A group of three best friends in Belfast approach thirty and start to question their days at dead-end entry-level jobs, and their nights of never-ending bar tabs.

Sometimes friends hold you together.

Sometimes they’re why you’re falling apart.

Harley, Róise, and Maggie have been friends for ages. After meeting in primary school years ago, the women are still together, spending their nights on the sticky dancefloors of Belfast’s grungiest pubs. Each woman is navigating her own tangle of entry-level jobs, messy romantic entanglements, and late nights, but they always find their way back to each other, and to the ramshackle house they share.

Harley is lusting after the landlord and trying doggedly to learn to play the piano. Róise’s fallen for someone at work, and isn’t sure she’s ready for something new after a devastating break-up. Maggie has taken up running in the hopes of wooing a woman who can’t be bothered to send her more than an after-hours “you out?” text. And amidst the familiar chaos, the three girls are still grieving the tragic death of their friend, Lydia, whose room remains untouched. Their last big fight hangs heavy over their heads, unspoken since the accident.

The girls’ house has witnessed the highs and lows of their roaring twenties—raucous parties, surprising (and sometimes regrettable) hook-ups, and hellish hangovers. But as they approach thirty, their home begins to crumble around them and the faultlines in their group become harder to ignore. In the wreckage, they must decide if their friendship will survive into a new decade—or if growing up sometimes means letting go.

Brimming with heart and humor, Thirst Trap is an exuberant ode to friendship and a reminder that a little mess isn’t always such a bad thing.

This book had me laughing out loud more times than I can count. It’s sharp, chaotic, and painfully relatable for those of us who managed to make it through that in-between space where your twenties are fading but your thirties don’t quite feel like home yet. It perfectly nails that sweet spot between carefree and completely falling apart.

The story follows three best friends, Harley, Róise, and Maggie, in Belfast. The three of them have known each other since childhood, so there’s a lot of history here. Now they’re inching toward thirty and still living like they’re in their early 20s. Still partying, still staying out way too late, still being financially irresponsible, and still making too many bad decisions.

What really gives this book its heart is how it captures the push and pull of growing up. I remember so badly wanting to cling to the irresponsible, reckless version of myself, but adulthood kept showing up like an unwanted guest and wouldn’t leave. Responsibilities be damned! Each of the girls is faced with this reality and trying to figure out who they are as adults without losing the bond that’s held them together for so long. Their friendship is the kind that can only come from years of shared chaos.

Harley is hilarious and a total disaster. She’s lusting after her landlord and trying to learn piano so she doesn’t have to lie to her parents about passing her exam as a teen any longer. Róise is tentatively stepping into a new romance while still reeling from heartbreak, and Maggie is running (literally) after a woman who only texts her when she’s bored.

All of them are also dealing with the shadow of the fourth member of their group who died a year earlier. The ghost of Lydia hangs heavy, and each of them have a complicated tie to her that they’re dealing with as well. That lingering grief is the quiet ache beneath all the noise. It adds depth to the chaos and makes the funny moments hit harder, because you know these women are clinging to laughter the way people cling to life rafts.

Someone online compared this book to Derry Girls, and I couldn’t agree more. Harley, Róise, and Maggie could absolutely be the adult versions of Erin, Orla, and Clare. The same manic energy, wild one-liners, and ridiculous scrapes that make you laugh even when you know you shouldn’t. But there’s also a streak that reminded me of Fleabag. It’s that same mix of messy humor and emotional gut punches that sneak up on you when you’re least expecting it.

O’Hare has a gift for writing dialogue that feels so natural you can practically hear the Irish accents bouncing off the page. Every conversation feels like you’re sitting in the booth next to them at a crowded pub, eavesdropping and pretending not to laugh. The pacing keeps things light even when the emotional weight starts pressing down.

What really struck me is how real it all felt. The friendships are complicated, sometimes infuriating, but always genuine. These girls love each other fiercely, even when they’re hurting one another. They fight, forgive, drink too much, and keep trying again. It’s messy and human.

By the end, I found myself both smiling and a little misty-eyed. O’Hare doesn’t offer a perfect resolution, and that’s exactly what makes the story work. Life doesn’t tidy itself up just because we decide to act our age. Sometimes things fall apart before they start to make sense.

Overall, I found this book to be an absolute gem. It’s chaotic, heartfelt, and full of sharp humor that makes the emotional hits land even harder. If you loved Derry Girls or Fleabag, or if you’ve ever looked around and realized you’re growing up whether you’re ready or not, this book will feel like a hug and a hangover rolled into one.

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