A story that shows why Sally Rooney is an emerging literary star

The story Color and Light in the current New Yorker shows why the author, Sally Rooney, is becoming a significant figure on the international literary scene. As in her most recent (in U.S.) novel, Conversations with Friends, we can see her almost intimidating intelligence and ability to tell a story largely through dialogue (and in the novel, not this story) electronic communications (text and email). He fiction is never warm; in fact, it's emotionally chilly and the characters, sharp witted, accomplished, and edgy, feel unapproachable - but that's her world, and she depicts it accurately and comprehensively. She's also, as I know from reading a magazine profile, a committed Marxist or at least socialist, and surprisingly, from what I've read, class struggle isn't a major theme in he work, and her lead characters are of the upper-class, Irish intelligentsia - but I haven't read all of her work by any means, so that may not apply across the board. This story, in brief, tells of a 20-something man working as a desk clerk in a hotel in a small seaside town in Ireland; through his older brother, he meets an alluring woman who says she's a screenwriter; she's visiting this village to get away from the pressures of work and publicity. The young man (Aidan?) sees the woman having dinner with a large group at the hotel, and she's clearly the center of attention - and she (notably - not all of them and not one of the men at the table) leaves a huge tip. As she continues to run into A around town she drops increasingly alluring hints about having a sexual relationship w/ him; he backs off, naturally shy (and possibly bisexual) and in deference to his older brother, who he thinks has been dating the woman, though she denies that. The woman reminds me of the protagonist in Conversations with Friends, and we have to suspect that she's something like SR herself, whom we imagine to be a bit of a celebrity and usually the center of attention and adulation. In this story, the woman has an evident drinking problem and she remains an enigma; it's odd that A. never asks her anything about her work, not even what films she's written that he might have seen. The story ends abruptly, without a clear resolution, but throughout we're convinced of the veracity of these characters and drawn into the nuances of their inter-relationships and conflicting desires.