55 | Unwelcome Fixation
Unwelcome Fixation
Niall
“DON'T BE A gobshite about it, Niall.”
I glance sideways at my girlfriend, a grin tugging at my lips despite myself.
“Who taught you that word?” I ask, raising my eyebrows.
“You and your gobshite friends say it all the time,” she huffs, her eyes fixed on the road. “Now stop backseat driving me.”
“Okay, okay, I'm stopping. Just want to make sure we get home in one piece is all.” I hold up my hands in surrender, leaning back in my seat.
The day after her seventeenth birthday—and the insane party at my house that Finn, Chloe, and JJ threw for her, wherein we mostly hung out in my room for the duration—Molly went with her mother after school to take the written portion of the driving test.
She passed with flying colors, because of course she did. She’s Molly fucking Lockhart.
“She's doing great—youre doing great, Mols,” Finn says from the back. I see him nudge JJ.
“Class, Mollsie.” JJ chimes in, leaning forward between our seats. “A natural.”
I glance back at both of them, and they give me a pair of innocent smiles.
The lads have been worried about Molly since last Saturday, but I told them sternly that it was her business and she wasn't ready to tell anyone. Still, they have been overly kind to her ever since.
Not that I’m complaining.
Fitz is taking Claire home, since Finn wanted to ride with us while I let Molly drive and because my sister thinks she needs five hours to get ready for the dance. I know she's nervous, but I hope she remembers that it's supposed to be a fun thing.
Molly's been begging me to let her use my car since Tuesday, and I finally gave in. Not because I'm a stern rule follower when it comes to license law (obviously) but because this car is special to me. It's one of the last living pieces I have of my father.
Not that I ever needed to worry. Molly is a great driver.
Still, she admitted she only ever drove automatic cars so I've had to do a bit of teaching. She’s a quick study though, and she’s already got the hang of the clutch.
“Easy!” I say as she jerks the car into second gear.
“Easy!” she mimics, sticking her tongue out at me. Finn and JJ laugh from the backseat. She turns onto Kilmore, heading for her house.
“You live in the haunted gaff?” Finn asks Molly, leaning forward between our seats. His eyes are wide with mock horror, and I know what’s coming.
“What?”
“Ohhhh yeah,” JJ says, nodding. “Remember? We used to dare each other to go inside when we were kids.”
They must not have seen the warning glare I sent their way.
“Stop lying,” I say. “Molly, don’t listen to them.”
Finn nods. “Yeah, don’t listen to us—but also, we really did used to dare each other to go inside.”
“It wasn’t haunted,” I tell her. “Just abandoned. We had big imaginations.”
JJ scoffs. “Speak for yourself—I saw shadows moving.”
“Because it was drafty and wind blew the old curtains around,” I glare at him. I’m trying to look stern, but it’s hard not to smile.
“Or it was ghosts.”
I roll my eyes, giving up. “You two are eejits.”
Molly laughs, shaking her head as she pulls into her driveway. “Well if there are any ghosts, they haven’t bothered me yet.”
I unbuckle my seatbelt and lean over to kiss Molly’s cheek. “I’ll walk you up.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I want to,” I say, grabbing the keys and pocketing them so Finn doesn’t get any bright ideas and try to force his way into the driver’s seat. I may be letting Molly behind the wheel, but that’s where I’m drawing the line.
Molly meets me around the front of the car, and I take her hand as we walk toward the door.
“Thanks for letting me drive.”
“‘Course,” I grin. “You’re a great driver. Maybe I’ll finally get a break from being the main chauffeur.”
I brush my thumb across her knuckles, as she laughs. “You ready for tonight?” I ask.
“Yep. Joey’s still picking everyone up in his Mom’s dance van, right?”
“Yep. He’ll be here around seven. Sound good?”
“Yep. I’ll be ready.” she leans up and gives me a quick kiss on the lips.
I wait for her to go inside before heading back to the car, where Finn and JJ are both trying to fight over the passenger seat. Finn gives JJ a swift kick in the side, and is quickly able to overtake possession.
“Oi! Shut up and get in or I’ll leave you here at the haunted house.”
Finn grins, JJ pouts his way into the backseat. “Sure thing, Cap. I’m all ready.”
I climb into the driver’s seat, adjusting the mirrors before pulling out of the driveway.
“So,” JJ says, leaning forward. “Is she...alright?”
I sigh, my eyes on the road. “She’s fine.”
I wasn’t sure. Not really. She was acting okay. But I knew all about acting how you weren’t.
“You know we’ve got her back, right?” JJ exchanges a look with Finn. “All of us.”
I glance at him in the rearview mirror. “I know.”
“Good,” Finn says. “Because we’re not letting anything happen to her.
I smile. “Glad we’re on the same page.”
The rest of the drive is filled with easy banter, the kind that makes me forget everything else for a little while. I can almost pretend everything’s okay.
Almost. But not quite.
??ˋ ?? ?ˊ?
“DON'T YOU DARE move, Niall. If this bleach gets in your eyes, you’ll be going to the ball in an eyepatch and Molly deserves better than a pirate.”
Letting my little sister near my head with chemicals just hours before one of the fanciest nights of my life so far is probably not the best choice I’ve made in my life. But to be fair to Claire, she’s always let me do hers. Plus, she’s an artist. Doesn’t that mean she’d be good at this?
It better.
“Maybe I should’ve just left it as it was for the pictures,” I say, trying to reach up and touch my head but Claire smacks my hand.
“And look like a skunk? Please.”
“You know,” I say. “I’ve been thinking about letting it grow back. Go back to brown.”
“Really?” she pauses above me, probably surprised. I mean, we’ve been bleaching our hair every three weeks for the past four years. I’m sure it comes as a shock.
“Yeah. I mean, maybe just to see how it looks, you know?”
I feel her start dabbing the little bleach brush on my head again. “Yeah. Maybe I will too. Though I’d probably have to just dye the rest of my hair the colour of my roots, because I’m not waiting for all my hair to grow back. I can’t pull off the skunk look, no thank you.”
I snort, hoping she doesn’t smack me or anything. I get lucky, I think because she’s too focused on not putting chemical burns on my forehead. Mam warned her that if she did, she was going to pay to get every photo we take tonight retouched so we can send them to our grandparents.
“Niall?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re going to be nice to Stephen tonight, right?”
I bite back a groan. That lad had been an unwelcome fixation in my house for the last couple of weeks. I mostly just redirected myself to a different room when he was over. I mean—what was I supposed to do about the lad who I physically fought a few months ago dating my sister?
I wasn’t sure if that’s what they were calling it or not, but they’ve been to the cinema together a couple of times, and now they’re going to the dance together. It’s a bleeding nightmare.
“I just don’t get it,” I sigh. “He’s got the personality of a damp cabbage.”
“You barely know him,” she huffs. “And he asked me to go with him, Niall. And he was very sweet about it, as I keep telling you. He brought me a bar of Galaxy and actually looked me in the eye when he asked. He’s been really kind to me lately—properly kind.
And I can’t just go back and say I changed my mind. ”
“You know if JJ had the stones to open his mouth, you’d be going with him,” I say. “You’ve been waiting to go to this dance for three years, and in that time you always talked about going with JJ.”
“Well, that was when he was just my friend and he was my only option,” she says dismissively, but I can hear the hurt in her voice. I’ve hit a nerve.
“You know that it was more than that. I don’t know what happened between you two—”
“Just drop it, okay? No matter what, I’m not ditching a date I’ve already committed to just because JJ Biggs finally realized he’s a fool.” She sighs, her anger deflating as quickly as it rose. “Please, Niall. Just for tonight. Just be... civil. Okay? I want to have a good time.”
I close my eyes, picturing Stephen Rafferty’s big, dumb, happy face. Or rather, the version of his face I’d had a row with and would gladly revisit.
But then I think of my sister. I think of how much this dance means to her, how excited she was this morning, how hard she worked making accessories to go with that sunny dress she got. And I just want her to be happy.
Even if it means dealing with him.
“I’ll do my best, Claire-Bear.”