“You taped my song, didn’t you?”
He opened the screen and held it out. “Watch yourself. You’ll be dazzled.”
He pressed play, and my hands curled into tight, tight fists. The first couple of chords stumbled—followed by the moment when Brian and I got in sync. I could barely hear myself over the singing crowd, but it sounded…good. I felt the buzz of the music all over again. The high of performing. The moment when the song bled like its lyrics.
If only Dad could see this…
The song ended, and Eamon closed the camera. I touched his jaw and felt his fingers trail the neckline of my shirt, stopping on the spot where my shoulder had popped out from the wide neckline. “I like this shirt,” he said, his voice so low it sounded new.
“It’s my comfy shirt. I’ve had it for ages.” I paused. “I never wear it out of the house though. Dad hates it when I dress ‘like a teenager.’”
“What a goat.” He pressed a kiss to my shoulder that left me speechless. I touched his hair, finding nothing harsh about his curls. They were thick and wild. Soft.
He leaned toward my lips, and I laughed. “Sorry,” I squeaked. “It’s just, you make me happy. That’s a weird feeling for me.”
He laughed too. “We need to figure this out. If I don’t get to kiss you soon, I’m going to burn down like the Blackened Wastes of Thornbred.”
I grabbed him by the front of the shirt. “No fantasy references whilst kissing.”
I lifted my mouth to his without pause. His lips were full and soft, and the kiss started off as slow and sweet as the one on the ferry…but it changed. I took his face with both hands, leaning us into something deeper. He slipped his arms around my waist and held me as close as possible. Chest to chest.
We kissed until it felt like we were fizzling out of reality, out of his room, out of Ireland, to some sunny, warmly lit place reserved for Iris and Eamon where nothing else mattered.
When we parted to catch our breaths, his eyes were happy. “Iris. I think we found a portal.”
I couldn’t hold back a laugh. “I know what you mean.”
We kissed again, wound in each other until my lips ached and my hands had left clench marks on his shirt. I rested my head on his shoulder, and his fingers slipped through my hair.
The moonlight streamed through the window, turning everything silver. “This light is crazy.” I held out my hand in the beams. “What would its fantasy word be?”
“I thought you said no fantasy?” I scowled up at him, and he added, “Argent?”
“Hoary?”
We giggled. This close, nose to nose, Eamon looked like a brand-new person. My person.
“Shiny?” I whispered, my lips brushing his.
“Shiny,” he agreed. “Wait, have you ever seen Firefly?”
I squeezed my eyes. “Okay, I might’ve had mono last year, and I might’ve spent a lot of time on Netflix, and…how in the blazes did that show only run for half a season?” I caught my breath. “Please don’t tell anyone. I’ll sound like a space cowboy nerd.”
I opened my eyes and found him staring at me like he was in love.
“But, Iris, you’d make a breathtaking nerd.”
NOLAN Film: Elementia
Director: Cate Collins
On Location Shooting: Day 8
Killykeen Forest, Ireland
Filming Notes:
P.M.: SEVYN & NOLAN’s morning after
Etc. Notes:
Studio heads will be visiting on set for the next two days.
BACK TO REALITY FANTASY
The next morning, we were off early to get back to Killykeen. I sat in the passenger seat and Eamon reached for my hand whenever he didn’t have to shift, and then at some point, he started changing gears while still holding my hand.
“I think I know why you call it shifting now,” I whispered, not wanting to clue Shoshanna in to what we’d done last night. Eamon eyed me from the side and bit his bottom lip in a way that was unfair because my teeth wanted to do the same thing to that lip.
“So.” Shoshanna sat forward from the back seat, all too chipper. “How do we get Iris to play her music for the movie? She can wail, and we’ve seen it. She’s got no excuse.”
“That was a one-time-only event,” I said, hoping with every piece of me it wasn’t. “Besides, playing for strangers is one thing, but playing on a major motion picture soundtrack is out of my league.”
“I’m going to get Julian involved,” Shoshanna said. “He’ll talk you into it.”
I leaned around the seat to look at her. “Aren’t you supposed to be hungover?”
“I’m nineteen, Iris. My liver is in its prime.” She leaned forward to whisper. “A virgin and inexperienced with alcohol—what am I going to do with you?”
“You’re doing nothing with her. She’s mine,” Eamon said.
I grinned. “I’m his.”
“Cate would not approve of this language,” Shoshanna pointed out. “I don’t either.”
“So you’re saying you wouldn’t be Roxy’s if she wanted you to be?” I asked.
Shoshanna opened her mouth and then closed it. “What did I say last night?”
“Quite a bit about Roxy’s beautiful hands…and something about Ellen Page’s dating league that I didn’t follow,” I said.
“Heteros,” Shoshanna muttered. “You two will be cool, right? No embarrassing me with Roxy.”
“Maybe. If you behave. Although I don’t think I’ll be satisfied until you’re hers.” I saw what Shoshanna meant by the problem with the language. People can belong to other people but only if it’s mutual, right? I glanced at Eamon. “You’re mine too?”
“Sold. You can tattoo your name on me, Iris… What’s your middle name?”
Dead silence.
“Gertrude!” Shoshanna crowed. “Hermia! Francis! Oh, wait…is it something fantasy? Tell me it’s Galadriel.”
“It’s two names actually. Mae Ellen.” I waited for them to lose their collective mind.
Eamon wasn’t fazed. “Then you can tattoo your name on me, Iris Mae Ellen
