Chapter 1 #2
“Please don’t.” Cliona giggles as she shoves me away from her.
“It’s only fair after being subjected to your rugby stank all year,” I volley back. Her gear bag is a mixture of body odor,
grass, and mud. She tries to cover it up with lavender oils, but it doesn’t work. This Irish girl has imprinted her scent
on me this past year, and I hate how much I’m going to miss it . . . and her.
But I always knew I’d go back to Colorado at the end of my studies. It’s home. My family is the only place I feel like I can be my true self.
Even so, I’m still going to miss Ireland something fierce. There’s something about Dublin that feels alive in a way I’ve never
experienced. The slippery cobblestones after a fresh rain, or the way the Liffey River twinkles with gold at sunset. And the
coziness of every crowded pub is like a dream. You can be all alone and still feel right at home in an Irish pub.
And Trinity. I’m going to miss it most of all. The library that smells like musty paper. The quad where the bells chime just
to stress you out when you’re late for class. The oak trees that turn the walk to lectures into a canopy of gold in the fall.
Or the hush of campus during rugby matches. This campus was my comfort blanket whenever I felt uncomfortable. I’m going to
miss the feeling of walking around an important piece of history.
But it’s time to trade university life for Fletcher Mountain. And up until Cliona, I thought it was going to be the campus
I’d be missing most. Now I’m prematurely mourning the scent of rank rugby cleats.
Thanks, Grandpa.
Cliona readjusts so she’s facing me, and I stare at her to catalog a mental picture of this dark-haired, brown-eyed, five-foot-ten
stunner with freckles that dot her nose. I can’t believe I was here for three years and never met her. She’s the sister I
never knew I was missing. If either of us batted for the other team, I’m pretty sure we’d choose each other.
Instead . . . I’ve just labeled her as my Irish Twin.
Except she already has a twin. Her brother, Conri, pronounced Con-Ree, plays rugby for the men’s team at Trinity.
His vibes are nowhere near as fun as Cliona’s.
Where she is bold and easygoing, he’s broody and in a permanent state of irritated.
And he’s a giant, which is saying a lot, coming from me.
I’m six feet tall, so there aren’t many people who make me feel small, but Conri Reilly, who the entire school refers to as “Wolf,” stands at six foot five and has the muscle to fill out that massive frame.
Pair that with his molten whiskey-brown eyes, dark hair, and that harsh, punishing glower of his, and he’s basically the complete
opposite of any of the guys I’ve tried to date during my time here at Trinity.
Tried being the operative word.
Thankfully, Conri seems to barely notice me, so even considering him as an option is laughable. And the fact that he’s my
roommate’s brother puts him in the do-not-consider category. That’s just basic girl code.
“I truly don’t understand how you’ve spent most of your time here at college matchmaking fellow students but are still so
shite at dating yourself. It’s quite impressive if you really think about it.”
I sigh heavily and turn onto my back to stare up at the ceiling. “I’ve accepted that those who can’t do . . . teach.”
Cliona would have been a fun one to match, if she had ever let me. But she was fresh out of a one-year relationship that exploded
when she moved in and said she was off boys for the foreseeable future.
“What are you going to do back in America?” she asks pointedly.
“What do you mean?” I turn to frown at her. “You know I’m helping out at my aunt’s animal rescue facility.”
“I mean romantically. Maybe you should try the dating apps?”
“I am not dating anyone back in America.” I wave her off. “I’m planning to live in my dad’s new cabin that he built up on
my uncle Wyatt’s mountain, which means I’ll be neighbors with all three of my uncles. And bringing a boy up to Fletcher Mountain
would be an act of war. I’d be feeding the poor guy to a pack of wolves if the wolves had beards, weird obsessions with their pets, and a penchant for wearing flannel in the summertime.”
Cliona giggles. “I hope to come to America someday to meet these overprotective uncles of yours. They sound like total nightmares.”
I smile softly. “Naw, they’re great. They just never think anyone is good enough for me. My high school boyfriend of two years
was nearly chased away by the three of them the night he tried to pick me up for my senior prom. And he’s what you’d call
a tragically nice guy.”
Cliona makes a noise in the back of her throat. “At least you had a nice boyfriend and not a cheating arsehole.”
“Yeah, there is that . . .” My voice trails off as I work to hide my outward reaction. You’d think dating a guy for two years
would give me lots of relationship experience, both intimately and socially. Unfortunately, dating the nice guy can be painfully
boring. But I’m not about to complain about that to Cliona after everything she went through with her ex.
“And at least your family cares,” she adds wistfully. “My parents don’t even come to me and my brother’s rugby matches. I
think in the four years me and Conri have been playing for Trinity, they have attended a total of three games. It’s pathetic.
And tomorrow is a huge match for Wolf.”
“I’m sorry, Clio,” I say, watching her eyes tighten.
She shrugs dismissively. “They’re the only Irish people in the country who don’t fancy rugby. It’s a pain, but we don’t get
to pick our family, do we?”
I watch her quietly for a moment. Cliona is the grin-and-bear-it type, and normally nothing gets her down, but I know she’s anxious about finishing school.
She’s finally going to be able to fulfill her big dream of playing rugby professionally, as she’s signed a contract with Leinster Rugby, an Irish provincial team in Dublin.
She’s gearing up to play at the highest level, and she’s absolutely thrilled about it.
However, her parents’ top priority has always been her and her brother’s education. They run a corner shop in Ballymun on
the north side of Dublin and work really long hours to keep it afloat, often missing out on games and special events because
of it. They have big career aspirations for their children, which is why they enrolled them in the FESS program at Trinity.
FESS is a finance, economics, and social studies program. A lot of people who graduate from FESS go on to get careers in finance,
consulting, law, and business. It’s also good for people interested in media, communication, and marketing, which is definitely
my thing.
It was the FESS program that drew me to Trinity. I liked that it seemed to combine my two favorite things: people and numbers.
I’ve always loved figuring out what makes people tick, but I wanted to understand the data behind how the world actually works
to back up my findings. It’s amazing how easy this kind of data can apply to matchmaking. Whether I can make a future out
of that remains to be seen.
But, if you’re going to spend your college years buried in books, you might as well do it somewhere as beautiful as Trinity.
Clio’s parents’ dream is for both their children to become lawyers or “solicitors” as you call them in Dublin. It’s the ultimate
success story they never achieved for themselves. They see rugby as just a hobby, which is wild when Cliona has achieved the
level she has in the sport.
I don’t even know much about rugby, but I know she’s remarkable. Everyone on campus talks about her.
After uni, the plan is for her and her brother to play rugby professionally. And if they aren’t raging successes after their first year, they’re going to take their law exam and let rugby go to start training in corporate law. To be a rugby player and a lawyer would be next to impossible.
The pressure is on for my dear Irish friend. And if anyone knows a little something about pressure, it’s me.
I’m still not certain what I’m going to do with my future. A future in matchmaking doesn’t seem like the most responsible
choice, but I’m not sure what else would fit me. It’s why I prefer to distract myself with other people’s problems. They seem
far easier to solve. Hence, the plan to help out my aunt Trista.
“Want me to come with you to your brother’s match tomorrow?” I offer, giving her arm a little squeeze.
Cliona’s eyes widen. “You’ve never even come to a match of mine!”
“That’s your fault,” I retort with a gentle shove. I tried to come to some of my roommate’s matches initially, but she told
me she liked that I existed outside of her rugby world. She said she wanted our friendship to be devoid of rugby as much as
possible. Other than the smell, I guess. “But if I come, I’ll get to spend more time with you before we leave school in a
few weeks, and that’s reason enough to break our rugby-free rule, don’t you think? Not to mention, I’ll need to know a little
something about rugby to keep tabs on you from America.”
“Oh, go on! I’ll teach you everything!” Cliona grabs my arm and playfully wriggles me around like a rag doll, always having
no idea how strong she is. “We’ll hit up a pub after, and it’ll be grand. Let me find you something to wear so you look like
a proper Trinity Rugby fan at this match.”
I laugh as she hops up off the bed and begins rummaging through her closet, favoring her sore knee. My Irish roomie dressing
me for a rugby match—at least this is one fun story I won’t have to lie about to my family.