Stick To the Script // Danny O'Donoghue

Chapter 33-I'm Sorry

Bryna

I adjust the fork ever so slightly as I anxiously await his arrival.

"Relax Bryna, it's just a dinner, just a dinner with an extremely hot guy that you've been crushing on for the longest time, a guy that doesn't even really seem to like you as anything more than a friend."

A firm knock comes at the door and I jump, "Jesus Christ! Get yourself together Bryna." I say, straightening out my blouse and standing tall, waking confidently towards the heavy, mahogany door, opening it to find him standing out in the snow, a black, leather jacket wrapped tightly around him.

I barely have time to tell him to come in before he's stepping through the doorframe, tracking snow on his leather combat boots. He takes off his jacket, sweatshirt, scarf, earmuffs, and gloves, all in a matter of seconds, throwing them at me, and shaking the snow from his hair before making himself comfortable on the couch in front of the fire I've got going.

"It's so fucking cold out there." he says, pulling the extra-long sleeves of his sweater out and over his hands, which he rubs frantically together.

"Yeah, well it is December." I remind him."

"You're really annoying when you're sassy."

"Well, you're really annoying when you state the obvious." I say.

Shit. Why'd I say that? I'm such a bitch. No wonder he only likes me as a friend.

"So, are you ready for dinner?" I ask casually.

"Yes, I'm starving!" he exclaims, sitting on the edge of the couch in anticipation.

"Alright," I say, motioning for him to get up.

He springs to his feet and I lead him to the dimly lit dining table in my kitchen.

I tell him to have a seat and ask him what he'd like to drink.

"You don't happen to have any whiskey do ye?"

"No."

"Guinness?"

"I have Chardonnay...and some champagne..." he looks less and less content as I go on, "Red wine...?"

"You don't have anything stronger? Liquor even?"

"I have vodka. I can make you a Vodka and Coke."

"Why not." he says.

I kind of pictured us drinking wine with this meal, but whatever. He is my guest. If I didn't want to give him a choice I shouldn't have asked.

"I'm sorry I don't have many alcohol choices." I tell him.

"It's okay. You're not Irish. I didn't expect you too."

I laugh slightly as I make him a drink, then one for me, still wondering if my nationality has anything to do with us still being trapped in the friend zone.

He grimaces at the taste as he downs about a quarter of the glass in one sip.

"What? Too much alcohol?" I ask with a grin.

"No, not at all. I just don't care much for Coke. Do you mind if I just have straight Vodka?"

I raise my eyebrows but get him another glass, filling it with the clear liquid.

He downs that glass and asks for another.

"Alright, maybe we should start eating before you get too much alcohol in your system." I say standing up and getting the plates of steak and fresh asparagus and bringing them to the table.