Page 106 of Finding Him
I’ll admit though, I also wanted to spy. Molly agreed to be my partner in crime when I brought it up to her.To reign me in,she had claimed, though I secretly think she’s also curious. The way her eyes had lit up when I suggested it told me everything.
Speaking of Molly and I...
I still don’t know what happened with Molly that night on the couch. She keeps insisting she’s fine, that it was nothing, just her stressing out and overthinking things. And she’s insisted over and over again that it had nothing to do with anything I did, that I wasn’t pushing her too hard, or going too fast.
She said she thought that it would be okay, too.
Then why weren’t you okay?I wanted to ask. Instead I just asked her to communicate with me more, which she has been doing. Mostly to tell me—when we were kissing in my car, or wherever else it was that we could get a moment alone—that she was okay and I didn’t have to be so hesitant.
But I have to be. Doesn’t she realize that?
I don’t want to ever be responsible for that kind of pain in someone’s eyes again.
Molly and I had told Claire and the little rat she’s got with her that we were gonna take Comet to the park again (which we’d done last Sunday, the day after my first game back on the pitch, a game which we won by the way). But instead we just made a loop and parked ourselves in front of the door for when they came out.
Comet is panting softly in the backseat, his head resting on the window and occasionally letting out a soft whine. I feel bad about cheating him out of a day at the park. I’ll have to take him on an extra long walk later.
“We don’t need to go inside. This and putting the dog between them in the car is hindrance enough,” Molly says, reaching back to scratch Comet behind the ears. He responds with a happy thump of his tail against the seat. “It’s good for Claire to have these kinds of life experiences, you know.”
“I’m not against my sister dating,” I say, just so we’re clear. I’m not that kind of brother, and Idowant my sister to have a social life and do teenage girl things like fall in love. “I’m against my sister datinghim.”
Comet barks from the backseat, and I can’t tell if he’s agreeing with me or agreeing with Molly, who rolls her eyes.
“Remind me again why you hate Stephen so much?” Molly asks, turning back to me.
“You were there that day in the cafeteria. He pushed her on the ground.”
“Onaccident,” Molly says. “He didn’t mean to hurt her, and Claire has said multiple times that he’s already apologized for that.”
“Well, he shouldn’t have been fighting over a table with her in the first place,” I reason.
“He probably just had a crush on her,” Molly laughs. “He’s not that bad, Niall. He’s actually quite nice to me when we see him in the halls.”
“That’s because he wants to get on your good side so you’ll say nice things about him to Claire,” I grumble, but I know I’m being a bit unreasonable. Still, I can’t help it. Claire’s my little sister, and the thought of some lad like Stephen Rafferty putting his hands on her makes my stomach twist.
Molly just laughs at me again, shaking her head and cooing about my ridiculousness to Comet.
I almost ask her the question that’s been sitting at the tip of my tongue for weeks—are we dating?—but once again, I chicken out. Besides, if we were dating, Stephen Rafferty is already doingbetter at the date thing than I am. I’ve only ever taken Molly to the park and to the bakery to make late night brownies.
What a boyfriend you make, Christ.
“You don’t think they’re snogging in there, d’ya?” I ask her, trying to sound casual and failing miserably.
“Hmm. Maybe. I got my first over the pants experience in the back of a movie theatre,” she says, so fond and serious that I believe her until she bursts out laughing. “Ha, oh my god, your face. Calm down, Casanova. I was kidding.”
“Watch me ever take you to a movie,” I say, then hate the joke as soon as it leaves my mouth. Molly just laughs though, clearly not looking as far into it as I feared she would. Thank fuck for that.
She likes you. She thinks you’re funny. Ask her out.
God, what was that advice I was giving Finn a couple weeks ago?
Ask her to the dance, ask her.
I open my mouth, but Molly’s faster. “Look, there they are. Quick, look sweaty.”
“What?” my brows furrow. “Why?”
“‘Cause we just got back from the ‘park,’ stupid,” she says in such a tone I’m surprised there’s no ‘duh’ at the end of her sentence. She fixes her long, wavy hair into a ponytail, and then reaches out to mess mine up.
