Chapter 13 #2
‘So by this time tomorrow the entire damn country will think we’re engaged. We’ve gone from lying to a few thousand people in a tiny town no one’s ever heard of, to lying to Australia.’
‘It’s way worse than that,’ Fin said as he turned and headed for his waiting team, Sweeney falling in beside him. ‘They’ll want to push it out to all their platforms to piggyback off the virality of the photo.’ He glanced across at her. ‘It’s going to go international.’
‘Oh god.’ The scale of it dawned across her face like the breaking of day as she hurried a little to match his stride. ‘The entire world’s going to know?’
‘Those who are tuned into it? Yup.’
‘Well … shit.’ She slid her hands to her cheeks as she looked at him. ‘Maybe … maybe something mysterious will happen to the film overnight and it won’t be useful? Or a big news event might break that will completely scuttle this ridiculous fluff piece?’
He snorted. ‘Like what?’
‘I don’t know … a massive sea monster wading out of Loch Ness and scaring the bejesus out of everyone? Or a … huge meteorite hurtling towards Earth.’
If Fin was easily insulted or wasn’t secure in his friendship with Sweeney, he might have wondered how much she actually liked him if her preference was for a potential extinction event over people finding out they were engaged.
‘You’d rather be hit by a meteorite that will kill all life on the planet than have that piece go to air? ’
It was official—his life had now veered into the absurd.
She sighed. ‘I guess not.’
Fin barked out a laugh as the reluctance in her tone told him she might be weighing it up as an option. ‘Cheer up,’ he murmured. ‘Only three weeks to go.’
‘Oh god. We’re going to hell.’
‘Nope.’ Fin shook his head. ‘But for damn sure our mothers will be dancing with the devil.’
*
Sweeney, despite knowing better, had hoped that Fin’s prediction would be wrong—but alas, it was not.
In a world that seemed to be in turmoil everywhere—a still spewing volcano being the least of it—the feelgood, PG story of a small town underdog kids’ sports team combined with the irresistible hook of childhood-friends-to-lovers and that photo hit the zeitgeist in the way some things just inexplicably did, going global.
Clips from the breakfast programme were aired on news segments all across the world. A squinting Tori and Nellie announcing they were going to be flower girls had everyone gushing, and Sweeney’s own I’m not someone who likes to kiss and tell had become a meme.
A goddamn meme.
Which made for an interesting few days. Feeney was more than a Murphy family phenomenon, it was becoming a force of nature that was putting Ballyshannon, junior Gaelic football and the Banshees on the map.
Considering it was essentially a non-story that Sweeney knew would die out in a matter of days, media interest was next level, with hourly requests coming in via Instagram, and the GoFundMe page seeing another huge jump in contributions.
They would soon have enough money to build a whole new club house.
Mai was ecstatic, as was everyone involved with the Banshees.
The club would be able to cover the expenses of both teams and the ones from the surrounding area to get to the comp, including airfares and accommodation for the immediate family of each player.
It was beyond everyone’s wildest dreams, but it was all very much real.
Of course, there was the downside. Journalists from Melbourne and interstate had showed up at the footy field a couple of afternoons in a row, and rumours abounded on the Murphy family WhatsApp that locals were being contacted by news organisations of varying respectability, offering money for any images of her and Fin together.
They were all sufficiently outraged and Sweeney was eternally thankful for the way the Murphy family could close ranks. They were allowed to speculate and gossip about each other but god help anyone from the outside trying to do it.
Some photos did get out—but not from a single Murphy.
It was bewildering and bemusing and a complete nuisance.
Especially having to field congratulatory messages from friends and acquaintances across the globe.
Thus far she’d turned off her read receipts and ignored them, but that was hardly a long-term strategy.
Fin had also been ignoring his messages, but this whole thing was enough to drive a person crazy.
Or to drink, anyway. The red wine currently in Sweeney’s hand confirming it.
‘This bloody Connections puzzle is a tough one,’ Fin murmured, lifting his eyes from his phone screen to meet her gaze as he took a pull of his beer.
His legs were stretched out in front of him propped on the coffee table, his arm occasionally lightly brushing hers.
They’d taken to sitting closer in the middle of the couch.
It felt more companionable and made it easier to share the standard bowl of nightly popcorn as they watched the television.
‘So many red herrings. How are you doing?’
Sweeney dragged her brain off the three-ring circus of the last few days and refocused on the word puzzle on her screen.
They’d taken to doing it, along with Wordle and the mini crossword—thank you, The New York Times—in the evenings after they’d dined with their mothers and before they flicked on the next episode of Lost.
Yep, they were real movers and shakers these days.
The competition between them was fierce, as it had always been.
From video games to school test scores, they’d always tried to best each other, so it was only natural all these years later to try to be the one to complete each puzzle first. Yesterday he’d got the Connections out in twenty-two seconds and Sweeney had been miffed, but it didn’t seem that difficult to her tonight—she was just preoccupied. ‘I’ve got the green and yellow out.’
He frowned and made a frustrated noise at the back of his throat before returning his attention to the screen. But Sweeney could sense as she tried to make the next connection that he kept looking at her, which made her ridiculously aware of her every single movement, making it hard to concentrate.
‘What?’ she said eventually as she glanced at him to find him looking at her with a frown.
‘Nothing.’
‘You keep staring at me. Do I have a booger on my face?’
He laughed. ‘No.’ Then he took another swallow of his beer. Given their proximity, Sweeney was afforded an up close and personal view of the way his whiskery throat bobbed and made her aware of his every single movement.
Determined to ignore him, she looked back at her screen, but not for long. Had he just leaned in a little and … sniffed?
‘Are you … using my body wash?’
Sweeney glanced at him, startled. Completely knocked off balance, she swiftly denied his tentative enquiry. ‘No.’ Except she was. But she didn’t want to admit it because that would be weird. Also probably inappropriate.
He did sniff her this time. ‘Yes.’ He grinned. ‘You are.’
‘No. I’m not.’ Sweeney went back to her screen. Fin didn’t stop watching her, however, waiting patiently as she tried to concentrate on the puzzle.
Sweeney actually started to sweat. She’d always been a lousy liar, which was why this whole engagement deception was so damn hard. After a minute, with his unwavering gaze firmly trained on her profile, she huffed out a breath and turned her head, fixing him with an exasperated expression.
‘Okay, yes. Satisfied?’
He laughed and cocked an eyebrow. ‘You don’t have any of your own?’
Sweeney shrugged. ‘I like yours better.’
‘You like to smell like a dude?’
She blinked. ‘Do I smell like a dude?’
It was his turn to squirm and look discomforted, which was … interesting. ‘You smell like you.’
Sweeney wasn’t sure what that meant, nor was she sure she wanted to now the vibe between them felt awkward instead of companionable. ‘Do you mind?’ she asked.
He frowned, as though he’d lost his place in the conversation. ‘Mind?’
‘Me using it?’
‘Of course not.’
‘I actually prefer a lot of men’s fragrances to women’s, to be honest. The floral base they tend to use for women can be a little too light and sickly for my liking.
My theory is that the spicier base notes in men’s fragrances, like the rum one in yours, have a much kinder chemical reaction with my pheromones. ’
Sweeney wasn’t sure why she was going on about bases and pheromones, but Fin’s continued discomfort was confusing. As was her awareness of the space—or lack thereof—between them, so maybe she was just trying to fill it up with words? ‘Don’t worry, I’ll replace it when it’s all gone.’
Finally, he seemed to snap out of whatever the hell was happening right now. ‘You’d better,’ he fired back, a grin breaking across his face. ‘It’s my favourite.’
‘It’s not hideously expensive, is it?’
‘Nah. A two-pack cost me less than fifteen euro from Aldi.’
‘Even better. A cheap fragrance that smells like a million bucks.’ Sweeney smiled a smile she didn’t really feel. ‘You have good taste, Finley Murphy.’
He shrugged. ‘That’s what all the women say.’
‘I bet,’ she said with a laugh, but as they turned their attention back to the puzzle, there was a little undeniable part of her that didn’t like the thought of women and Fin. Which was, of course, ludicrous.
But there anyway.