“Alex hates hockey,” she muttered, quiet enough that only I could hear. Connie didn’t raise her eyes again until her father offered a fumbled goodbye and swiftly closed the door shut.

For a long moment neither of us said anything, until I turned back to face her and she leaned into me, allowing me to pull her in as she buried herself in my shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Connie,” I said softly. I wished that somewhere in the depths of my groggy mind I could dig up something meaningful or wise to say. I rarely ever saw Connie upset. Irritable and annoyed and snappy, sure, but never upset. The glossy sheen in her eyes stirred up a horrible sensation in my stomach that I never wanted to feel again. I wanted to storm after that useless man and drag him back to her room, bully from him something resembling a real apology, but I knew there would be no use.

“I was really looking forward to the match,” she mumbled against my skin. “We were going to go for lunch beforehand, and maybe for a drink after…”

“You know I’ll go with you, don’t you?” I pulled away from her and offered her a small smile that she struggled to return. “We’ll make a whole day of it. I promise.”

She relaxed back on the bed with a sigh, brushing a wayward curl back from her face. I imagined that was the end of it and settled down next to her, but just before I closed my eyes once more, almost as if she didn’t quite mean to, she admitted, so softly I wasn’t sure I was even meant to hear, “It wasn’t really the match I was looking forward to, anyway.”

* * * *

Connie knew how much I hated going shopping. I tended to trail around after the rest of them, dragging my feet along and grumbling about how hungry I was, and there were times when I was almost certain I actually dozed off while standing upright as we traipsed through rail after rail. If I was ever given chance to get out of our regular trips to the city-center I would have jumped on it without any consideration at all, but there was no way in hell Connie was going to let that happen. Not when going shopping could provide her with so many opportunities to torment me.

On one occasion she led us into a lingerie store I was almost certain was for over twenty-ones only and picked out the raciest black lace set she can find. Holding it up with a devious smile pointed at no one in particular, she turned to the rest of us.

“What do you think?”

Molly and Orla were on the ball with their compliments, showering her with affirmations.

“Jim would fucking love you in that.”

“Yeah, so would every other lad in Christopher’s.”

Connie’s eyes flickered to me. “And what do you think?”

The innocent smile on her face did nothing to hide the cruel delight she took in watching me flounder. I opened my mouth and closed it, eyes wide as a fish out of water, as I stammered out an unintelligible response trying desperately hard not to sound extremely inappropriate. My face was bright red and the other girls laughed hard, mistaking my incoherent fumbling for being clueless about fashion.