If wearing him down doesn't work, I'm not sure what I’m going to do. I told Coach Rourke I’d find a team, and I was good for my word. There is no world where I am going to take this fight lying down.
“Coach.”
Eyebrow Man and I both look over my shoulder, putting me eye to eye with Claire’s brotherforward slashthe guy from the grocery store.
What had Claire said his name was? Neil? Nate? Nole?
Up close and in his training kit, he’s equal parts intimidating and good-looking. He's broad-shouldered, and has a pair of the darkest blue eyes I’ve ever seen, like the kind of ocean that would swallow people up on stormy nights. The white training shirt clings to his chest, damp with sweat, and the matching shorts highlight legs clearly built for the game, though he has a black brace on his right knee. He has one of those faces that looksmixed between boy and man, completely free of any facial hair, and a slightly crooked nose.
I snap myself out of my daze of admiring (not admiring, just observing) what he looks like, listening to him talk to the coach. Is he pleading my case?
“—how it works here. Just let her trial tomorrow. If she’s shite, she’ll realize it herself and leave us be. Better than the two of yis standing ‘round bickering all afternoon, yeah?”
The coach seems to be fighting an internal battle between having me going away versus standing ground on his ‘traditions.’ Nelson—no, that’s not it—stands there with his arms crossed, an easy expression on his face like he already knows he won. For my own sake, I hope he’s right.
“Fine,” Coach says, the word clearly hard for him to say. “You get the trial. But if you get a ball to the face or a stud to the shin, don’t go crying to the board. I’m not responsible for you.”
“I’ll take responsibility,”Niall—that’s the one, it has to be—cuts in.
The coach mutters something under his breath, that definitely isn't a farewell or a blessing, walking away and leaving us there. I glance over at the sidelines, where Claire has been watching the whole time with a big grin. She gives me a thumbs up, which I return.
When I turn back, Niall was still standing there. The depth in his eyes draws me in like a siren’s song. “So, tomorrow. 4:15. You’re not gonna chicken out on me, are ya?”
He’s giving me a lopsided smile, which I return. “Of course not, Niall.”
“You know my name?”
“Do you not know mine?” I ask, mostly joking. I mean, he most likely doesn't. Why would he?
Niall doesn't answer. He just shrugs nonchalantly and starts backing away toward his practice, already half-turned like heknew should be getting back. I pivot too, ready to go after Claire—ready to ask if she’d had anything to do with him stepping in—
“Hey.”
His voice pulls me back. Niall’s still retreating onto the pitch, walking backwards with this careless sort of ease, looking a little foolish and completely unbothered by it.
“Good luck,Molly.”
6
Sunshine Sisters
Niall
September, 2007
CLAIRE CAN GETme to do just about anything by simply flashing her puppy dog eyes.
It’s gonna get me sent to Joy someday.
I have to admit that it didn’t take her usual amount of groveling to get me to step into this situation. I was already morbidly curious about why this American girl was on the field, talking to a clearly put out O’Shea, and catching all the lads’ focus.
Even before Claire told me what Miss Molly Lockhart was trying to do, I already had planned to head over there and see what the fuss was about anyway. And now that I know, I decide right away I’ve got to do something. I wasn’t sure exactlywhatmade me want to help her so bad. For now, I’m just going to call it a friendly favor.
Before I could even get to moving over there to see what I could get O’Shea to do, Claire starts in on the— “Please, please,please, Niall, dosomething. I want her to be my friend and if you help her get on the team—”
“Claire, we’ve talked about your habit of trying to buy companionship,” I say, even though I already plan on doingsomething, holding up a hand to stop the ramble I knew was chugging down the tracks. “And I told you, I’m not a social lubricant.”
From handing out free buns at the bakery to offering lifts (inmycar, fromme, by the way) to everyone in school, my sister could write off her daily interactions as charity. I know she’s just a genuinely kind person, but I hate the thought of anyone taking advantage of her sweetness.
