After a few hours in coach on a small charter boat, I stumbled off the pier and collapse on the ground.

I wake up and see my brother, Jensen looming over me.

“God, Jensen, did Mom and Dad ever teach you about personal space?” I grumble, sitting up. My head spins and I flop back down. Everything hurts.

“You’re welcome. I dragged your arse all the way down here,” he snaps,crossing his arms.

“Where are we?” I ask, rubbing my forehead. He scoffs.

“Ireland. Duh.”

“Jerk.”

“Girl.”

“Jerk.”

“That’s seriously all you can say? *face,” he chuckles and heads for the bathroom. I sigh and glance out the window. The rain makes the small Irish streetlights glow eerily. I shiver and try not to listen to my brother in the bathroom. The toliet flushes and the door opens.
“Did you wash your hands?” I ask. He grunts and the water turns on. I laugh softly.
Suddenly, water splashes on my face.

“What the heck?!”

“You had something on your face. I was just helping you clean up.” This was going to be a long vacation.