London 2001
Michelle's hands twitched angrily, instinctively balling up into fists.
"Look Buster", she hissed. "It's got nothin' to do with you."
Standing almost a foot over her, Buster Hughes leered. He leered at her! Now, of all times!—That feckin' bastard! She'd kill him!
"Then how come you decided to tell me?"
Michelle's tongue clicked impatiently inside her mouth. With every second that passed, the prospect of ending Buster right there on the spot became more and more attractive.
"Just thought I'd bring you up to speed is all."
Every pore oozing disgust, Michelle ignored as her jet black acrylics dug fleshy moons into her palms. One more straw and steam would likely be pouring from her ears...Wile E. Coyote style.
Buster smirked, the corner of his mouth curling upwards into a half, rather pointed, smile. "But how did you know I was the one to bring up to speed? "
Brows pulling together at his insinuation, Michelle snarled.
She'd have surely landed one on him if the rest of the gang weren't on the other side of the wall. Her wolf pack were not ending up on the wrong side of Buster on her watch. Fuck no!
"I'm a reasonable person, Buster", Michelle replied, her voice dangerously low. "Fairly reasonable anyway. So I'm givin' you five minutes to shift your sad excuse of an arse outta here before I kick you right in the—"
Looking just a wee bit green, James let his forehead sink into Erin's shoulder.
"Remind me again. Why exactly did I go out last night?"
Erin snorted, gloating over the fact that for once (just this once!) it was her and not James who had been the sensible one.
"Michelle and Orla swindled you into it 'cos, unlike some of us, you lot can sit on your laurels today. Jammie feckers that ye are..."
James chuckled despite the ringing in his ears.
His nose found it's way into the loose strands that had escaped Erin's neat 'work appropriate' braid.
With what felt like a herd of elephants' feet pounding across his skull, there wasn't much that could make James feel lucky, but sitting here with Erin...well, that came pretty close if he was being honest.
Given the morning that was in it, it took James just a second too long to realise the rather glaring issue (or rather issues!) with what he was thinking...
Oh Christ!
He shouldn't be thinking things like that, should he? Not about one of his best friends anyway.
James chanced a glance up at Erin and found himself at the end of one of her lopsided half smug/half affectionate smiles.
She, at least, was attributing his excessive touchy-feelness to his totally wallpapered state...to which, of course, James would readily agree that there was absolutely NO OTHER EXPLANATION for.
"You know what?", Orla mumbled, her voice jolting both James and Erin back to reality.
He glanced up only to find her staring in fixation into her bowl of Coco Pops, looking as though she was contemplating a head dive into the now chocolate milk.
"I river-danced with Michael Flatley last night. Really knows how to move his feet, that fella. Absolutely cracker! Sure, it was just grand that he was there to give me my prize!"
Frowning, James tried to process Orla's bizarre (and rather unlikely!) tangent. His brain fell just a little bit short—Erin and alcohol addled as it was.
Staring pointedly across the table at her cousin, Erin scoffed in disbelief. "Catch yerself on, Orla! The Michael Flatley? You weren't dancin' with the Michael Flatley! Was she, James?"
Truthfully, James shrugged...not having the slightest idea! Everything after nine o' clock the night before was, more or less, a total blur.
"I'm telling you, Erin", Orla insisted. "I won a dancin' competition last night and Michael Flatley was definitely definitely there. I swear on Toto's grave."
"Toto's not dead, Or—"
Just then, Erin was cut off at the sound of Michelle's bedroom door opening.
James glanced up, catching the eye of the man his cousin had been...going out with (if so straight forward a term could be used for any of Michelle's relationships) for the past few weeks.
"Ladies", Buster greeted with a smile that may have been charming if he wasn't already such a widely accepted wanker. "I'll see you around."
Orla peered up at him, mildly quizzical, and gave an oblivious little wave as he wordlessly headed for the door. "Bye, Buster."
The door slammed shut behind him.
"Dick", Erin mumbled, quiet enough for only her fellow Derry Girls to hear.
In spite of his admittedly crappy mental and physical state, James found himself nodding vaguely in agreement.
"Michelle certainly knows how to pick them anyway."
Orla shrugged, turning her attention to her cutlery. She was clearly more interested in her spoon's suitability for a career in catapulting than their friend's love life.
"Ach, I think he's a character!"
Suddenly, Michelle appeared at her bedroom door. She glanced around the kitchen, nodding to her friends and cousin.
"Aye, and he's a character that I've given the ol' heave-ho to..."
Erin and James perked up, visibly surprised.
"So the convicted criminal thing finally started to bother ya, eh Michelle?", Erin asked with a hint of sarcasm. "Clare'll be proud."
Michelle smirked in return, pottering around the kitchen in pursuit of something edible. Naturally, she made as much noise as was physically possible, which did absolutely nothing for the newly returned ringing in James's ears.
"Naah", Michelle replied with a dismissive smile, one that didn't quite seem entirely genuine. "To be honest, the protestant thing bothered me more..."
Erin rolled her eyes. "Course it did."
James glanced up at his cousin, throbbing forehead cradled between his hands for the second time that morning.
Under any other circumstances, he may have called Michelle's bluff about the whole 'dumping her boyfriend over being a protestant' thing but since he felt that his brain may turn to total mush at any moment, James supposed that desperate times called for desperate measures.
"Do you really have to make that much noise?"
Michelle snorted in amusement, taking the opportunity to use one of their saucepans as a gong.
"Feelin' a bit under the weather there, are we Dicko?", she asked, seeming to be trying just a little too hard to be her usual brash self. For now, no one was any the wiser. "Feckin' lightweight..."
James felt the sound reverberate in his ears, momentarily comforted by the sympathetic look Erin's threw him over her shoulder.
"How on earth are you not hungover?", he asked, wincing as Michelle held up the saucepan once more in a threatening manner.
No matter how much James had drank...his cousin had surely polished off double. Shouldn't she be completely keeled over?
Michelle grinned, feigning insult. "I'll have you know that I'm perfectly somber."
Rolling his eyes, James smirked.
"Come off it, Michelle! You haven't been somber since 1993!"
Erin let out a snort of laughter.
James tried to ignore how the sound offered him the smallest (albeit momentary) slice of clarity, causing something strange (but not entirely unfamiliar) to stir in the pit of his stomach.
Frustrated with himself, he pushed the thought aside and returned his attention back to Michelle.
She glared in response, tossing a wet dish cloth forcefully in the direction of her darling cousin's head. In Michelle's opinion, her and James's familial banter was a one way street, one where where she gave and he took...no questions asked!
"Wind yer neck in, James."
...
We're only young and naive still
We require certain skills
The mood it changes like the wind
Hard to control when it begin
~The Naked and Famous, Young Blood.
...