Thomas & January (Sleepless 2)

“Nothing,” I said, searching his face for something more. “Nothing,” I repeated.

o;I was. I can’t believe you recognize me.”

“Yeah, I didn’t really like ya’ much.” How comforting, I thought as the ruddy, large Irishman eyed me like piece of meat. He smiled after a moment, making me nervous. My hand formed a fist in preparation. “It was my lady! Agh! Did she have it bad for ya’!” I tensed nervously. “What’s the matter with ya’! Loosen up, man! What’s ya’ drink?”

The guy was all over the place. “What the hell!” I said, “I’ll take a scotch, McEwan's.”

“D’ya’ hear this, boys? The Yank drinks scotch! ’Round here, them’s fightin’ words!” He said, pinching my shoulder hard. I tensed again. “I’m just joshin' ya’, boy!” He laughed heartily and slapped me once more on the back.

I downed the scotch in one gulp, wincing as it burned its way down my throat.

“Another?” he asked.

“No, thanks. I’ve still got a pint at the table.”

“That’s not your table there, is it?”

“Uh, yeah, it is.”

“No, it’s not, mate! You’re drinkin’ with us tonight!”

I peered over my shoulder at January who had arched her back and leaned toward us, trying to listen in. When I caught her doing it, she righted herself, resting her chin in her hand on the table and pretended to be interested in Ailin’s boring ass conversation.

“Is she with you?” The guy asked when he caught sight of January.

“Uh, yeah, that’s January, but we’re here with those guys,” I said, though I don’t know why I even mentioned it. This guy seemed infinitely more interesting than dumbass Ailin.

“They can come along then. Shane,” the guy said, offering his hand.

“Tom,” I answered, swiftly shaking his hand with enough grip to let him know I wasn’t the type to take crap. This made him smile.

I tossed my head toward Shane’s table, gesturing for January to follow and she stood. Ailin grabbed her wrist and for a split second I almost cocked back and hit the guy square in the jaw. She played it off with all the Southern charm I didn’t know she possessed, picked up our pints and followed me over, making me feel smug and a little bit stupid all at the same time.

“Ailin’s angry,” she teased with a knowing smile.

“Is he?” I asked.

“Who’s this guy?” she asked, nodding toward Shane.

“Apparently not a fan of The Ivories,” I answered vaguely, making her brows furrow.

When we reached the table, Shane introduced us to his friends. “Tom, January,” he said, smiling at her by way of introduction to which she beamed back, “this is Cillian, Douglas, Niam, Rowan, and,” he beamed, “my lass, Siobhan.” Together, these men were five of the most formidable men I’d ever come across in my entire life.

“A pleasure,” January said, immediately sitting next to Siobhan, an instant friend, it seemed.

I nodded my greeting. I sat next to January and we got to know those strangers better than I would have ever thought.

“So, you’re Irish, then,” Shane inquired of January after an hour of drinking. We were all warm and friendly by this time but I mostly observed...January.

“Yes’sir,” January slurred through a slight buzz. I was cutting her off.

“By what parts, miss?” Douglas asked.

“By Killarney.”

“Shut your hole!” Cillian said, slamming his heavy hand on the table, making January jump then laugh. “That’s me family’s town! What’d ya’ say your last name was?”

“I didn’t, but it’s MacLochlainn.”