by Chloe Walsh
Growling, he dropped a hand on my lower back and pulled me closer. "I fucking hate this."
Closing my eyes, I just sagged against him, body coiled tight with tension. "I'm sorry."
"Don't say sorry," he said, smoothing a hand down my back. "It'll be okay. I'm getting stronger. I've been doing all my physio and shite. Once I get my car back next week, and I'm back on the road, it'll be easier." He growled when he said, "I'll be breathing down their necks like their worst fucking nightmare."
"I'm sorry about how they spoke to you," I blurted out. "It was so wrong."
"Shan." He sighed. "Don't even worry about it."
"But I am worried about it."
"I know you're scared, but I'm not, and I'm not worried, either," he replied gruffly. "I don't care if your entire family doesn't like me. Let them. I'm only interested in you liking me because I only care about you."
"Joey likes you," I croaked out.
Johnny smirked. "Yeah?"
I nodded. "And he doesn't like anyone."
"Good to know I have big brother's approval," Johnny chuckled. "Oh yeah, I almost forgot –" Shoving a hand into his pocket, he dragged out a pricey looking mobile phone, and aside from being pink in color, it was identical to his black one. "Do you have my phone?" he asked, tapping on the screen of the pink one in his hands.
"Oh –" Slipping my hand under my jumper, I removed his dead phone from the breast pocket of my shirt and held it out to him. "Yeah, sorry…uh, thank you again for letting me use it."
Johnny took his phone and slid it into his pocket, before placing the pink phone in my hand.
I stared blankly at the device. "What's this?"
"It's yours," he replied. Slipping his schoolbag off his shoulder, he pulled a charger out of the front pocket and then proceeded to slide it into my bag.
"Wh-what are you doing?"
"It's yours," he repeated, blue eyes locked on mine. "It's got a built in MP3 and I loaded it up with a ton of songs for you. It's topped up with credit and I put mine, Claire, Joey, and Gibsie's numbers in, but you're going to have to add the rest of your contacts yourself."
My mouth fell open as I gaped at him. "You bought me a phone?"
"You needed a phone, and I missed your birthday." He shrugged, like it wasn't the gigantic deal it was, and said, "Made sense."
"You gave me dinner for my birthday," I whispered, embarrassed.
"I gave you fucking Cheerios," he grumbled, looking annoyed with himself.
"And a toasted sandwich," I hurried to add.
"Don't remind me," he groaned.
"When did you buy it?"
"The other day, after physio," he replied, watching me warily. "Are you mad at me for it?"
"No, I'm not mad," I strangled out, feeling lightheaded. "But I can't accept it." I dropped my gaze to the phone that I knew full well had to have cost at least a couple of hundred euro. "It's too much." I blew out a shaky breath. "Too expensive."
"It's yours," he said. "So just put it in your pocket and don’t try and send me home with a pink phone." Smirking, he added, "Gibs will never let me hear the end of it."
"But you didn’t have to do this for me–"
"I'm going to do a lot of things for you, Shannon." Taking the phone from my hand, Johnny reached into my jumper and slid the phone into my shirt pocket. His fingers grazed my chest and I shivered. "And I'm going to buy you a lot of stuff." He took a step back, never taking his eyes off me, and shrugged unapologetically. "Fair warning."
"But I don't need presents." I pressed a hand to my forehead, feeling flustered and stressed as the weight of the phone in my pocket hung heavily on my conscience. "I'm not one of those girls who's out for what they can get from you, Johnny. I'm not Bella," I added, imploring him with my eyes to believe me. I just need you.
"I know that, Shannon," he replied, frowning. "Christ, don't even think like that."
"I can't give you anything back," I choked out, telling him the same thing I told him last week, praying he would hear me. "I have nothing to give you in return."
"You can give me a call."
"A call?"
He smirked. "And you can text me."
"Be serious," I begged.
"I am." He stepped closer. "I am so fucking serious about you."
Oh god…
"I need to be able to talk to you." Dropping a hand to my hip, he tugged me closer. "To know you're okay." Exhaling shakily, he flexed his fingers, making me burn with unfamiliar need. "I can't be at home not knowing what's happening in your life." His eyes darkened when he said, "In your house."
"Johnny…"
"I can't handle it, Shannon," he whispered. "You have no idea how fucked up in the head it makes me, not knowing if he's back or whether or not you're safe. Every time I think about you in that house, I go into a blind panic. I literally drive myself insane thinking all the worst-case scenarios until I see you again."
"But I'm okay now," I hurried to soothe. "I am."
"Maybe," he replied quietly. "But I still need the link."
"Of a phone," I filled in.
"Yeah." He shifted from foot to foot, looking uncomfortable. "I suppose now's a good time to tell you that I get a little obsessed with the things I love, huh?"
There was that word again.
"It's okay," I strangled out.
"But it's not," he countered gruffly. "Because it was bad enough before, when I was fighting it, but now I'm just…" He blew out a pained sigh. "I just want to be with you." He shrugged almost helplessly. "All the fucking time."
"That might change," I breathed, shaking from the impact of his words.
"I wouldn't hold your breath," he replied.
Don't worry, I'm not.
"Once I get my car back, we can spend more time together, outside of school, and maybe I won't be so fucking paranoid," he continued. "You can come over to my place and kick my ass on the PlayStation, or we can go to Biddies. Whatever you want."
"I really don't think your parents will want me going over to your house," I confessed, biting down on my lip hard. "I know you think otherwise, but I honestly can't see them wanting you to hang around with me." I sighed. "And I don't blame them, Johnny."
"I'm not hanging around with you, Shannon. I'm with you," he shot back gruffly. "And I promise that my parents have no problem with you."
Yeah right…
"I'm serious, Shan," he added, tipping my chin up to meet his eyes. "They really like you."
I didn't believe that, not one word, but I refrained from telling him. Instead, I mumbled a halfhearted, "They're good people."
"You're good people," Johnny shot back, blue eyes scorching me. "You, Shannon, you're good, and my parents and everyone else knows that. Especially me. So don't be letting that head of yours tell you any different."
A shiver rolled through me. "God, Johnny, I just wish we could –"
"Come on, Shaggy!" Gibsie's voice perforated through the air, startling me and causing me to jerk away. Seconds later, he appeared from the lower staircase, bounding up the steps like an over-excited Labrador. "Oh – hey, Little Shannon."
"Hi, Gibs," I replied shyly before looking up at Johnny. "Shaggy?"
Johnny sighed wearily. "Don't ask."
"Oh…" I frowned. "Okay?"
"You're looking well, girl," Gibsie acknowledged with a friendly smile before swiftly swiping Johnny's bag off his shoulder and hoisting it onto his own. "Hate to cut the reunion short, but your boy here needs to get his ass to class." His eyes were dancing with excitement when he said, "Lad, you won't fucking believe it, but Mrs. Moore took my suggestion!"
Johnny stared at Gibsie for a long beat before awareness dawned on him and his jaw fell open. "You're joking."
"I'm so fucking serious right now." Gibsie literally bounced on his feet. "I asked for it months ago and I just presumed they overlooked me for that shitty past-pupil talk before Christmas, but I was wrong. They listened to me, lad. It's all set up and everythin
g! I swear this is the best day!"
"They seriously brought them in for the senior talk?" Johnny pushed.
Gibsie nodded eagerly. "You're welcome."
"Jesus," Johnny groaned. "The school's going to shite."
"What suggestion?" I heard myself ask.
Johnny glanced nervously at me. "Ah, you're really better off not knowing."
"Three of them, lad," Gibsie added, clearly delighted with himself. "Three, Johnny! Fucking three!"
"Three what?" I asked, curious.
"Nurses," Johnny muttered, rubbing his jaw.
My brows furrowed. "Nurses?"
Johnny opened his mouth to reply, but Gibsie got in there first. "Not just any nurses. Sex nurses." Winking he added, "And they look nothing like the ones touching your balls this morning."
My eyes widened. "Huh?"
"Christ, it's not what it sounds like." Johnny's bewildered expression mirrored mine. "And they're not sex nurses, ya bollox," he added, flustered. Running a hand through his hair, he narrowed his eyes and said, "They're regular nurses who just happen to work at the sexual health clinic."
"I know," Gibsie replied joyously. "Better again."
Johnny arched a brow. "Do you even know what the sexual health clinic is used for?"
"I know they're handing out free condoms, lollipops, and bottles of lube," Gibsie said gleefully. "That's all I need to know." Slapping Johnny on the shoulder, he hurried back towards the staircase, calling out, "Come on – I've emptied my schoolbag. We're going to save a fucking fortune today."
I glanced up at Johnny, who was staring after Gibsie with a mildly horrified expression etched on his face. "What do you think it's like in his head?"
"A happy place?" I offered with a weak shrug.
"Hmm." Frowning, Johnny turned back to me. "Listen, do you want to just blow off the rest of –"
"Come on, Johnny!" Gibsie roared at the top of his lungs. "You're missing the presentation, dammit!"
"Jesus." Grimacing, Johnny leaned down and pressed a kiss to my cheek. "I better go and… rein him in."
"Of course." I nodded, cheeks reddening as I watched him chase after his friend. "Bye, Johnny."
"Bye, Shannon," he called over his shoulder as he battled with the staircase. "I'll see ya at lunch, okay?"
"Yeah," I blew out a breath, "I'll see you then."
"I'm not, by the way," he called out, pausing mid-step on the staircase to swing around. "So don't worry."
"You're not what?"
"Filling my schoolbag."
I opened my mouth to say something, but I only ended up letting my jaw hang open.
Chuckling softly to himself, Johnny disappeared down the steps, leaving me standing there, catching flies with my mouth.
I must have stood there, still as a statue, staring after him for a solid five minutes, because when I finally snapped out of it, my body felt stiff, my legs like jelly.
Reluctantly, I turned on my heels, gripped the straps of my schoolbag, and forced myself to walk to class.
28
Wrap It Up
Johnny
"Nice of you to join us, lads," Coach Mulcahy barked when Gibsie and I stumbled into the jam-packed classroom filled with both fifth and sixth year students. "You're only fifteen minutes late." Leaning against the desk at the front of the room, he folded his arms and gave us a no-nonsense nod. "Find a seat wherever you can and be quick about it. Our visitors want to get the presentation underway."
"Hey there," Gibsie purred, winking at the three seriously attractive women standing next to Coach. "I just want to let you lovely ladies know that I'm seventeen, I'm single, and I'm one-hundred percent willing to be a guinea pig for any hands-on demonstration–"
"Get away from the ladies, Gibsie," Coach snapped, ignoring the loud snickering around us. "Go to the back of the classroom – and not with Kavanagh, Biggs, or Feely. Go sit with someone else."
Shaking my head, I spotted an empty desk five rows back on the left, and moved for it, ignoring the curious stares as I went. Fucking eejits. You'd swear they never saw a crutch in their lives.
"I talk to everyone, sir," Gibsie shot back with a chuckle. "And the back row is full." Waggling his brows, he added, "Looks like I'm going to have to sit up front with you."
"Like hell you are." Eyeing the back row of desks, Coach pointed a finger, "Bella, move up to the fifth row with Kavanagh. Gibsie, take her seat."
No...
Why, God, why?
"Fine," Gibsie sulked. "But I'm taking these," he added, grabbing a box of tissues off the desk as he stalked to the back of the classroom and proceeded to wipe down the chair before slumping down. "Can't be too careful these days."
"Are you alright there, Kavanagh?" Coach Mulcahy asked as I tried to maneuver my way down the narrow rows of desks, ignoring the glowering girl sitting at my fucking desk. "Do you need a cushion to sit on?"
"No, sir," I bit out as I gingerly lowered myself onto my seat, careful not to brush against her. "My arse is grand."
"Are you sure?" Coach asked, watching me warily. "Do you need a hand?"
Loud snickering came from Hughie and Feely who were perched at the back of the class. Two seats over from them, Gibsie was doubled over his desk laughing.
Twisting around, I not so discreetly gave him the finger.
Gibsie returned the gesture by shoving his hand under his desk and pretending to wank himself – toppling a stack of books off the desk with his over enthusiastic performance.
Lovely.
Just fucking lovely.
"Or a mouth?" a familiar voice sneered in my ear.
Disgusted, I turned to glare at Bella. "What did you say to me?"
She rolled her eyes. "It was a joke, Johnny."
"You think because you're a girl it's okay to say shite like that to me?" I hissed.
"Relax," she spat, drumming her long nails on the desk. "I was just making con–"
"Conversation," I deadpanned. "Yeah, I got that." Fucking double standards. "Well, here's me making conversation; don't fucking talk to me."
"You're an asshole," Bella growled, purposefully poking me with her elbow. I presumed she meant to hurt me, but it was just plain irritating. "So, what's going on with you and the Lynch girl?"
Clenching my jaw, I leaned back in my chair and folded my arms across my chest, dutifully ignoring her.
Don't feed the crazy.
Don't feed the crazy.
"Answer me," she whispered-hissed.
Give me strength…
"You might as well answer me because I'm going to keep –"
"She's my girlfriend," I spat, losing my cool. "Now stop fucking talking to me."
Bella's expression fell. "Your girlfriend?"
I nodded stiffly and turned my attention back to the nurse listing off types of STD's on the projector machine at the top of the class.
"You've lost your mind," Bella growled. "What are you going to do with a girlfriend? You're leaving in a couple of months."
You don't fight with girls.
You don't fight with girls.
"Ah, now I get it," she mused. "You feel sorry for her."
That got my attention and I snapped my head around to glare at her. "Excuse me?"
"Shannon," Bella replied with a smirk. "She's all fucked up, with a broken home and a bad daddy, and you're a sucker for a sob story," she added, "Just look at Gib –"
"Don't even go there," I warned, hands balling into fists.
"You feel bad about it so you're keeping this charade up," she continued. "I knew there had to be something more to this. It made no sense for you to look sideways at the likes of her –"
"Someone swap seats with me!" I roared, causing the nurse who was addressing the class to jump and everyone else to turn and look at me. "Am I a piece of art?" I snapped, standing up stiffly. "Stop fucking looking at me and start moving seats. Now!"
"Kavanagh!" Coach said, looking confused. "What's wrong?"
"Either move her away from me, or find me another seat," I hissed through clenched teeth. "Because I'm going to lose my shit."
Coach obviously took me seriously because he didn't hesitate when he said, "Bella, move seats with Gibsie."
"Woo-hoo," Gibsie hooted from the back of the room.
"Why do I have to move?" Bella growled. "He's the one with the problem."
"Because I told you to," Coach shot back tersely. "Now move!"
"Preferential treatment because he's your star boy," Bella sneered as she shoved her chair back and stood. "Enjoy your pity relationship," she hissed in my ear as she roughly shoved her chair into my leg. "Cripple."
"Move along," Coach warned. "Now, Bella."
Biting back a growl as a wave of pain shot up my leg, I remained stoically silent as she stepped around me, not trusting myself not to explode on her.
"You heard the man," Gibsie sneered, leaning against the desk. "Move along, Devil Pussy."
"Fuck off, Gibsie," she snarled as she stalked to the back of the class.
"You alright, lad?" Slapping a hand on my shoulder, Gibsie slipped around me and sank down on the inside seat. "Did she hurt you?"
"Nah, I'm grand." Sinking back down, I stretched my legs out and breathed easily for the first time since walking into class. "She's just batshit."
"That she is," he mused. "Now listen, I have a plan –" Settling his elbows on the desk, he clasped his hands together, and looked attentively to the front of the classroom. "When they come around with the freebies, I'll hold the bag open and you just pour the whole tub in, okay?"
"You're an eejit," I chuckled.
"I'm serious," he shot back, keeping his eyes trained on the large container of condoms on the desk.
I studied his face. "Jesus, you are serious."
"They're mine," he replied, grinning devilishly. "And I'm taking them all."
"You have no bleeding tact," I growled, eyeing my best friend from across the lunch table. The sexual health talk that Gibsie unintentionally orchestrated rolled into the three classes – and small break – due to the fact that some big, blond eejit wouldn't stop asking questions. I had French and History straight after and I swear my blood sugar levels had dipped from the lack of food. "You say I'm the tactless one, but you?" Dropping my gaze to the plastic container in front of me, I stabbed the chicken breast with my fork and tore into it. "You are in a league of your own, lad."