Chapter 4 Vanessa
Vanessa
There’s always that one moment you dread in your life.
When I was a kid, it was the moment when my mom finally stopped telling me to clean my room and actually made me clean my room. As an adult, it’s when I have to sit down and go through all my paperwork to do my taxes.
Ugh.
But for me, in my relationship with Jack?
I know that at some point, I’ll have to meet his friends. Like, duh. It’s a thing you do when you’re part of someone’s life, and he’s clearly part of mine.
But he’s so much younger than me, and as the older person, a woman at that, I’m pretty sure his friends will have opinions.
Now that the cat’s out of the proverbial bag, I’m worried.
He probably has friends who are all ten years younger than me too, and I doubt they’ll all take our age gap in stride.
My friends—Natalie and Sam—will be amazing.
They always are. They’ll tease us, and they’ll make a lot of jokes that Jack won’t even get about shows he never watched, but they’ll be happy for us, and they’ll never try to make him feel bad about being too young or me about being too old.
They might even secretly wish they were dating someone younger.
Because Jack is super hot. And he’ll stay super hot longer than I will, even if I were as good-looking as he was at the start.
So when Jack texts me, his words cause a sort of existential dread.
Are you free for dinner tonight? I have some friends who are dying to meet you.
After I’m able to breathe again, I call.
He picks right up. “Hello, beautiful. I hope your morning’s going well.”
“Do you consider having a huge pile of numbers to plow through good?”
He laughs. “Well, I don’t, but I know you do accounting stuff, so maybe you do.”
“Natalie’s freaking out, because our brand-new business we’re starting in the off-season of a completely different country where we have no connections has been a little slow to start.” I chuckle. “Sam and I both assumed it would be a slow start, but we’re not natural worriers either.”
“I’d like to meet your friends too, you know,” he says. “I think it’s time.”
Back to that again. He’s like a squirrel with a nut. “I guess.”
He’s laughing now. “So I wasn’t imagining it. You have been putting me off.”
“I’m old,” I moan. “They’re not going to like me.”
“You’re not old,” Jack says. “And you’re like wine. You’re for sure improving with age.”
I roll my eyes. “That’s something people say to make themselves feel better about crow’s feet. The reality is, my collagen stores are giving out, and my hair’s starting to quit making the right ink, and my knees complain whenever it rains, and in Ireland, that’s all the time.”
“Do your knees really hurt?” He sounds concerned.
“Not usually, or at least, not if I take my collagen supplement in my coffee every morning, but that’s not the point.”
“My friends will like you.” He sighs. “And, look, the only one who had a cloven hoof had it removed last month, so I swear, they won’t attack you.”
“Fine,” I say. “Fine. You’re not going to let me hide in a cave forever, I guess, and I don’t want to get rid of you, so we may as well rip the Band-Aid off.”
“Who’s the Band-Aid in this analogy?” He grunts. “Is that me?”
“It’s me,” I say. “The dirty, gross Band-Aid that everyone will hate.”
He’s laughing again. “Let’s meet at Foley’s. The Blue Garden’s beautiful this time of year, and after a few pints, even if they don’t like you, they’ll forget and so will you.”
Brilliant. “Out of curiosity, which friends are coming, and which of them had that cloven hoof removed?”
“It’s just some of my mates from secondary school.” Which I now know means high school in Ireland. “Most of them are friends from hurling, so you’ve seen them before, and ever since I rejoined the local team, Rían usually comes along as well.”
“He’s even younger than you.” I try, and fail, to suppress my groan.
“Only a bit younger,” Jack says.
I really want to groan now, because Rían’s definitely closer to Trace’s age than mine. “At least I’ll know someone.”
“They really won’t bite,” Jack says. “I’d say the biggest idiot is Seán, but even he’s really excited to meet you. His girlfriend’s the one who always brings it up. She’s tired of being the only girl.”
“What should I wear?”
“A bikini, I think,” Jack says. “They may as well realize you’re the hottest one there right from the start. Plus, what guy doesn’t want to see his hot girlfriend in a bikini?”
“You’re the most ridiculous person I know.”
“Vanessa, you can wear an old tarp for all I care. Wear dirty, stained sweats or pajamas. Dress up. Dress down. You tell me what to wear, up to and including matching footed jammies, and I’ll do it.”
He’s good at getting me to calm down and stop stressing, at least. “Fine, fine. I’ll text you what I pick and you can dress yourself accordingly, but probably not pajamas.”
“Thank goodness. Those footed sleepers always get all sweaty.”
I’m still laughing when I finally hang up.
But when the girls come to review the numbers a few hours later, I’m back to fretting.
“You’re going to be fine,” Natalie says. “You’ve got this. You and Jack are solid.”
“Wait, so we’re being supportive?” Sam’s frowning. “Because I’m a little annoyed.”
“Annoyed? Why?” Natalie asks before I can.
“Why are you meeting Jack’s friends first? He should be the one studied under a microscope like a bug, by us.” Her lips compress into a thin line. “This is an egregious error.”
Natalie laughs. “Stop.”
“I mean it.” Sam’s eyebrow is now arched imperiously. “As the older, wiser friends, he should be subjected to the third degree from us, and he should be sweating in his footed sleeper.”
“He doesn’t really have one, right?” Natalie’s nose scrunches. “Because that does sound funny, but it does not sound hot.”
I roll my eyes. “Of course not. But listen, I need tips from you guys on how to make sure they like me.”
“What on earth makes you think I’d be good at advising you?
” Natalie’s shoulders droop and she hunches over the pile of disappointing reports I had to show her.
“I’m a failure in everything. Life. Business.
Men.” She shakes her head. “No dates here, no younger men, and absolutely no secrets to success.”
Samantha slams her hands down on my small, wooden kitchen table, rattling it a bit. “Oh, stop it, Eeyore. You’re being ridiculous. If you want to wallow for a bit, fine. I’ll take over. So here’s your advice.” She points at me. “All male friend groups have five roles.”
Natalie straightens. “What on earth are you saying right now?”
Sam rolls her eyes. “Just shut up and listen.”
Trish shuffles through the doorway and into the kitchen. “Sounds like you’re all having a rollicking good time in here. What are we talking about?” Her eyes are sparkling.
“Sam was about to tell us all about the typical roles in guy groups so that Vanessa can impress Jack’s teeny-bopper friends.” Natalie tilts her head and glares at Sam.
“I have two brothers, you know, and they each had their own friend group. And I had a boyfriend, and same. So I do know—”
“But we’re in Ireland.” Natalie quirks a brow. “They call trash rubbish here, and they think napkins are maxi pads.”
“Trust me,” Sam says. “This is universal.”
I laugh. “Alright, out with it then.”
“Each group has a jock, someone who’s more athletic than the others.”
“They’re all on the hurling team,” I say. “I’m not sure that really applies.”
“Wait, then Jack’s the jock,” Natalie says. “I’d put a tenner on that.”
“I won’t take that bet. I think he is, too,” Sam says. “That’s why I started with it. And then there’s a joker. He’s always lightening the mood, and he makes jokes whenever he’s uncomfortable.”
“Shoot. That could be Jack too,” I say. “He’s quite funny.”
Natalie pulls a face, and Sam laughs.
“What?” I glance around. “He is.”
“Sure,” Trish says. “Your young and stupidly hot jock’s also funny.”
I frown.
“Anyway, there’s always a nerd, usually also a gamer, and then there’s a bully.”
“A bully?” I’m not sure I buy this. “Why would every friend group have a bully?”
“Not a real bully, but the one who kind of pushes the others around. If it were a horse herd, this would be the top horse. Everyone else is a little afraid of them and keeps their heads down.”
“Wait,” Natalie says. “Which of us is the bully?”
“Are we guys, now?” Trish asks. “Pretty sure this doesn’t apply to us, because none of us are jocks either.”
Natalie and I both point at Samantha.
Her jaw drops. “I’m not the jock.”
“You are so,” Natalie says. “And I’m the nerd.”
“Does that make me the bully or the joker?” I ask.
“Actually, there’s one more,” Sam says. “The punching bag, the one the other guys pick on.”
“Geez, you make boys sound like they’re just a pack of hyenas who wear pants,” Trish says.
“That’s not a bad analogy,” Sam says. “So once you get there, you need to figure out where your boyfriend is in the group, where the other girl’s boyfriend is, and then you take your position from his.
If Jack’s the punching bag, which I doubt, then you might want to skip future get-togethers.
But if he’s anything else, just fall in line with how he behaves around the others, and you’ll be just fine. ”
“If he’s the bully, I’m going to cry,” I say. “Surely he won’t be the bully.”
“Oh, please.” Natalie laughs. “Sam’s full of crap. This isn’t even remotely true.”
“Fine, don’t believe me. See if I care.” Sam stands.
“I have about four horses to ride before my afternoon tour, so I’ll be going.
” She turns back just before she walks through the door.
“But I bet he’s the jock, and if he is, all you have to do is look pretty and be nice.
” She winks. “Good luck, and text me if you need me to call with a fake emergency. I’m great at pretending to pull a hamstring. ”