Page 93 of Finding Him
“Yeah,” I breathe out, the air in front of me puffing. I decide doubling down with faux confidence is the best option for survival here. “Don’t let it get to your head, now.”
“Oh, please. Me? Never,” he mock-scoffs, that sassy smile never leaving his face. But it does soften for a moment and his hand squeezes mine. “Besides. I was thinking about you, too.”
“Well, aren’t we just made for each other,” I say softly.
I expect some sort of retort, be it something that makes my cheeks flare up fire engine red again, or something that will make me laugh.
“You’re shivering,” he says instead, and I don’t care if it’s a subject change or not. He’s not wrong. “Are ya freezin’?”
“No,” I try to lie, shaking my head even though the thin green knit of my sweater is doing nothing against the winter winds.
He sees right through me, rolling his eyes fondly. Without letting go of my hand for longer than a second, he sits up and grabs the hem of his oversized grey hoodie—which he threw on over his fancy button up when we got upstairs—and pulls it over his head in one fluid motion, messing up his hair.
“Here,” he says, giving me an intense sense of deja vu, reminding me of the night after our first game when we were at the strand together.
I tried to refuse it last time, but I know he won’t take no for an answer, so I just take it and pretend to be huffy instead of grateful. “This is becoming a habit, y’know? You taking me to freezing cold places and then trying to act all chivalrous and giving me your clothes.”
“Can’t teach an old dog new tricks,” he shrugs, laying back down on the shingles, so his back is flat and he’s staring up at the stars.
“So,” I say, my voice sounding thin against the crash of the waves, “you always bring girls out to the water after games? It’s a bit serial-killer esque, if you ask me.”
He laughs, shaking his head. “No. Just sometimes—I come here when I need to think... look at the stars and stuff. Alone.”
A small smile touches my lips, remembering what he told me about looking at the stars. Just moments before he first gave me his hoodie.
Did I fall for him there? That night? At the strand or when he picked me up at the game?
“C’mere to me, I need ya to keep me warm,” he motions to the spot beside him. Instead of pointing out that he could easily slip into the bedroom window and grab himself his own sweater, I sidle up beside him and lay down. He tucks me into his side,arms wrapped around me, and I hold onto him tight—not just for warmth, but because this feels right.
But as the silence stretches between us, my mind starts to pull me back to Thursday.The alcohol, the kissing... what Jamie told me.
Jamie had to have been around Niall’s age when her addiction started. Could Niall... does he see it as a problem? As an addiction?
After Jamie left my room that night, I’d spent countless hours on my laptop going down internet rabbit holes, searching for some sort of answer about my sister’s drug addiction, and — yes — Niall and his alcohol problem.
Sometimes addicts don’t see themselves as addicts. Sometimes they don’t see themselves as having a problem at all. Did he really lie to me when he said that Saturday was a one off, that he wasn’t a ‘drunkard,’ or was he lying to himself?
Did Jamie lie to herself?
“What’s got you thinking so hard?” Niall’s voice pulls me from my thoughts. “I can hear your little wheels turning.”
I bite hard on my lip, so hard I can actually feel it pinch and squish between my teeth, and I taste blood.Ow. “Uh, my sister and I had a talk the other day... Jamie. You remember what I told you about her, right?”
“Right, I do,” he says, waiting for me to continue.
“Uh, the reason she left... She left because she was an addict. Like a drug addict. She took pills, I think, and other stuff. And that’s why her and my mom were always fighting...” I take a deep breath, trying to think of the best way to gently segue into this conversation, without straight up accusing him of being a teenage alcoholic. “But she’s better now. She does therapy and stuff... so, I’m going to... give her a second chance. Maybe try to be nicer to her, more understanding. And my mom, too.”
He nods. “That’s great, Mol. Really. I’m happy for ya.”
I gnaw at my lip again, debating whether or not I should just drop it, but I decide to take a leap of faith. I can’t let it go unsaid between us any longer. I don’t want to have another fight, like the one we had in the hall. Yes, it ended in a kiss, but that’s not the point. Letting things go unsaid and letting them keep mounting up never gets you anywhere. We need to communicate.
Even if he doesn’t want to talk about this, we have to.
“Yeah, um, I was just thinking... she told me that she didn’t realize she was addicted at first... she didn’t see it as a problem until she was already dependent on it... and...”
I feel Niall stiffen beside me. “And...?”
“And I was just wondering...” I swallow thickly, staring at the dark sky above us, and the expanse of glittering stars. Looking at anything but his eyes, which I know are on me. “Do you think... maybe... you might have a problem? Like that you’re dependent on alcohol?”
