Happy Hour (A Romantic Comedy)

Chapter 1

I'll always remember the first time I met Christopher O'Brien. I mean, you don't forget your first love in a hurry, do you?

And to me, it was love. I'd had crushes before, yes. Tons of them. Embarrassing amounts. Involving many embarrassing moments too. (Even years later, I cringe about some of these incidents and wonder what the hell I was thinking.)

But Chris O'Brien was different.

I felt sure I was in love with him, in a way you only feel that sure of when you're 16 and have read way too many teen romance novels.

There was only one problem.

He was definitely not in love with me.

I was his pesky little sister's equally pesky new friend and he was not going to let me forget that in a hurry.

Did I befriend his sister Kirsty just to get close to him? No, that was just a happy coincidence. When we were put on a project in fifth year together, I had no idea she was even related to him. I didn't even know who he was.

Until the night he had to pick us up from the gig we were attending.

Can I remember the gig? Not even remotely. It was a little local indie band who everyone was obsessed with for a bit before we moved on to something better. We had our parents' permission to go even though it was meant to be over-18s only- they trusted us to be sensible and we trusted that we looked old enough to get past the bouncer without ID - but they'd insisted Chris picked us up.

And that's pretty much all I remember of that part of the night . . . The portion of the night where I met Chris is imprinted indelibly on my memory however.

"There he is," Kirsty said unenthusiastically, nodding over at a car as we left the venue.

A tall lean sandy-haired boy was leaning against the driver's door, looking bored and texting on his phone.

He was like the guy of my dreams. One of the best looking guys I'd ever witnessed in real life. And it only took that one glance for me to fall. Hard.

He looked up as we approached. "Finally," he exhaled, rolling his eyes. "Don't you think I've got better things to do than hang around waiting for you, Kirsty?"

Kirsty stuck her tongue out at him. "This is Em," she said to him, pointing at me. "Em, Chris."

He glanced over at me and there was a brief flicker of . . . something in his long lashed hazel eyes. But it faded away before I could work it out and then he just nodded at me, his gaze impassive.

"Nice to meet you," he said. The tone though implied it was anything but.

That didn't matter though.

I was already obsessed with him.

We hopped in the back of the car and giggled about the gig as he drove us home. The only time he spoke again during that five minute drive was to ask for my address, but I found myself watching him constantly. He had an extremely good profile, of course. At one point he glanced around to check his blind spot and caught me, much to my mortification. And he actually smirked.

I blushed. Furiously. Quickly looking away. Glad of the darkness.

When I got out of the car I forced myself not to even look at him. "See you tomorrow," I said to Kirsty. "Thanks for the lift," I flung towards him offhandedly as I ran up the path.

Kirsty text me within moments. "You bloody fancy my brother, don't you?"

I could feel myself blushing. "No," I replied immediately. Then, two minutes later. "Yes. Sorry"

"No need to apologise," she replied. "Everyone does. I'm used to it. "

"He's a dick though," she added.

Yep, that he was, I thought. But I couldn't help the way I felt.

My friendship with Kirsty only lasted until the end of sixth year; we just drifted apart in that way you often do at that age, and we were going to different unis so we were too caught up with new experiences and friendships.

But in those two years we hung out often and it meant I saw Chris a lot. He was never friendly, and sometimes I genuinely felt like he hated me.

Which really annoyed me as I'd never done anything to him but love him.

It felt, frankly, really bloody unfair.

Of course, I tried my best not to let him know how I felt. I mostly ignored him when he was in the same room. But I was always so aware of his presence. Hyper-sensitive to a point where it almost physically hurt me. My nerve endings tingled whenever he was within a few feet of me.

As summer approached at the end of my sixth year, Chris was planning to go travelling for a couple of months with some friends. He was packing in his room one day with the door open when I had walked by on my way to the bathroom.

When I opened the bathroom door a couple of minutes later, he was standing in the hallway. Was he waiting for me? I stopped abruptly, confused. Then went to slip past him, assuming he just needed the bathroom.

But a toned arm shot out in front of me, barring my way.

He had been waiting for me.

My heart leapt into my throat.

"What do you want?" I asked, turning and forcing myself to look directly at him, into those mesmerising light brown eyes. Much to my surprise, he looked confused himself. As if he wasn't in control of his own actions.

"Just wondered if you're going to miss me while I'm away," he said finally. His voice was light, teasing. He'd never spoken to me like this before.

He'd barely spoken to me at all before.

"I guess," I shrugged. Despite inwardly freaking out at his proximity, I couldn't resist getting a dig in. "I mean, it'll be weird being around here and not having you glare at me across a room."

"Oh, don't be like that," he whispered. And, for the first time in the whole time I'd known him, he smiled at me.

It was like the sun had come out and I literally had no idea what to do with myself. Suddenly electricity was crackling in the air around us. I could barely breathe as he moved towards me, brushed his fingers lightly down my cheek, and then bent down and kissed me.

The slightest brush of lip on lip, so soft I could almost have imagined it. Then he backed off, as if he'd suddenly regained control of his senses. The light in his beautiful eyes sparked out and his smile faded.

"I'll try not to miss you too much," he said softly. Then without a backwards glance he walked back into his bedroom and shut the door.

For years I've wondered if this scene actually happened or if was a dream I had. It was so brief and so unlikely.

And I never saw him again.