Page 7 of A Second Chance Summer in Dublin
‘Logan.’ He extended his hand, lowered one knee, dipped his head in a half bow.
‘Grace.’ I accepted the hand, trying not to grin too madly, a rush of blood to my head. My whole body tingled at his touch. A bolt of lightning not only ran through my veins but left them drained.
The chemistry gods shot every arrow they had directly into my heart, and I fell for him instantly.
Bullseye.
‘Actually, I am. I bet myself that I could make this! And hey-ho!’ I reached around and swished my cape like a fearless matador, stamped one foot, then the other, more than surprised at myself.
‘It’s pretty amazing,’ he said, nodding.
‘Oh, thanks. It was actually my homage to Little Red Riding Hood for my diploma. I’m in my final year. I’m a fashion student. I say “was” because I’m thinking of quitting actually .?.?.’
I told him I was wearing the cape back to my new flat at Old Camden Street to keep the cotter pins in place. Over the weekend, I planned to make my final decision on whether to stay or walk off the course and get a full-time job in retail – before I spent my time bent over my trusted 1980s Singer Stylist 814 machine, sewing bronze vintage closure clasps to the opening seams. I had been fully focused on my career and my lifelong dream to open my own bridal store, but the last few months had me second-guessing myself.
‘Well, allow me to notice what beautiful big blue eyes you have?’ He flirted openly. Intoxicatingly. He smelt of rich, musky aftershave, the college hand-soap and spearmint chewing gum. The closeness of him made me stop breathing for a moment.
‘All the better to throw you filthy looks with.’ I flirted back immediately, with a harsh flick and roll of my eyes to the heavens, delighted with myself altogether. Flirting was not generally something I was good at. He took my hand and asked me for a drink, and I thought I was in some romantic movie as we skipped across the road hand in hand to O’Donoghue’s bar.
Inside, we took two high stools at the circular bar.
His eyes held mine. ‘So, tell me. With your obvious talent, why on earth are you thinking of quitting fashion design?’
‘Ah .?.?. a few reasons, mainly her—’ I discreetly gestured to Emma Stark in the far corner of the bar with a few of my classmates huddled around a table. I hadn’t known they were going for drinks, but I was always too busy anyway – at least that’s what I always told myself. Emma Stark raised the peak of her baseball cap a little with her index finger, then gave me asmall wave. ‘We’re chasing the same internship, but she’s more talented than me, younger than me. I dunno, I just don’t think I have what it takes.’
He stood up and lifted the cape from my shoulders, held it in his hand, his fingers caressing the material. ‘This cape is a work of art. If you don’t believe in yourself, you’ve lost your dream already. I’ve noticed you around, the way you dress, your style. I think you are a creative genius.’ He kissed his finger and thumb and blew that kiss high into the air above us. ‘Don’t ever give up on your dreams.’
‘Oh. Th-thank you.’ I blushed, terribly thrilled with the compliment. Emma got all the compliments from our tutor, Miss Nesbitt, who never seemed to throw any my way. She got all the compliments from our classmates, too, who seemed to hang on her every word.
‘So you believe in yourself. Right? Trust your talent,’ he told me in a serious tone as he sat back down.
I felt suddenly seen, strangely powerful, and I nodded intently. ‘I will.’
‘I too have a confession, Gracie,’ Logan had told me very dramatically.
‘What?’ I asked, with a small but concerned grin.
‘More of a warning.’ Logan curled his lip. That mouth. It was delicious. Full. Seductive. Erotic.
‘Okayyyy.’ I was barely audible. ‘I’m all ears.’
‘All the better to hear me with.’
I let out a half-laugh, not able to take my eyes off him. ‘Very good.’ There was nowhere in the world I’d rather have been.
‘I need to warn you, I also have a dream. I’m an actor. A broke actor. That’s my confession. Smashed. Zero pennies to my name. Just spent the last hundred euro in my bank account on professional headshots.’ He delved deep into those tight pockets, produced two beer tokens then turned the pocketsinside out. My eyes were drawn to that region. I swallowed with a gulp. Tingles of attraction erupted all through me. Shooting around my nether regions like fireworks.
‘Guinness?’ he suggested and I bobbed my head in agreement, my mouth too dry to speak as he slouched over the bar top to get the attention of the bar man.
‘Grace Algar, howrya?’ Emma Stark had eased her way in between me and Logan, in her red New York Yankees baseball cap now turned back to front, a camouflage three-quarter-length coat with red suede thigh-high boots.
‘Hi, Emma.’ I smiled at her.
‘Weird seeing you in here. We always think you’re far too busy for beers, like?’
I stood up from the stool. I was a few inches taller than her. ‘Not today.’
‘This is your Red Riding Hood.’ She felt the fabric. ‘Cape is great, impressive weight, it will drape beautifully.’
