorse (and something like butterflies in her tummy, too). “So: what did he do?”
“I - he didn’t do anything, Michelle.”
“Why are you mad at him then?”
“What? I’m not mad at him!”
“Right. Thought you two were having tutoring tonight - why did you cancel?”
“I just - my Ma needs me to help with Anna tonight, if you must know.”
Her friend snorts. “Christ Erin, but you’re even worse a liar than Clare. Anyway, I don’t really give a flying fuck what’s happening to be honest, but figure it out will you? It’s weird.”
Well, isn’t that the truth.
“There’s nothing to figure out, Michelle - it’s all fine. Stop trying to find problems where there aren't any: you’re worse than Clare,” and the girl just rolls her eyes.
“Well, you better tell him that then, because the poor fecker has been miserable. He’s starting to look like a wounded puppy or something, walking around the house moppy all day. Anyway, you’ll never guess what I did last night - or should I say, who.”
Jesus.
February 11th, 1996
Well. Maybe she did go a little far.
As it turns out though, it’s not as easy as she would have thought, that whole ordeal: she’s still not panicking (per say), or denying, or trying to kid herself that this is just something temporary that will pass, because the more time does pass, the more she thinks about it - the more she sees him…she just knows it’s not true.
Christ but she’s in trouble this time. Real trouble.
Still, it’s difficult, navigating all of this: they’re together all the time, them lot, and it’s - it’s hard. His stupid, handsome face doesn’t make it any easier.
And so, yeah: maybe she did make sure not to be alone with him too often (never), or to talk to him only when necessary (when he asked her questions and she couldn’t pretend she didn’t hear). There’s a chance she might have made something stupid up and moved their study sessions to the library instead of her house, where she always sat them where there was people around. It’s possible he tried talking to her a couple of times - to understand. Ask what he did wrong, knowing him.The others didn’t notice anything.
He did, though. She knows he did.
Ach but Michelle was right: he did look like a hurt puppy, and she hates that she’s the one making him feel like this. She never wants to be responsible for making him sad, or hurt, swore she would never be again after he almost left, in fact, and now…
It stops today, though. She can’t do that, not to him.
(And Christ, if she’s not missing me, too.
Jesus wept.)
The others are already out the door when she lets Aisling walk past her, then heads towards his desk where James’ still putting his stuff in his bag. Her heart’s pounding.
“Aye, that was a hell of a boring hour, wasn’t it?” His green eyes widen in surprise when he looks up at her, stopping mid-movement.
Jesus, but it feels like she hasn’t even done that for so long now. Just - looking at him.
He chuckles, although she can see he’s a bit nervous. Before he can say anything though, a voice raises behind them.
“Thank you very much, Miss Quinn - I’ll try to remember that when I grade your GCSE paper in a couple of months.” And with that, Sister Declane walks out the door, leaving them alone in the deserted classroom.
“Oh, for feck sake!” As if she needs a D, on top of everything else.
“Don’t worry, I’m sure she’ll have forgotten it by then,” James says reassuringly, sliding his bag on his shoulder. She may get wiped by her Ma when they receive the GCSE results, but at least he looks a bit more relaxed now.
Until, of course, the silence settles, and she can see the apprehension back in his eyes.
Alright, Erin - you can do it.
Taking a deep breath, she fights the urge to flee to another country (France, maybe? Her french is good enough, she could make it), and shrugs.
“Yeah, well, I think that’s what they call karma, isn’t it.” He frowns. “I was actually going to apologize for being such a dick to you lately, so.” Again, surprise registers on his sweet face. A bit of hurt, too.
Aye, she’s been such an idiot, so she has.
Quickly pulling himself together though, James plasters on a smile and shrugs it off. “You weren’t a dick, Erin - ”
“Yes, I was. And I’m - I’m really sorry, I was just - ” You know, falling in love with you. “I’m sorry.”
A second passes. Another. She can’t look at him.
“Did I do something?”
That, however, makes the trick. “ I’m really sorry if I did, I should have - ”
“No! You didn’t do anything wrong James - I swear. It wasn’t you, I was just…in a weird phase, I suppose. But that’s really no excuse, and I just wanted to apologize. I hope…I hope you’ll forgive me.” His face softens, and it’s really not fair, what that does to her.
“There’s nothing to forgive, Erin. Are you okay though? Do you - want to talk about it?”
Aye. He’s going to be the end of her, that English.
Smiling as best as she can, Erin tries to smother out the wave of affection that washes over her, and shakes her head.
“I’m grand now - don’t worry.” Not that that’s enough to reassure him, she can see it.
So, before he can say anything else, she taps one of her bag straps with her finger. “Although if I don’t want my Ma to wipe me out of this world and continue to be okay, I’d better get a move on on my Math tonight. Care to join?”
Eyes shining a little, James beams.
As they slowly make their way out of the school, catching up on the couple of days they haven’t talked, a nice warmth spreads in her entire body, from her head to her toes. He does come to her house for tutoring, grinning like a mad man when everyone makes a fuss about him being back for the usual evenings of studying and having tea with all of them. When Granda pats him on the shoulder as they make their way up the stairs, she’s pretty sure the boy could cry from happiness.
That night, they struggle with homeworks, laugh over it, catch the other up on Doctor Who and Murder, She Wrote. He tells her about the latest call he made to his mum, holds her hand under the table when her own Ma scolds her, helps her with the dishes, and as he talks, eyes on the bubbly water where he’s cleaning a plate before rinsing it to pass it to her, Erin realizes just how much she missed him.
He’s putting his jacket on when he tells her he missed her, eyes not quite meeting hers. Her chest tightens.
As Erin lays in her bed a little later, she can’t quite stop his words and the way his fingers brushed hers on his way out from playing on a loop in her head.
Sleep does not come easy, and she suspects that this may be a glimpse of what the majority of her nights are going to look like in the foreseeable future.
(Sometimes…sometimes, she thinks it’s not just her.
She doesn't fool herself that him coming to take her to prom meant anything more than just James being a good friend, because he would have done it for any of them. Sure, he didn't cancel his night when Clare admitted she wanted to go with him, but had she been stood up like Erin had, had he known she'd be alone and sad? He would have come for her, too. There’s no doubt about that.
And yet -
Yet, she can't stop thinking about how much fun they had, that night. How nice it was, talking to just him, and walking home together while the others fought a little ahead of them. She could swear he had liked it too. She can't stop thinking about the way his eyes kept coming back to her when he told them he was leaving, and after, when thank Jesus, he came back to them.
Sometimes, she thinks she can feel his eyes on her other times, too. His hand lingering a second too long, his body pressed a little closer than necessary.
In the back of her mind, she knows this isn’t likely to end well for her wee heart.)
February 14th, 1996
“Where’s James?”
With a dangerous smirk, Michelle pushes from the doorframe and past Erin, Clare on her tail.
“It’s Valentine’s day Erin: Casanova’s on a date.”
On -
“What?”
She’d slap herself for her voice being so ridiculously high, but for a second, she’s just - well, shocked, really.
She is, in fact, very aware that it’s Valentine’s day. Assembly had started with the one love song still not banned, Jenny’s been parading with heart balloons all morning (‘As if that dick has a Valentine.’) until Sister Michael made her pop them all off, and Erin could swear every couple on the God damn city was off trying to show the world how in love and happy they were, stupid hand holding and longing gazes and kissing very much visible at every corner they passed.
(Alright, maybe she is a wee bit bitter. And jealous. But - just a bit, really.
James had almost caught her looking at him in English class this morning.)
That afternoon, they’re supposed to hang around at her place after school, maybe watch a movie, and then get ready for big Sean’s party. Not that they’re invited - not officially. But everyone’s going, and it will be cracker, so of course, despite Clare’s concerns (among others) that it’s a week day, Michelle insists they’re all going.
James never said he wasn’t -
“He’s meeting us at the party - well, they are, I guess. But he’s going to the mall with that girl first, the one from England you know? And then they’re going to the movies I think. Not that there will be a lot of actual movie watching going on, if you know what I mean.”
“Michelle!”
“Oh wise up, Clare! Who the fuck goes to the cinema on a date on Valentine’s day and doesn’t make out?”
Erin feels like her heart drops right in her shoes. “Who knows, maybe even more, they - ”
“Alright, I think we get the picture, thank you. Now can please talk about other than James’ potentiel sexual activities?”
She can’t really focus. Not on the film, not on the gossip about Charlene’s new haircut and Lena’s new boyfriend. All her energy goes into getting through the whole thing without letting the tears that threaten to burst, out. It’s not that easy, but at least, no one seems to notice anything.
It’s so stupid. She is.
Of course, girls would be interested in him - of course he’d be interested in them. It had to happen eventually, it shouldn’t be a surprise.
She wishes it wouldn’t hurt so bad, though.
It takes a while, convincing the others to leave her behind - well, Michelle, really. Orla being Orla, she’s too busy playing with the buttons of her new sweater like she’s been since they arrived, and surprisingly, Clare has backed her up, maintaining to a raging Mallon that if she doesn’t feel well, she should sleep it out.
(There’s something in the way Clare looks at her, though. When she tells them she feels off, and would rather stay home - like she isn’t surprised. Like she knows Erin’s lying, and feels a bit sorry for her, and is trying to help her.
Erin chooses to brush it off, and silently thanks the skies for the help instead.)
They get ready in her room as planned, and after half an hour, open the door to find Ciaran, all dressed up to pick up aunt Sarah. Granda goes next, doing a poor but touching job at trying to hide his excitement to go join Maeve and, now that Erin’s home to babysit Anna, her Da and Ma head out as well. They look really happy, too. She’s glad they can have this wee night to themselves.
At least something nice comes out of this whole mess of a day.
Her sister doesn’t put up a fight and goes to sleep without fussing, so Erin has all the time in the world to go on with her perfect plan for the night: watch a sappy romantic comedy and feel sorry for herself. Not to brag, but she does a wonderful job at it, so she does.
As could have been predicted, it’s not the funniest night of her young life yet.
And it’s weird, too, because…she wants James to be happy. She wants him to smile like that eejit she’s watching on the screen, grin wide as the girl throws herself in his arms while romantic music plays and the camera does that slow motion thing. She really does - he deserves to be happy.
He’s the nicest person she’s met. Always so polite and mindful of everyone’s feelings, caring, despite the fact that he’s the one who’s been taking the most shite because of his mum, and then because of the whole stupid English thing, when really, it doesn’t matter at all, does it. He deserves to have someone who makes him smile.
He looks really handsome when he smiles, too.
She just wishes -
The doorbell rings, and Erin gets up, turning off the stupid TV on her way. It doesn’t come as a surprise, given that in their rush to go out, both her Ma and Da left their keys on the kitchen table. So, she dries the tears from her cheeks, tries to forget about green eyes and brown curls, if only for a moment, and heads for the door in her pyjamas, fully ready to go to bed and pretend like maybe, her heart won’t feel as heavy in the morning.
Except when she opens the door, it’s not her Ma and Da.
It’s -
“James?”
All green eyes and brown curls and everything.
“Hi.”
Oh.
“What are you doing here?”
Is her voice wavering? It is, isn’t it - and she’s blushing, too, she’s sure of it. Shite.
Shite, shite, shite -
“Are you okay?”
His voice brings her back to reality, and she shakes herself enough to see that he’s frowning, concern evident on his handsome face.
Aye, that’s not helping her case.
She scoffs, trying to brush it off and smile as best as she can. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine - just tired, that’s all. But if you wanted to meet up for the party, the others already went. I’m not going in the end, so - ”
“I know: I just came from the party - they told me.” He looks…serious. ”I uh - I wanted to see you, actually.”
Oh Christ but she cannot do this.
She swore to herself she would be supportive of him, and she will be, really, but - she can't stand here listening to him talk about the girl he fancies, might even more than fancy. Not tonight, of all nights.
Inside, it feels like something’s pressing really, really hard against her heart.
But as she looks at his face all worried, tension radiating off his shoulders, Erin knows she’s going to do it anyway. For him, she’ll do it.
Shite.
“Alright then,” she grins, her fingers tight around the door’s handle. “So, what happened on that date that you just couldn’t wait to tell me about?”
“Well, that, precisely: it wasn’t a date.”
She frowns. “What?” And then -
“When I got to the party, the girls started grilling me about this afternoon, because apparently they all thought I had one with Emily. Not that I can blame them, I suppose: apparently, she did too."
"Well, yeah - it's Valentine's day."
His cheeks get awfully pink at that, and he scratches the back of his head, embarrassed.
At least she thinks so. Nothing makes much sense right now.
"I know…I just - I guess I kind of convinced myself it wouldn’t read that way because I knew I couldn’t say no to meeting with her again? Not after I already found excuses twice. And it was just tea, and in the afternoon, so I thought - ”
He shakes his head, annoyed.
And then, looks back at her, determined, and something in his eyes makes her stomach flips. “I was stupid. Really, really stupid. And when Emily tried to kiss me, and I realized exactly how much, all I could think about was how you might think the same, and how I needed to get to that party to tell you that - it wasn’t. It wasn’t a date, and I’m not interested in her like that. I never was, actually, because…because I like you.”
There’s - a beat. Another.
In her chest, her heart misses a couple.
“What?”
It’s a miracle he hears her, her voice is so small. Then again, maybe he doesn’t - but when he speaks again, his is anything but.
His eyes and the small, hesitant smile he bears have never been this soft, though.
“I like you, Erin. I think I’ve liked you for a while now, I just didn’t realize it but…I do. I - I hate it when you talk about other boys, I hate it when you think you’re not good enough for them, and - and when I was leaving Derry, and I thought about not seeing you every day, it felt like…well, it made me want to stay.”
Her heart is beating again now - faster than ever, in fact, faster than it should for sure, and she’s pretty certain her hands have started to shake, as well.
Not that she can look to confirm: under the small light of the entrance, his green eyes are shining with an assurance she’s never seen in him, with something else, too, and she just - she can’t look away.
Her gaze falls on his lips briefly as he bites on his lower one slightly, his own gaze suddenly looking for anything to focus on but her. “I tried ignoring it, I really did: believe me, I’m very much aware that I’m just the wee English fella, and that it’s ridiculous because there’s no way you’d feel the same,” he scoffs.
Then, looks back at her. “But the thing is, I can’t ignore it anymore, because it gets worse every time I see you. And I’m sorry, because I know you don’t feel the same way, and that I just made things weird - it’s stupid, how much I wanted you to know I want you and not Emily, you probably don’t even remember her feaking name, but - ”
“I hated it.”
The words are out of her mouth before she even realizes she’s talking.
“What?” In front of her, James looks as shocked and confused as she feels.
All she can hear is her heartbeat thundering in her ears, so loudly that surely, he hears it too, and…and he’s looking at her, his face so vulnerable and beautiful, and it just - comes out.
“I hated the fact that you were with her on Valentine’s day. And the times before, and - and that girl at the bar. I hated it too.” Christ, she needs more air. “I hated that she flirted with you, and that you kept smiling back at her. To be honest, I think that might have even been why I went so crazy at Jenny’s party, with Katya, not that I realized it at the time. And I was just…I was so happy it was you and not John Paul who showed up that night, I should have known then, but the truth is - ”
That particular sentence though, she doesn’t get to finish, because before she can add another word, his hand’s on her cheek, and he’s kissing her.
James is kissing her.
Her breath catches in her throat.
In the cold February night, his lips are soft and warm against hers, more so than they have any right to be. It’s like time stops, but she doesn’t mind, because it feels - wonderful.
When he leans back, Erin vaguely realizes that the small moan she hears comes from her. She’d be embarrassed, but her brain has frozen and can barely process what’s going on at this point. Her heart, on the other hand, is very much active once again - beating so fecking fast in her chest, in fact, it almost hurts.
He’s already looking at her when she opens her eyes, his face close, so deliciously close. For a second, they just - stare. He looks shaken, a bit uncertain. So beautiful.
Aye, but she’s in so much trouble.
She’s not sure what he sees on her own face, but he must be okay with it, because he’s smiling then, a small, heart melting smile that confirms that James Maguire has become entirely too dangerous, and before she has a chance to recover, he cups her other cheek to frame her face, and closes the small distance left between them once more.
Her eyes flutter close again, and she swears she sees stars.
She’s not sure how long they stay like this, his body so close she can feel the warmth radiating off of him, her heart feeling like it could explode at any moment. Sharing the same oxygen as they catch their breath for just a second. She knows she doesn’t want it to stop, though, wants him closer against her, even, and -
And just like that, James’ pulling away, gathering his hands at his sides as his head turns to the first door of the entrance and, before Erin understands what’s happening, it flies open to reveal her laughing, albeit slightly surprised Ma and Da.
“Ah, James! What brings ye here, son?”
Sweet suffering Jesus.
Her head’s spinning, and she hasn’t even registered that she should worry about plugging her brain back on that he’s speaking, somehow.
“Nothing really, I was just uhm - I heard Erin wasn’t feeling very well, so I just wanted to check up on her.”
“Aye, that’s sweet of you love,” Mammy smiles.
Then, looks back at her at the same time her Da does, with something in their eyes that’s twinkling and laughing.
Erin flushes straight to her hairline.
Oh lord. Oh no no no. Oh Christ -
“It’s late though,” James smiles, clearing his throat a little and drawing the attention back to him.
He’s a bit red in the cheeks too, but he looks - aye, is he amused? “I should go - have a good night, Mr and Mrs Quinn.”
Ever the gentleman, he sends a little nod towards her parents as he walks past them. His face is already half covered by the darkness of the starless night when he looks back at her one last time. Her heart leaps out of her fecking chest.
“Goodnight, Erin.”
February 15th, 1996
From a very young age, Erin has always loved going to class. Well - not all classes, of course: mathematics are, and will forever remain her enemy, she’s sure of it. But she did love school - she’d always enjoyed learning new things, going home and telling her family about them. When they came back from summer vacations, she couldn’t wait to go back to spend her weeks with the girls again. Yet, as far as she can remember, Erin has never been this excited at the idea of heading to Our Lady Immaculate. Or this stressed.
Or this nauseous.
Thank God for Anna and the fit she decides to throw that morning: otherwise, she’s pretty sure someone would have found something to say about her uncharacteristic silence, her jumpy leg, or her complete lack of appetite. She can’t help it though: she’s terrified. Terrified, and so, so incredibly giddy. It still feels so surreal, and yet -
James kissed her. He actually kissed her.
She hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it for one damn second, too. Hasn’t even managed to sleep properly, and to be honest, she doesn’t mind, because Jesus -
“What are you smiling at?”
Her cousin’s voice snaps her right back into reality, and she turns her head to find Orla looking at her funny, eyebrow furrowed and lollipop peeking out of her mouth.
“What? I wasn’t smiling.”
“Aye but you were, Erin.”
“No I wasn’t - ”
“Hi girls!”
Aye, thank God for Clare.
The girl provides a very welcomed distraction, too, cackling about the latest episode of Murder, She Wrote, and Erin is so invested in telling her why the way that wife killed her husband’s lover was not only completely believable but also very, very clever that she forgets her half panicked, half euphoric state.
That is, of course, until they arrive at the bus, and she looks up to find a pair of green eyes already staring straight at her.
“What’s up, motherfuckers?”
“Hi,” he smiles at her as Michelle leads the way, jabbering about some new film, and climbs in. In her belly, the butterflies go wild.
Oh boy.
“Hey.”
The girls are already too deep in conversation to notice the grin that’s surely taken over half her face, which is a good thing, because she can’t control it for the life of her. “Alright?”
“Yeah. You?”
Better than she’s ever been, really. She beams. “Yeah.”
As her (very stupid) luck would have it, they don’t end up next to each other on the bus. Or at assembly. Or in class, or at the cafeteria where at the last minute, Michelle comes from nowhere and sits on the chair she’s secretly saving for him a second before he can sit down.
(Michelle, who sat next to her on the bus, and then sneaked herself between the two them at assembly, and then again when they were leaving it, and Erin could swear James’ arm was starting to lean against hers a bit.)
It takes all her self control not to push the girl out of the damn thing. When they go back to class, she feels his hand brush against her though, a finger grabbing hers for the briefest of second, and she thanks the skies no one notices her blushing cheeks.
He looks at her, as well. Every time she catches him, he smiles, way too handsome for her own good, and she swears, her heart melts.
As annoying as she proves to be during the actual lunch, though, Michelle takes a most interesting turn as they head back to class right after - this time again, without even knowing it.
“So, what are you lot doing this week-end?”
“Aren’t we renting a movie to watch at your place Saturday?”
“Aye, yes we are Erin, I’m talking about tonight. I mean, obviously your plan is never going to be as grand as mine, given the fella I’m seeing tonight, but still - it’s Friday night, people.”
“I told you already, we’re visiting my Auntie in Belfast - we leave tonight,” Clare says distractingly, looking for God knows what in her bag.
“Mammy is taking me to eat something and then dancing,” Orla chimes in, lollipop in her mouth. Michelle nods approvingly and holds up her hand, and Orla’s more than happy to high five her.
“What about you, Erin?”
She shrugs. “I don’t have any plans, really. I’ll probably just watch telly with Ma and Da.”
“Seriously Erin, that’s sad - even for you. Why don’t you go to the movies with dicko then - you were planning to go, weren’t you cousin? I mean, it won’t be much better than a night with your parents Erin, but at least that’s something to do.”
Next to her, James rolls his eyes. “Thank you, Michelle. That’s probably what your date is thinking, too.”
Of course, that earns him a punch, and Clare accidentally gets pushed, and then her book’s falling on Orla’s foot, and despite the looks they get from all the girls in the hall, it’s all a very good thing. That way, no one notices that Erin stops walking for a second, her heart missing a beat just like she misses a step.
Aye.
Needless to say, her level of concentration in French is even worse than what it’s been all morning.
Jesus, but this is going to be a long afternoon.
Someone upstairs must take pity on her though, because just as she’s starting to think that she’s going to lose her mind trying to determine if she should go talk to him or wait for him to, and realizing maybe he doesn’t want, otherwise he’d have done it by now, and at the same time, she hasn’t dreamt all of it, right - as she actually thinks her head will explode, she feels a hand gently grab her arm as she exits the bathroom and next thing she knows, Erin’s standing in a very, very small closet, with a very, very good-looking James so close, their chests are almost touching.
Jesus, Mary, Joseph and all that’s good on this earth.
“Hi.”
Aye, that smile. When did it start making her knees buckle, for Christ sake?
“Hi.”
“Sorry about that, I just - I’ve been trying to talk to you alone all day, or just talk to you, really, but apparently, that’s too much to ask.”
She groans. “I know. That cousin of yours is a hell of a cockblocker, isn’t she?”
As soon as the words leave her mouth, Erin feels fire spread in her entire body and burn at her cheeks so bright, she’s surprised it doesn’t light up the entire closet. “I mean - ”
In front of her, James’ beaming.
“Oh come off it, James!” she huffs, wishing the ground would swallow her whole right here, right now. Has her head caught on fire yet? It had to, really, because -
But he’s taking her hand, then, both of them, in fact, his long fingers shyly closing over hers at their sides. Her eyes snap back up to meet his in surprise, and although he’s still smiling, there’s something else in them, too.
The butterflies in her belly go wild again.
“Sorry, sorry. And I agree, actually - didn’t think Michelle could be even more of a pain, without even realizing it at that.”
They both chuckle, and as they look at each other, Erin can feel the heaviness of the moment, of that moment last night surrounding them, taking all the space left around them. There’s a pause, none of them quite sure what to say., or maybe how to say. it.
God, but what were they supposed to say? What now?
Aye, but there’s a cack attack somewhere in her immediate future, she’s sure of it.
Before panic completely takes over though, James squeezes her fingers gently, and her heart flutters at the thought that he can read her so well.
Well. At that and everything else, really.
“I’m sorry I left like that last night.”
“Well, to be fair, you didn’t really have a choice.” He snorts.
“Yeah. Although I’m not sure we really got away with it, to be honest.”
“I guess we’ll have to stay whether or not my Ma starts acting like a lunatic the next time we’re alone in my room,” and he laughs, his eyes crinkling in a way that’s far too enticing. “You were pretty quick on your feet though - nice safe.”
His head drops for a second, and he huffs, frustrated. “Still - I really wanted to talk to you. I’ve been wanting to, all day.” Maybe a little nervous, too. “Erin, I -”
“I like you, James.”
His eyes snap right back up to hers like that, a very readable surprise on his face that is probably just as readable on hers. “I really, really like you.”
“You do?”
She does.
Putting aside the fear that’s eating her insides a bit, the million things she’s suddenly feeling and she can’t even make sense of, Erin nods. It’s scary - she’s scared shitless, but then a slow, wide grin starts to grow on his lips, and just like that, it’s all replaced by a gidiness and something - more.
She’s smiling so much, it’s starting to hurt.
She wants to kiss him. He’s so close - so wonderfully close, she’d barely have to move, realy, and she knows she tends to be dramatic but Christ she doesn’t think she’s ever wanted something so much in her entire life.
Which must show, because the corner of his mouth twist in a very dangerous way before he leans is and -
Bam!
They turn their heads so fast towards the door, she accidentally headbuts him a little, somehow, sending his head flying in the wall behind him.
“Jesus fuck - ”
“Oh shite, I’m so sorry James!”
Luckily for them, the noise of whatever’s going on outside is covering their own personal disaster. “Are you okay?”
Obviously he’s not, pain written all over his face. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he says gently, trying and failing to turn his wince into a smile. “It’s fine.”
It takes both of them a moment to realize that as one his hand moved to his head, hers settled on his chest. As soon as they do, her cheeks flash bright red again, but then -
“Will you come to the movies with me tonight?”
For a second, this particular second, Erin’s pretty sure she stops breathing.
Audibly, embarrassingly so. “I just thought, well, given the situation and the fact that Michelle actually suggested it, no one will find it strange or suspicious, and…And I’d really like to take you out.”
Oh. Oh.
Oh, but she’s so not watching telly with Ma and Da tonight.
Which she should have said out loud instead of just gaping at him, if the way he starts panicking in a very James typical way is any indication. She doesn’t know which side of him she loves more: the cheeky, confident one that’s starting to reveal itself, or the shy, awkward one.
“I mean, I also thought we could talk about - well, last night, and what - if…But if you don’t - ”
“I’d love to.”
Stopped short in his rambling, he looks back at her. Smirks.
Aye, both - she definitely, definitely loves both.
“Yeah?”
She squeezes the hand that’s still holding hers. “Yeah.”
“Perfect. And now I think we should get out of here, because one, we’ve been here a while and two, I think the break’s end’s about to ring.”
He gets out first, sliding his head out to check that the coast is clear before getting out completely, leading her by the hand she’s still refusing to let go of. A last check to the right, to the left, and then he’s standing before her again.
“So.”
“So.”
“I’ll pick you up at 6?”
It takes all that she has, really, to tame down her smile. “Grand.”
James gives her one of his breath stealing smiles again, and squeezes her hand one last time.
“Perfect. You should go first - I’ll join you guys later.”
“Aye.”
Before she can in fact go, though, the hand she’s just dropped is at her waist, and before she even realizes what’s going on, James is kissing her in the hallway.
When her brain reloads, there’s a shiteating grin all over his stupid face.
“Also, I’m going to ask you to be my girlfriend tonight - in case you wanted to think about your answer before then.”
And with that, the bastard’s gone.
February 25th, 1996
It’s been an…interesting week and a half. A nice one, really. An equally exciting, equally frustrating week and a half.
Aye, it’s been the best ten fecking days of her entire life, so it has.
She’s learnt a lot, too:
- having a boyfriend is cracker
- that her boyfriend is actually her best friend actually doesn’t feel weird - at all. It feels…right
- (amazing, really)
- she doesn’t have a lot of experience, of course (none, really), but she’s heard girls talk, so she knows it’s not like that all the time and that she can safely say that, as it turns out, James freaking Maguire is a great, great kisser
- he also confirms his status of cheeky bugger, which is easily forgiven every time because of the previously mentioned information
- sneaking around is really fun
- empty classrooms come in very handy when you’re a couple of Catholics with houses full of Catholic parents
- the feeling of James’ hands on her face and in her hair is her new favorite thing in the entire world
- threading her fingers in his curls is a close second
- she gets chills every time he laces their fingers together
- did she mention how good of a kisser James is?
Of course, it’s not an ideal situation. Constantly being two minutes away from a cack attack takes a lot out of a girl: she’s certainly found a renewed sense of empathy for Clare, that’s for sure.They have to avoid the adults whenever they’re at school, of course, but those at home too, and all of them are nothing to the stress being with the girls brings. The first couple of days, Michelle thinks she has the scoots again (for real this time), she’s so tense.
They manage it, though, quite well actually: after all, they’re friends first - they’re a group first, and it’s such a relief to find out that what they’re starting to have now doesn’t alter that.
When she tells him that, cuddled up face to face on her bed that day, James confesses that he feels the same.
Her Ma and Da will be back soon, and they’ll have to go back to her desk and pretend to work on their History presentation (or better yet, actually work on it - not that she fancies it all that much, but it’s becoming worriedly urgent).
For now, though, she can just lay here with him, his hand warming the small of her back as he tells her about his stepdad Paul and their old home in London - and that’s definitely a cracker Saturday afternoon if she says so herself.
