Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
It’s my turn to chortle at a low volume as to not be disruptive. “If it’s any consolation, I’ll say, your country typically does better in the Olympics.”
“Absolutely; however, I was not going to bring that up.” More laughter is exchanged between us. “That is actually the reason I visited Ireland. My oldest brother, Jonah, is a diving instructor for athletes who train to compete at an Olympic level. He went for work and arranged to have me tag along with. Luckily for me I had just turned eighteen, which meant I could spend all of my free time drinking pints in pubs and learning about unknown bands like The Script and Georgian ArKtecture before they hit it big.”
“Both amazing bands.”
“Agreed.” His grin grows wide. “And pub culture there is one that is unmatched in my opinion, although, I would love to change that.”
The statement unexpectedly sparks something inside prompting me to fold my hands together at the same time I angle myself forward. “What do you have in mind?”
“Have that vibe and atmosphere brought right here to A2. It is a uni town, which means there are plenty of places that cater to them, yet we lack those in that next phase or the phase there after. The one on the other side of partying ‘til four a.m. The one where you want to just meet a mate for a pint at a familiar place that’s low key without being too trashy or too expensive. A place that you instantly feel welcomed and safe, and you are treated like you are family regardless if it is your first time or fiftieth. Somewhere you hear tales that begin with ‘when I was boy’ more often than ‘what I saw on Snapchat’. Somewhere where life experiences and social bonding bloom over great brewed beer – the states have Runt’s and I definitely want to carry that – and fantastic fucking fish and chips. Maybe on the occasion a little unknown band or fiddler can play for free drinks just to liven the place up a bit on a Saturday or Sunday.”
Thoughtlessly, I utter, “That sounds bloody incredible.”
“You know what would make it better?”
Curiosity jerks my eyebrows upward.
“Someone behind the bar who knows what the bloody hell he’s doing.”
“Wouldn’t someone who wants to assist in running the actual business be even better than that?”
An unmistakable excited smirk slips onto Geoffrey’s face. “A partner would be fucking ideal, but at this point, I will take what I can get.”
Partner?
Me?
The idea of working in management makes my skin crawl and teeth itch, yet the notion that I could own something seems to settle those nerves I’d rather ignore than acknowledge. Perhaps running an establishment the way that I see fit to the style I decide as opposed to one commanded by corporate overlords wouldn’t be so awful. Maybe that’s a key distinction between the two. Having the power in the palm of my hand to shift and change and rearrange rather than be told to remember “who’s in charge”.
I don’t know that jumping into a business venture with a total stranger is the most intelligent decision I can make.
But I don’t know that it isn’t, either.
Talking to Harper about the possibility seems like a good idea though. It’ll allow her to see that I am giving an appropriate amount of thought to my future – our future – and prove that I’m alright with discussing the more serious topics like my career as much as the less detrimental ones like hockey or hurling.
I meant what I said earlier.
I need her to look at me and see someone who brings more than his dick to this relationship.
That I’m not some little boy who needs a stand-in mother to hold his hand while he figures out how to grow the fuck up.
I need her to see that I’m a man.
A real man.
One that can hold his own despite his younger age.
And while I like to believe that won’t always be an issue, it’s impossible to deny that it is right now.
Hopefully, it won’t be for much longer.
Chapter 5
Harper
Isn’t one month too soon to meet a boyfriend’s parents?
I honestly don’t know.
My record of meeting significant others’ family members is embarrassingly low.
There was one time in high school thanks to prom, one time in college at Vlasta, which was inevitable because dating a hockey player – and I use that term very loosely – means going to every game you can and sitting beside the other people there to support them, and then of course meeting Daniel’s, yet that didn’t occur until after we were already engaged. He claims it’s because they live so far away – California isn’t exactly as close as Wisconsin, which is where I grew up – but truthfully, I think it’s because he didn’t think they’d like me.