A/N: This would have been a very disappointing cluster fuck of elements without the help of Valerie E Mackin. Thank you love, this one is for you!
Got a little heavy with the Irish slang this go around, but I think the message comes across. It's so much fun to use! The whiskey that the girls are drinking is an actualy brand from Ireland; I chose 'Old Comber' as Comber is a family name and there' s not much history on that side of the family. Anyway, enjoy, and if you're lucky and find that little button down there, and press it, and be nice, I give ya something sweet next weekend.
The reference to the 'backwards dress' is a nod to my father and his ridiculousness. When seeing a beautiful woman in a backless dress, he always says to my mom, 'honey, look, she's got her dress on backwards!'. LOL. I love my dad!
Just hopped on twitter recently, so if you feel like it, follow me at Reeduffery
I didn't know how long it had been since the song ended. The only things on my mind were how warm and solid Murphy was, how he held me with a heady combination of fierce protection and gentle regard, and how I could taste whiskey on his breath as I looked up into impossibly blue eyes.
"Murph?" I asked very gently, dropping the second syllable of his name and trying out the nickname on my tongue.
"Aye?" He smiled.
"Kiss me quick, before I change my mind."
We ended up crashing into one of the many cubbies that held coats. Tucked between letterman jackets and fancy trenches borrowed from mothers, Murphy swallowed the loud groan I heaved as his tongue swept through my mouth. His hands skimmed my sides before picking me up by my thighs and pinning me against the flimsy pressboard that made up the cubby. He wedged himself between my knees, locking our groins together, and proceeded to emulate a level of love-making no boy his age should have knowledge of. In the frenzy of twisting hips and clasping thighs, his belt buckle scored me on the inside of my knee, making me hiss and pull my lips from his.
He blinked, unaware of the scratch. "Y'okay?"
When I didn't answer further than setting my head against the temporary wall behind me and yanking him closer by his shirt, he dipped his head once more and proceeded to kiss me with wild abandon, his hips banging away against mine. I felt like a kid again, excited at the hesitant touches and embraces, emboldened by his stark reactions, and the murmured exchange of exclamations that floated up from the both of us.
"Christ, ya feel good," Murphy growled, hitching me agains the cubby wall and sliding his hands my dress.
"Lord's name," I muttered softly, grinning as he fixed me with a smirk. My fingers combed back through his hair and pulled at his shoulders.
"Aye, aye," he groaned, thumbs digging into my hipbones. "Sure I can't have me birthday present early?" he purred. His mouth slipped down from mine, trailing soft kisses along my jaw as his fingers bunched the hem of my dress up my thighs.
I shook my head, squeezing my eyes shut as his fingers traced the back of my thighs and gripped the bare flesh of my ass. His breath hitched as his fingers explored, and he lifted his head from my collarbone to stare at me with heat and wonder.
"Are ya not wearing knickers?" he asked lightly, tracing his fingertips over the sensitive flesh he'd found.
"Barely," I replied, reaching for his tie and pulling the knot free. My fingers pulled the first button of his shirt open and then, frustrated, headed south and hooked over his belt buckle. As I yanked him into me, I rolled my hips, causing him to moan breathlessly. The skin of his collarbones and his throat did something to me; that vulnerable spot of flesh made me almost rabid, and I sought it out with my lips and teeth, scraping along the tendons and bones.
At first, he paused, swallowing hard against my lips and teeth until finally he groaned and tangled his fingers into my hair. Pulling me back, he licked his lips, kissed me again, and then pulled away, panting. He held me up then, one hand pinning my hips against the wall, and the other dropping between my thighs as his held my gaze with his. The tips of his fingers brushed against the flimsy fabric covering me, and in the next second, he pressed firmly against my clit and rubbed a small circle.
"Ah!" My fingers clutched his belt harder as my hips rocked into his hand. "Murphy, please," I heard myself beg. I wanted him, all of him, right then and there, and I knew things were close to spinning out of control. I didn't care. I didn't want to care. "More," I begged, reaching between us and pushing my panties aside. I hadn't realised how on edge I was until his lips had landed on mine. Thoughts of that afternoon, of him coming undone beneath me spurred me on, the look on his face, the heat in his eyes. I held his gaze as his fingers hesitantly moved once more, this time pulsing where I needed him most.
Before it registered in his brain, his fingers were slipping through Márín's wet heat, stroking over smooth flesh, catching the bundle of nerves with two fingertips and pulling it away from her body. It made her cry out again, that breathy sound that made his balls tingle. White heat pulsed and settled low between his hips as he stared at her, pushing boundaries he hadn't dared to before. She let him touch her, pushing his hand against her as she rocked her hips and sought some modicum of relief.
She arched sharply against the cubby, whining as he worked her, and he scrambled to remember everything he'd picked up in his limited sexual experience. "Tell me," he rasped, rolling frantic circles over the hard button of flesh that grew slicker with each pass. "Tell me what ta do," he continued. He didn't have time to fuck around, to play 'how does this feel'. That wasn't what she wanted, he knew that now. She needed a release like she'd given him; she needed to use him and he would gladly let her. He'd have time to explore later.
The hand that had clutched his belt so firmly shot out, slamming against the side of the cubby, and she reasserted her position in his hands. Gulping a breath, she guided his hand once more, sliding her fingers along his, and moving his hand down. "Yer fingers," she gasped. "Inside," she directed, and suddenly his forefinger wrapped around hers and together, they slipped inside of tight, drenched heat and Murphy shuddered and paused as Márín sighed and rolled her hips once. "Yes," she nodded frantically. "God, Murphy, right there."
Murphy was fascinated by her reaction, his eyes flickering everywhere as he stroked the tip of his finger inside of her. She showed him what she liked, guiding him along smooth, clenching muscles until he picked up the rhythm and Márín withdrew, sighing as he instinctively knew to press inside once more with two fingers. Her face was pure pleasure, her mouth open and moaning hotly as he slipped his fingers in and out, building pressure and speed and friction. He pushed his mouth against hers again, lashing his tongue over hers, knowing that he'd never be able to get enough of her after this. The first time he'd made her come he hadn't expected it, hadn't known that she'd edged that far just from him touching her breasts. Now she was back on that edge, her green eyes bright and sparkling as she gaped up at him, gasping and grasping, her fingers curling into his forearm as his fingers sank deeper.
Her hips suddenly canted up and forward into his hand and she jerked againt his fingers frantically as another round of breathless panting floated around him. He was sweating, he could feel it on his forehead, his upper lip, as he worked harder to bring her to completion.
"Murph!"
His name echoed around him in a harsh whisper. The voice was familiar, but not the one he expected. Shaking it aside, he bent his head and watched as her fingers slid down and around her clit, helping him with his task.
"Muprhy!" Márín's voice was frantic and he kissed her again, unable to get enough of her taste into his mouth.
"Murphy!" Louder now. Not Márín's voice. But she was so fucking close. "Murph!" Connor's voice. Shit, Connor? Murphy stiffened and yanked his head back, even as his teeth sank into Márín's bottom lip and his fingers withdrew hastily. She stifled a startled yelp and Murphy worriedly looked down. She had tears in her eyes, and he tasted a tang of copper in his mouth.
Connor crashed through the door of coat check seconds later, his hair mussed and his bowtie hanging around one neck. He skidded to a halt as he caught sight of his twin's back, curled protectively over Márín, who was hitched up against a wall, her cheeks flushed. A smirk curled on Connor's lips and he chuckled lowly.
Murphy glared from over his shoulder, and he shifted again, blocking Márín as best he could. "Tha fuck is yer malfunction?"
The sting of Murphy's teeth startled me, but it was nothing compared to the ache of the screeching halt my orgasm came to as the other MacManus twin barrelled into the coat check. My eyes slid shut and tears of frustration poured over my cheeks. "Fuck," I hissed, clutching Murphy's forearm and holding him still.
"Jesus, you two, not tha best place ta be doin' this," Connor groused as he blatantly catalogued the positon I and his brother were in.
I wiggled uncomfortably in Murphy's hold and closed my eyes as my cheeks flamed.
"Aye, obviously, can't seem ta get away fer five fuckin' minutes," Murphy growled.
Connor didn't budge, still scanning us with wide blue eyes, and Murphy hissed sharply. "Really, Conn? Give us a fuckin' minute, yeah?" His tone was agitated, and I couldn't really blame him.
"All right, cool yer jets, Murph. Pair o'fuckin' horny teenagers if I ever saw one," Connor snorted. He looked to his brother. "Yer…ah…date…is currently hurlin' in tha girls' room and spoutin' off 'bout ya. We need ta get her outta here b'fore the teachers find out."
"Fuck me," Murphy breathed, flashing me an apologetic look. He looked back over his shoulder. "Do ya mind?"
"Aye, right," Connor snapped to attention and gave a little bow. "I'll just wait out here," he announced, mischief still lacing his tone. "But hurry up, aye? Don't know how you'd explain this," he gestured to where I was still pinned against Murphy, "ta his English teacher." His eyes flashed to mine with a cheeky grin.
The boiling ache of impending orgasm began to wear off and I patted Murphy's shoulder as Connor slid out the door and closed it behind him. "Jesus, when ya said she was gonna be trouble…"
Murphy huffed, clearly still pissed at being interrupted, not that I blamed him. "Aye. Told ya the harpy tricked me."
"An' she's obviously tryin' ta get yer attention." I ran my fingers through my hair.
Murphy licked his lips with a small smirk. "Well, I have been kinda distracted all night." He righted the hem of my dress and let his fingers stroll over the tops of my thighs.
"Yeah, make that two of us. I'm sure Mike will be tellin' Colin what a deplorable chaperone I am. Can't even keep to my post for five minutes."
"What are ya on about? Yer in tha coat check, aren't ya?" He reached for the buttons of his collar but I brushed his hands aside.
"C'mere," I beckoned, pulling the tie free to work on his buttons. The smooth, freckled skin at his throat jarred my memory and I jumped back slightly.
"Your rosary!" I hissed, skating around his grasping hands and diving for where I'd stashed my purse.
"Huh?" he asked, clearly a million miles away.
A loud bang on the side door cut off my sharp cursing as I dug through my purse, and Connor growled a second later. "Today, you two. Flanery was headed this way."
Pulling the strand of beads free I held it up for him with a small smile. "Sorry about that."
He grinned, clutching the beads and my hand in one of his own, and he pulled me forward and kissed me soundly. "Thanks fer keepin' it safe," he murmured, before he slipped it over his head.
He didn't even have time to tuck it into his shirt as Connor wrenched the door open and glared at us. "Stop fuckin' holdin' hands and get out here. Márín, ya have ta distract Flanery, aye? Keep him from comin' down the athletic entrance. Murph, I'll bring tha truck around, you get tha Prom Queen ta stop spewin', an' we'll all have a drink when this is over."
"Wait – what?" I looked between the two brothers. "What are ya talkin' about?"
Connor grinned like he'd just planned the biggest heist and looked from his brother, to me, and then back to his brother. "Well?" He wiggled his eyebrows. "Go to, go to!" Then he took off down the corridor, leaving me with Murphy.
Murphy raked his hands through his hair and looked me over, making sure I was presentable. "C'mon," he said, taking my hand and pulling me out into the hall. He peered around the corner and then swung back, glancing to me. "Flanery's comin'."
"Murphy, I'm supposed to be chaperoning!" I hissed as his hand culred around mine.
Murphy paused, throwing me an incredulous look. "Are ya fuckin' wit me? I think you've established that chaperonin' isn't yer strong suit, Márín."
I growled at his glib tone and waved him away. "Go. Y'av got five minutes." He nodded and dashed up the hall, leaving me to heave a sigh. "Worst chaperone ever," I muttered before turning the corner and striding right towards Mike.
"Hey," I breathed, smiling broadly. "Look, I'm glad I found ya."
Mike paused where he was stomring down the hall, clearly surprised by not only my sudden appearance, but also what I had just said. "Yes?" He said slowly, unsure of my motives.
I mentally cursed the MacManus twins for making me talk to Mike Flanery again, but it was their only chance to not end up suspended, or worse. I'm bailing my teenage boyfriend of detention, my inner voice quipped before I took a breath and began to ramble.
"I'm sorry about earlier, yeah? I mean about when I got upset."
Mike blinked and slowly, a smile spread over his face. "I'm listenin'."
God, he was a smug prick. Murphy was really going to owe me. And Connor. That new fence being built in the church would need to be painted. I looked back to Mike and felt my smile falter at the way he was looking at me.
"I'm not sayin' yer right, an' I'm not sayin' I am, either, but I think…" as I rambled closer to the point I was trying to get across, I realized that Mike Flanery had made me realise something that Jenny had been gently trying to imply for the past five months. "I think there's some validity to your argument. About moving beyond mourning."
Mike's face brightened considerably. "Yeah? Jesus, Márín, the last thing I wanted to do was insult ya or make ya mad. I guess I just don't know how ta proceed."
"Ah…lightly," I said with a shaky laugh. Movement behind Mike caught my attention and I watched as Connor darted through the hallway, only to turn back and gesture erratically at his brother, who was lugging a seven stone girl through the hall with his hand clamped over her mouth. The bright, metallic turquoise of Katie's dress caught in the light as she squirmed and I quickly looked back to Mike. "Let's…just forget this night happened, yeah?" Fuck, I couldn't stop my mouth and Mike's hopeful smile only increased. The knot in my guts did the same.
"So," Mike drawled, and his hand dove into his suit jacket to once more pull his flask free. He took a pull and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. After all, I was just as bad a chaperone as he was. "Maybe I can take ya out?"
Once more, there was a flurry of action behind Mike and I looked to see Connor at the end of the hall, grinning like an idiot and giving me two thumbs up. "Ah," I looked to Mike. "Ya know what, Mike? I think I heard somethin' about bifters bein' rolled out in the chem lab." I threw a thumb back towards the coat check. "I can hold tha fort down here but…maybe you should go check that out?"
Mike chuckled, shaking his head. "Roman orgy indeed. I'm just surprised I haven't come across anyone getting gropin' in the supply closet."
The ridiculousness of the entire evening threatened to spill over and I bit my lips in an effort to contain my laughter. I nodded and shrugged. "Yeah, well…horny teenagers…an' all that…" I trailed off and looked at Mike expectantly.
"Guess I'll go check that out in the chem lab." Mike held the flask out towards me but I waved it away, and he tucked it back into his coat with a shrug before checking his watch. "Yer shift here is almost done," he smiled. "Ya want to come wit'?"
"Ya know, I think I'm gonna grab a cigarette," I said, scooping my purse up from the desk.
Mike nodded and turned, heading up the hall that Murphy and Connor had traversed only moments before. I dove back behind the desk and grabbed my jacket and pulled it on, and then moved to the front doors and out into the damp night.
"Jesus wept, Katie, what tha fuck is yer problem?" Murphy muttered as he took survey of the girls' restroom. Most of the students had been cleared out by Connor and Mickey Calhoun – the more students surrounding the situation, the more likely they would be caught.
Katie had slid down the wall of the washroom, her dress bunched up under her knees and her head leaning forward as Molly Macklemore draped another cool, damp lot of paper towels on the back of Katie's neck. Molly shot daggers at Murphy's exclamation before turning back to her best friend.
"I should ask ya tha same thing, Murphy," Molly growled.
Katie effectively cut off Murphy's next words as she suddenly scrambled to her knees and lunged into a stall, her stomach violently heaving once more.
"Oh, come off it, Moll, yer traipsin' around wit' half o' bottle of Old Comber and drinkin' it like it's fuckin' soda. I didn't make her get scuttered."
"Murphy!" Katie's screech echoed through the bathroom, a slur of angered syllables.
Murphy grumbled under his breath and stalked to the toilet, slamming the door open and holding it there with a splayed palm. "What," he growled.
Katie giggled, sitting back on her knees and wiping at her mouth. "Dry up," she muttered with another peal of giggles. "Yer such a fuckin'git, ya know that?"
"What are ya on about, Katie?" Murphy sighed.
Katie merely shook her head and propped her elbow up on the toilet seat, cupping her chin and staring at the stall door. Murphy looked back to Molly.
"She saw ya lurchin' wit' dat mingin' blonde in tha backwards dress."
Murphy paused, confused at the last reference. "Eh?"
Molly waved it by. "Somethin' Connor said."
Murphy rolled his eyes and looked back to Katie. "Katie, darlin', look. I'm sorry but ya said we was just friends. So that's what I took it ta mean, aye?"
"Don't fuckin 'Katie darlin' me, Murph," Katie warbled. "I've crushed on ya since tha sixth fuckin' grade – what did ya think I meant when I asked ya to tha dance?"
"That ya wanted ta go as fuckin' friends!" Murphy roared, his head pounding with the roundabout of words spewing from Katie. "Ya want ta yell at me, fine, but not here, aye? We need ta get ya out o'here b'fore someone catches wind that we've all been drinkin', an' that yer a fuckin' mess."
Katie threw a sneer in reply.
"Well, ya are," Murphy huffed before he reached down and caught Katie under her arms. "Up ya go."
Katie's feet scuttled along the tiles as Murphy hauled her to her feet, and she kicked off her heels which Molly scooped up. The redhead clutched at Murphy, curling her fingers into the front of his shirt, and snagging the dangling rosary in the process.
"Sayin' a few Hail Marys after that dance?" Katie bit out, her booze-soured breath hitting Murphy in the face.
He growled and pushed Katie to arm's length, and felt a sharp tug around his neck. Katie's face fell a fraction as she felt the cord of Murphy's rosary pull tight and then snap, and she giggled as beads rattled down over the tiled floor.
"Whoops," she exclaimed flatly, looking to Molly. "Eh, Moll, where's tha fuckin' car? I want ta get tha fuck away from here."
"Fuck, Katie!" Murphy growled, heaving the girl at Molly and catching the broken tail of his rosary. Gently, he pulled the length of it from around his neck and gave a small sigh of relief as the beads stayed intact on that end. He stuffed the works into his pocket and then crouched to the floor, scooping up a handful of beads and scanning for strays. He looked up at Katie and Molly, who watched him with twin expressions of shock.
Katie looked truly ashen, though Murphy was uncertain if it was remorse or Old Comber. A sharp rap sounded on the door then, and Mickey Calhoun peered inside with bleary eyes. "Right, Conn's got tha truck, yeah? Let's go."
"I don't want ta go in tha fuckin' truck," Katie whined, even as Molly steered her to the door.
"Katie, we'll argue logistics later," Molly muttered, coming close to the end of her tether with her friend's drunken antics.
"No," Katie squirmed out of Molly's grasp. "I said I'm not goin' in that fuckin' truck. Smells like a chicken coop an' I'll spew my guts out all over Ma MacManus' fine interior."
Murphy fumed at her bratty tone and closed his eyes briefly as he counted to five. When he opened them again, he said nothing, merely clapped a hand over Katie's mouth and tucked her under his arm, and hauled her out into the hallway. "Keep quiet," he muttered as he steered her through the hall.
"Ah, fine work, brother, but d'ya have ta keep her muzzled?"
Murphy looked up to Connor's voice and felt a flicker of relief. "Spoutin' off cuz she doesn't want ta get in tha truck."
Connor shrugged and glanced at Molly. "Can we take yer car?"
Molly bristled and scowled at Katie. "I don't want her ta throw up."
Connor shook his head, shifting to his most placating tone. "Now, lass, it'll be all right, yeah? I'll drive extra slow, an' we'll keep tha windows open. Sides, it's still rainin'. If she throws up out tha window, it'll wash off by mornin'."
Despite her ruined evening, Molly smiled sweetly at Connor. "At least one o'ya is considerate."
Connor pursed his lips and looked to Murphy with a roll of his eyes. He switched to Gaelic. "Fuck, she's got nerve. Whatever, ya goin' after Márín? I think she was fixin' ta leave." He handed the truck keys to Murphy. "Saw her headin' to her car."
"Fuck," Murphy uttered in English. "Aye, evenin's fuckin' banjaxed beyond repair. I'll see ya when I see ya," Murphy offered as a farewell, parting ways with Connor and climbing into the truck. He tore around to the front car lot in time to see Father McMahon's Volkswagen peel out of the drive, and head towards the west side of town. Murphy threw the truck into gear and followed.
Ballyhue Moors was more or lest a tourist site, but this late at night on a Saturday, in the driving rain, it was pleasantly deserted. I pulled into the empty car lot and parked under an overhanging bunch of rowan. The raindrops that fell from the leaves thudded loudly on the roof, and I clicked on the radio before leaning my head back on the seat.
That night was decidedly fucked. I did a quick run down, marvelling at the range of emotions I had just experienced. I felt completely drained, used up, and my brain was aching. I reached for my purse.
A few minutes later, a pleasant haze surrounded me, and I giggled when I realized I'd just hot boxed in Colin's car. With another sheepish snort, I rolled the window down and sighed as cool air wafted in. I closed my eyes and turned my attention to the music on the radio.
I saw the flash of headlights through my eyelids and I sat up, glancing through the back window. The song on the radio had changed, but the rain was still pounding, so I knew I'd only wandered off for a few minutes. I watched as an old farm truck – the MacManus farm truck – trundle over the wet gravel and come to a smooth stop beside me. The chassis lurched and squeaked as the driver moved around inside, and then the passenger window on the truck was opening, and Murphy leaned out.
"Hey," he called with a bit of a nod. "That shit legal?"
"Fuck you," I droned with a fond grin. "After that night, it think it's deserved."
Murphy nodded and glanced out the windshield. "Aye, aye. Can't argue that." He looked back at me with a raised eyebrow. "Ya wanna talk s'more?"
I shrugged. "Aye." Gathering my purse and the car keys, I slid out of Colin's car. I pinched the joint off and and hopped up into the truck.
The seats were high and bouncy, characteristics of old trucks, and there was a crack through the windshield. A hand-carved wooden cross dangled from the rearview, the upholstery was worn tweed and cracked naugahyde, and the it smelled like stale straw. Defintely a farm vehicle. I grinned and sank into the seat, setting the roach on the dashboard in a very precise manner.
"You all right?' Murphy drawled, a small chuckle in his voice.
"M'fine," I breathed. I gave him a playful glare. "Hey, you were drinkin' whiskey. Girl's gotta relax somehow."
Murphy blushed and looked away, and I watched as his fingers rubbed and pulled at the leg of his slacks. "Ah, yeah," he breathed lowly. "About that…"
"What about it?" I challenged.
It was dark in the truck, but I knew he was blushing. I couldn't get over the strange, erotic dichotomy of Murphy – strong and physically confident in one moment, and blushing and almost disturbingly innocent at the next. When he'd begged me to tell him what to do back in the coat check, I'd unravlled like a snagged sweater.
"I, uh…" he paused, glancing at his hands, and then looked back to me, tip of his tongue pressed to his upper lip. "I really wanted ta make ya come."
"Oh," I breathed as his voice slid right through me. My heart thrummed wildly as my skin came alive, wanting his hands on me that very second. I took a breath and blinked at him. "Oh," I repeated dumbly.
He smiled beautifully then, my smile, that almost afterthought of curved lips.
"Loose the stop of your throat," I murmured.
"Not words, not music or rhyme I want…not custom or lecture, not even the best, only the sound that I like, the hum of your valved voice." Murphy finished, his tone dropping to a deep, long register that made every smooth, clenching muscle inside vibrate.
He'd tongue fucked me, and I hadn't even taken my panties off.
I nodded with a shiver. "Aye."
He smirked. "If I keep talkin', will it make ya come?" he asked lightly with a devilish grin.
I sighed, the moment lost, and smacked him in the shoulder. "Ass."
He chuckled and swivelled in his seat, facing out the windshield once more. "Fuck, I like pushin' yer buttons."
"I'm sure," I growled fondly, turning to face the windshield as well.
We fell into an amicable silence for a spell.
"So, tell me what ya want fer yer birthday," I aksed, turning to look at Murphy.
He grinned at me. "Ya really hafta ask?"
"Besides that – an' I'm not promisin' anythin' in that regard."
"So, besides having amazing sex wit' you?" He continued without batting an eye, ignoring my idle threat. "Connor n' I are gettin' tattoos on Wednesday afternoon in Dublin."
"Really?" My interest was piqued. "What are ya gettin'?"
Murphy shook his head firmly. "Sorry. Can't tell ya. But iffin' ya want ta meat us fer a pint later that evenin'…maybe dinner? I'll show ya then."
I smiled at his offhanded way of asking me out. "I might know of a pub or two that you boys will like." I'd have to bring Jenny along to keep an eye on Connor – I couldn't imagine what sort of trouble he could get into, and Jenny would love the attention. She hadn't shut up about how 'brazenly adorable' my 'matched set' was, and she was rabid to get pints. I looked Murphy up and down and then noticed his bare neck. He hadn't bothered with buttons or re-tying his tie, but his rosary was gone again.
"Where's yer rosary?"
"Ah, fuck me," Murphy growled, his smile fading into something rueful as he dug his hand into his pocket. He withdrew his fist and cupped his hands together, opening them slowly. "Katie got a hold o'it. Don't think it was on purpose," he lamented.
"Oh, Murph, I'm sorry!" I felt truly bad, as it wouldn't have happened had I remembered to give it back to him that afternoon. I picked up the length of cord still present and the beads that clung there. "I think I can fix it," I offered, inspecting the damage.
"Really?" Murphy breathed. "Ah, Márín, love, yer a saint."
"Not exactly," I muttered before I held out my clutch and let Murphy pour the beads into it. Setting it aside, I leaned back against the door of the truck. "Think Katie will be all right?"
The last think Murphy wanted to talk about was Katie Hanigan. He made a face at Márín's question and shrugged. "Probably have one hell of a hangover in the mornin'."
"What brought it on?" Márín continued.
Murphy sighed and ran his fingertips over the steering wheel. "She saw us dancin' an'…just got mad, I suppose." He looked to Márín with a shrug.
Márín nodded with a laugh. "You know, no matter how much times change, some things stay the same. Trust me, Murphy, yer Spring Formal experience is not so far of from me own."
Murphy chuckled. "Ah, c'mon, I bet ya'd look smashin' in blue tinfoil," he quipped, referring to Katie's dress. He looked Márín over once more. "Meant what I said earlier."
"Thank ya," Márín breathed. "But tha fuckin' drama, Murphy. I mean, we had it all - drunken teenagers, hurt feelings, loud music, drug use, horny teenagers…"
"Adults were just as horny," Murphy pointed out, earning another grin.
"An' bad chaperonin'," Márín sighed. "Christ, Murph, I really put myself out there fer you an yer brother."
"I know," Murphy nodded. "Thanks again…"
"Swear ta Christ, Murph, if I hafta endure Mike Flanery thinkin' he has a chance with me - "
"He say somethin' else to ya?' Murphy's temper flared at the thought of Flanery within five feet of Márín.
Márín waved off his concern. "No need ta worry right now," she shrugged. She shot Murphy a sidelong glance then. "Ya boys goin' ta church t'morrow?"
Murphy shrugged. "Ma will let it slide cuz o'tha dance."
Márín smiled broadly. "Perfect. Then you an' Connor can come over an' help."
Murphy snorted and gestured to the window where the rain still pelted. "S'fuckin' lashin' out there, love. Can't do much with that."
Márín continued to smile and glanced out the window and at the thick overhang of clouds. "Somethin' tells me, that sun will be up an' out b'fore noon."