One
Seamus O’Brien
Fuck this shit, I think as I walk to the T’s Park Street Station. My union president just dropped a bomb on us and doesn’t seem to give a shit that our hazard pay has just been cut in half. As a lineman for Boston Energy, I risk my life every day to ensure the people in the greatest city in the commonwealth of Massachusetts have electricity no matter the weather conditions. Ice is our greatest adversary this winter and it’s not hot enough yet to deter that. I can’t deal with this bullshit right now. A St. Patrick’s Day beer is calling my name. It’s only nine and there’s about fifteen different Irish pubs between here and home, so it’s feasible to stop in. Hell, who am I kidding? It’s feasible most nights.
As I wait on the platform, I catch a glimpse of a beautiful dark-haired lass on the train that just pulled to a stop in front of me. Something pierces my chest and for a second, I think I’m having a heart attack. She looks like a little fairy that I could put in my pocket. She’s looking down at her phone, trying to ignore the guy talking to her. Her long hair is windswept and her cheeks red. I can’t stop staring at her. Even though it’s not my train, I get on it anyway. I should be on the Red Line, but this is a Green Line E train and it’s going to be a long ride home to Mattapan. I sit down so that I can look at her some more. I realize that this makes me crazy, but I don’t give a flying fuck. I watch the man next to her still trying to chat her up, though she has turned her body slightly away from him. A classic sign of not being interested, but the guy isn’t getting the fucking hint. I clench my fists on the tops of my thighs. For some fucking reason, I don’t like that he’s talking to her or even breathing the same air as her.
“Not interested,” she finally says, and I hear her sultry voice through the loudness of the train and all the people on it. It goes straight to my balls. Fuck. I need to hear more of that more than I need oxygen. The other man is about to touch what I am beginning to think of as mine. Not fucking happening. Again, without thinking, I walk right up to her and wrap my arm around her shoulder, pulling her away from his touch. I don’t know why I do it, but I do.
“Hey, baby. Did you miss me all day?” I ask, daring to kiss her soft cheek. I am fully prepared for her to slap me, but she surprises me instead.
“Of course, I did,” she answers without hesitation causing me to grin.
“The fuck?” the douche who had been harassing her says.
“Imma need you to take a couple of steps back from my woman, asshole,” I say. She steps closer to me, causing me to smile. The man holds his hands up in surrender and backs away, eventually leaving the train car.
“Oh my God, thank you,” the lass says.
“You’re welcome. I’m Seamus,” I say holding my hand out to her.
“Brenna,” she replies, shaking my hand.
“Nice to meet you,” I tell her.
“You too.”
“So, does that happen to you often?” She’s so damn beautiful, I’d be surprised if it didn’t.
“Yeah, unfortunately. Why are guys such dicks?” she asks, putting her phone into her jacket pocket.
“I can’t speak for all of us, but it’s not every day we cross paths with the most beautiful lass in the world. We probably can’t help it.”
“Really?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.
“I know that I can’t help it,” I tell her honestly.
“I don’t think you are a dick,” she breathes and licks her full lips. Before I can stop myself, my lips are on hers, my hands on her hips, hers around my neck. I don’t even care that this train is full of people probably watching us. “What was that for?” she asks, touching her lips when I pull away.
“Your mouth looked so damn inviting, Brenna,” I say using her name for the first time.
“Did it?” she asks coyly, and I have no doubt that she knows exactly what she’s doing.
“Very much so,” I reply.
“Oh,” she says.
“How about we grab a drink? After all, it’s the least I can do as your fake boyfriend.”
“More like a knight in shining armor, but unfortunately, I am not old enough to get a drink.,” she says looking down at the floor.
“Oh, God. Please tell me you are legal,” I groan, though I am not sure her not being legal would deter me.
“I’m nineteen, don’t worry. Why don’t you come back to my place? I don’t have drinks, but I might be able to rustle up some dessert.”