Look East | A Hozier Fanfiction |

3

Andrew checked his phone for the fourth time that morning, though he knew what would be waiting for him on the screen: 87 emails, 20 notifications from Instagram, and half a dozen sports updates. The one thing he actually wanted to see wasn't there - a text from Molly. He knew looking was futile; he hadn't reached out to her since she gave him her number three days ago. So of course, she wasn't going to respond. Still, some small part of himself hoped that she'd somehow divine his mobile number from the ether and send him a message.

He had purposefully forced himself not to send her anything at first. He wasn't exactly sure what was happening between them. After their time together, his head was reeling. Her kiss had his lips tingling long after she disappeared around the bend in the road. She was intriguing and her confidence was intimidating. She scared the shit out of him and drew him in at the same time.

He so badly wanted to see her the next day, but he had to go into Dublin for some paperwork to wrap up the album cycle officially. By the time he got back to Bray, it was nighttime and far too late to reach out to her. The day after, he almost texted her, but stopped, well-aware that he didn't want to appear desperate or clingy. If his past relationships were an indicators, he had a history of becoming attached to people far too easily. And with Molly only being in Bray for a few more months, there really wasn't any point in getting too attached.

At least, that's what his head told him. His heart had other plans. But instead of responding, he distracted himself with a dozen other things. He helped his mom get some new plants in the ground in the garden. He had lunch with his dad and had a lengthy discussion on the state of the Irish government. He even walked up to Kilruddery and had a look around.  When two fans recognized him, he was happy to oblige their request for photos and autographs.

But on the third day, at 9 in the morning, he bad officially reached the end of his sanity.

Three days is long enough, right? He found himself thinking. She's not gonna think I'm desperate after 3 days.

The devil on his shoulder decided then was a good time to speak up. No. But she probably thinks you aren't interested anymore since you waited so long, you great dolt.

He groaned and gave in, reaching for his phone. He found her number in his contacts and started a text.

Hey. What's up?

He hoped that was simple and innocent enough. He paced around the lounge room at his cottage for several minutes, phone grasped in his palm, hand to his mouth. It felt like an eternity before it vibrated, and when he looked down, he sighed.

Fucking Instagram he grumbled internally, clicking the screen dark.

What if she gave you the wrong number on purpose? He thought. He'd heard of girls purposefully giving guys wrong numbers in bars and clubs. But why would she spend the whole day with me if she didn't like me?

Before he could respond to himself, his phone vibrated again. It was her.

Not much. What have you been up to?

Thinking about you non-stop was what he wanted to say. Instead he settled for, Keeping busy. Helping my parents out with a few things now I'm home for a while.

Sexy was all he got back. He could imagine her smirk and the tone of her voice. When she didn't say anything else, he thought quickly for a way to continue the conversation.