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.


5. It's happy


I called Lizzy when I'd washed the dishes and sat on my bedroroom floor, letting the pale afternoon light wash over my room. 

"Alright, Daisy?"

"Yeah, just bored. And weirded out. There's a guy."

I heard a chuckle and I could practically see Lizzy roll her eyes. 

"Tell me everything then."

"He's got blondish hair and blue eyes and he makes me feel funny every time I see him and I'm not sure if I like it-"

"Not everything, you numpty. What's his name and how did ya meet 'im?" 

"He's called Niall. I met him up on the wall about a mile away from my house. He told me I looked like a disco ball and I called him a male slut. At least, that's kind of how it went."

Lizzy laughed and then cleared her throat. "Want me to come over."

"Yeah. Mum and Fern are down at Granny Lee's house."

"'Kay. See ya soon."

I hung up.




I had to go back and apologize for storming out. It was suspicious, the way I reacted, and if I didn't want Daisy to know then I'd better go back and lie my ass off.

But it wasn't Daisy that answered the door. It was a tall, brown-haired girl with a guarded expression and a dimple in her left cheek.

"Daisy!" She turned and walked back inside the house and I heard socks slapping against the wooden floor.

"Hi, sorry. That was my cousin. Come in."

I stared. The wind bit at my cheeks and nose but I wasn't really paying attention. Daisy stood with one hand on the door handle, her hair pulled into a scruffy pony wearing black sweatpants, fluffy socks and a grey shirt. 

"Thanks." I say, stepping through the doorway and running a hand through my hair. Daisy's cousin, who I later found out was called Lizzy, was sat on the couch watching TV.

"Liz, say hi to Niall."

Lizzy just jerked her chin in my direction and I though that if I was in a pub, despite her seriousness, I'd probably try to fuck her.

"Niall, I'm making chicken and chips for dinner. Come help."

It didn't look like I had a choice.




As Niall put the potatoes into the fryer, I loaded a pan with frozen chicken and put it in the oven. The radio was turned on and a ridiculous pop song came on. Niall wasn't dressed up for anything in his blue shirt and jeans so I figured it was okay to throw a handful of flour at him. I was making the chickens batter. Niall coughed a cloud of white and laughed, grabbing the flour sack and throwing a handful at me.

I screeched and stole it back. And so began the Flour War.

It took about fifteen minutes for us to stop laughing and by that point we were sat on the floor behind the kitchen table, our backs against the cupboards under the sink.

Niall had a hand print on his face and flour in his hair and all over his clothing. 

He turned to me, still laughing, and said, "You're covered in flour."

I glanced at the empty sack between us and laughed. "Yeah, well so are you."

And then he was looking at me weirdly. Like he wanted to eat me or something.

"Can I kiss you?"

I shrugged. I'd kissed boys before but it had been a while. Then I decided I was too far in and would be leaving soon. Why not live a little?

So I leaned forward, and he did to and he smelt like flour and grass and boy. And before our lips met, I accidently headbutted him.

"Oi!" He sat back, rubbing his head and I scowled, rubbing mine too.

So much for living a little.


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