Chapter 11 : Fancy that
| ||Rating: Mature||Chapter Reviews: 3|
Background: Font color:
I sat down next to her, waiting for her to sigh or raise a sarcastic eyebrow at me. Or, you know, call me a tosser and walk away based on our last interaction. I really had made a mess of things. And yet, she hadn't budged or so much as blinked her eyes away from the book she was reading. As I studied her, I noticed smudges of ink and graphite on her right hand. She must have sketched this morning because my eyes didn't locate her sketchpad anywhere around her.
Without warning or acknowledgement, Ainsly moved onto her knees and then stood up without taking her eyes off the page that she was reading. Meanwhile, I just stood there like an idiot staring after her as she shuffled away. Walk, pause, shuffle, and then she repeated it all over again. I managed to jog silently up to her, so that I didn't startle her, but Ainsly appeared to be in a trance. It was fascinating to watch her move, her eyes dancing along the page, a smile peeking out every once and a while. I nearly jumped when she released a chuckle, which was so genuine that it lit up her entire face. It felt like I was witnessing a secret, intimate moment of hers. Yet, she wasn't even aware that I was next to her!
I had to bend and tilt my head to read the title of the book, but grinned widely when my eyes caught the name: Newt Scamander.
She continued walking with me trailing behind her. Nearly jumped out of my skin when she cleared her throat and blinked her eyes up me. "Starting to think your trying a hand at stalking," she muttered and glanced back down at the book in her hands.
"Not trying a hand, per se..." I bit back a response that could have come off as creepy. It was probably best to change the subject. "I always see you in the library, or outside with your sketchbook or a book. Are books your friends?"
"Yeah, I suppose." The corner of her mouth turned upward.
We walked along the Black Lake when we saw a figure floating on the surface of the water. When we got closer, we were presented with Freddy on a board, barely clothed and fluttering in the breeze. "Are we witnessing the birth of Venus?"
Ainsly covered her mouth, muffling her laughter. For once, I felt like our interaction was sparking with luck. Thank Merlin.
"Wotcher, JP!" My attention snapped upwards, as my body froze and drifted away from Ainsly. She barely even twitched in my direction, again, before continuing down the path. Ryan was floating above me on a broomstick. "Class was cancelled, so Freddy and I came out to enjoy the sun before it gets bitter cold out. You have a free period, ya?"
"Yeah," I replied distractedly, watching Ainsly from afar. I felt like I'd been doing that a lot.
"I'm thinking of sending out a letter," Ryan commented with a smirk. "Should be fun to see the response. We should consider a meeting."
I gulped, a hallow feeling entering my gut, but I nodded my head with a smirk of my own. Is this really who I wanted to be?
I was packing up my books, shoving them into my bag as class ended. Thankfully, it was the last class of the day... I really liked school, but the attitudes of my peers were beginning to grate on my nerves. Isabelle and Colleen had managed to get half the class coughing, "Freak," as I tested my potion and handed it in to Slughorn. Right now... I simply wanted to forget it. Why do people always lump unpleasantness on top of unpleasantness?
"Miss Murphy, please come with me. You, as well, Mr. Potter." Strange, I hadn't even noticed James today... Professor Longbottom winked at James and I stared up at the ceiling. When we made it to his office, Professor Longbottom ushered us inside and gestured to two chairs. "Would you fancy some tea or a biscuit?"
I blinked at him silently at first, but then smiled and thanked him as he pressed a warm cup into my hands. "So I noticed you both have not turned in your Post-Hogwarts career sheets..."
I froze, with the rim of the tea cup at my lips, before lowering it and answering. "Sir, I am not going anywhere."
"But you're a very bright student, Ainsly," Professor stuttered out, appearing flustered. I smiled politely at him, feeling James' eyes on me, as well. "It would be a shame to waste all that..."
"My family is too poor for anything else, Sir. We don't have the money for it right now. I might go one day... Just not now."
"I see..." Professor Longbottom looked troubled, but didn't say anything more to me. His eyes turned to James, waiting expectantly for his answer. "What about you, James?"
"I'm rich. I don't need to go to university." James shrugged. "And I suppose scouts have been looking at me for a while, though, so I have Quidditch."
I stared at the ground, feeling small and frankly a bit angry with his response. The pompous prat. I'd resigned myself to not attending university, not to mention the Magaziologist academy, for a while now.
"Pity," Professor Longbottom commented, awarding James a long look. "I know someone who would be sad to hear that attitude."
"You and me both, Nev-uh, Professor." James' eyes glanced over at me, checking my expression and I willed my face to remain blank.
"Well, I'll leave you both to think about it. And, just so you know, I sincerely hope your feelings change." After one last attempt at a discussion, Professor Longbottom excused us and released a sigh of his own.
For some reason, James had followed me to the library and I was forced to acknowledge how much popularity the Potter name contained.
"Hi James!" Another feminine voice called out, followed by a mass of giggles from yet another group of girls. He bellowed a friendly, charming greeting in reply. Hoping he was momentarily distracted, I quickened my pace. "Wait James! Where are you heading so quickly?"
"Uh, just hanging out with Ainsly here..." Wait, he actually admitted being around me to others? Had Professor Longbottom spiked his tea?
"Wait, you're hanging out with her? You're joking, James. No way," the girl shouted out from behind us and laughed. "Did you lose a bet?"
I practically sprinted down the hall at that point. I didn't need that crap right now, or ever, to be honest. These were the days where the message hit me with full force: I was ready to be done with Hogwarts and be an adult. Sure, it wasn't always like this... in first year, people tried to talk to me and connect with me, but it always felt forced, or fake. They talked, I answered, but it was like we were communicating from two different pathways.
People talk to each other when they know that there is nothing left to say. If that's what it's all about, then maybe I'm better off alone, or just with my few friends that understand me. Otherwise, it's just exhausting. I'm not so misanthropic that I dislike people... I just really wish they would stop talking sometimes. I can smile, laugh, and play along. Yet, I don't mind being alone. If anything it's quite gratifying. But, while I don't mind being alone, it's strange because I don't want people to get the impression that I have no one. It can be quite the contradiction, which no one seemed to comprehend except Savannah and Delilah.
"Oi, Ainsly! Wait up." I heard him jogging down the hall, but I didn't bother turning around. "Man you're fast. Have you ever tried out for Quidditch, or other sports?"
"Nope," I replied, quietly shaking my head.
"You should consider it," he remarked, ruffling his hair and rubbing at the back of his neck. Our footsteps ceased when we reached the library and I arched an eyebrow up at James. When he saw me glance at him, James grinned, shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers, and casually rocked on the balls of his feet. "Library, huh?"
I nodded stiffly, uncertain what he was playing at, or planning. Was this all do to a bet he lost? If that's the case, I should clear this up really quick. "If this is about a bet..." How was I going to put it?
"A bet?" He asked, sounding puzzled, and then his eyes widened. "Oh no! No bet. If it were a bet, I'd have you in a broom closet by now," he commented so casually that I just stared at him, momentarily losing my concentration. What the hell?
"In a broom closet," I repeated, as if saying the words out loud would decipher the confusion. And then it clicked that I should be offended by that statement. "Shove off, James." The prat. My hands busied themselves, grasping onto the think bindings of several books as I walked over to the table near the back of the library.
"No no, I didn't mean it like that," he laughed. Yeah right, I snorted. James' hands waved at me, denying he meant any offense, and then he ran a hand through his hair again in frustration. After taking a deep breath, he stared at me patiently with a smirk. "Have you ever been in a broom closet?"
My movements paused again at how casual James asked about the intimate moments of my life, or rather there lack of. Setting my books on the table and stowing my bag on the seat beside me, I frowned at him as I opened my potions book. It was probably best to ignore that question. My loser reputation didn't need the inexperienced label added onto it.
After pulling out some parchment, I bent a little closer over Advanced Potion-Making began writing my essay on Golpalott's Third Law. Hmmm, alright, so the antidote for the blended poison will be equal to more than the sum of the antidotes for each of the separate components...
"Ainsly." I blinked up at James, remembering his lingering presence. "Did you hear what I said?"
Setting down my quill, I shook my head at him and said, "No. I was working on my essay." I glanced back down at the textbook and pulled out my notes. Strange, I didn't finish this note that we'd been told in class. When I'd practiced making it after class last week, why didn't it work?
"Ainsly," James whispered my name again, directing my attention to him. "I had said I had the rest of the notes from potions if you needed them."
"Oh," I said, lamely. "Um, that would be great. Thank you." James smiled and pushed his notes towards me. After a moment of scrutiny, I realized that this wasn't going to work. "James..."
"Yeah?" He smiled back at me.
"You have awful handwriting," I observed. "How do you read this?" I furrowed my brow as I tried to read his writing and he laughed a little to loudly for the librarian.
"Ssshhh," the librarian warned, eying James disapprovingly.
In frustration, I silently went back to my textbook only to find that there was no explanation for the law. I placed my head down on the table, pondering a solution to my problem. Maybe I could ask the professor about it? No... it's an answer for the homework assignment. Ugh.
James slid my notes away from me and looked them over. There was a long moment of silence between us, until he cleared his throat. "Oh you need the explanation for that law, which Sluggy just told us to figure it out. But use a bezoar."
I lifted my head, peering up at him curiously. "A bezoar? Like in goats stomach." My fingers flipped through the pages of my textbook until I got to bezoar. Relief settled over my body and I sighed, placing my forehead back on the table.
"Woah, what's wrong?" James asked, placing a hand on my shoulder and leaning closer to me.
"This is fantastic, James. Thank you so much," I murmured into the wood of the table.
"Oh, you're welcome. It's no trouble, honestly." But it was a bother; of course, he didn't understand that because everything always seemed to come so easily to James Potter. This was certainly no exception.
"I just wish I could figure it out that easily," I whispered. Why can't I be...more like you, James? Without all the arrogance sometimes, but still... Why can't I do it? It's so frustrating. I'm supposed to be a Ravenclaw, so intelligence is a characteristic of our house.
I heard James shuffled in his seat across from me, until I felt his head next to mine. "Don't feel frustrated," his warm breath stirs my hair causing me to swallow with difficulty. "It's not so easy for me either a lot of the time. I struggle to keep up with the pressure. Maybe it's appears easy for me because I act like I don't care, you know?"
I turned my head towards his voice and found my nose near his mop of hair, so much so that I could smell his shampoo. With a deep inhale, my brain processed that he smelled nice. It faintly smelled sweet and herbal.
Meanwhile, as I considered his words, I realized that James Potter was trying to make me feel better. Was that an accurate assumption? "James?" I began, uncertain if he even heard my hushed tone.
"The fact that you try so hard, that you put so much dedication into studying and everything, is just proof of your determination and intelligence." Suddenly, James turned his head and my eyes met his with our faces about an inch apart. For a long moment we just stared at each other, stunned at how close we were. So near, that I could make out the flecks of green and brown in his hazel eyes. James' eyes flickered to my lips before turning his head back around. "If anything, you have more determination than I ever have. So that makes you much more intelligent and...respectable than me."
I tilted my head up, inching closer to hear his softened words. "You don't think your intelligent, or respectable?" The Potter's were one of the most respected families in the wizarding world, so it was bizarre to hear those word come out of James' mouth.
"People always blindly come to the conclusion that I'm intelligent and respectable because of the Potter name. So much so that they fail to see me. It's easy for me to do things half-assed."
The words he was saying were so foreign to his normal attitude. It was like a stranger inside James Potter revealed himself to me at times. That James, the one inside the arrogant prat, was someone I wanted to see and understand. He was someone I wanted to know.
As I pondered this newfound persona, I'd unconsciously been getting closer to James head of hair. The next thing I knew my nose inhaled James' shampoo, and I recognized that the sent was tea scented.
"Ainsly," James said softly, raising his head to look me in the eyes. I blinked back at him. "Do you...well, do you fancy me?"
I gaped at him, silent and, quite frankly, terrified. I should have just remained wordless and see if he continued. To see if he genuinely meant the things he was saying, and that they were not just a joke. Instead, my words bubbled up like defensive word vomit. "You think a lot of yourself, huh? That that's a thing you just casually ask about yourself."
His hazel eyes hardened. "You were the one nuzzling up to me and smelling me. I thought that I was giving you the wrong impression, or that you were one of the more discreet fan club girls."
I rolled my eyes at him, again, and packed up my belongings. "I'll be going now." Perhaps I'd simply imagined that other James inside the arrogant James Potter, who bragged about having a fan club and being wealthy.
Present (One Year Post-Hogwarts)
"Hey Al, have you seen Sly?" I was starting to worry and dinner was just about finished.
Al stared off into the distance, green eyes quietly focused on the sunset. "She left," he murmured, casually shoving his hands into the pockets of his trousers.
"Left?" I glanced around, surveying the distance. "Do you mean with Pork Chop? Did she go far? It's getting dark, so I don't want her getting lost. I squinted my eyes in my vigorous search and frowned when I saw Pork Chop lounging in the grass near the Willow tree. When I turned my attention back to Al, he was more silent than usual. "Al?"
"Dad was talking to her," Al commented, sounding way too cryptic for my liking. "Then I found your fair lady hitting her head against a tree. She's a strange one."
"What?" When I looked at him, Al didn't seem like he was joking, which was even more alarming. Then I reviewed what he said on my head and paused. "No...no... He didn't? Dad..."
Al awarded me an expression of boredom. "He did," he confirmed, nodding his head of black hair. "I saw her walk that way and I think Savannah Greengrass came to get her."
Al rolled his eyes. "I followed her to make sure she was alright. I figured you'd shit a hippogriff if Ainsly simply disappeared without anyone noticing."
I sent him a sharp look, but I couldn't throttle him too much because he was right. And I was oddly touched at how he looked out for Ainsly. "I'm going to go talk with dad," I growled.
"Let me know if mum has the Savior sleeping in the barn with Pork Chop tonight!" Al yelled out and laughed.
I ran as fast as I could to the house, bursting through the back door and nearly scaring Lily to death, or so it seemed from the blood-curdling scream that erupted from her mouth.
Roused at the sound, mum came into the room with a frying pan in one hand and her wand in the other. "For Merlins sake, James Sirius Potter, are you trying to send me to an early grave?"
"Where is dad?" I stomped through the doorway and into the living area. "Dad!" I yelled up the stairs, hoping that he didn't disappear somewhere to sulk.
"What is wrong, James?" Mom's brow furrowed in confusion before her eyes widened and her face reddened. "Where is Ainsly, dear?"
"She left," I said through gritted teeth. "Dad was talking to her while I was helping you earlier and Al said she left."
It was unbearably quiet for a few minutes and then mum's eyes focused on the doorway up on top of the stairs. "Harry Potter! Get down here now, you self-righteous git!"
There was a creaking sound and then dad appeared from the second floor. Mom had her hands on her hips, practically fuming beside me. "Uhh," the great Harry Potter started, swaying his weight from foot to foot. His emerald eyes wouldn't make eye contact with mum.
"What were you told not to do today, Harry?" Her voice sounded icy, the cold breeze before a hot temper storm. "Specifically, dear."
"Er," he squirmed, again, under mum's fierce gaze. "Don't know?"
"Feigning ignorance has never been your strong suit, Harry Potter," mum hissed causing dad to flinch. "Did you know that Ainsly left?"
"Look Gin," Dad began to explain, a fairly composed expression still fixed on his face.
"Don't you 'look Gin' me," she seethed. The cauldron was starting to boil. "Did you or did you not interrogate that poor girl?"
"I wouldn't call it interrogation exactly-"
"Please, enlightened me on what you would call it then, hmm?" She huffed angrily awaiting his response.
"I was speaking with her that's all," dad responded, sounding like it was the most casual thing in the world. "And then some classified information regarding her family came up."
"Classified?" Mum questioned, skeptical of the description. She paled a bit, sending a concerned glance in my direction. "What do you mean?"
"Gin, it's the stuff that's been in the papers for the past few years," he replied, sounding almost as cryptic as Al. An observation that Albus would definitely not be pleased to hear.
"In the States?" Mum prodded further, like they were having a secret conversation that I didn't understand.
"Yes," Dad confirmed, appearing grim.
"I don't care if it has to do with your work. You did Legilimency on her!" I argued. "It was the first time I brought a girl home to meet you, aside from Isabelle, and you pried into her mind."
"You didn't..." Mum turned to dad, a scary look appearing on her face. "Harry..." She stared at him accusingly, waiting for Harry Potter's armor to crack so that she could sink her nails into him and tease out information. Sure, Harry Potter killed the most dangerous wizard who ever lived, but Ginny Potter had Weasley blood running through her veins and it was terrifying to be on the receiving end of that temper. Also, mum still had a frying pan grilled tightly in her hand. A fact that was equally terrifying.
Overall, Al was right. Dad would be sleeping in the barn with Pork Chop tonight. Also, Aunt Hermione would be coming over tomorrow to fix the hole in the wall and I was off to Ireland.
My mum's real name is Faith, but she changed her name to Nora Murphy when we moved away from the States. She has long black hair and blue eyes, which dubbed her a true Galway girl by the men that frequent the pub that she works in. When I visit home, I usually help her out on shifts to give her a break and raise extra tips. Today was no exception, aside from explaining my spontaneous visit.
The atmosphere in a true Irish pub is almost inexplicable because you just know you're in an Irish pub the minute you enter the door. In America, drinking is made into a sport but in Ireland... it's like an art form. The music is lively and, in my mums pub at least, there is dancing, singing (sometimes very off-key), and instruments playing. It's a place filled with laughter and fun.
"Play us Johnny Tarr, Sly!" A man at the bar cheered. I knew most of the lively Irish songs from working at the pub with my mum, which started when I was about eight years old, though at that time I was merely helping out the cook in the kitchen. It wasn't until I was around fifteen that I was able to assist with serving food and later drinks. Mum could never afford a sitter and she was too protective over me to leave me alone.
"You just want mum to bring out the brandy, Mr. O'Reilly," I jested and turned the music to Johnny Tarr.
Sure enough when the song got to the part about Nora bringing out the brandy, the man winked at me and yelled out, "Nora! It's says you're to bring out the brandy."
Mum walked out of the kitchen and rolled her eyes, "If I had a euro for every time you've said that, Sam, I'd be rich." Then she leaned towards me with a tray balanced on her hand and whispered, "Or a knut at the very least," with a twinkle in her blue eyes.
"Have you got any lush, Nora?" Sam grinned at her like a fool.
"Yeah, yeah. I got your brandy, Samuel." Mum set the glass down in front of him, along with an order of boxty. "Don't go making yourself green now."
"When have I ever, love?"
"When have you not," Mum retorted, clearing glasses off a nearby table. After she was finished stacking the plates, I grabbed the tray from her and earned a fond squeeze on the shoulder.
"Ay," he laughed happily. "How's you new place, Ainsly? Was it any use? Haven't seen you around in a bit."
"It's been going fairly well, actually. Sharing a flat with a few friends I went to school with," I explained causally.
"Ah that's right," Sam replied. "Your mum said as much. Any lads out there that caught your eye?"
I blushed, shaking my head with a smile. "Not really," I said, glancing down at the tray of dishes in my hands.
"Oh come off it. You can go on outta that," he laughed. "Pretty and smart lass such as yourself."
"Appreciate you not fixin on my daughter, you desperate old fool." Mum fixed him with a stern eye, presenting as a hawk suspicious of someone invading her nest.
"Ah nix, Nora. I didn't mean anything by it." Sam looked to me for help and I just shook my head, laughing at how my mum was messing with him.
"Aw sure look it," she said, placing her hands on her hips. "Though, I always taught my girl to have a brain. Fancy that. Lord knows we used to have lots of eligible bachelors rounds these parts, but they're like hen's teeth now."
I shook my head at their conversation, translating the phrases of Ireland easily again. When I made my way back into the kitchen, I dumped the load of dishes to be cleaned and walked back out.
"That's a fret, ya?" It was eerily quiet in the pub and, when I looked up, I nearly dropped the stew I was carrying. James was talking to my mum at the front of the pub. "Don't suppose your mammy goes for a young lad, eh?"
"No," I conceded distractedly. "This ones mine to deal with I'm afraid." As I served another regular some stew, I could feel eyes on my back. When I turned around, it wasn't a surprise to see that my mum and James were both staring at me.
"Ainny," my mum called out. "Come here, love." When I dutifully made my way to her side, she gave a sigh. "This boy here says he's a friend of yours from school."
"Yes, James Potter." I sent her a pointed look.
"Ay, he said as much, but I know you're selective of friends so I thought I'd be certain."
"Would you mind if I talked with Ainsly for a bit, Ms. Murphy?" James plead with me to agree.
"Go ahead and sit at the back tables," Mum gestured and winked at me once James back was turned. She silently mouthed, "handsome bloke" and acted like she was fanning herself. I rolled my eyes at her and followed behind James.
"Uh, you hungry? I might get a drink, as well." James fiddled with the one of the menus on the table. "Suggest anything?"
"The cheese curry chips," I answered easily, not bothering to even read the menu. "Just don't order a car bomb as a drink, or they'll throw you out of the pub."
"It's really insulting," I replied. "A lot of Americans try to order it, thinking it's Irish, but it's an American cocktail." I pulled out my phone, pulled up an article, and showed it to James (New York Times, 1989).
BELFAST, Northern Ireland, Dec. 7— A car bomb planted by the Irish Republican Army exploded in a suburban shopping district today, wounded 21 people and heavily damaging surrounding stores, the police said. IRA later issued a statement stating the attack was to "embarrass the British Government and crown forces."
"The drink is a reminder of a difficult time," I explained.
James frowned down at the screen, leaned back against the seat after he finished reading, and ruffled the back of his head. "That's terrible," he agreed.
After we put in our order, James continued to squirm nervously in his seat. "My dad's a wanker," he blurted out. "Sorry."
I sighed, and then was mercifully interrupted by our curry cheese chips arriving. "Here's your bag'a chips, love," mum said, setting down the plates. "Let me know if you need anything." After my mum was out of earshot, I leaned closed to James.
"Did he tell you anything about what he saw?" James shook his head, so I added, "Huh." A pained expression morphed on his face.
"Don't suppose I'll be bringing you around again anytime soon, eh?" The question surprised me, actually, because I'd been expecting Harry Potter to forbid James from even seeing me.
"James... I don't know where my father is in America." I studied his reaction, which was simply attentive and a little perplexed.
"Okay..." James' hazel eyes flickered with uncertainty.
"And I don't want to know," I firmly explained. "My family is my mother. That's all."
James just watched me for a moment, pausing mid-bite of a chip, and then put his fork down. "My dad said there was classified information that came from your...discussion." I kept my face impassive. "Was that classified information regarding your dad."
"Yes," I whispered, the confession causing a heaviness in my heart. I shifted my weight in my seat, contemplating if I should tell him. "Mum changed her name and we moved because of him."
"Did they separate?"
"It was...something like that. I don't know a whole lot of it, but what I was forced to remember was something my dad mentioned..."
"What's that?" He asked in a hushed tone, unable to be overheard.
I bit my bottom lip, chewing nervously and whispered, "Do you know the word Scourer?" I'd give anything to be at Hogwarts library right about now, surrounded by the knowledge of so many books.
"Sounds familiar..." James trailed off, thinking hard about it. "I don't know. Maybe I could ask dad?"
"No!" I squeaked, reaching out for James hand as if that would cease him from making such an inquiry. Then, noticing I was still grasping his hand, I cleared my throat nervously and attempted to withdraw my hand only to have James lace his fingers through mine. He sent me a warm smile of encouragement. "Um, please don't involve your dad anymore than needed. I want to figure this out for myself."
"Alright," he consented for now at least and gave my hand a comforting squeeze. "Oh hey, can I have your phone number?" And he flashed me a charming smile.
Later that night, while I stayed over my mum's house and James had gone home, James called my cell phone. He invited me to a beach party that they were having this weekend.
"So are you genuine when you fancy someone?" His voice sounded husky and unbelievably attractive.
"Are you?" I countered the question, certain he was toying with me.
James laughed, his breaths panting into the phone, and for some reason I picture him laying on his bed. The thought causes my body to stiffen and I jerked myself upwards. "Ainsly? You still there?"
"Mhmm," I mumbled.
"People like to talk rubbish about me. It's been like this for Potter's for a while, I suppose, but especially with dad's legacy. Me, though, I just do what I want. And that's just the way it is."
There was a pregnant pause on the line.
"So you coming to the party tomorrow?" I could practically feel the smirk on his face through the phone, and I wanted nothing more than to slap it away. Instead, I took a deep breath.
"No," I replied calmly, reminded of the boy that kissed me in Sixth Year without an ounce of genuine feelings. It was just because he wanted to. It made me uncomfortable.
I hung up on him without reply. "Hypocrite," I murmured to the ceiling. James could be a real prat sometimes and this was just a glimpse of James Potters past self, which he so graciously awarded me.
Sometimes it felt like one step forward and two steps backwards with us...
I don't own anything: not Harry Potter, not Fantastic Beasts, not Johnny Tarr, which is a great song by Gaelic Storm! I also don't own that history about Ireland.
I know this took me forever and I'm still slightly unhappy with it, but updated!
What do you think of the plot so far? Thoughts about James? Ryan? Sly? Sly's parents? I definitely feel like James would have a attractive voice over the phone.
Previous Chapter Next Chapter
Other Similar Stories
Just Say Yes