Choosing a middle row in the center section of the room, I claim a seat and take out my iPad, notebook, and pens. There aren’t many people here yet, but the class doesn’t start for fifteen minutes. I wanted to be early in case I got lost, but it’s not a difficult campus to navigate.
Gradually, the room fills up, and sounds of laughter and noisy conversation reverberate around me. There are a couple of guys sitting at the end of my row, shooting curious glances my way, but I’m alone until a petite girl with a strawberry-blonde pixie cut and a stud in her nose plops down in the seat beside me.
“What’s up?” she says, smiling at me as she removes her chunky wool coat, placing it on the back of her seat. Leaning down, she stuffs her scarf into her bag.
“Hey.” I return her warm smile with one of my own.
She pulls a notepad and pen out of her bag. “I was scared shitless I’d miss the start of class. I’m sure you’ve heard Professor Chalmers biting the head off me for being late before.”
“Actually, I’m new here. This is my first day.”
Her pretty blue eyes spark with intrigue. “You’re American?”
“I am. I’m from L.A.” I’ve decided not to lie about that.
“I’ve always wanted to visit L.A, but with five kids in the family, money for trips to America wasn’t plentiful in our house.” She cocks her head to the side, smiling again. “I’m Aisling, by the way. But everyone calls me Ash.”
“Grace. Nice to meet you.”
“What other classes are you taking?” she asks, and I pull out my schedule, showing it to her.
“Deadly. We’ve got a few classes together. I can show you around, if you like?”
“That would be awesome.”
She flashes me a grin, crossing her booted feet at the ankles. “I could listen to your accent all day.”
I laugh. “I could say the same thing.” Her voice is more lyrical and less guttural than Micheál’s but not quite as refined as Ciara’s. It’s obvious that like the US, dialects and speech patterns are different depending on what part of Ireland someone is from.
Our conversation comes to an abrupt end when the professor enters the room and the lecture starts.
Ash and I have the same classes this morning, which is a godsend, because it means I don’t have to wander aimlessly around campus. At lunch, she takes me to the Buttery, one of the dining options on campus, and I meet some of her friends.
“Grace is from L.A.,” Ash tells the two girls and two guys.
“How come you’re at Trinners?” the pretty girl with red hair asks. I think Ash said her name is Catriona.
“I go to UCLA, and they have a transfer program with Trinity. The opportunity came up to spend this semester here and I jumped at the chance.”
“Who’s your new friend, Ash?” someone with a deep voice asks, and I whip my head around, trying not to stare at the hot guy standing beside Aisling. With his nose ring, eyebrow piercing, skull tattoo, and brown faux hawk with white-blond tips, he’s about as far removed from the stereotypical Irish male image in my head as you can get. His black jacket is open, revealing a wrinkled Muse T-shirt which clings to his broad chest and toned abs. Shredded jeans and scuffed boots complete the look, and there’s no denying he’s a good-looking guy. Several girls in the vicinity blatantly check him out.
Ash folds her arms and glares at him. “So, you’re talking to me now?”
He narrows his eyes at her while scrubbing a hand along his unshaven jaw. “I’m not a morning person. You know that. You also know the session went on late last night, so stop annoying me.”
They’ve clearly got history, and from the heated way they are staring at one another, it seems pretty tempestuous.
Ash huffs as she turns to me, jabbing her finger in the guy’s direction. “This dumbass is Jamie.” She looks up at him, fixing him with a tight smile. “Dumbass, this is Grace.”
“Hey.” I jerk my head in acknowledgment, offering him a small smile.
“You must be new because I’d never forget a face like yours,” he says, waggling his brows and licking his lips. Intense brown eyes drill into mine, and I squirm in my seat.
“I just moved here from the US.”
He rakes his gaze over me, from head to toe, and heat creeps up my neck. Are all Irish guys this blatantly obvious? “Bring her on Friday,” Jamie says to Aisling. “We can show her how we like to party in Ireland.”
His smirk is suggestive, making me even more uncomfortable. I’m not that na?ve to think he’s awed by my beauty. More like my newness is a novelty. Along with the fact I’m from overseas. Guys are the last thing on my mind, and this one screams trouble with a capital T. He’s also rude and arrogant, and neither are traits I admire in a man. Plus, there’s some history with Ash, and I have zero desire to get in the middle of that. I like my new friend, and this jerk isn’t going to get in the way of our burgeoning friendship.
Ash rolls her eyes. “Shut up talking shite, Jay. You’re an idiot.” A scowl crawls across her pretty face, and she sits up straighter in her chair. “Here comes your tramp. Do us all a favor and fuck off.”
A sexy blonde saunters toward us wearing leggings and a long off-the-shoulder sweater that skims her upper thighs. Thick black liner rims her big blue eyes, and her lips kick up in amusement as she loops her arm through Jamie’s. “I thought we were meeting the others at Yum Thai?”
“Which one are you banging this week, Aoife, or do I need to ask?” Ash says, eyeing the woman with clear contempt.
“Who says I’m only banging one of them?” Aoife smirks, leaning her head against Jamie’s shoulder. He wraps his arm around her waist while continuing to stare at Ash.
“Charming,” she tells her before turning the full extent of her disgust at Jamie. “I hope your dick falls off.”
Aoife eyes me suspiciously from her perch on Jamie’s shoulder, and I school my features into a neutral line as I maintain eye contact.
Jamie tugs at his eyebrow piercing while smirking at Aisling. He leans his face in closer to hers and lowers his tone a little. “Sure, you do, Ash.”
She huffs out a sigh. “Get lost, Jay. I’m busy.” A brief flash of pain spreads across her face before she hurriedly hides it.
Straightening up, Jamie brushes Aoife’s hair off her shoulder, leans in, and presses a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “It seems I’m busy too.” He winks, licking his lips again, and I’m liking this guy even less with every passing minute.
Aoife turns into him, flinging her arms around his neck. “Your place or mine?” she purrs, licking a path along his neck.
Gross.
Aisling lowers her eyes to the table, and I notice her hands are gripping her chair tight. I clicked instantly with Ash this morning when we met, but it’s this moment right here that tells me we’re going to be great friends.
Reaching under the table, I squeeze her hand.
Jamie and Aoife wander off without saying goodbye, and it’s good riddance. Neither seem like nice people.
“He’s a wanker,” Catriona says. “And you can do so much better.”
“Don’t tell me you’re sleeping with him again?” Ash’s tall dark-haired friend asks.
She vigorously shakes her head. “I’m not. I learned that lesson, but it’s not like I can avoid him, ya know?”
“Who is he?” I inquire, watching the couple disappear through the far door of the restaurant.
“Jamie is one-quarter of Toxic Gods and my brother’s best mate.”
I quirk a brow. “Toxic Gods?”
Bending over in her seat, she rummages through her bag. “It’s a fucking stupid name. I keep telling Dil and Ro to change it.” She pulls out a pack of cigarettes and stands. Lifting one shoulder, she asks, “Keep me company outside?”
We leave our stuff at the table with the others and head outside to the smoking area. Fuck, it’s cold, and I’m regretting leaving my new coat on the back of my chair. Wrapping my arms around myself, I try to ward off any shivering. I’m silent as I watch Ash pull a few long drags of her cigarette. “Shit, sorry. You want one?” She holds the pack out to me, and I shake my head.
“I don’t smoke.”