The Rocky Road to Dublin

People say they're in love, with someone they hardly know. Or someone they only just met. Or saw. Or kissed. So many presumptions of love.
But it's not true. There's the type of love that's not really love, you just think it is. Where he loves you and treats you like you want him to and makes you breakfast in bed. And you think you love him.
Then there's another kind. Where he hates you sometimes and you hate him and you want to hurt eachother so badly so you can make the other feel better afterwards.
Maybe that's love.
Or maybe not.


2. It's funny.

"Daisy Morganna Toleman! If you do not remove yourself from your bed within the next ten seconds I'll drag you out!" 


I flung my bed covers aside and scrambled away from the clutches of sleep with a stuttering yawn. My bare feet landed on the carpet and I curled my toes when I stretched and made a very weird noise.

My room was pretty basic; cream walls, tan carpet, big bed and fairy lights strung along the walls. It was cosy but big. Flinging open my wardrobe doors, I pick at a loose string on my pajama bottoms while I decide what to wear. Today is when we start the drive down to Dublin to see Mum's family. We started annually taking these two-week-long visits when I turned eight. Eight years ago. 

"DAISY!" That was my sister. She's only a year younger than me and I can't say I like her, really. Love her? Sure. But she's a difficult person to live with. 

"WHAT?!" I shout back. This is how our mornings usually go, except we don't have school for another two months.


"NO," and then, under my breath, "it's not like your gonna listen if I do mind."

Fern and I had been raised by Mum and no one else, so we tended to have a short temper and loud mouths. Not that Mum minded, because it would make her a hypocrite if she did.

After putting on a white T-shirt, blue jeans and white converse, I tied my hair up into a ponytail and grabbed my suitcase. Fern and I collided in the hallway and I looked down at her three suitcases. My sister had too many clothes than she knew what to do with. 

When she was thirteen, she'd escaped from her strawberry-blonde curls by dying her hair black, because she didn't want to 'match'.

Oh well, at least I didn't have black hair and blonde eyebrows. 

"There y'are girls! I was beginning to wonder where you went!" Mum had a pretty heavy Irish accent, and Fern and I always made fun of it, although it had rubbed off on us a little over the years.

She was a fun woman, my Mum, with short auburn hair and bright green eyes, always brimming with excitement.

"Let's go! Get your arses inside the car!" With a laugh, she hauled our suitcases into the trunk and Fern slid into the back while I got into the front passenger seat. One benefit of being the older sibling. 

As Mum revved the engine, I turned on the radio and 'Highway To Hell' was playing. Mum just chuckled and switched the station so an Avril Lavigne song started playing.




There were two things wrong with the situation I was in. One: there was a hideously attractive girl across the room from me. And two: she wasn't mine. Despite the fact her hair was a different colour to her eyelashes and eyebrows, I decided she'd be my new challenge. She was sat with a girl around her age with dark brown hair and I didn't care much for her. She was probably just a cousin or something.

I stood up from the bar stool I was sat on and sauntered over to her booth. The pub we were in was pretty infamous in this particular area of Ireland and Craig said I came here too often. I proved him wrong by pointing out that whenever I came here, I always got laid. That shut him up. 

And there was my next conquest, flicking her hair back behind her bare shoulder and laughing loudly. She had a good body, and a pretty face so I figured I'd have her. 

"'Ey there, beautiful." I smiled with one side of my mouth and the girl looked up from her friend/cousin/whatever and smiled, blushing gently.

She nodded hello and I tilted her chin up so that she was eye-to-eye with me.

"Can I talk to you for a second?"

"Yeah, one minute." She turned to her friend, excused herself, then slid out the booth, taking my hand.


Around ten minutes later I was pulling off her shirt and kissing her inside one of the bathroom stalls. Contrary to popular belief, they were pretty clean. In between kisses I asked her what her name was. She was panting, her lipstick smeared, and looked down while I unbuttoned her jeans.





I was making the bed inside the spare room where Fern and I were going to sleep for the next two weeks when Fern herself came stumbling through the door. I turned around, the only light in the room coming from the open doorway where she stood. 

"Are you drunk?" I asked, abandoning the bed-making to catch a definitely-not-sober sister of mine. First day in Ireland and she was pissed out of her mind. Figures.

"I just lost my-"

I cut her off by dumping her onto her own bed beside mine and she fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. I rolled my eyes. She'd probably lost her phone or something. 

I sat down on my bed and took out my phone, waiting for a text from my cousin, Lizzy. Her sister Sally had gone out with Fern tonight. Lizzy and Sally have their father's dark hair and brown eyes, but they're very different. Lizzy is sarcastic and slightly cynical, like myself. Sally is bubbly and bright, kind of like Fern. But Fern is very gullible sometimes, where Sally is suspicious. The text came from Lizzy when I'd fallen asleep to the sound of Fern's snoring.

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